[Open Post]
Oldtown, 6th Moon, 200 AC
Lord Athos Rowan had hardly slept on the road to Oldtown. Though the nights had been peaceful and his men had kept careful vigil, he had found himself laying awake. Every time sleep would take him into its dark embrace he found himself having the same nightmare.
It started with a memory, a recent memory.
"Why are you leaving Father?"
Athos had been making arrangements when his youngest son Brandon had asked him the question.
Because I am afraid.
Athos put on his fatherly smile and turned to his children. Brandon had been sitting on the floor with his twin Myranda, setting up their play soldiers. Alys had locked herself in her room in annoyance.
"Well Brandon, I'm taking Cersei to Oldtown, there is a possible marriage opportunity for her there."
"See? I told you," Myranda remarked, she looked back at Athos, "I did tell him Father."
"Shut up!" yelled Brandon, throwing a small soldier at his sister. It missed but it was provocation enough for Myranda to pick up her own toy to throw.
"Now, now," Lord Athos stepped in and took the toy from Myranda's hands, "Listen to me closely."
He took the two children and brought them close, "You are family, that's important. Whenever life gets difficult we must be able to turn to family for support."
He hesitated only for a moment before continuing, "Like how I know your Uncle Bors will watch over you while I'm away."
He turned the two children to face him, "Now, can the two of you promise me that you'll keep from fighting and stay together? Watch over one another?"
Here was where the nightmare deviated from the memory. In the memory, Myranda and Brandon had both promised to look after one another and given their father a somewhat tearful hug.
In the nightmare, the children smiled but did not say a word. Instead their eyes began to grow gray until they became pale white and blind. They opened their mouths to speak as blood poured out. A horrible disembodies voice echoed in Athos' head,
"You have doomed us to die, saplings choked by vines. Watch you we will, until death is thine."
As the voice spoke, Athos backed away in horror as his children's body began to immolate in front of him. The heat so strong and the light so bright that he would wake, sweating and his eyes sensitive to the phantom light of his dream, only to be calmed by the still dark of his tent.
The Rowan entourage approached the gates of Oldtown, it's massive walls stretching towards the sky. Lord Rowan road up to the guards with two of his men and handed the letter he had received with the signatures of Ser Victor and Lord Urrathon to one of his guards, to show to the Oldtown guards.
"Lord Athos Rowan and his daughter the Lady Cersei have been invited to Oldtown per the invitation of Ser Victor Hightower and Lord Urrathon Hightower."

I used to be the epitome of fit girl, working out 4 hours per day, lifting SUPER heavy, never taking an off day no matter how tired or sick I was. Wake up at 3am, work out til 5, work a 13 hour shift, then back to the gym. I did this for 8 years. Now I'm 27 and I can barely get through a 30min workout with very light weights without feeling completely wiped out. I can't run anymore so I walk. It's frustrating. I force myself to do it because I can't maintain myself without it, but I think I'm really burned out on it. I can't push through the pain and fatigue any more. I also just hate it now-mentally dread it. Anyone else experiencing this?

Last night I took about a roughly 2-3ish gram dose and I was having a great time feeling amazing euphoria, getting some of my first visuals experience. At the time I was hanging out with my two dogs like usual, 1 is a bigger sized pit and the other (which is actually my sisters dog) a small pug.
It was late about 11pm at night and the dogs had way too much energy and were playing too loudly in the house, so I started calming things down and had the pug sitting in my lap and the pit laying by my side for awhile. Well something had happened that made the pit jump up and get alerted and the pug likes to follow up with the other dogs reactions so she also jumped up out of my lap to follow up the pit. But unfortunately as the pug tried jumping off my lap, before I could catch the dog, her leg got caught and tangled in one of the openings on the chair and by the sounds her leg and cries made it woke the whole house up and possibly the neighbors.
Everyone came around me outside trying to figure out what had just happened and why the dog is crying and can’t walk on her back leg. I already have lots of issues with my stress and self confidence and communication, and how I handle it so I’m now starting freak out because of what I had just caused to this poor dog that I love so much and my family that moment. Other people are now stressing out about this back leg that’s possibly broken because of me and causing major discomfort for the dog. This started getting me so overwhelmed with what I had just done I couldn’t even talk words, all the stress got me so hot and sweaty and light headed and I got a weird unexplainable tingling/popping feeling all through my body as I’m pacing around my sisters room as her and her BF are trying to understand the situation.
Next thing I know is just nothingness. I can’t make out any of my vision and I can’t hear anything. They finally got me back up and I feel even more of my family yelling stressed out and I can barley make out any of their sounds, I just remember waking and hearing someone yelling about me falling over and to get me help. About a minute later when I regained my full consciousness I see the rest of my family is looking over me telling me to just stop and breath air.
When I was finally able to start thinking and make coherent words come out of my mouth, I could not have felt any more embarrassed and absolutely stupid as fuck. It’s been about a day now and I’m too embarrassed to even look or speak to anyone atm, I’ve just been stuck in my bed all day and I can’t get out for anything. I have things I needed to in life do but I just can’t even handle myself right now I don’t know what to do. I understand it wasn’t necessarily my fault, I didn’t make or want the dog to jump off my lap and get her leg tangled and broken in the chair, i just wanted to spend time with them. I want to do anything I can and pay whatever I can to help this dog but I don’t think my sister and her BF want anything to do with me and especially don’t want me taking any care of that dog.
I don’t even know what I’m posting this for I don’t want anything, I don’t believe it was caused all by shrooms but the shrooms surely didn’t help the stress in my situation it probably made all my feeling enhanced more. I’m just so stressed and embarrassed for the scene I caused I can’t even function properly and I don’t want anyone seeing my face anymore :/ . I tried apologizing so much that night and everyone says they understand but I know they just hate me for all that. I just don’t really have a relationship with anyone to talk to besides the people that are very upset with me and I’m embarrassed with atm, and I hope maybe speaking about it to something might help my guilt and stupidity that I feel. But for now this is just adding more reason why I just hate myself so damn much.

I wrote this one a while ago and posted it, but since this season might see something like this come to fruition, I thought reposting it for peeps might be cool.
Workers of the Tower
Lore Tab 2
New to the Roster
“That's impossible!” Marie said in response to the demand. She was frustrated because there was yet another guardian in front of her asking for yet another impossible task. She worked for the Tower Information Bureau, and sometimes the never-ending stream of questions irritated her. Taking a breath, she reminded herself to be composed and visibly calmed down before continuing. “The guardian roster doesn't just find guardians by name. It's never worked that way. You'll have to find another way of searching that name.”
“Look, we knew it was a long shot coming to you with this request, but this new light needs to put her mind at rest.” Tyra said pleadingly.
Marie was used to strange looking guardians, but this pair gave her pause. The one speaking was a tall Awoken female that was covered from head to toe in glistening plated armor. Her ragged comrade behind her sat on a ledge, content to let her friend deal with Marie. Normally, she would have to verify that they were guardians before giving them any answers, but she saw their ghosts hovering behind them, chatting in their synthetic voices.
“So you want me to check the roster for a name, no guardian codes or nothing? The program isn't designed that way. It was coded to require additional parameters.” Marie said sternly. She'd helped plenty of new lights learn to use the software. “You have to have a number to search.” She reiterated. “No results will come up without the target's personal identification number.”
“I know that, but we’re hoping you can think of a solution because we don't have an identification number, just a name.” Tyra reasoned passionately. Awoken were good at arguing dramatically in Marie's experience. “Listen, Marie,” She said, noting the name on her TIB badge. “I found this new light wandering with her ghost in the jungle far north of the tower. She’s fresh out of the grave and is just looking for some answers!” Tyra said sympathetically. Her Iron Banner pauldron clanged as she turned to point towards the sitting new light. “Isn't there something you can do!? I mean, look at her!”
Marie took the moment to really look at the guardian for the first time. She was an older woman with a rough demeanor. Her tattered gray poncho hung in tatters on her skinny body. Marie noted her ghost as well. Even it was beaten-up, its shell cracked and covered in dried mud and grime. The new light looked up from her work of polishing a rusted weapon that she clutched in callused hands. Her blondish gray hair was pulled back and tied with a red scarf, which made it easy to see her sunken eyes and emaciated visage. Their eyes locked. Her gaze seemed to pierce straight through Marie's bureaucratic authority.
Those blue eyes have seen a lot. Marie thought, even if she doesn’t remember.
The guardian stood, one hand clutching the old shotgun, the other the vinegar-smelling rag that she was using to clean it. She spoke to Marie in a gruff voice that hid a slight drawl, “I don’t know how these deals work, I’m new to these parts. Actually, I s'pose I'm just new in general. I’m just hankering to find out if there’s anyone goes by a name. Can you help me?”
Marie sighed. New lights usually encountered this problem just after being resurrected. They didn’t understand how anything worked. Working for TIB she'd helped thousands of new guardians learn the ropes. It was frustrating at times, like teaching your grandparents how to set up their new data streams. Sometimes the ghosts helped bring them up to speed, but this guardian was obviously very new to her situation.
“The roster application is very strict. It needs a guardian’s code in order to find them to send messages and such.” Marie explained again in her monotone voice that implied, 'I've said everything, I have to say.'
The human guardian swaggered up to Marie's desk, staring at her with those imposingly forlorn eyes. “They tell you that guardians wake up, not knowin’ nothin? I clawed myself out of a muddy, shallow grave and had no one there but a floating orb. No friends. No family. Just this rusted hunk of junk shotgun. I wandered in the jungle alone for days. After meetin' this here nice blue lady, I wound up in this city. I’m s'posed to work for some Vanguard and shoot aliens. I guess I’ll do what’s got to be done, but I need somethin' to help me get my footin'. A lead or a clue to who I was. That’s all I’m askin’.” She finished talking, and her downcast expression pulled at Marie’s heartstrings. She saw the frown deepen on the haggard guardian, and she felt worse. It’s a disturbing thing to empathize with, waking up and simply not knowing anything about the person she was.
Marie sighed again, but it was sadder and more organic than the first. “There are unofficial search programs for guardians that we aren't supposed to condone. They don’t require guardian identification codes. I can show you how they work, but their applications aren’t programmed in our operating system. I can use my private holopad that’s linked to the Vanguard database to access them.” She saw the guardian grin with a glimmer of hope and knew it was worth the extra effort. Marie made a mental note that going outside the regular SOPs was worth it from time to time.
Tyra patted the new light on the shoulder. “I’ll head off and put in an acquisition for a new ship while y’all start searching. My buddy Tom once said those third-party applications can take a bit of searching.” She said as she turned towards the hanger and paced away.
“I don’t think it’ll take very long. You said it was just one name, right?” Marie asked in her professional can-do tone.
Instead of answering, the guardian finished rubbing off the remaining rust on the underside of her shotgun barrel. Then she flipped it up with a flourish so that Marie could see it.
There on the barrel was a name engraved in the newly shined metal. ‘Jericho’
Author’s Note* I do not claim any right to any fiction I write in any other author’s (s’) fictional universe.
Workers of the Tower
Lore Tab 3
Space
“Oh C’mon!” Momo said to himself. He just received a mechanic ticket from Shaxx, one of his frames was on the fritz again.
Momo quickly strutted through the tower hanger. He was everything a guardian wouldn’t expect in a hanger mechanic. His hair was perfectly positioned with product, and the grease on his face was so well-placed it could’ve been mistaken for makeup.
“Hey, Momo!” A familiar voice hollered to his side.
He paced over to his superior quickly, “Hello to you Ms. Holiday, what can I do for you?”
Amanda gave him a quizzical look, “Look buddy, you better stop with that Ms. Holiday stuff, or I’ll fling this here wrench in yer’ direction. I got n’ order for a new light. She needs the run down on her ship. I’m busy, so yer gon’ do it.”
“Well actually mam, you see I was just…”
“You were just about to do as I say.” She said, ducking her head under a plasma drive. “Waddle that keester over to bay six. She’s waitin’ for ya.” The furious sound of her wrench cranking bolts didn’t give him hope for a continuation in discussion.
Momo gave a slight sigh that he prayed Amanda couldn’t hear over the racket of her work. When you have conflicting orders, you always go with Holiday’s. He turned around professionally on the balls of his feet and started for bay six.
He made good time on the walk there — only stopping for a moment to check that his blue sleeveless shirt was tucked in just right to his working trousers.
She’s not here?
Momo checked around the ship, making a circle while scratching his perfectly manicured beard in confusion. The entrance ramp wasn’t down, so he knew she didn’t go into the ship yet. Walking over to the control panel, he flipped a switch and heard a hissing noise as the hydraulics on the lateral edges of the ship lowered the ramp.
“Sorry I’m late.” A voice said.
“Traveler in the dark sky! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” Momo exclaimed, jumping around to see who startled him.
He immediately noticed what she was wearing, which is his first inclination with anyone. It looked as though she just received some standard vanguard gear from the quartermasters. A red wrinkled cloak thankfully covered up her simple armor and clothes. When he looked up to her face, though, what he saw was anything but ordinary.
A thousand yard stare.
“Sorry I rattled y’a.” She muttered sincerely. “Had to requisition these threads and talk to a robot about a boom stick.”
“Geez you sound like my boss. Well, let’s get started then.” Momo said as he swaggered up the ramp. He didn’t look back because that wouldn’t be cool, but he heard her follow him.
“This here is your standard issue refurbished Arcadian ship. Easily mass-produced and built to last, this is the Vanguard’s bread and butter.” He said confidently as he aggressively patted a panel that easily came loose and clanged loudly on the ground.
He blushed, but she didn’t say anything, so he continued. “We mostly work on these and because the parts are so common and familiar, labor and maintenance are cheap.” He slid his finger along the surface of the one table in the hull and frowned, “cleaning is up to the guardian, however. Questions?”
She simply put her hand on her hip and shook her head once. Her long blond ponytail flipping behind her. Man, this lady might not dress it, but she’s cool! Momo thought as he turned around to continue the tour.
“Here is your armory.” He said nonchalantly as he rapped his knuckles on a control sensor. An entire wall panel slid out with holsters for all sorts of firearms. “Of course, you’ll have to obtain the weapons yourself.”
“As good a place’s any to stow this.” She said, flipping a short shotgun by its lever action to take the shell out of the chamber. The ejected shell she smoothly caught with her other hand. After the aggressive flourish, she tenderly set the glistening silver weapon on the rack and pressed the button to close the panel.
Momo’s jaw was on the floor after seeing the awesome move. I’m not half this cool on a good day! After realizing that he felt completely uncool being alone with someone who was this cool, he decided to cut the usual rant short. “You can only store thirty weapons on the ship, by the way. Transmat is how you will swap out weapons while on missions. The rest you will have to send to your personal vault in the tower. Oh, and the cockpit is up there. Your ghost can show you how to fly it.” After gesturing over his shoulder towards the cockpit, Momo walked down the ramp to leave the super cool woman to herself.
At the bottom of the ramp, he heard the woman ask herself, “Who’d need more’n thirty weapons?” He smiled to himself as he paced off to Lord Shaxx to tell him there’s a new guardian in town.

My baby is an incredibly light sleeper and during the day she will only sleep swaddled while being rocked. I’m trying to get her in to the carrier more often, but the issue is I always wake her up taking the swaddle off and putting her in. Is there a way to make the transition easier, or even better a way to keep her swaddled while in the carrier?

