Husqvarna weed eater parts

Tl;dr at the bottom, but plz read 😀
So, I've hopped on the Run and Bun bandwagon, and I'm decently enjoying it. It's vanilla; it doesn't offer much new content in