Chapter 1:
Jerry Brenson was having a hard time not getting pissed off at the way the car kept jerking around, making it damn near impossible to roll his tightly held cigarette. What a piece of shit it was anyways, it looked like the cross between an impregnated white pill and a scarecrow with all its frayed edges of tobacco poking out like straw.
"Would you stop driving like a goddamn animal!" he bellowed at the driver. Then he resumed his work on unraveling the piece of shit and evening everything out. The tip of Brenson's tongue stuck out of his mouth as he worked at it. Within a few seconds the passenger side front tire plunged into a half-foot pothole and Brenson's jaw clenched shut on that tender red meat sticking out of his face. In an instant it resembled a tiny pink balloon swelling up and getting ready to pop.
"FUCK!" Brenson screamed after a long second of seething white pain, which was now commencing to roll like waves through the bottom of his jaw, and somehow up into his fucking forehead! Before he had time to return from the moments that threw his whole being into a chaos of agony, he knew with dreadful certainty that he had bit off a chunk of his tongue. He would see it there if he opened his eyes and looked down. And with that, an image of a huge bulging red thing on the floor that was flopping around like a decapitated fish came to him. With wide eyes that seemed to burst open like fireworks, both hands flew to his mouth so that Brenson suddenly looked like a little girl getting the best birthday present of her life.
And then, hallelujah, he thinks, praise Jesus, God, the Buddha, anyone and anything that saved his precious tongue. It was still there. Hurt like hell but it was still there. He looked around on the floor in a sudden surge of paranoia (maybe a part of it really was down there) and to his blessed relief the only thing he saw were a pair of work boots stuffed onto his oafishly large feet.
All of this occurred in about 3 seconds, after which Brenson's brow contorted into a fierce angle of rage, and a powerful sense of the injustice and incompetence and of all the damned stupid negligent habits of this buffoon of a partner settled on him. He turned to the driver and smacked Dale Enrsten upside the head.
"Ouch!" Dale wailed in his deep Mississippi drawl. The car swerved to the left when Dale's arm instinctively went up to protect his face. "What the hell was that for?" He asked stupidly.
"For nearly getting my tongue bit off asshole. Now drive."
Dale returned a frown towards Brenson, and tried as he may to appear the least bit intimidating, Dale looked more comical than anything. There was something about his fat head and thin brown hair on a receded hairline that gave the air of an overly large boy preparing for boarding school.
Dale turned back to the road and decided that what would cheer him up would be a couple of chili dogs, add the cheese please, with a bud light and a pack of skittles. There ought to be a gas station in the next mile or so, god knows when the last time they saw one passing through this shit hole was. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a smoke, no two smokes, then handed one over to Brenson.
"My apologies captain. This road's covered in more potholes than your mom's vagina."
Dale cackled out a wheezing laugh and then lit up his smoke. He puffed out a large plume of white smoke that was torn away by the passing air out Dale's open window. He looked out that window, and glanced nervously at all the red stone. Their surfaces were inundated with marbled cracks. Every so often he'd see a pale bush growing between a couple of rocks. They looked more like skeletons than plants. Yes it was true, Dale Ernsted hated the desert. He hated all deserts. They made him feel like a clock was always ticking, and when it went to zero baby, oh my oh my, Dale baby if you’re out here, you gonna be fish food. Well not out here I wont, he retorts back to his own morbid fantasy, more liable to be lizard food, or coyote. Yeah, that's right, Dale thinks there probably are coyotes out here, and if the car broke down, well not a lot to eat out here but a couple of dehydrated dying men. What would be a better treat for a pack of hungry canines?
And following this train of thought Dale wonders what it would be like if Brenson and he really were surrounded by a pack of coyotes, how many would it take, maybe five? Six? Would Dale watch Brenson go first, or would it be Dale who Brenson catches a glimpse of getting his arm torn off from the shoulders down when the wolves begin demanding his own full attention. Look at that, now they turned into wolves. He didn’t think there were wolves out here. His expression changes into a frown of contemplation.
"Are you listening to me?" Dale hears Brenson angrily ask. The wolves go away. He realizes Brenson had asked him something.
"What's that?"
"Find a place to pull over I need to take a leak"
Dale's small eyes dart around at the escarpment and mesas and the fine layer of brown dirt swirling over the two-lane highway.
"No, I think there's a gas station up a bit. Not too much farther now."
Dale doesn't say anything else. He turns the knob on the radio until Bon Jovi is playing We’re Not Gonna Take It, and guns the Camry down the long stretch of desolate waste before them.
The desert sun was lowering in the west, making the car’s long shadow race ahead of them. By the time they see the dusty gas station with a white roof and big red letters painted on a discolored sign reading QuikStop, the sun was almost touching the horizon and Brenson had to pee like a mad horse. One or two stars could be seen faintly wavering in the turbulent purple sky fading into black.
Dale pulled up to a gas pump and he and Brenson got out of the car.
“Well” Brenson stretched out the word just as he was stretching out his back, leaning heavily into it with his arms on his hips, “Give me the money and I’ll get some food and beer. You get the gas”.
Dale reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty.
“Two cheese chili dogs and skittles” he said miserably. Brenson did a quick nod and walked off.
Dale found that he wasn’t doing anything but standing there watching Brenson walk closer to the gas station when the thought popped into his head: you know I think might kill that fuck, yeah I might. And then he turned around as if it was just a cloud passing by.
He was listening to the gulping sounds of gasoline filling up his tank when he saw a white toyota pull up and park on the side of the gas station near the ice chest and propane tanks. There were two people in the car. They looked like Mexicans to Dale. A man and woman. They got out of the car, shut the doors, walked around the corner, and entered the gas station. Dale wasn’t particularly interested in them but then something caught his eye. He thought he saw movement in the backseat of the toyota.
There it was again.
He realized it was a child.
It was a girl with long brown hair tied up in a ponytail. A little Mexican girl. Kids shouldn't be left in a hot car all alone he thinks righteously. But what should he expect from these people? Look at that piece of shit rig. He realized again that he was in a trance, staring angrily at the back of the Toyota.
Dale's eyes surveyed from the Toyota to the gas station entrance. The glare of the sun reflected everything outside so it was impossible to see in through the windows. Then something inside him went on autopilot. He had something to do he realized, and he had to do it fast.
He fastened the nozzle back onto the pump and briskly walked over to the white Toyota. His heart began racing. He peered in at the girl in the backseat. No one else was in there. She was wearing a blue tank top and black shorts. There was a doll, something from a disney cartoon in her hands, Dale insanely thinks, but is barely aware of any of these thoughts as the door of the Toyota slowly opens up and the girl turns her head away from her doll, up towards her mama with a smile, and sees Dale’s huge head lurching in like a troll plucking a princess from a tower.
Her face shrivels into a scream but before she can let out the breath, Dale’s meaty hands are over her mouth, and without any effort he pulls her out of the car and clutches her entire body in a bear hug. There's a heart pounding moment when she sounds like a grunting dog struggling in a trap and he knows her scream will escape from his sweaty armpit. Then there's an instant of pure lucid absurdity where he seemed to see himself from the outside. What would the girl's parents do if they walked around the corner right now? He couldn’t just put her back in there and go about pumping gas again could he? Oh I'm just ole friendly Dale giving your girl here a nice good hug cuz I could hear her cryin' for mommy.
Then he kicks the Toyotas door shut for god knows why and scrambles to his car. He hustles to the trunk, realizes the switch is up front, and skids to his knees at the driver's side door. He’s pressing the girl so hard against his chest he can almost feel her head bouncing off his beating heart.
Then he hears the satisfying click of the trunk unlocking, and with surprising speed he places the girl in the bed of the trunk, takes a bandana out from his back pocket and ties it like a rope around her mouth. The girl’s eyes, shaking with terror, watch grimly as the troll closes out the darkening sky with a metallic clink.
Then Dale jumps into the driver's seat, turns on the engine, and cranks up the radio. Another song by dear old Bon Jovi by god! Dale feel’s exhilarated. He doesn't even know it yet. All he knows is this music sounds better than anything he’s ever heard before, and why wouldn’t you look at that, he’s not even sore with Brenson anymore for slapping him in the face earlier. He can’t wait to have a beer! And there's ole Bren heading back towards the Camry now.
But then Dale realizes with a jolt of panic, the parents! The girl’s parents are going to be out any minute! With the mother of all anxiety attacks Dale’s car speeds towards Brenson as he walks out of the gas station at a magnitude that probably made Brenson think oh fuck I’m going to die by the look on his face, but Dale’s car screeched to a halt just a few feet away.
“What the fuck’s that about” Brenson sneered. The sneer was more one of habit than anything else as Brenson was so surprised that there wasn’t really room for anything else. His arms were full of supplies and he almost dropped them all over the ground.
“Get in now!” Dale yelled. He reached his arm over and threw open the passenger door. Brenson sat down and before he could shut the door, Dale shut it himself by accelerating in a curve out the gas station parking lot, and wouldn’t you know it, he didn’t even use his turning signals when he brought the Camry onto the highway and raced into the black eastern sky.
Chapter 2:
“Jesus man, you think I robbed the place?”. Brenson was unsure what had gotten into him. “Shut up for a minute. Give me a beer”.
Brenson had never seen Dale so serious. The man’s face looked like a machine. His thin lips were pressed so tightly you could barely see them. And he was scowling at the road. His eyes kept bouncing to the rearview mirror. Brenson could see beads of sweat rolling over Dale's pockmarked forehead. And the odometer was reading 95 mph. He sure as hell hoped he wouldn’t suddenly get another dose of Dale’s special potholes. He made sure his tongue was planted firmly on the roof of his mouth and his seat was buckled.
“Uh Dale..are you alright there partner?” Brenson asked.
“You seem like somethin just bit you in the ass.”
Dale guzzled down his bud light, burped and wiped his mouth, then reached for another one. After he cracked it open and took a good long gulp, he bellowed “Wooo! Lordy..oh yeah” He was heaving deep breaths between each word. Then his gaze turned away from the road and locked with Brenson's eyes.
“Pal, when you were over in that gas station there..” he paused and glanced towards the backseat of the car as if someone were sitting back there. He couldn’t keep it hidden from Brenson now could he? They had 100 miles left to drive.
Brenson looked back and then over at Dale again.
“ain't quite sure how to say this", the look on Dale's screwed up face as he thought about what to say next made Brenson think of a large boy again, one that was trying to work out a hard math problem like how much his groceries would cost.
"I may have picked up a passenger,” Dale finally said.
“What?” That came out of left field and Brenson didn't know what it meant.
“I just kind of..took her” he said this last as if Dale himself was surprised at what he was saying.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Brenson was getting a sick feeling. What fuckup did Dale just get him into now? He knew Dale liked cats and sometimes he would take them off the streets or out of people's yards if he liked how they looked. And he knew Dale had about 9 cats stuffed away in his trailer, but Brenson wasn't hearing any meows coming out of the back seat now was he? And Dale's eyes were looking at something far away, unfocused on something so far away like Venus.
And then Brenson noticed a muffled sound like there was a load of groceries rolling to the side in the trunk as Dale took them around a tight bend. For just a moment he was worried that maybe he had put the beer back there and it was gonna get all fizzy, but then he remembered the beer in his hand and the rest on the floor by his feet near that imaginary chunk of meat flapping around down there. He felt the tip of his tongue and took a swig.
"What the fuck did you do" Brenson remembered the two Mexicans that walked into that gas station. He had eyes on them the whole time.
“Dale?” Brenson asked with a looming understanding that sped towards him like a Mack truck. Dale had done something magnanimously fucked up.
“What the fuck did you do!”
“She was boiling back there!” Dale pleaded. He was an eight year old child again, explaining to an angry stepmom why she had found a drowned cat in the bathtub. He didn’t have any choice, it had bit him and that was not okay, that was not okay by any standards of civilized man. What else could he do?
“Dale!”
“I saved her Bren!”
They were both yelling now.
“She was gonna be dead back there! You saw those mexis didn’t you?”
“Pull over!” Brenson demanded.
“No.”
“Pull over now!”
Dale kept on speeding. The odometer read 105. To Brenson it felt like the flimsy car could at any moment flip over a hundred times if the slightest gust of wind brushed against them.
“Pull over right fucking now or I’ll beat the shit out you right here!”
Brenson’s fists were clenched into a barb of hairy knuckles. He was really going to do it Dale observed, and then they’d both be piles of scrap strewn all over the road.
Dale gave a defeated sigh and took his foot off the accelerator. He was going to have to show Bren one way or another. They were already miles past that shit hole station anyways. What the hell. The Camry disengaged from warp speed and soon Brenson could hear the crinkle of gravel under the tires as the Camry pulled off onto the shoulder.
Outside the night was as silent as the land was empty. A brilliant splash of stars painted the canopy of the sky in a way that gave Dale a cosmic sense of his own importance. He shuffled over to the back with Bren, a disappointed look of guilt was likewise splashed across his face, why no mah, I’m not the one that drowned Muffin, but ya know, she wouldn’t stop biting. But Dale remembered the feeling of her slick fur bunched up between his fingers and the way her intricately delicate neck felt like so many scrawny bones. A jolt of disgust seemed to roll through him like a shockwave and he tried to shake off the memory of that limp cat as fast as possible.
Then that cave of darkness opened up and it was nighttime outside, and the girl saw with a cold panic that made her cry that there were two trolls looming over her now. They were both huge and disgusting. The one on the left looked like a giant baby with patches of wiry fur in tufts up and down its neck and chin. Its teeth were yellowed and it was smoking a cigarette. She didn't like how it was eyeing her, like she was some kind of precious crystal that it wanted badly.
The other was just as big, not as fat though, more muscular. He had a mop of scraggly black hair and a full beard covering the mouth. He looked like a biker. And he looked like he was really mad at her. She heard herself crying.
"Mamá" She tried squeaking through the rope. "Donde mi mamá"
And then, no, no please, everything was getting dark again. She howled and squirmed but the lid of the trunk did not care.
Brenson was biting his bottom lip. He was supremely pissed off now. What the fuck was this lunatic thinking! He looked at Dale and was about to begin a royal case of pummeling his fat ass into the ground for getting Bren caught up in this bullshit, lord knows he's had a clean record apart from a mild six months in Kentucky State Penitentiary when he was twenty two years old. And this asshole, this stupid fat asshole made him an accomplice to whatever crazy bullshit was flying around in that fat fucking head of his!
But Bren noticed that far away in the direction they had come were a pair of tiny headlights. They were heading this way.
Instead of beating Dale into a mess worthy of the crime of getting Bren caught up in kidnapping charges, he said "Lets get the fuck out of here". And then jumped back into his seat, slamming the door.
"Come on!" He yelled out when he saw that Dale was still standing on the side of the road like an idiot. Dale hurried up, revved on the engine, and the Camry was back on the highway doing 92 mph. Bren cracked open another beer and drank the whole thing in one go. He didn’t complain about the speed.
Chapter 3:
It was about two in the morning when they pulled up to Bren’s trailer. Bren got out and walked around to Dale’s side. He was mildly drunk. Bren put his hands on his knees and bent down as if he was going to say something to Dale, but in the end he turned around and left without saying anything. He was too pissed off.
“See you in the morning.” Dale called out after him in an annoyingly loud voice, but Bren didn’t turn around. His thin white door shut loudly and Dale pulled away and drove off to his own trailer at the end of the gravel road.
At this point he had a conundrum on his hands. He had to get the girl inside without her making a lot of noise. And then once inside..what? Tie her up? Keep her in his bathroom? It’s not like he had a basement to put her in. And what the fuck was he doing anyways? His hand reached for his forehead. He was thinking. Then he unlocked the trunk and when the dim light in the trunk came on he saw with stabbing horror that the girl was dead.
“NO!” He shouted at her as if it were her fault.
"Oh dear Jesus no!”
He felt like he was about to cry. It was the cat all over again. He really didn’t want to kill it. But then he saw the rhythm of her small diaphragm. She was sleeping. Dale oh dale oh dale, what are you doing?
He wiped the sweat off his brow, then reached in and picked her up. She weighed about as much as a pillow, and when Dale opened the door of his trailer, a cat seemed to catapult itself outside making him trip over his own feet. "Shit! Henry!" He gave an involuntary yell over his shoulder when he saw which one did it. Then, understanding that he totally did not have anything under control, he stopped in his doorway and simply stood there with the little girl cradled in his arms. She felt warm. His girl. Yeah, that sounded right. It was his girl now. His little Mexican girl.
A few more hungry cats came out of the shadows begging for food. He shushed them and kicked his leg around without putting any real effort into it just to make them go away.
He had to secure his girl.
But how was he going to get any sleep tonight? He had to be absolutely sure that she could not get away. Then as he was walking in, thinking about how he would tie her up (he did have some duct tape, rope, maybe some wire ties..oh but he didn't want to hurt her wrists), he felt a sudden uneasiness about Brenson. Did Dale think he'd go to the cops? Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut and the music loud. He should have slowed down when Bren asked and he should have… Wait, just wait one cotton pickin minute Dale, he says to himself. The girl. The girl first, then Bren. Maybe Bren was still awake and he'd pay him a little visit, have a little chat just to make sure they were square, just to see if everything was cool, but only after he was sure the girl could not escape.
But should he actually leave her alone?
"Get moving!" he said to himself. And then walked into the back of the trailer where he kept a tool shed. The girl was still sleeping in his arms. Whatever nightmares she could possibly be having, would she really want to wake up?
He chose duct tape, the principle reason being it was easiest to reach while clutching a small human being. And although she felt like a feather before, the longer Dale held her in that death grip, the heavier she seemed to get.
He laid her gently down on a Layzee Boy and found himself holding his breath and needing air when he was certain she was still sleeping. Dale unfolded the leg rest, and then very delicately began unwinding the duct tape around her legs. This turned out to be a bitch because the duct tape was prone to making offensive scratching sounds as it was unpeeled from its spool.
About an hour later the girl was strapped in the chair in an extended position. Mounds of duct tape secured her arms, legs, torso, hands and feet. He took special care to untie the bandana from her face, knowing that she could suffocate in her sleep if it stayed on there. That special feat gave him a sense of pride for remembering. He already got one point in the game of taking care of her by damn. Though he'd have to figure out how to keep her quiet. Lastly, he strapped down her head using a generous supply of tape.
Now he surveyed his work like a skilled practitioner, his mouth closed, eyes narrowed, and giving short nods of satisfaction. Yes he did do a good job. Both on the tape job, and on the girl. She was adorable. He was imagining what it would be like three years from now, when she had forgotten all about that old shit hole family she had, a fact that Dale would NEVER bring up, and how happy they would look playing in a park, eating hotdogs. He's pushing her on a swing and look at that! At the very end of the pendulum's arc she leaps through the air, legs pointing like arrows in perfect form! She glides through the air and lands on her feet. Both arms reach up into the sky, she beams at Dale saying look what I just did daddy! Then she's running, his little girl is running right at him! She leaps into his arms and oh god how he hugs her, squeezes her, suddenly he notices that her skin is so soft, there's a gleam in her eye, he looks at her mouth
Somebody knocked twice on his front door.
The force of that sound coming from that door made Dale almost scream. The cloudy glaze over his eyes burned away as fast as if Jesus Christ had just now ripped open a hole in the sky and let all of heaven's mighty armies come march on through.
His head jerked up and banged against the corner of a kitchen cabinet that he had been standing near but he barely felt it because panic and paranoia were through the fucking roof ladies and gentlemen. That's right, Dale Ernsted was about to melt into a puddle and seep into the floor.
But he had to do something about the door. He crept slowly, as if the slower he moved the more invisible he would become. At this point he was trying to make himself as flat against the wall as possible so he could peek out the curtains without the intruder noticing. He quickly poked his face into the curtains and looked out the window. There was a man still standing at Dale's door. And the man instantly turned towards Dale and looked him in the eyes.
Dale screamed and put a hand over his mouth.
It was Bren. It was just fucking Bren. He pulled away from the window and noticed he was breathing like he had run a half marathon.
Dale opened the door and there was Bren pissed off as ever before. He didn't ask to come inside but came inside he did, brushing past Dale without saying a word. He stood in Dale's living room, hands on hips, something like concern on his face, and was just standing there gaping at that girl stuck in all that mound of duct tape. He was shaking his head in disbelief. Then Bren turned around and said in whispered tones, "What in fucking Christ is going on here Dale?"
They both walked outside and Dale shut the door.
Inside the trailer the girl remained taped to the Lazee Boy, breathing those deep occasional breaths that are only ever seen in people deep in REM sleep. Then she opened her eyes. If Dale could see those eyes now he would say they looked evil. To Bren, who had a larger vocabulary than Dale, he would say cunning.
In truth she had never been asleep. And although she heard only a little of the conversation between the two ogres that captured her, she knew that Baby Face, as she thought of Dale, believed she was asleep. And for this she thought he must be the dumbest person imaginable. What moron would think anything but a tranquilized rhinoceros was asleep after all that had happened to her.
She played through the sequence of events that led her to this terrible situation. It was an unreal situation. How could this happen to her? But that's not useful, she thinks, it isn't useful to wonder about why, only how and what to do about it.
She took the opportunity while the two trolls were outside to scan as much of the room as possible. Looking for doors, windows, anything that could be used as a weapon. Although she knew she had little chance of using anything but a gun against either of those two guys. They were big and mean looking. But she thought Baby Face probably had a gun, either on him or by his bed, maybe in a closet.
She would have to escape. She knew there was a door in the back, though she couldn't see it, because Baby Face had brought her back there and she could feel the outside air coming in. It seemed to be some kind of extension to the trailer. And when Baby Face had stood on his toes reaching high up to get something off a shelf, she stole a glance and saw that it was some kind of shed that led outside. There were at least two doors. It was going to hurt so bad to take this tape off. She didn't know what to do about that yet. She could barely move any part of her body.
Then she heard one of the men approach the door and the hinge began to squeak open.
Dale poked his head in and stared at her for a good ten seconds. She was still sleeping. Good. Then the door closed.
Her name was Mariana and her eyes were now looking up at the ceiling, lips quivering, trying to hold back the tears from escaping. One did though and it traced a small trail down her cheekbone before it finally fell to the floor. She hoped her cheek would dry before the trolls came back inside.
Chapter 4:
That same morning Bren woke up to a pounding headache that felt like a vein was about to burst from the left side of his head. His bones creaked as he got out of bed and he walked to his refrigerator and pulled out a beer.
He wasn't trying to get drunk, those days were long past him. It was just to get rid of the headache. He had work today. And it was Bren's turn to drive so he was gonna have to waltz over to dumb fuck Dale's house and drag his ass out of bed. Although he wasn't so sure how much stock he put in folk traditions and rules of the game, so to speak, now that his relationship with Dale has been, shall we say, tested.
Although he wasn't as angry as he was just a few hours before while he chewed out Dale for being the stupidest motherfucker he ever laid eyes on, he still felt he should give him an ass pounding after he, Bren, resolved this entire state of affairs. Because it would be Bren, not Dale, who would have to do that. As much as he wished he could abandon Dale and just say fuck it, he was deeply concerned about his own involvement in what transpired the night before, and he was gravely imagining getting fifty years behind bars because of some lunatic he decided to take up a business deal with. Who was the real retard here, Bren thinks in a self deprecating way, who would get into business with someone like Dale?
Never mind all that, he would have to do something about this. He could not allow Dale to go off on his wild fantasies. Bren's chief concern was that Dale would fuck up somehow and land Bren in prison. He was slowly shaking his head back and forth as he sipped his beer, realizing just how deep the sinking sand really went in this case, all the anger he felt the night before came rushing back tenfold as he realized what he would have to do. What he would make Dale do. As punishment.
Meanwhile Baby Face was still sleeping. Mariana heard him snoring. She decided to let herself sleep after he had passed out on the floor near this duct tape prison. She would need her strength and people need to sleep as much as they need to eat was what she convinced herself with to even allow her to try to sleep. It wasn't even a guaranteed deal. Who could sleep during something like this?
But she found that when she closed her eyes and knew that Baby Face was drunk out of his mind, and that meant he would probably be asleep for awhile, then she could sleep. And oh how she drifted down, pulled down just as she was pulled out of that car, with a monster waiting for her at the bottom. A monster that looked like some huge grotesque baby thing that had snot pouring out of its nose like a fire hose held her, its decaying fingernails scraped at her, and it cackled at how amazing she was, licking her back and purring like a cat.
She screamed and then she was back in her car with all her things! Not in a dream, she was actually back in the car and her parents had told her they would pick her up a snickers.
She knew Baby Face was out there. Scrambling up on her elbows she looked for him out the window. He was pumping gas and smoking a cigarette at the same time. What a stupid freak! Yuck! But he was going to come over here. She watched him looking at something over at the entrance, and then his head was turning towards her. She ducked. And then slowly peeked her head up and saw that he was walking over here. He looked like some kind of rodent, like a rat that was sniffing out cheese.
She needed to leave. Mariana grabbed the door handle and shaked at it but it wouldn't open. None of them worked. She was trying to remain calm, kept finding her right hand reaching up and twirling her hair and then stopping herself. She licked her chapped lips. She had an idea.
The door opened and before Baby Face stuffed his stinking head in through the open door, Mariana turned around and asserted herself. She loudly and very clearly said "Dale! Where is your gun?"
The monster stumbled backwards as if shot, and fell slightly to its knee. The way its knees popped back and forth and the way its elbows gesticulated in erratic ways made Mariana think it wasn't even alive. It was some kind of zombie. And when its head rolled back up, and it looked at her, its teeth clacking together like a puppet being pulled up by the strings too quickly, she saw that Baby Face, Rat Baby Face, had long white whiskers and huge front teeth. They were stained with cigarette smoke but they still looked sharp.
It said in a gravelly voice choked with beer and chili, "under my bathroom sink, where I always keep it.", driblets of chili dripped down its white gums, which also held a healthy portion of gooey chewing tobacco. Beer froth dripped out its eyes as it jumped into the car with Mariana and began stroking its long bony fingers through her hair saying all the while in the voice of a corpse "How pretty..how pretty..how pretty". She wanted to puke and get away from it but - then Rat Baby Face opened its mouth and bit into her neck.
Mariana woke up blinking away tears. She swallowed and took in a deep breath through her nose, somewhat rocking back and forth, but otherwise totally immobilized.
That's when she heard Baby Face snoring. That's also when she noticed the bathroom out of the very furthest edge of her peripheral vision.
Mariana knew what she had to do.

disclaimer: I never actually do any do any of the things I post, so stop being rude!
this is a 1-2 week prank, and is very difficult to full off.
step 1: put 3 devices in the target's home that clinks chains once in a while. put one in the target's bedroom, one in their basement, and one in their favorite place to relax. activate the last 2, and have them clink the chains every 5 minutes.
step 2: o on the 3rd day, host a party. lots of loud music, food, the like. invite many people, including the target. as the target comes in, put o their ears mini speakers that play a chain clinking sound every 10 to 15 minutes., just loud enough that they will notice, but no one else will hear. turn of the chain clinker in their room. (be sure to take the mini speakers off at the end of the party)
step 3: on day 5-6, put blue light, (as in, computer screen light) just enough that they cannot fall asleep. Take all the melatonin pills if the target has them.
step 4: on day 7, remove all that you did in the past 3 steps from the target house. that night, dress in a black hood, chains, a bone mask, and hold a scythe. as soon as they start to fall asleep, walk in to their room. then as they fall subcontous, swish your scythe.
step 5 (extra) : if he target has a calendar, set it back a week. tell all their friends you are playing a prank, and to act like it is back a week, but every day is 2 days. now, every day they mark off on their calendar, add 1. after the week is over, everything is back to normal... except they think they were insane.
step 6 (extra X2) : every time the target is scared or is in a very quiet place, clink some chains. do it less and less over the years, until you haven't done it for 2 or 3 years. then, at the targets deathbed, if you clink the chains, they will probably be scared to death.
​
effects of this prank:
day 1-2 : the target hears a strange metallic sound, but they will not think much of it, because it only happens in their house.
day 3: the target gets worried, because, they hear it at a party, and no one else can hear it. later that night, they hear the strange metallic sound as they try to sleep...
day 4: they still hear the strange metallic sound all around their house, but at least they cant hear it outside anymore.
day 5-6: the target's room seems strangely less dark. the metallic sound haunts them all night...
day 7: every thing is gone. all the metallic sounds. all gone. the target is relived, but has an eerie feeling. as they try to go to bed, they see a cloaked figure enter their room. they are scared, but their body is so tired, they can't help but go to sleep...
day 8-14/1-7: the target wakes up. nothing is wrong. nothing is out of place. but... they aren't really sure... was it that week? they aren't sure. as the week goes by, why does he feel like time is going by extra fast?
life: the target recovers after 2 or so weeks, but is still shook up. And they feel strange whenever they are scared or calm. almost like there is something wrong, something going on in the background of their brain...
deathbed: (targets perspective)your friend walks into the room.nothing is wrong. you feel fine, and then...
you hear the chains.

☠️

My 11 month old baby wakes up at least 4-5 times a night screaming/crying. We get up and put her dummy back in and she immediately goes back to sleep. We are both back at work and the fatigue of waking up almost hourly from 1-6am is really starting to grind us down. She won’t sleep without her dummy, but as soon as she falls asleep her dummy falls out, then I assume she hits a light patch of sleep, wants her dummy, can’t find it and cries.
Any advice? I’m tempted at this stage to go out and buy 100 dummies and have her sleep on a bed of dummies 😅

“She’s a witch.”
“I think you said bitch wrong.”
It’s hard to laugh when you’re exhausted, but Marti was never not able to get one out of us. Between panted breaths we laughed. Tommy’s face growing red with anger and embarrassment at the joke at his expense.
“I’m serious!” He managed to blurt when the laughter finally died down enough to get a word in.
“So am I!”
Again, laughter erupted from the bottom of our thirteen year old hearts once more breaking the silence of the forest we were supposed to be hiding in if by chance the cops were actually called as a result of our impromptu prank just a few minutes prior.
Living in a small town meant a lot of boredom. Some kids had big problems like gang violence and drive-by shootings, drugs, and crippling poverty, and even though those problems existed for your typical small town Ohio kids, at least to some extent. Our biggest problem was always boredom.
As a matter of fact, every problem that every small town had ever had could probably be traced back to boredom in one way or another. Why is that guy doing heroin behind a Walmart? Because once upon a time he was sixteen and bored, so he stole some of grandmas pills. Why did the schools football teams locker building get burned down? Because some kid was bored and decided to ruin the football team’s stuff. Why are there a bunch of kids laughing in the middle of the forest just outside of town? Same reason, they were bored and decided to ding dong ditch the senile old lady down the street.
If I’d had known for half a second . . . If I’d even had a hint of foresight about how everything would’ve turned out for us then I’d have suggested something else. Anything else, but hindsight’s 20/20. Especially for young kids.
“Guys, I’m freakin serious. Okay?” Tommy doubled down. His fists now balled up. His voice breaking a little bit with the overwhelming irritability at the laughter. “Anyone who’s ever messed with Ms. Abernanthy has been cursed.”
“Come on man.” I said trying to diffuse Tommy’s anger a little bit. “There’s a lot of places in this world, beautiful places! Jamacia, Hawaii, Switzerland. All sorts of places a powerful witch could have a good ass life, and you think there’s one living in that little brown double wide on Sycamore street? In London Ohio?”
A few more chuckles amongst the group of friends before Tommy finally resigned his argument with an exasperated sigh. As we came around from our fits of laughter and jokes we began to realize that the sun was setting.
“Wow, what a surprise.” Charlie spoke up. “No one cares that their doorbell got rang! Looks like our outlaw days are done y’alls. Just in time for dinner too. Convenient full pardons are convenient!”
“No doubt.” I responded as the group made their way out of the forest and began to cut across the large meadow towards town. “Marti, you eating with us tonight? Dad says it’s fine.”
“Appreciate it dude, but mom says we’ve got plans tonight. We’ll steal your dads Marlboros some other time okay?”
More laughter as the friend group split ways and headed home . . .
Ding
Dong
Diiing Doong
At first when I heard the doorbell ring, I just sort of brushed it off. I’d thought that maybe it was just some part of a dream I’d been having or something. Even in my almost full sleep state I knew that no one in their right mind would be ringing our doorbell at three in the morning. As I adjusted my pillow and threw my head back down on it though I heard it again. Resonating throughout the otherwise silent house in a way that was almost maliciously haunting given the time of night.
Ding
Dong
Diing Doong
It hadn’t been my imagination. There was someone at the door. Before I could even get up however, I heard the gruff and commanding voice of my father as his heavy footsteps stammered groggily past my room.
“I swear to Christ if that’s one of your goofy friends.” He mumbled to himself as he staggered past my room in his barely lucid state.
Several moments later I heard the front door open. Followed by my father shouting in surprise as several loud bangs and clashes filled the house with a chaotic cacophony of sound.
I ran out as quickly as I could towards the front room of the house to see my fathers silhouette fumbling for the light switch. As he turned it on, and my eyes adjusted to the sudden flash of light. I could see that he was intently scanning the front room. His bright green eyes bouncing back and forth like a radar scanner. Laying on the ground around him was a broken ash tray and several books that must’ve gotten knocked off of the shelf they’d previously been resting on.
“What happened dad?”
Quickly he put his finger out in a sort of ‘stop talking’ gesture as his eyes remained transfixed on the room around him. After a few moments of nerve wracking silence, he finally responded.
“There’s a bat somewhere. Flew in when I opened the door.”
“Who rang the doorbell?”
As if remembering what it was the led us to the front room in the middle of the night in the first place my dad looked back over his shoulder to the wide open front door, and the dimly lit street beyond it. He peaked his head over the threshold and looked around for a moment before closing it.
“No one . . . Some kids ding dong ditching maybe. Crazy ass teenagers, when do you guys even sleep nowadays?”
I laughed quietly at dad’s remark before looking around the front room to try and spot the bat.
“You’d think it’d be freaking out or something you know? Like, fluttering around and trying to find a way out?”
“Yeah . . . You’d think.”
A thorough search of the front room gradually turned into a thorough search of the entire house, but aside from the fallen books and ash tray in the front room there was nothing amiss. Just another normal small-town house in its small town neighborhood. Finally after about an hour and a half of searching my dad threw his arms up in defeat.
“Screw it, guess he’s staying. I gotta get ready for work anyways. Go back to bed kid, we’ll find it tomorrow. No one ever got killed by a stray bat.”
Although I wasn’t necessarily comfortable with the idea of sharing a house with a wild animal for the night. I knew he was right. It was almost four thirty in the morning now, and I was tired. Besides, if it’s afraid then it’ll probably just hide, and they sleep during the day so it shouldn’t be a huge issue . . . Hopefully.
“Alright, night dad. Have a good day at work.”
“Yeah. . . .”
Ding
Dong
Diing
Donng
I had just slipped into that sort of half realm between awake and asleep when I was abruptly brought back to consciousness by the doorbell ringing again. The red digital illumination of my alarm clock read 6:33am. I sighed to myself in annoyance and frustration as I turned over on my back to prepare to pull myself out of bed once again to try and discover who was ringing our doorbell again, and that’s when I saw her.
Suspended from the ceiling upside down was the darkened shadow of a person. Long tangled hair draped low and messy, almost touching the floor. From within the tangled mess of hair were two bright yellow eyes that burned through me like fire. As I screamed and clambered my way to the headboard of my bed to try and pathetically create some distance between myself and this horrible thing in my room the figure reached its arms out in a sort of ‘crucifix’ posture. From the aurora of its terrible yellow eyes I could see a wide mouth full of sharp teeth. I screamed again at the top of my lungs as the room filled itself with the mind numbing sound of the doorbell coming from the figures wide open mouth.
DIIIINNNNNNGGGGGG
DOOOOOONNNNNNNGGGG
DDIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGGGG
DDDOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNGGGGGGGG
DIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGG
DOOOOOOONNNNNNNGGGGGGGG
As the deafening noise trembled every ounce of my being the figure contorted its way off of the ceiling and plopped onto my bed in an awful and grotesque fashion. Even in my panicked state I couldn’t understand how it could’ve moved the way it did without breaking its neck and spine.
I tried to make a jump from my bed to the door, but I wasn’t quick enough. I got to the edge of the bed before I felt a tremendous weight pin me back on to the mattress and hold me down. Sitting on my chest was the figure. Those horrible eyes burrowing into my soul. That wicked mouth hanging open as if it were going to swallow me whole.
She’s a witch.
The memory of Tommy’s voice echoed in my head.
I don’t know what came over me. I don’t know if it was just the fear, and Tommy being the only name on my mind in that moment. I don’t know if I’m just a selfish coward. I just . . . Don’t know, but as that god awful thing sat on top of me. As her mouth and those evil yellow eyes drew closer and closer to my face I shouted at the top of my fear fueled lungs.
“IT WAS TOMMY! IT WAS TOMMY! HE RANG YOUR DOORBELL! IT WAS TOMMY! PLEASE!”
Suddenly, with no warning, and no possible way of occurring. The weight was off of my chest, and the figure was gone.
I don’t know how I managed to fall back asleep, maybe it was just the adrenaline dump that knocked me out, but before I knew it I was waking up to the image of my sun filled room.
After a lot of talking to myself. I had barely managed to convince myself that last nights events were just the result of a horrible dream. I had read somewhere that waking up in the middle of the night and then going back to sleep could result in very lucid dreams. That, I decided. Was what caused that awful dream.
Ding
Dong
Diiing
Doong.
I felt an anchor drop into my stomach as the doorbell rang. Slowly I made my way to the front door and with a lot of hesitation finally managed to open it.
Standing at the other side of the door was Tommy’s mom. A look of obvious concern on her face.
“Did . . . Uhm, Did Tommy by chance come to your house last night? I’ve been to everyone’s house that he knows, and no one’s seen him. I don’t understand why he would just leave the house like that. Please. If you know something, please just tell me.”
They never found Tommy. Not even the faintest glimpse of a clue. Everyone eventually stopped looking for him after about a year. Everyone but his mom, she never stopped looking. She died last year. I heard she was staring expectantly at the hospital door the entire time. Waiting for her son to come walking through . . . The police say he either ran away, or was kidnapped and killed by some vagabond who had seen us in town the day prior.
I’m the only one who truly knows what happened to him, and I’ve never been able to tell anyone that It was all my fault.
Tommy was right.

I’ve written about this issue here before, but I/we need help, people. Any advice is appreciated…
So we have a three and a quarter year-old. Mostly a great kid. He definitely has his moments and likes to push his mom and I but… overall he’s sweet. Polite.
The thing is he’s gotten himself into a MASSIVE sleep regression that’s been going on for months now. He wakes us up EVERY NIGHT. And not just once. Two, three, four times. His mom and I are like zombies. We exist on caffeine (and sugar, for me). It’s brutal.
Nothing in his environment has changed. He has routines which we stick to. Nothing at his kindergarten has changed. He’s happy at school. Happy at home.
People suggested we get a sleep training clock. I did. Even came up with a little rhyme: “When it’s red, we stay in bed. When it’s green, time to be seen.”
Hasn’t worked. He just ignores the light, leaves his room and comes to ours.
Sometimes it’s a nightmare (which we’ve told him he can always call us for). Other times he comes to our room… just because he woke up. I tell him to just lay back down when he wakes up but that doesn’t work. He walks over to our room no matter what. Wake us up.
We’re at our wits need. My partner can fall back asleep relatively quickly but not me. Takes me at least fifteen to pass out again once he wakes me. Either way, we’re like zombies just… exhausted.
So again, if you have suggestions, send our way. Thanks in advance.

My boy is 19 months old and his sleep has been pretty good. Had a couple regressions but nothing too bad and they didn't last long. Now he is protesting his one nap during the day, throwing tantrums and screaming play, play!! At night it is bad too. He used to play a little in his crib or talk to himself but now he gets soooo angry when we put him in his crib and turn the light off.
Times really haven't changed, routine hasn't changed, so I'm not really sure what to do. He has only skipped a nap maybe twice and turned into the devil in the evening so I definitely think he still needs his naps.
He gets about 11 hours sleep at night, falls asleep around 8 and wakes around 7 give or take 30 min. Or so. He used to take almost 2 hour naps around 12:30 or 1 after lunch. Saturday and today he screamed for an hour. We would go check on him and he would throw tantrums and hit us and scream. But yesterday he took a 2 hour nap and was fine. So it isn't everyday.
I just dont know what to do. He never wakes up from his night sleep or naps quietly. He screams bloody murder and we have to go running into his room because he is going nutso. What could be going on? Any suggestions? We tried a dim red nightlight, the hatch, and that made him even more angry.

“Just relax, Jun. We’ll be watching you every step of the way. You’re perfectly safe.” Jun felt his armorer’s assurances were for her own benefit more than his. But as the shellfish carapace chest plate was locked into place over his sternum, he appreciated her kind words.
The experimental armor, designed after the shogun armors used by a few of the fleet’s warriors, was the first attempt by the ship’s artificer to use the volerite from the ocean floor to their advantage in this war. While previous attempts to use the body parts of the sea monsters below had been mildly successful, if greatly disturbing, this was the first real superweapon the exiles would have to their name. At least, that was the plan.
Jun had volunteered to test the first prototype as soon as the opportunity arose. He’d been a below-average fighter until now, spending more of his time on ship repair and maintenance than combat. The Harrowing hadn’t been kind to him; his bones were fragile, and many of the nerves in his arms and legs sent him agonizing bouts of pain on a daily basis. Recently, he’d even started to have seizures at the most inopportune times. His condition was becoming more severe, and the ship’s medic had all but given up on a good prognosis. He had about 3 months before the Harrowing reached his brain, and after that… well, he didn’t want to become a zombie like the creature on the Vaulted Velvet. If he was going to die, it might as well bring some good to his comrades.
“It’s a bit tight,” Jun said, squirming inside his prison of calcified flesh. The bracers on his legs made him feel stiff, and he was worried about being able to walk in the suit, let alone fight.
“Don’t worry,” the armorer said as she adjusted the binding agent on the joints. “The energy core should make the suit feel much lighter. The gel running along the outside should react to the volerite to give you the strength necessary to move faster and strike harder than anyone else in the fleet.”
“If it works, you mean.”
“Hey, you knew the risks of this when you signed up. I don’t think you have room to get cold feet now.” The dwarven woman picked up a pair of gauntlets and slid them onto Jun’s hands. “How does that feel?”
Jun tried to wiggle his fingers but found the gloves gave him little room to move. “Brittle.”
The armorer chuckled. “Let’s fix that, then.” She whistled, and a small creature with the body of a gnome and the skin and head of a shark (a chimera borrowed from Professor Ioniz, no doubt) approached them, carrying a tray with a large volerite crystal and a helmet shaped like a giant krill. “Don’t stare too long into the abyss, alright, pal?” She said jokingly.
Jun scoffed. “Just put the helmet on me, and let’s get on with this.” The dwarf picked up the krill skull and carefully slipped it over Jun’s head, fully encasing him in the white exoskeleton of the suit. “It’s kinda dark in here,” he yelled, realizing how small the slits for his eyes were.
“The gem should fix that, but I’ll make a note for the next remodel. Lower visibility is not something we want underwater.” Jun saw her walk out of his field of view to where the volerite was. “I’m going to coat the helmet in gel now. It’ll be airtight, but there’s an oxygen tank connected to the back, and the suit will synthesize its own air when you’re underwater.”
“Perfect.” Jun sighed. He thought he’d been prepared for the waiting period before he could test out the suit, but spending over an hour without being able to move was wearing out his patience. If the suit took this long to prep, maybe it wasn’t as game-changing as the artificers thought.
As a layer of clear gel slid over the mask, a few drops falling through the eye slits, Jun could feel a subtle vibration flow through the armor. The conducting gel was supposedly made from volerite as well, so he imagined a small amount of energy was already powering up the armor. It wasn’t enough to let him move his arms yet, but he could feel some of the joints loosening up.
“I think it’s working. You have the core ready yet?” He heard a muffled voice from outside the suit, but he couldn’t make out what it was saying. It was definitely his armorer, but it sounded like she was talking underwater. “What? I can’t hear you. The gel is-” But before he could try to get her attention, he saw the red glow of the gem coming closer as the dwarf slowly inserted it into the chest plate.
In an instant, electricity surged through Jun’s body, sending his already frayed nerves into overdrive. The suit around him started to glow a bright red as the light from his chest spread to cover his body. The locked joints started to crack and burst, sending shell pieces into his skin like shards of glass. “Take it out! Stop!” Jun tried to yell as his burning pain shot through his brain. It was like a lightning bolt was tearing him apart from the inside, and he couldn’t stop it.”
Then, as quickly as it started, the pain ceased, leaving only pitch darkness. Jun’s eyes refused to stay open, and he found himself losing consciousness fast. If this was his death, he had to admit it had been a pretty shitty one. As his mind faded, he heard one last whisper that seemed to come from his own mouth, though it sounded nothing like him. It wasn’t a human voice at all; it was something different.
“So much blood. Where to begin?”
Jun died listening to the sound of his armorer’s screams.
<><><>
When it came time for a shift change in the armory, the ship’s other blacksmith found the door to the lab wide open with one of the hinges broken. Inside the lab, though, was nothing short of a massacre. The walls were covered in blood, and the torn-up remains of one of the crew members were scattered on the floor. They assumed it had been the armorer, but there was so little left that it was anyone’s guess as to who it belonged to. There wasn’t a trace of the volerite they’d been using for weapons development; a half-ton of the mineral gone without a trace. The research and design papers were beyond salvaging, and as for the armor prototype itself, the only clues were the bloody bootprints leading to a hole in the side of the hull. The fleet shelved the project, deeming it too dangerous without full knowledge of what happened, much to the dismay of Professor Ioniz and the other artificers in the crew.
Still, the war continued, but with a dark specter looming over everyone on both sides. Each battalion had its own word for the creature that came for them; an inky monster in red, with a single glowing red eye in its chest, killing indiscriminately and leaving bloody massacres in its wake wherever it went. Very few lived to tell any stories about it at all, and the stories were so vague and inconsistent that most of the exiles doubted it existed at all. But every time red appeared on the surface of the water or the scent of blood came in on the wind, a chill ran through the air, even to the doubters. Another curse had been levied against them, and this one might not be one they survived.

Fear...
I think it would be safe to say that it is the one universal emotion across the galaxy. For most of us, fear is a means to an end: a simple mode of survival, but for humans... Well fear is something more. For us fear comes in situations where we might die, and that's it. The only thing we fear is the loss of life before our time is up.
Humanity... Humanity fears implication.
Sure humans experience fear in life or death situations, but sometimes they don't. Humans will jump from planes, play with fire, and swim deep under the crushing weight of water well over three to four times the pressure of their own gravity. They will tie ropes to their ankles and then jump off of high places.
I don't think I have ever seen a human that was truly afraid, or at least not overtly... Not until today anyway.
Sure, humans fear death, but they fear implications more. Life or death situations are hardly an issue when you have your own imagination to fear.
Humans are a strange species that can leap from the sky for a thrill, but alone in the darkness and safety of their own homes, they conjure up things to fear in the dark.
They see shadows out of the corners of their eyes and reflections in mirrors at their backs.
They fear the implication of things that are unseen.
Believe me, the human mind is a horror house of personal torture.
Just watch their movies, and I promise you that some of the scariest ones to humans, do not involve natural disaster, life or death, or even dangerous killers, but they do involve the unexplainable, the uncontrollable. Those things that hide unseen in the dark and infect the mind like an insidious disease.
Man does not fear life or death, he fears his own mind and what might hide in it's dark recesses.
[…]
"Get everything locked up, we do not want to be out here after dark."
The commander ordered, pushing through a thick strand of deep purple foliage, and out into a large-circular clearing where three of their shuttles stood, surrounded by that day's camping supplies, and a group of waiting marines.
They stood as the second team of marines trudged their way from the bushes covered in dirt, slime, and sweat from their day's work.
"Break it all down and get it back inside."
The commander ordered.
Krill, who had been waiting in camp with the marines, floated over to absently eye the marines as if for scratches scrapes and bruises.
Sunny, having problems to navigate the dense foliage with her height and her carapace, was the last to break through the trees, hauling her bulk over a mossy stone and onto the strange purple moss of the clearing.
She opened her four-pronged mouth and snorted a leaf from her face,
"Why in such a hurry, commander? Afraid of the dark?"
Her voice was playful, but the expression he shot her was serious.
She stopped,
"No, not the dark, but what might be hiding in it."
He began, locking their food away into the climate-controlled lock boxes,
"Plus, the last group of colonizers that tried to settle on this place ran screaming after just one night. According to the Galactic Assembly science teams, there was nothing particularly dangerous about this planet. On the first scans they found no big animals, be it herbivore or carnivore, just some smaller species. So, they have no clue what could have scared the settlers off. The UNSC wants to know what's up. The report had something to do with a “mimic”… Now I'm not sure what that means, the civilians were to shaken up to talk, but they seemed adamant that it was important NOT to go outside after dark, and I am not in the habit of ignoring warnings."
Sunny nodded a tiny bit apprehensive.
Whatever could have made a human run screaming was not something she particularly wanted to deal with.
Krill was as skeptical as ever,
"Probably just some strange planetary creature, no big deal. They probably saw it, assumed it was some sort of folk monster and worked themselves up enough to run away."
Commander Vir didn't say anything, but didn't look like he agreed.
Then again, he was known heavily as the kind of man that liked to give people the benefit of the doubt.
They got the camp packed up, just as the star was beginning to set in the north (the planet had a strange rotation, relative to its magnetic field), and Commander Vir made sure his marines had entered the shuttles and closed the door, remaining the last one before coming into the third shuttle and closing the door behind him.
Two other marines were watching the monitors in the cockpit, so he took a seat on his bedroll next to where Sunny sat by the wall, idly tracing one of her four claws through the striations on the floor.
Krill floated not too distantly, listening to the sound of idle conversation.
Sunset came and went, and nothing on the camera peaked the marine's interest.
They left one person on watch for that night while the other came back to select a bedroll and get some sleep.
Commander Vir and Sunny were out like lights, back-to-back with each other in the tropical warmth of the planet's midnight atmosphere.
It hardly seemed like a bad place to settle down.
Even Krill had dropped into his half-meditative trance, still partially aware of what was going on around him.
[…]
”…”
”Adaaaaaaam…”
”…”
”I’m all alone. Lost in the dark…”
”Mommy, I hear crows!”
”Is someone there?”
”There is something in the bushes…”
"Adam!"
”ADAM!!!”
Commander Vir jolted away in a cold sweat, looking around for where the voice had originated.
OH NO!
Everyone else was still asleep.
He shook himself a little.
No, it can’t be… That was strange, for a second he thought that maybe the infected starborn, the mindreading aliens he had to deal with some months before had returned to take over his mind, but... starborn couldn't survive on the face of a planet...
And he would have sworn that voice was the voice of a child.
He rubbed his eyes, stood and moved into the cockpit where one of the marines was still watching the cameras,
"Anything?"
He muttered, but the marine shook his head.
He was just opening his mouth to say something when…
”Something is out there… it knows what we are afraid of…”
*Silence*
Adam and the Marine looked at each other, both keenly aware that none of them had said something.
”…”
”…”
But they both knew they heard someone talk…
The voice they had heard came from the outside.
And then another sound came, this time not stopping, but going on, able to be heard through the walls of the shuttle…
A baby began to cry just outside the shuttle door.
The marine leaped to his feet eyes wide,
"What the hell!?
”HOLY FUCK!”
His startled voice caused everyone else in the compartment to wake up.
"Adam."
Commander Vir turned in a wild circle to face the wall behind him.
Of course, he couldn't see anything, because the voice had been just on the other side, like a small child pressing their mouth to the metal, whispering.
A few more of the marines had stood up, eyes turned to the hatch with the sound of the crying baby still echoing through the metal, slightly muffled by the door.
One of the marines got to his feet and reached for the handle, but commander Vir caught him,
"NO... that's not a baby marine. We are the only people on this planet."
The marine turned to look at him eyes wide with concern,
"But, sir maybe it's one of the settlers?”
"They may not have been coherent, but they would have told us if they were missing a baby."
"Adam, Adam, Adam..."
As the voice repeated it plunged from the high chirp of a child deeper and deeper into a demonic growl.
”I’ll help you. Follow my voice!”
"Adam!"
Something slammed against the side of the shuttle.
”I’m coming to help, where are you? I can’t see you. I…can’t… see… YOU!”
The marines yelled out in alarm.
Commander Vir jumped back.
Something skittered and clawed at the metal outside.
More voices joined in whispering pleading.
Voices rose and fell, more often than not, mimicking the sound of children.
Sunny was up now and found herself at the center of a group of humans, who had backed themselves into a circle in the middle of the shuttle eyes wide.
The sounds died away for a few moments, leaving them in the deep silence of the forest.
Then there was a knock on the door…
"Daddy... Daddy, let me in, I'm scared... Help me."
One of the marines turned his wide-eyed face to the commander and then back to the door,
"Jamie."
A hand clamped around his shoulder,
"No, marine, that isn't who you think it is."
"Daddy... Daddy please help me."
The knocking turned to a frantic banging then a thudding,
"Daddy please, something is coming!"
The sound of a small body throwing itself against the door repeated over and over and over again.
The marine's face was streaked with tears, but he held his ground.
However, as they listened, the sound of thudding grew louder and louder.
The shuttle rocked violently.
A child could not have had the strength to do that.
The marines cowered back against each other, weapons pointed towards the hatch.
The voices faded, turning themselves back into gibbering whispers.
Whispering died away, replaced by the sound of something rushing through the trees.
*Thud thud thud*
On the pad of feet.
It's movements were unholy.
It's feet or hands, whatever they were, were soft, and something dragged behind it.
Pad, pad scrape, pad pad, scrape.
"Let me in."
The voice was loud and sudden, emanating from about knee height and right behind them.
A girl's voice, throat torn and ragged, from fire...
…
Or from screaming.
The marines yelped and turned to the corner, where something now scratched against the metal.
Commander Vir was the first to voice what all the humans were thinking,
"Fuck this, let's get out of here."
With that, he rushed into the cockpit, giving a cursory glance to the cameras, but seeing nothing.
Engaging the coms system he opened a line to the other shuttles,
"Bravo, Charlie, this is Alpha leader ordering an immediate launch, do you copy?”
*Static*
*Silence*
”…”
For a horrifying moment, it seemed as if they wouldn't answer, but then two voices crackled over the line, breathless and hopeful, filled with their agreement.
Commander Vir engaged the launch sequence as the other marines strapped themselves in.
Krill and Sunny looked around the cockpit in confusion, hardly understanding what was going on.
Sure, there was something creepy outside, but it was outside and obviously couldn’t get in…
They had never seen the human's cut and run so fast before.
And they Cut and run as fast as they possibly could, making it out of atmosphere in record time.
[…]
Back aboard the ship, only the graveyard skeleton crew was there to meet them, surprised and worried to find three teams of frightened, bedraggled marines, and their more than paranoid commander eyeing the shadows in newfound paranoia.
Krill watched from the side confused.
Sunny looked on in worry.
What was wrong with their humans?
The skeleton crew got to work, packing up the gear, allowing the marines to return to the crew quarters for a rest. Commander Vir followed, but paused in the long hallway up to the captain's quarters, glancing back at Sunny.
She was about ready to head down the hall to her room when he spoke,
"You know... Um maybe it is best if... If maybe, we set up a watch for-for tonight. I mean just to make sure nothing ended up hitching a ride or... Or something."
Sunny looked at him in surprise,
"But captain, space..."
"Yeah yeah... I know, I mean... Just in case, but like in the rec room... Where we have light, and space to fight... If we have to."
She tilted her head at him, but finally nodded in agreement.
She had never seen such a look of relief on anyone's face before, and together they made their way to the rec room, set up one of the couches and began their "watch.".
A watch that simply turned into Adam leaning against her arm and promptly falling asleep.
She rolled her eyes a little, and was about to do the same when…
*THUD*
A thud echoed to her from down the hallway.
She opened her eyes, suddenly awake and alert, ready for some creature to come around the corner, but instead one of the marines poked his head in,
"Er... do you guys, you know... need help?”
Sunny looked down at the sleeping commander and sighed,
"The more the merrier I suppose."
"Oh... ok... I guess I can help."
He walked over, selected a beanbag, pulled it up to her feet, and immediately followed his commander's lead.
Sunny sighed and closed her eyes, not even bothering to open them when the next set of footsteps moved up the hall,
"Yes... we are on watch, and yes, obviously we need your help."
This marine took the other side of the couch.
By the end of a half hour span Sunny sat lording over a room full of uneasily sleeping humans, and she idly wondered if this is what it would have been like to have a brood of her own.
However, since she wasn't likely to ever experience that, she would happily protect these ones from the dark.
[…]
Other species don't mind the mimics so much. However, for some reason they have a profound impact on humans. My theory is that, like the starborn they have some ability in telepathy, and because of this, they have complete access to the one thing that humans fear most: Their own imagination
Previous First [Next](link)
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author

Presenting a chapter from what will eventually be the full 1st Volume of the Multiversal Manuscript, a catalog of all sorts of new characters, places, and things drawn from all piles of notes and random writing I've done for my D&D games and setting work. While generally written for a Dungeons & Dragons and Pathfinder style setting, its contents can be setting agnostic and made to fit any world.
This chapter contains entries for 19 Organizations as well as sample NPCs for each. It also includes the 20 page Appendix of minor entries that are referenced by both the Organizations in this text and what will eventually be the full product. Consider them a sneak preview.
They are intended to serve varied roles in many settings, from allies to enemies and anything in between. These organizations and their members are meant to be both inspiration and foundation for more, providing hooks and conflicts that can be tailored to your own worlds.
​

• The Aggrieved - Covert - Grudge Bearing Dwarves
• The Bedlam - Mercenary - Chaotic Shock Troopers
• Black Iron’s Sixth - Military - Entrenched Goblinoid Remnant
• Celebrants of the Corpse Gods - Cult - Worshippers of the Divine Dead
• Crownfall Initiative - Covert - Resurgent Spy Masters
• The Dead Fish - Criminal - Infamous Harbor Gang
• Dustbringers' Market - Guild - Ghostly Wandering Merchants
• House Garsese - Noble - Hoard Takers and Ruin Delvers
• House Nemosar - Noble - Psionic Power Brokers
• The Manifest Order - Druid - Totemic Hybrid Shapeshifters
• Onyxfang Syndicate - Criminal - Werebeast Controlling Crime Families
• Order of the Unbound Tome - Mercenary - Arcane Tactical Operators
• The Reclaimers - Cult – Paranoid Artifact Destroyers
• The Ruinous Dawn - Divine - Seekers of Deific Rebirth
• School of the Last Gasp - Monk School - Rogue Trap Masters
• Thurandic Earthguard - Military - Alchemically Enhanced Elemental Warriors
• Typhon’s Revenge - Military - Rebels With A Dreadnought
• Wakeners - Arcane - Spreaders of Magical Knowledge
• The Zolothron - Mercenary - Loot Hungry Orc Artificers

​
It is Free on DriveThruRPG - https://www.drivethrurpg.com/product/430677/Multiversal-Manuscript--Volume-1--Organizations
Slowly working my way through editing everything and in refining the Organizations the size of the overall project has gone gone up about 25 pages. Looking at working on either my Monsters or Gods chapters next.
There is also my more general Preview version I posted here about 4 months ago if it is of interest; it gives an idea of the full scope of the project and what the final think is headed towards, content wise.
Any comments or suggestions to edits on either doc is welcome!
Below are 3 examples from the set -
-----Examples-----

Aggrieved, The

Covert - Grudge Bearing Dwarves
A clandestine organization of dwarves spread across the world. For a fee, they take on the grudges and hatreds of any dwarf or clan, storing them in massive iron tomes. They dispatch specialists to ensure that the targets of the grudges suffer or repay what is owed, be it in blood or gold. The group actively recruits dwarves who have nothing left to lose, such as exiles, criminals, lone survivors, or those who cannot fit into normal dwarven society. The Aggrieved provides them with purpose and an outlet for pent-up frustrations, especially against surface dwellers or their eternal foes in the depths of the world. While the group is something of an open secret in most dwarven communities, they are keen to keep their existence from outsiders. Chief among the grievances they are sought to satisfy is the reacquisition of ancient dwarven treasures that have been stolen and the punishment of those who currently possess them, even if they are many owners removed from the original thieves. Rumors persist of a Grudgebearer who has spent over a hundred years systematically tracking down every subsequent owner of a long-dead dwarven mountain lord’s treasure, leaving hundreds of dead in their wake. The Aggrieved also fulfills more indirect grievances, such as ensuring that a particular human noble family will forever see their fortunes ruined for cheating a clan elder in a trade deal in a prior generation, or that the elves will never expand past the mountains that once belonged to a now-fallen dwarven city for failing to come to their aid when needed. Additionally, a few of their members, more unstable and violent than the rest, are sent on Bitter Hunts to forever seek out and slay the sworn enemies of the dwarves until they wipe them all out or die in the process.
Kerganosk the Brazen: An Aggrieved hunter who has made it his mission to seek revenge against fire giants. He has become a legend among the giants, who fear him greatly. The dwarf is known for his scorched and pitted brass armor, which he refuses to take off until he has seen to the utter decimation of his enemies. Despite the fact that the greater dwarven kingdoms have publicly disavowed Kerganosk's crusade, they do nothing to stop him. In fact, many younger dwarves who are eager to earn a name for themselves or reject the withdrawn nature of their forebearers have joined his cause. These dwarves are cult-like in their devotion to Kerganosk and have expanded their hatred to include all giants, no matter where they may be. Although Kerganosk remains focused on his mission, he is more than willing to share his martial tactics and specialized weaponry with anyone who wishes to see the giants destroyed, even non-dwarves who show some talent. Together with his allies, he has been able to vex his enemies for years, often laying low for extended periods as they plan simultaneous strikes against multiple targets, or emerging suddenly for an overwhelming attack on a valuable target before quickly disappearing once again. Through bounty hunters and smaller allies. the giants have attempted to track down Kerganosk and his hidden lairs throughout the Underdelve. Thus far they have only found fleeting traces of his passing and no small number of cleverly hidden traps in the broken halls of dead dwarven fortresses that the Brazen and his followers rotate through.
Gallkag Brimrift: A grim dwarf who has claimed a stretch of mountains that were once settled as part of a collaborative effort between dwarves and humans to establish a long-lasting trade city. However, the short-lived humans and their tumultuous politicking soured the venture, leading to tensions that eventually flared into skirmishes, then war. In the end, the dwarves were forced to cut their losses and retreat back into the depths of the earth to their homeland. Gallkag, left for dead in the last days of the conflict, was "rescued" by the Aggrieved. After he recovered, he eagerly took it upon himself to make the humans of the region pay for their transgressions. He now ceaselessly stalks the mountain passes of his former home, waylaying any human travelers that have the misfortune of crossing paths with him and his pack of beasts. Operating out of the half-built trade city, Gallkag's territory is honeycombed with tunnels that only he knows about. Many have tried to ferret the vicious dwarf out, but his mastery of the landscape allows him to evade interlopers with ease, picking them off one by one or tricking them into the many hazards present.
Urist Dastordruk: An undercover liaison for agents of the Aggrieved in one of the largest aboveground cities of the realm. He owes an extensive debt of both coin and honor to the organization for avenging his extended family's death many years prior. Though few are sure what exactly he does as an occupation beyond being a perennial socialite, the dwarf has earned a reputation throughout the city and beyond for his uncanny knack for making friends across all strata of society and getting them connected. If he doesn't know someone or something, he certainly knows who does and can get in touch for a nominal fee, of course. However, Urist hates every second of it. Every handshake, every fake smile, and every cheering toast. He wants nothing more than to be back in the mountainhome of his kin and away from the petty, meaningless lives of all the small-minded people on the surface. To maintain his composure, Urist's handler in the Aggrieved has supplied him with a steady stream of alchemical concoctions that serve to both suppress his incredible hatred of those peoples tangentially responsible for the downfall of his family and enhance the charming facade of his public personality. Over time, the doses have had to become more and more potent to maintain their effect, and the dwarf has begun experiencing strange fugue states. When he emerges, Urist is often standing at the edge of a roof looking out over the city below or back in his home covered in blood that is not his. He is both terrified of what has been happening and hopeful that it might lead to an end of his torment, honor be damned. The Grudgebearer that owns his debt cares little for Urist's plight. While the dwarf has been exceedingly useful in feeding the organization information and the whereabouts of targets, the cost of maintaining his persona has begun to outweigh the benefits, especially if it possibly draws attention to the existence of the Aggrieved.
​
-------

Dustbringers' Market

Guild - Ghostly Wandering Merchants
Hailing from an abandoned marketplace in a long-dead city where the Veil between the realm of the living and the dead is nearly non-existent, several lingering dead have managed to leave the city and establish wandering markets in derelict sections of distant cities. They have achieved this through the use of mortal ‘handlers’, ragged humanoids who have forged a sort of pact with the dead of the city to serve as anchors for the ghostly merchants. Visitors to one of these markets, whether in its original city or one of its wandering offshoots, can trade their knowledge of the living world or more ephemeral wares such as memories and emotions in exchange for the long-forgotten knowledge of the dead city's people or whatever other secrets they've garnered from beyond the Land of the Dead. The Dustbringers have somehow managed to craft or acquire ghostly goods that provide boons to the living when it comes to dealing with or fighting the undead. Some are even willing to cut long-term deals and pacts with the living to acquire resources for their strange deathly economy.
Morof and Echessar: This pair is the most widely known members of the Dustbringers, accompanied by their ever-cloaked and silent human servant. They have come to reside in a city of the living, but the authorities take exception to their very existence, forcing them to stay on the move within the city walls. They set up their ghostly shop in different abandoned buildings or dark alleyways each night and simply wait. They are content to let the rumor mills bring customers to them, as they always seem to have something that entices prospective buyers, even with the strange prices they demand. The most common items they sell, if anything of theirs could be considered common, are lead coins stamped with a closed eye. Swallowing one of these coins renders the imbiber undetectable to the undead until it passes. Their usual fee for most purchases is measured in minutes of life per day, in perpetuity, from what remains of a customer’s natural lifespan. The portly Morof eagerly assures prospective customers that they won’t miss such a paltry sum of time. However, each night when the toll comes due and the disturbingly gaunt Echessar appears to collect, many feel they have chosen poorly as the shade’s icy hand reaches into them and pulls away threads of their soul. Such is the power of the Dustbringers’ deals that they are able to reach their customers wherever they may be on any plane. Should a client attempt to hide out elsewhere, the ghostly merchants are not above hiring others to retrieve them, so that they may collect what they are due, plus interest.
The Urn: One of the most powerful members of the Dustbringers, it has a cadre of lesser member shades of the guild bound to it by contracts etched upon large scrolls of thin lead sealed within ivory cases. These pacts seemingly predate the deaths of the Dustbringers’ mortal forms in centuries past and raise questions as to just how the demise of their city came about. The Urn itself is a massive vessel of cloudy black marble, weighing hundreds of pounds, with patterns traced in gold that subtly shift and flow. It has a brass cover at its top, with several fluted pipes emerging from it, curving upwards. Although it rarely moves, when it emerges from its vault-lair, it is carried on a great palanquin by a dozen mortal handlers. Through the deals it has struck with entities from the Land of the Dead, The Urn has extensive power over souls that have passed into that realm, summoning them forth for interrogation, torment, or to bind them back onto the mortal realm. It is even able to shape these recalled shades into physical objects with particular potency and protection against both the living and the dead. While The Urn allows its servant Dustbringers to conduct their deals in their own way, what it desires above all is vast quantities of physical wealth, such as gold and other valuable metals, along with gems of all kinds. Why The Urn would seek such extensive and mundane riches instead of the more ephemeral things like emotions or life force, which its kin typically traffic in, is a mystery. Some speculate that it aims to perform a ritual on behalf of a Power that it has contracted with, utilizing the symbolic connection and meaning of wealth to enact some drastic change to the mortal plane. Others believe that it is working towards building a powerful construct body through which it can personally enact its will. However, The Urn freely allows such conjecture, confident in its power to control other souls with minimal effort. The Urn does not manifest its ghostly form directly to interact with its servants or prospective clients. Instead, it emerges from the brass pipes at its apex as a sickly mist before occupying the body of one of its ragged mortal attendants. Even then, it rarely does so, instead relying on the fanatical devotion of its Dustbringer seneschals to negotiate on its behalf. It stirs to action only when it needs to call forth and shape a soul from beyond.
Zaunfe: Once a respected member of the Dustbringers, renowned for her ability to craft and transmute strong metaphysical sympathetic energy into physical objects and vice versa. However, fleeting traces of mortality constantly slipping through her spectral fingers began to torment her with fragmented memories of the life she once lived. Now, Zaunfe desires nothing less than to become mortal again. Despite not being formally expelled from the guild, it has been declared that none are to interact with her or allow her back into the city of their origin. If it became known just how many of their secrets she has been sharing in her pursuit of a new life, and the crimes she has committed against other shades, it is likely that they would actively hunt Zaunfe down and return her to the Land of the Dead by force if necessary. Unlike others in the guild, Zaunfe forms symbiotic pacts with the suffering mortals she comes across, giving them a longer lease on life than they might have had without her help. Unfortunately, she constantly leeches away her pact bonded associate's emotions and personality, mingling with hers until they are difficult to distinguish from one another. More than just keeping her partner alive, she is able to extend her spectral transmutation power through them, turning emotional connections into physical boons and weapons. With such objects, she reverts back to the mercantile nature at her core, wheeling and dealing with them to gain the allies and resources she requires. Given her knowledge of how the Land of the Dead and the mortal realm interact, she feverishly pursues leads on how to contact the Powers of that plane to forge whatever deal is necessary to be reborn. This pursuit for knowledge and those who possess it has proven exceedingly dangerous, and over the years she has led a number of her mortal partners to their own deaths. When untethered, Zaunfe is forced to rekindle and perpetuate her own essence through the consumption of powerful emotions, either elicited from nearby mortals or through the destruction of physical mementos that bear a great deal of sentimental value. In desperation, she has even consumed lost ghosts that she has encountered. These shades, often confused and trapped in the Veil of the mortal realm, are easy prey for one of their kind that possess full awareness and sentience. All of this consumption of emotion and personality has not come without a cost. Zaunfe now resembles little of the unique entity that she once was and is now an amalgamation of all the different beings she has fed upon in one way or another. While these conflicting impulses can sometimes drive her into fits of mania, what has remained a constant tethering influence to her soul is the overwhelming drive to attain life once again.
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Ruinous Dawn, The

Divine - Seekers of Deific Rebirth
A group of former heroes and remnants of a forgotten age of the multiverse. Their all-consuming desire for the rebirth of their divine patron has driven them to transcend mortality and resort to abhorrent methods to carry out their 'sacred' task, one that fervently believe will ultimately redeem the multiverse. Uzarial was one of the earliest celestial deities of the sun, life, and purification of evil, and their death in a catastrophic final conflict with an unknown Elder Entity is something the founders of the Ruinous Dawn have never truly accepted. Their goal is to resurrect Uzarial, seeing its return as the catalyst required to cleanse the wretched planes of what they consider to be pervading and all-consuming evil. Each member has vowed to use whatever means necessary in pursuit of the knowledge and power they need to breach the Vale of Dead Gods and usher forth Uzarial's return. Despite this, they believe that their actions constitute the ultimate good, a concept that exceeds the grasp of most mortal minds and is superior to the 'morality' of ordinary individuals. The current Gods of Light are viewed by the Dawn as either ineffective pretenders at best or complicit in the multiverse's defiled state through their inaction at worst. They aim to subsume all such false gods into the reborn Uzarial when the time comes, reclaiming their deific essence and putting it to proper use. The six elders of the Ruinous Dawn are scattered throughout the planes, each pursuing the 'Endeavor' in their own way. They meet every fifty years to pool their knowledge and make arrangements for the future. These summits often result in an ambitious act against perceived foes, as well as the setting in motion of complex plots towards their ultimate goal. Their schemes can range from the acquisition of required relics and artifacts to the realignment of several planes towards a configuration more suitable to their cosmic aims. Most founders of the Ruinous Dawn have long since ceased feeling remorse for their actions, no matter how questionable or amoral they may become. Those that do bear regret for all the lives they have spent seeking the God's return fully intend to suffer the judgement of their patron or scour themselves from existence as unworthy to reside in the paradise that will result. Several have attracted followers that share their cynical view of the planes and desire to resurrect Uzarial, or founded obscure faiths across the planes with the same intent. However, such allies are often seen as fleeting or expendable and are tested regularly, for the Ruinous Dawn is ever paranoid of infiltrators and those that would despoil their sacred Endeavor.
Alithrienne: Uzarial’s most devout mortal agent and an Exalted of demi-god like power, she took the celestial deity’s fall most severely and was a driving force towards the formation of the Dawn. Bearing a large portion of the fallen God’s power after their passing, she set about holding together what was left of their divine realm. Alithrienne fought to stave off planar usurpers and scavengers that sought to pick over its remains. If that was not enough, she was also forced to stave off other celestial entities and divine servitors that balked at a mortal claiming such a role. Despite considerable effort, even she and her allies were not able to prevent the gradual dissolution of Uzarial’s realm; infusions of celestial essence and sundered relics only delaying the inevitable. In a moment of despair and anguish, she plunged the God’s final relic, a great spear of pearlescent stone and golden light, through her own heart. She intended to give the last shreds of power in both herself and the weapon to the divine realm in a bid to halt its decay and ensconce it as a memorial within the Astral.
The inherent desperation of her act mixed with the unstable divine energies of the plane, the relics, and the Astral instead merged her soul with the last of Uzarial’s divine power. Alithrienne, the realm, and the great spear became one, an untethered demi-plane out of phase with the rest of the multiverse. Other members of the Dawn, still holding on to a semblance of their connection to the dead God, were able to locate it in this state and commune with the transcended Exalted. In her new form, she quite literally became the foundation of the Ruinous Dawn. While the further deterioration of Alithrienne’s realm has halted, it remains in a shattered state. It is composed of several dozen floating islands of broken marble-like rock covered in golden grass. Spires and temples of an opaque white glass are scattered across the islands, cracked, and crumbling but still held aloft even in pieces. The only structure that has remained whole is a grand temple of the same shimmering glass in the realm’s center, the seat of Alithrienne’s power and the meeting place for the rest of the Ruinous Dawn during their infrequent conclaves.
Nearly a true God herself, Alithrienne has been able to create minor servitors to watch over the realm, though they are little more than bird-like beings of light. The spear that was integral to her transcendence was once held in a reliquary of stained glass at the apex of the central cathedral. Still a greater relic in its own right, Alithrienne discovered that her consciousness and will reside in it as well. When wielded by a mortal, she would be able to freely traverse between the rest of the multiverse and her realm and assist the rest of the Dawn in its plot to resurrect Uzarial. Over the ages, Alithrienne, in her spear form, has been wielded by countless mortals; many willingly chose to bear her power and enact her will, but not all. When an accord could not be made with a bearer to serve, she would bring the full force of her semi-divine might down upon them. Such recusants are left as little more than puppets hollowed out by her terrible light; even if they were to be freed from Alithrienne spear, it would take a greater divine power to make them whole again. Through these wielders, legend and infamy has been carved across the multiverse by her actions, each a small part of the greater Endeavor. As the Ruinous Dawn’s plans grow ever closer to fruition, Alithrienne hopes deeply to serve as the cradle from which Uzarial may be reborn, even if she may be utterly consumed in the process.
talshir: A zealot in the service of Uzarial, he had spent his entire life operating in the shadows cast by the celestials’ divine light. Brought up from birth to eradicate enemies of the faith, Talshir remained steadfast in his crusade, even after the fall of his God. In fact, he saw the death of his deity as validation of his actions, as it demonstrated that anything was killable. However, Talshir's methods went beyond merely ending the lives of his adversaries, he went so far as to master the tools of his enemies, including forbidden mystical arts that would have marked him a heretic under normal circumstances. When he eventually joined the core founders of the Ruinous Dawn, Talshir discovered a newfound sense of purpose as part of the Endeavor. It was his destiny to be the left hand of the reborn God and usher in the demise of the hopelessly corrupt planes.
To achieve the longevity required for such a destiny, Talshir delved into the darkest secrets of soul magic and combined them with the knowledge of life provided to him by other members of the Dawn. Rather than consuming the souls of others, he chose to shatter his own soul into hundreds of fragments and scatter them throughout the multiverse. Although the results were unpredictable, the vast majority of his soul fragments were able to take root in mortal hosts. After Talshir's original body was placed in stasis in a hidden tomb, his will was able to manifest within those who bore his soul fragments, even across generations of their descendants. Spread across various planes, the Talshirs form a unified cult with a common purpose, and dozens of them are active on different mortal realms at any given time. While the personality of each Talshir may vary due to their diverse experiences, they are essentially simulacrum of the original, sharing his mind if not his physical body. The Prime Talshir is the singular host in which the full consciousness of the original Talshir is able to manifest, representing the Talshirs at the Ruinous Dawn's conclaves and issuing orders to the others. During the years between conclaves, the Prime Talshir takes it upon himself to visit each of the other Talshirs individually, in order to ensure their continued adherence to their mission. Any Talshir who has strayed too far from their task is dealt with in a manner that Talshir himself refers to as being 'returned to the source'. In such cases, a new incarnation is sent to take their place, even if it takes years for one to manifest.
Shephard of Eternity: Once a grand paladin of an inter-planar order, sworn to Uzarial, their name has been deliberately purged from history. They made a glorious sacrifice in order to obtain the power necessary to bolster the martial forces of the Ruinous Dawn. By rending open their own soul, they established a direct conduit to the Plane of Life, a realm of positive energy from which all nascent souls originate. Using this raw creative energy, they have created a legion of homunculi to serve the Endeavor. Over the centuries, in order to sustain the portal within their body, this individual, having come to be known as the Shephard, replaced most of their body with sanctified metals and sacred stones, effectively becoming a construct save for their heart and a few other organs.
Embracing their role as the forgemaster of the Dawn, the Shephard is driven to perfect their creations to better serve the cause of their allies. While they often lament the necessity of forcing pure and untainted souls into new forms, the Shephard sees it as a necessary act to preserve the planes in the long run, confident that Uzarial will purge them of any suffering they might experience once the rebirth of reality comes. Although most of their creations are humanoid in appearance, with stone-like opaline flesh and silver armaments, the Shephard aspires to create artificial angels to serve as the ultimate shock troops in the eventual siege of the Vale of Dead Gods. However, they have thus far met with limited success, as their pseudo-angels of condensed soul-stuff prove to be highly volatile and prone to mutation, resulting in horrific forms with too many limbs and eyes. Nevertheless, even in their malformed state, these creations have proven useful against the enemies of the Dawn and those who have stumbled across their secret existence. Despite the accolades of their comrades, the Shephard has grown increasingly despondent over their failure to create a true angel. They have begun to engage their private homunculi forces to delve into the primeval ruins of the First War between the Gods and Primordials in search of the secrets that led to the first angels' creation.
​
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I just need to share my experiences this past year and a half... attempting VLC with BOUNDARIES so that my son can have a relationship with his grandmother, so here goes the background.
My husband and I were temporarily staying with my mom with the SOLE purpose of saving money so that we could build a family and a future together. The plan from the BEGINNING was for us to be there for a couple years and then move out and buy our first home once we reached those goals. All of this was discussed and fully "supported" by her before the move happened.
So fast forward, we got married in June of last year, but we got engaged in the winter of 2020 while we were living with my dBPD mom (yeah ....quarantine was a trip... 🙄 I digress). I also found out I was pregnant in April of 2020. Also, we began the process of house hunting and job interviews in preparation for us to relocate once the baby came and we both had jobs in our desired location.
I have now come to understand that this is a triple whammy of abandonment from her perspective. God forbid I find any success as an independent and healthy adult...
The first sign of things to come was on the day my husband and I told her we were traveling out of state to begin looking at wedding venues. It had always been our intention that the wedding would take place in the same part of the country that we were planning to plant roots and raise our own family. We both grew up there, and the majority of our friends and family are there, but the thing that REALLY grinds her gears is that my father and wonderful step-family are also in that location.
Well, when we informed her that we would be going away for the weekend to look at venues, her response was "we need to sit down and have a conversation about how this is all being paid for. I am planning on contributing financially to the wedding, so we need to have some parameters." I told her not to worry, we were just touring a couple of spots and that once we had an idea of even what KIND of wedding it would be, we could discuss finances. I knew that I was in a lose-lose situation, because if she was involved with footing any of the bills, she would without a doubt sabatoge my planning on the basis of costs and if she wasn't involved financially, it "makes her look bad" and that I am "ungrateful". I also know that nothing makes her more angry and resentful than the fact that in the years since my parents divorce, my father has become very successful, is happily remarried, and owns a gigantic beautiful house. If she wasn't willing to agree with my choices for the wedding, he WOULD. (The thing is, she is ALSO very successful and owns a home in one of the most affluent and expensive areas of the country, so even though her house is significantly smaller in size, due to its location it's worth ALMOST the same amount of money as my dad's. Plus, she lives alone and he has a wife and 4 step children... so it's obviously not really about that, now is it?)
Well, although we weren't expecting to, we ended up finding the PERFECT venue in the month we wanted, so we signed a contract to secure our date. My dad also told me not to worry about the money or my mother.
We were FLOATING on CLOUD 9. After dating for 10 years, we had finally set a wedding date! On the drive back home to her house, we called her on speakerphone to share the exciting news, hopefully (and delusionally) expecting a NORMAL response from a mother about her only daughter's wedding. As you can imagine, she completely bursted my bubble by not only not being happy FOR me or WITH me, but actually sounded pretty pissed off.
ME: "hey Mom! We set a wedding date!! pwBPD: "oh?" ...Awkward Silence... ME: "ummm, yeah.. so... we are on our way back now. I guess I will tell you more about it later." pwBPD: "yeeupp" hangs up.
FIANCÉ: "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?"
Okay, so fast forward a few weeks and it's time to go wedding dress shopping. I made the mistake of allotting the dress to be her financial contribution and asking my mother to come to the appointment. Once again I had delusional hopes and visions of us laughing, sipping champagne, crying tears of joy, and lots of hugging.. you know.... like the normal mothedaughters you see on "Say yes to the dress" or whatever... 🫤😔
Now, thanks to her constanting criticisms and body shaming as a preteen and adolescent, I suffer from some pretty deep, long-term body dysmorphia and was NOT looking forward to dress shopping. I was terrified, actually. But - I kept telling myself that the fear was due to my irrational feelings of disgust towards the way I look in literally ANYTHING. I was refusing to acknowledge that the fear was more likely the direct result of my subconscious knowing full well that dress shopping with THE person who created all of these issues would likely result in an uncomfortable and embarrassing situation. ...bingo... When I the one dress that caught my eye and made me excited to actually try something on, they didn't have a sample on hand that was anywhere near my size and there were none at any other American retailers, but they could have one made and shipped over. She proceeded to try and convince me to shop around some more. I stood my ground and wanted the dress made asap in order to get it with enough time to do alterations. They required 50% payment up front to even have it made to sample & try on because of the pandemic, access to materials, and everyone rescheduling their weddings for 2021 and 22.
So... she started an argument with the lady at the shop. Wanted guarantees on being able to change our mind once it came in, and finally refusing to pay the deposit. I left there completely devastated and angry. Called my dad secretly when we got home, and he said "Go back tomorrow and get the dress sent over. Even if we lose the deposit because you end up HATING it, you should get it." (I recognize the unbelievable amount of privilege that I am referring to here, and realize that many people would not have that option, but it's important for story context - I am beyond grateful for the comforts i am afforded in this lifetime and my for my dad being genuinely supportive and a providing a much needed emotional safety net in the wake of these episodes with my pwBPD).
After this incident, things rapidly escalated. My mother started getting crazier and the dissociations were ranpant. Living under he roof became a nightmare. Any way she could sabatoge, interfere with our routines, impose on our privacy, triangulate and pit us against one another, she did:
She started texting my brother (non-BPD) and using him as well.
She abruptly stopped watching our infant son for 1.5 hours a day and left us with no childcare unexpectedly, causing my fiance to have to quit his job because we werent planning to enroll him until we relocated in the coming months because it was interfereing with her work from home career (did i mention this 1.5 hour block was literally during normal lunch hours, 11:30 til 1pm, and she was fully in control of her calendar availability) - an immensely helpful gesture that SHE had offered to us, NOT one that we had asked her for.
She started verbally abusing our cat, and eventually threw things at him including a knife.
She would turn on her gigantic stereo on the weekends starting at 7am so that she could "clean" even though it was our only time off as a family with our son, making it impossible to relax at any time inside those walls... etc etc etc...
my tactic for several weeks was pretty much the silent treatment and walking on eggshells. We just needed this to last a few more months... we had several very promising job prospects being considered and as soon as we were employed, wevcould relocate, despite how insane it is to move, start a new job AND plan a wedding all at the same time. We wanted OUT, and things were so volatile it was sincerely like walking across a mine field CONSTANTLY.
Finally, just before the holidays (I believe it was a day or two before Thanksgiving) things got so out of hand. After almost 2 months VLC - which is immensely uncomfortable whilst livingunder the same roof - she pushed JUST the right buttons to throw me over the edge. I lost it. Screaming, cursing, slamming doors. When she actually hit me with a closed fist, causing me to attempt to remove myself from the situation, she followed me around the house from room to room and would not leave me alone. My infant son was asleep and I was not leaving without him, and she was physically blocking my route to his crib. My husband was also asleep and when I was finally able to get into our room and lock the door, I just sat in bed silently all night, waiting to hear her footsteps walking towards my son, even once she went to her room and turned off all the lights.
The next day we went to a hotel while she was working. We lived there for three weeks, eventually relocated and continued to plan the wedding without her input at all. I was completely NC from November until May. The ONLY reason I allowed contact in May was because the wedding was in June and if she was going to be in attendance, I needed to rip off the bandaid before I walked down the aisle.
I am going to stop now because i just totally unpacked here and it's a lot but.... omg there is something seriously painful about desperately and deeply craving the approval, pride, love, and approval from a parent who is not capable of fulfilling those things for you.
With the support of this forum, I am hopeful that navigating the near future will at least be less isolating and there will be more reminders of the validity of my choices and actions.
💜💜💜
Grateful.
💜💜💜
Hugs.
raisedbyborderlines MODs I do not have any other reddit usernames!
https://basepaws.com/blogs/news/how-big-can-maine-coon-cats-get

“She’s a witch.”
“I think you said bitch wrong.”
It’s hard to laugh when you’re exhausted, but Marti was never not able to get one out of us. Between panted breaths we laughed. Tommy’s face growing red with anger and embarrassment at the joke at his expense.
“I’m serious!” He managed to blurt when the laughter finally died down enough to get a word in.
“So am I!”
Again, laughter erupted from the bottom of our thirteen year old hearts once more breaking the silence of the forest we were supposed to be hiding in if by chance the cops were actually called as a result of our impromptu prank just a few minutes prior.
Living in a small town meant a lot of boredom. Some kids had big problems like gang violence and drive-by shootings, drugs, and crippling poverty, and even though those problems existed for your typical small town Ohio kids, at least to some extent. Our biggest problem was always boredom.
As a matter of fact, every problem that every small town had ever had could probably be traced back to boredom in one way or another. Why is that guy doing heroin behind a Walmart? Because once upon a time he was sixteen and bored, so he stole some of grandmas pills. Why did the schools football teams locker building get burned down? Because some kid was bored and decided to ruin the football team’s stuff. Why are there a bunch of kids laughing in the middle of the forest just outside of town? Same reason, they were bored and decided to ding dong ditch the senile old lady down the street.
If I’d had known for half a second . . . If I’d even had a hint of foresight about how everything would’ve turned out for us then I’d have suggested something else. Anything else, but hindsight’s 20/20. Especially for young kids.
“Guys, I’m freakin serious. Okay?” Tommy doubled down. His fists now balled up. His voice breaking a little bit with the overwhelming irritability at the laughter. “Anyone who’s ever messed with Ms. Abernanthy has been cursed.”
“Come on man.” I said trying to diffuse Tommy’s anger a little bit. “There’s a lot of places in this world, beautiful places! Jamacia, Hawaii, Switzerland. All sorts of places a powerful witch could have a good ass life, and you think there’s one living in that little brown double wide on Sycamore street? In London Ohio?”
A few more chuckles amongst the group of friends before Tommy finally resigned his argument with an exasperated sigh. As we came around from our fits of laughter and jokes we began to realize that the sun was setting.
“Wow, what a surprise.” Charlie spoke up. “No one cares that their doorbell got rang! Looks like our outlaw days are done y’alls. Just in time for dinner too. Convenient full pardons are convenient!”
“No doubt.” I responded as the group made their way out of the forest and began to cut across the large meadow towards town. “Marti, you eating with us tonight? Dad says it’s fine.”
“Appreciate it dude, but mom says we’ve got plans tonight. We’ll steal your dads Marlboros some other time okay?”
More laughter as the friend group split ways and headed home . . .
Ding
Dong
Diiing Doong
At first when I heard the doorbell ring, I just sort of brushed it off. I’d thought that maybe it was just some part of a dream I’d been having or something. Even in my almost full sleep state I knew that no one in their right mind would be ringing our doorbell at three in the morning. As I adjusted my pillow and threw my head back down on it though I heard it again. Resonating throughout the otherwise silent house in a way that was almost maliciously haunting given the time of night.
Ding
Dong
Diing Doong
It hadn’t been my imagination. There was someone at the door. Before I could even get up however, I heard the gruff and commanding voice of my father as his heavy footsteps stammered groggily past my room.
“I swear to Christ if that’s one of your goofy friends.” He mumbled to himself as he staggered past my room in his barely lucid state.
Several moments later I heard the front door open. Followed by my father shouting in surprise as several loud bangs and clashes filled the house with a chaotic cacophony of sound.
I ran out as quickly as I could towards the front room of the house to see my fathers silhouette fumbling for the light switch. As he turned it on, and my eyes adjusted to the sudden flash of light. I could see that he was intently scanning the front room. His bright green eyes bouncing back and forth like a radar scanner. Laying on the ground around him was a broken ash tray and several books that must’ve gotten knocked off of the shelf they’d previously been resting on.
“What happened dad?”
Quickly he put his finger out in a sort of ‘stop talking’ gesture as his eyes remained transfixed on the room around him. After a few moments of nerve wracking silence, he finally responded.
“There’s a bat somewhere. Flew in when I opened the door.”
“Who rang the doorbell?”
As if remembering what it was the led us to the front room in the middle of the night in the first place my dad looked back over his shoulder to the wide open front door, and the dimly lit street beyond it. He peaked his head over the threshold and looked around for a moment before closing it.
“No one . . . Some kids ding dong ditching maybe. Crazy ass teenagers, when do you guys even sleep nowadays?”
I laughed quietly at dad’s remark before looking around the front room to try and spot the bat.
“You’d think it’d be freaking out or something you know? Like, fluttering around and trying to find a way out?”
“Yeah . . . You’d think.”
A thorough search of the front room gradually turned into a thorough search of the entire house, but aside from the fallen books and ash tray in the front room there was nothing amiss. Just another normal small-town house in its small town neighborhood. Finally after about an hour and a half of searching my dad threw his arms up in defeat.
“Screw it, guess he’s staying. I gotta get ready for work anyways. Go back to bed kid, we’ll find it tomorrow. No one ever got killed by a stray bat.”
Although I wasn’t necessarily comfortable with the idea of sharing a house with a wild animal for the night. I knew he was right. It was almost four thirty in the morning now, and I was tired. Besides, if it’s afraid then it’ll probably just hide, and they sleep during the day so it shouldn’t be a huge issue . . . Hopefully.
“Alright, night dad. Have a good day at work.”
“Yeah. . . .”
Ding
Dong
Diing
Donng
I had just slipped into that sort of half realm between awake and asleep when I was abruptly brought back to consciousness by the doorbell ringing again. The red digital illumination of my alarm clock read 6:33am. I sighed to myself in annoyance and frustration as I turned over on my back to prepare to pull myself out of bed once again to try and discover who was ringing our doorbell again, and that’s when I saw her.
Suspended from the ceiling upside down was the darkened shadow of a person. Long tangled hair draped low and messy, almost touching the floor. From within the tangled mess of hair were two bright yellow eyes that burned through me like fire. As I screamed and clambered my way to the headboard of my bed to try and pathetically create some distance between myself and this horrible thing in my room the figure reached its arms out in a sort of ‘crucifix’ posture. From the aurora of its terrible yellow eyes I could see a wide mouth full of sharp teeth. I screamed again at the top of my lungs as the room filled itself with the mind numbing sound of the doorbell coming from the figures wide open mouth.
DIIIINNNNNNGGGGGG
DOOOOOONNNNNNNGGGG
DDIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGGGG
DDDOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNGGGGGGGG
DIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGG
DOOOOOOONNNNNNNGGGGGGGG
As the deafening noise trembled every ounce of my being the figure contorted its way off of the ceiling and plopped onto my bed in an awful and grotesque fashion. Even in my panicked state I couldn’t understand how it could’ve moved the way it did without breaking its neck and spine.
I tried to make a jump from my bed to the door, but I wasn’t quick enough. I got to the edge of the bed before I felt a tremendous weight pin me back on to the mattress and hold me down. Sitting on my chest was the figure. Those horrible eyes burrowing into my soul. That wicked mouth hanging open as if it were going to swallow me whole.
She’s a witch.
The memory of Tommy’s voice echoed in my head.
I don’t know what came over me. I don’t know if it was just the fear, and Tommy being the only name on my mind in that moment. I don’t know if I’m just a selfish coward. I just . . . Don’t know, but as that god awful thing sat on top of me. As her mouth and those evil yellow eyes drew closer and closer to my face I shouted at the top of my fear fueled lungs.
“IT WAS TOMMY! IT WAS TOMMY! HE RANG YOUR DOORBELL! IT WAS TOMMY! PLEASE!”
Suddenly, with no warning, and no possible way of occurring. The weight was off of my chest, and the figure was gone.
I don’t know how I managed to fall back asleep, maybe it was just the adrenaline dump that knocked me out, but before I knew it I was waking up to the image of my sun filled room.
After a lot of talking to myself. I had barely managed to convince myself that last nights events were just the result of a horrible dream. I had read somewhere that waking up in the middle of the night and then going back to sleep could result in very lucid dreams. That, I decided. Was what caused that awful dream.
Ding
Dong
Diiing
Doong.
I felt an anchor drop into my stomach as the doorbell rang. Slowly I made my way to the front door and with a lot of hesitation finally managed to open it.
Standing at the other side of the door was Tommy’s mom. A look of obvious concern on her face.
“Did . . . Uhm, Did Tommy by chance come to your house last night? I’ve been to everyone’s house that he knows, and no one’s seen him. I don’t understand why he would just leave the house like that. Please. If you know something, please just tell me.”
They never found Tommy. Not even the faintest glimpse of a clue. Everyone eventually stopped looking for him after about a year. Everyone but his mom, she never stopped looking. She died last year. I heard she was staring expectantly at the hospital door the entire time. Waiting for her son to come walking through . . . The police say he either ran away, or was kidnapped and killed by some vagabond who had seen us in town the day prior.
I’m the only one who truly knows what happened to him, and I’ve never been able to tell anyone that It was all my fault.
Tommy was right.

Recently my girlfriend (18F) and I (18M) have started sleeping together, which was a really great step forward in the relationship for both of us after dating for more than a year now. Despite only having a relatively small bed, we still make it work and it’s honestly so nice to always have that special person to wake up to. However, in spite of the very nice benefits of this situation, there is a significant problem that I really can’t get around: She refuses to turn the light off when it’s actually time to go to sleep because she’s scared of the dark. Initially I believed she was joking, but after having a heated discussion surrounding it, I realised she genuinely was dead serious about leaving that light on the entire night. I’ve yielded every time we’ve argued about it, because it’s worth sleeping next to her and having that intimate space, but I don’t think I can keep doing it every single night for the rest of our relationship. I’ve brought up with her that its really difficult for me to get a good sleep with the light on, and thats it’s actually really unhealthy in general to do. However, every time she has just brushed me off and told me that I or she will go sleep somewhere else if I don’t like it. Obviously that’s not the outcome I want, but I feel like there’s eventually going to be no other options. What can I do to get her to have a different perspective or change her mind about the light? Help!
TLDR; Girlfriend keeps the light on all night when we sleep together which really disrupts my sleep and I don’t know to change her mind about it.
Edit: Grammar mistakes.

Please do not remove this or think I’m a troll. I have tried to vent and confess on Reddit but am accused of being a troll. I cannot confess anywhere else because I don’t want to go to jail even though I’m pretty sure I can’t at this point….. but the guilt that’s eating at me is worse than jail.
I abused my daughter for 15 years. I had her young and her father left us and wanted nothing to do with the situation whatsoever. I ended up resenting her for it. I was young. I shouldn’t have been a mother. And I shouldn’t have put myself in that situation. I have tried to apologize to her but she doesn’t think it’s genuine since I never mentioned the details of the things but I’m going to detail them here to let it off my chest.
From the ages of 1-3

• this was the worst time for my mental health and and unfortunately I took it out on her. We shared a bed and sometimes when she’d take the blanket off me, or move around too much, I’d get so angry and put her in a dark hallway with a pillow and blanket on the floor. She was scared of the dark but too small to turn on the light switch. She would scream and cry and beg for my grandma.
• I would leave her in the living room late at night while I would have sex with men.
• One of my ex’s had a dog and she was allergic to them at the time. She got an asthma attack , hives, ect and had to go to the hospital because she was having issues breathing. I still continued to let him bring the dog over because I wanted the company.
• Sometimes my ex’s would be rude or nasty to her. Grab her arm ect.
• I would spank her and pull her hair but nothing too bad to cause a mark.

As she got older (7-14) and I got married to an unstable man, I took out my frustrations on her whenever he left. I made her take on a parental role when he left and came back. I had her change diapers, wake up sometimes in the middle of the night to give bottles, ect.

• I had control issues because of my mental illness and monitored everything she did. How much toilet paper she used. How much soap. Anything really.
• I didn’t let her shower every day because I didn’t want to pay the high water bills. When she did shower it was for a few minuets and I would turn the water off with soap in her hair still.
• I hid most of the food in the house in my bedroom closet. When she’d sneak the food I’d get so angry when I’d find wrappers and papers around the house.
• I didn’t want her to mess up the sheets or the couches, so I made her sleep and eat on the floor for many years every night.
• One day she put a chocolate in my thanksgiving turkey and I got so angry I shoved mayonnaise down her throat and face until she threw up. She has always had a sensitivity to mayonnaise and it was the only threat to get her to behave.
• As punishment, I would throw her out in the hallway and threaten to unscrew the light bulbs. And tell her aliens or deamons were going to get her.
• I would pull her hair so hard there was a lump.
• I was too cheap to buy her pads. Bras. Deodorant. Soap. My mother had to. Or I let her use some of mine.
• I let her have lice in her hair for over a year and didn’t want to help her because I was afraid I’d get it. She was almost 14 so I thought she was old enough to do it herself. It didn’t work and she had lice crawling on her forehead and eyebrows.

I exposed her to things I shouldn’t have because of my nymphomania. Told her explicit details of my sex life with my ex husband and my past history. Didn’t remove very disgusting emails and pornography on the computer. And when she was younger, I would shake my boobs and dance naked in front of the mirror and sing because I thought it was funny.
I’ve said very hurtful things to her. Told her I wish I never fucked her father. A loser. Told her she had a balloon face. More stretch marks than me. Cellulite. Would zoom in on pictures I took of her and point out her belly and thighs. She was bullied at school constantly and I would agree with what they said and tell her that’s why she had no friends. I was secretly jealous of her I guess.
She’s always had substance abuse issues and undiagnosed ADHD and was a difficult kid. I shouldn’t have acted like that. I should have done better parenting tools. I knew she was cutting herself but I didn’t care to get her help.
When she was 14, she told me her and her 24 year old coach were kissing and I recently found out that it was way more than that. My heart broke. I didn’t think all of that happened.
I have no idea where to start to make this right. She hates me. She is a kind person despite it all and has made a good life for herself. I kicked her out when she was 17 because she could not follow my rules, and smoked weed in front of my other children. She didn’t have a car or a bank account or a job. I was expecting her to fail so she’d come back and finally listen. But she didn’t. And the guilt is destroying me. What do I even do.

Please do not remove this or think I’m a troll. I have tried to vent and confess on Reddit but am accused of being a troll. I cannot confess anywhere else because I don’t want to go to jail even though I’m pretty sure I can’t at this point….. but the guilt that’s eating at me is worse than jail.
I abused my daughter for 15 years. I had her young and her father left us and wanted nothing to do with the situation whatsoever. I ended up resenting her for it. I was young. I shouldn’t have been a mother. And I shouldn’t have put myself in that situation. I have tried to apologize to her but she doesn’t think it’s genuine since I never mentioned the details of the things but I’m going to detail them here to let it off my chest.
From the ages of 1-3

• this was the worst time for my mental health and and unfortunately I took it out on her. We shared a bed and sometimes when she’d take the blanket off me, or move around too much, I’d get so angry and put her in a dark hallway with a pillow and blanket on the floor. She was scared of the dark but too small to turn on the light switch. She would scream and cry and beg for my grandma.
• I would leave her in the living room late at night while I would have sex with men.
• One of my ex’s had a dog and she was allergic to them at the time. She got an asthma attack , hives, ect and had to go to the hospital because she was having issues breathing. I still continued to let him bring the dog over because I wanted the company.
• Sometimes my ex’s would be rude or nasty to her. Grab her arm ect.
• I would spank her and pull her hair but nothing too bad to cause a mark.

As she got older (7-14) and I got married to an unstable man, I took out my frustrations on her whenever he left. I made her take on a parental role when he left and came back. I had her change diapers, wake up sometimes in the middle of the night to give bottles, ect.

• I had control issues because of my mental illness and monitored everything she did. How much toilet paper she used. How much soap. Anything really.
• I didn’t let her shower every day because I didn’t want to pay the high water bills. When she did shower it was for a few minuets and I would turn the water off with soap in her hair still.
• I hid most of the food in the house in my bedroom closet. When she’d sneak the food I’d get so angry when I’d find wrappers and papers around the house.
• I didn’t want her to mess up the sheets or the couches, so I made her sleep and eat on the floor for many years every night.
• One day she put a chocolate in my thanksgiving turkey and I got so angry I shoved mayonnaise down her throat and face until she threw up. She has always had a sensitivity to mayonnaise and it was the only threat to get her to behave.
• As punishment, I would throw her out in the hallway and threaten to unscrew the light bulbs. And tell her aliens or deamons were going to get her.
• I would pull her hair so hard there was a lump.
• I was too cheap to buy her pads. Bras. Deodorant. Soap. My mother had to. Or I let her use some of mine.
• I let her have lice in her hair for over a year and didn’t want to help her because I was afraid I’d get it. She was almost 14 so I thought she was old enough to do it herself. It didn’t work and she had lice crawling on her forehead and eyebrows.

I exposed her to things I shouldn’t have because of my nymphomania. Told her explicit details of my sex life with my ex husband and my past history. Didn’t remove very disgusting emails and pornography on the computer. And when she was younger, I would shake my boobs and dance naked in front of the mirror and sing because I thought it was funny.
I’ve said very hurtful things to her. Told her I wish I never fucked her father. A loser. Told her she had a balloon face. More stretch marks than me. Cellulite. Would zoom in on pictures I took of her and point out her belly and thighs. She was bullied at school constantly and I would agree with what they said and tell her that’s why she had no friends. I was secretly jealous of her I guess.
She’s always had substance abuse issues and undiagnosed ADHD and was a difficult kid. I shouldn’t have acted like that. I should have done better parenting tools. I knew she was cutting herself but I didn’t care to get her help.
When she was 14, she told me her and her 24 year old coach were kissing and I recently found out that it was way more than that. My heart broke. I didn’t think all of that happened.
I have no idea where to start to make this right. She hates me. She is a kind person despite it all and has made a good life for herself. I kicked her out when she was 17 because she could not follow my rules, and smoked weed in front of my other children. She didn’t have a car or a bank account or a job. I was expecting her to fail so she’d come back and finally listen. But she didn’t. And the guilt is destroying me. What do I even do.

FYI, this is a story COLLECTION. Lots of standalones technically. So, you can basically start to read at any chapter, no pre-read of the other chapters needed technically (other than maybe getting better descriptions of characters than: Adam Vir=human, Krill=antlike alien, Sunny=tall alien, Conn=telepathic alien). The numbers are (mostly) only for organization of posts and continuity.
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
Uhhhh scaaary, really reminded me of this fellow here in the music video.
Previous First [Next](link)
Fear...
I think it would be safe to say that it is the one universal emotion across the galaxy. For most of us, fear is a means to an end: a simple mode of survival, but for humans... Well fear is something more. For us fear comes in situations where we might die, and that's it. The only thing we fear is the loss of life before our time is up.
Humanity... Humanity fears implication.
Sure humans experience fear in life or death situations, but sometimes they don't. Humans will jump from planes, play with fire, and swim deep under the crushing weight of water well over three to four times the pressure of their own gravity. They will tie ropes to their ankles and then jump off of high places.
I don't think I have ever seen a human that was truly afraid, or at least not overtly... Not until today anyway.
Sure, humans fear death, but they fear implications more. Life or death situations are hardly an issue when you have your own imagination to fear.
Humans are a strange species that can leap from the sky for a thrill, but alone in the darkness and safety of their own homes, they conjure up things to fear in the dark.
They see shadows out of the corners of their eyes and reflections in mirrors at their backs.
They fear the implication of things that are unseen.
Believe me, the human mind is a horror house of personal torture.
Just watch their movies, and I promise you that some of the scariest ones to humans, do not involve natural disaster, life or death, or even dangerous killers, but they do involve the unexplainable, the uncontrollable. Those things that hide unseen in the dark and infect the mind like an insidious disease.
Man does not fear life or death, he fears his own mind and what might hide in it's dark recesses.
[…]
"Get everything locked up, we do not want to be out here after dark."
The commander ordered, pushing through a thick strand of deep purple foliage, and out into a large-circular clearing where three of their shuttles stood, surrounded by that day's camping supplies, and a group of waiting marines.
They stood as the second team of marines trudged their way from the bushes covered in dirt, slime, and sweat from their day's work.
"Break it all down and get it back inside."
The commander ordered.
Krill, who had been waiting in camp with the marines, floated over to absently eye the marines as if for scratches scrapes and bruises.
Sunny, having problems to navigate the dense foliage with her height and her carapace, was the last to break through the trees, hauling her bulk over a mossy stone and onto the strange purple moss of the clearing.
She opened her four-pronged mouth and snorted a leaf from her face,
"Why in such a hurry, commander? Afraid of the dark?"
Her voice was playful, but the expression he shot her was serious.
She stopped,
"No, not the dark, but what might be hiding in it."
He began, locking their food away into the climate-controlled lock boxes,
"Plus, the last group of colonizers that tried to settle on this place ran screaming after just one night. According to the Galactic Assembly science teams, there was nothing particularly dangerous about this planet. On the first scans they found no big animals, be it herbivore or carnivore, just some smaller species. So, they have no clue what could have scared the settlers off. The UNSC wants to know what's up. The report had something to do with a “mimic”… Now I'm not sure what that means, the civilians were to shaken up to talk, but they seemed adamant that it was important NOT to go outside after dark, and I am not in the habit of ignoring warnings."
Sunny nodded a tiny bit apprehensive.
Whatever could have made a human run screaming was not something she particularly wanted to deal with.
Krill was as skeptical as ever,
"Probably just some strange planetary creature, no big deal. They probably saw it, assumed it was some sort of folk monster and worked themselves up enough to run away."
Commander Vir didn't say anything, but didn't look like he agreed.
Then again, he was known heavily as the kind of man that liked to give people the benefit of the doubt.
They got the camp packed up, just as the star was beginning to set in the north (the planet had a strange rotation, relative to its magnetic field), and Commander Vir made sure his marines had entered the shuttles and closed the door, remaining the last one before coming into the third shuttle and closing the door behind him.
Two other marines were watching the monitors in the cockpit, so he took a seat on his bedroll next to where Sunny sat by the wall, idly tracing one of her four claws through the striations on the floor.
Krill floated not too distantly, listening to the sound of idle conversation.
Sunset came and went, and nothing on the camera peaked the marine's interest.
They left one person on watch for that night while the other came back to select a bedroll and get some sleep.
Commander Vir and Sunny were out like lights, back-to-back with each other in the tropical warmth of the planet's midnight atmosphere.
It hardly seemed like a bad place to settle down.
Even Krill had dropped into his half-meditative trance, still partially aware of what was going on around him.
[…]
”…”
”Adaaaaaaam…”
”…”
”I’m all alone. Lost in the dark…”
”Mommy, I hear crows!”
”Is someone there?”
”There is something in the bushes…”
"Adam!"
”ADAM!!!”
Commander Vir jolted away in a cold sweat, looking around for where the voice had originated.
OH NO!
Everyone else was still asleep.
He shook himself a little.
No, it can’t be… That was strange, for a second he thought that maybe the infected starborn, the mindreading aliens he had to deal with some months before had returned to take over his mind, but... starborn couldn't survive on the face of a planet...
And he would have sworn that voice was the voice of a child.
He rubbed his eyes, stood and moved into the cockpit where one of the marines was still watching the cameras,
"Anything?"
He muttered, but the marine shook his head.
He was just opening his mouth to say something when…
”Something is out there… it knows what we are afraid of…”
*Silence*
Adam and the Marine looked at each other, both keenly aware that none of them had said something.
”…”
”…”
But they both knew they heard someone talk…
The voice they had heard came from the outside.
And then another sound came, this time not stopping, but going on, able to be heard through the walls of the shuttle…
A baby began to cry just outside the shuttle door.
The marine leaped to his feet eyes wide,
"What the hell!?
”HOLY FUCK!”
His startled voice caused everyone else in the compartment to wake up.
"Adam."
Commander Vir turned in a wild circle to face the wall behind him.
Of course, he couldn't see anything, because the voice had been just on the other side, like a small child pressing their mouth to the metal, whispering.
A few more of the marines had stood up, eyes turned to the hatch with the sound of the crying baby still echoing through the metal, slightly muffled by the door.
One of the marines got to his feet and reached for the handle, but commander Vir caught him,
"NO... that's not a baby marine. We are the only people on this planet."
The marine turned to look at him eyes wide with concern,
"But, sir maybe it's one of the settlers?”
"They may not have been coherent, but they would have told us if they were missing a baby."
"Adam, Adam, Adam..."
As the voice repeated it plunged from the high chirp of a child deeper and deeper into a demonic growl.
”I’ll help you. Follow my voice!”
"Adam!"
Something slammed against the side of the shuttle.
”I’m coming to help, where are you? I can’t see you. I…can’t… see… YOU!”
The marines yelled out in alarm.
Commander Vir jumped back.
Something skittered and clawed at the metal outside.
More voices joined in whispering pleading.
Voices rose and fell, more often than not, mimicking the sound of children.
Sunny was up now and found herself at the center of a group of humans, who had backed themselves into a circle in the middle of the shuttle eyes wide.
The sounds died away for a few moments, leaving them in the deep silence of the forest.
Then there was a knock on the door…
"Daddy... Daddy, let me in, I'm scared... Help me."
One of the marines turned his wide-eyed face to the commander and then back to the door,
"Jamie."
A hand clamped around his shoulder,
"No, marine, that isn't who you think it is."
"Daddy... Daddy please help me."
The knocking turned to a frantic banging then a thudding,
"Daddy please, something is coming!"
The sound of a small body throwing itself against the door repeated over and over and over again.
The marine's face was streaked with tears, but he held his ground.
However, as they listened, the sound of thudding grew louder and louder.
The shuttle rocked violently.
A child could not have had the strength to do that.
The marines cowered back against each other, weapons pointed towards the hatch.
The voices faded, turning themselves back into gibbering whispers.
Whispering died away, replaced by the sound of something rushing through the trees.
*Thud thud thud*
On the pad of feet.
It's movements were unholy.
It's feet or hands, whatever they were, were soft, and something dragged behind it.
Pad, pad scrape, pad pad, scrape.
"Let me in."
The voice was loud and sudden, emanating from about knee height and right behind them.
A girl's voice, throat torn and ragged, from fire...
…
Or from screaming.
The marines yelped and turned to the corner, where something now scratched against the metal.
Commander Vir was the first to voice what all the humans were thinking,
"Fuck this, let's get out of here."
With that, he rushed into the cockpit, giving a cursory glance to the cameras, but seeing nothing.
Engaging the coms system he opened a line to the other shuttles,
"Bravo, Charlie, this is Alpha leader ordering an immediate launch, do you copy?”
*Static*
*Silence*
”…”
For a horrifying moment, it seemed as if they wouldn't answer, but then two voices crackled over the line, breathless and hopeful, filled with their agreement.
Commander Vir engaged the launch sequence as the other marines strapped themselves in.
Krill and Sunny looked around the cockpit in confusion, hardly understanding what was going on.
Sure, there was something creepy outside, but it was outside and obviously couldn’t get in…
They had never seen the human's cut and run so fast before.
And they Cut and run as fast as they possibly could, making it out of atmosphere in record time.
[…]
Back aboard the ship, only the graveyard skeleton crew was there to meet them, surprised and worried to find three teams of frightened, bedraggled marines, and their more than paranoid commander eyeing the shadows in newfound paranoia.
Krill watched from the side confused.
Sunny looked on in worry.
What was wrong with their humans?
The skeleton crew got to work, packing up the gear, allowing the marines to return to the crew quarters for a rest. Commander Vir followed, but paused in the long hallway up to the captain's quarters, glancing back at Sunny.
She was about ready to head down the hall to her room when he spoke,
"You know... Um maybe it is best if... If maybe, we set up a watch for-for tonight. I mean just to make sure nothing ended up hitching a ride or... Or something."
Sunny looked at him in surprise,
"But captain, space..."
"Yeah yeah... I know, I mean... Just in case, but like in the rec room... Where we have light, and space to fight... If we have to."
She tilted her head at him, but finally nodded in agreement.
She had never seen such a look of relief on anyone's face before, and together they made their way to the rec room, set up one of the couches and began their "watch.".
A watch that simply turned into Adam leaning against her arm and promptly falling asleep.
She rolled her eyes a little, and was about to do the same when…
*THUD*
A thud echoed to her from down the hallway.
She opened her eyes, suddenly awake and alert, ready for some creature to come around the corner, but instead one of the marines poked his head in,
"Er... do you guys, you know... need help?”
Sunny looked down at the sleeping commander and sighed,
"The more the merrier I suppose."
"Oh... ok... I guess I can help."
He walked over, selected a beanbag, pulled it up to her feet, and immediately followed his commander's lead.
Sunny sighed and closed her eyes, not even bothering to open them when the next set of footsteps moved up the hall,
"Yes... we are on watch, and yes, obviously we need your help."
This marine took the other side of the couch.
By the end of a half hour span Sunny sat lording over a room full of uneasily sleeping humans, and she idly wondered if this is what it would have been like to have a brood of her own.
However, since she wasn't likely to ever experience that, she would happily protect these ones from the dark.
[…]
Other species don't mind the mimics so much. However, for some reason they have a profound impact on humans. My theory is that, like the starborn they have some ability in telepathy, and because of this, they have complete access to the one thing that humans fear most: Their own imagination
[…]
[…]
Redditors note: To calm down and increase the mood, I would like to quote my favorite comment exchange (and a great Harry Potter reference) from wattpad about this chapter:
krowlyn: SPACE BOGGARTS!
Dryadgreentree: Le gasp *points space wand* Riddikulus!
articfox120: *Boggart turns into Krill wearing a wedding dress*
Previous First [Next](link)
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author
Thanks for reading! As you saw in the title, this is a cross posted story written by starrfallknightrise and I'll just upload some of it here for you guys, if you are interested and want to read ahead, the original story-collection can be found on tumblr or wattpad to read for free. (link above this text under "OC:..." ) It is the Empyrean Iris story collection by starfallknightrise. Also, if you want to know more about the story collection i made an intro post about it, so feel free to check that out to see what other great characters to look forward to! (Link also above this text). I have no affiliations to the author; just thought I’d share some of the great stories you might enjoy a lot!
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.

Hi everyone. Does anyone here have a history of chronic Lyme disease or EBV that turned into something more such as lymphoma? I had a severe case of mono in 2012 and have been sick since. Eventually diagnosed with chronic Lyme disease and Epstein Barr virus. Covid in 2022, exposure to mold, and a traumatic death exacerbated my already severe symptoms but since 2012 I have had enlarged lymph nodes, so big that they bulge through my skin. They range in size, most around 1.5cm with the largest being 3cm at the moment. Daily symptoms include severe debilitating fatigue, daily low grade fevers, waking up feeling hungoveexhausted/dizzy, migraines, severe brain fog, vertigo, gi issues, flushing, swelling, nausea, no appetite, joint pain, tremors/head buzzing, most recently night sweats and hives. Basically everyday feels like the flu. I’ve worked with so many drs, functional medicine/holistic drs, lyme specialists, Mayo Clinic, nutritionists, clean diet, sauna, red light therapy, ozone, iv tx, supplements, despite the fatigue I try to keep myself moving, no chemicals in the home, very careful as to what I use/put into my body. These are just some treatments, the list goes on as to what I’ve tried. In addition to the inguinal lymph nodes that have been enlarged since 2012, I’m now having lymph nodes throughout the rest of my body that are blowing up in size. After years of telling multiple different drs and it being brushed off, I finally saw a hematologist who ordered a CT. I guess I’m just curious if there is anyone out there dealing with similar issues.

Hi everyone. Does anyone here have a history of chronic Lyme disease or EBV that has been diagnosed with lymphadenopathy or any other lymphatic related diseases? I had a severe case of mono in 2012 and have been sick since. Eventually diagnosed with chronic Lyme disease and Epstein Barr virus. Covid in 2022, exposure to mold, and a traumatic death exacerbated my already severe symptoms but since 2012 I have had enlarged lymph nodes, so big that they bulge through my skin. They range in size, most around 1.5cm with the largest being 3cm at the moment. Daily symptoms include severe debilitating fatigue, daily low grade fevers, waking up feeling hungoveexhausted/dizzy, migraines, severe brain fog, vertigo, gi issues, flushing, swelling, nausea, no appetite, joint pain, tremors/head buzzing, most recently night sweats and hives. Basically everyday feels like the flu. I’ve worked with so many drs, functional medicine/holistic drs, lyme specialists, Mayo Clinic, nutritionists, clean diet, sauna, red light therapy, ozone, iv tx, supplements, despite the fatigue I try to keep myself moving, no chemicals in the home, very careful as to what I use/put into my body. These are just some treatments, the list goes on as to what I’ve tried. In addition to the inguinal lymph nodes that have been enlarged since 2012, I’m now having lymph nodes throughout the rest of my body that are blowing up in size. After years of telling multiple different drs and it being brushed off, I finally saw a hematologist who ordered a CT. I guess I’m just curious if there is anyone out there dealing with similar issues.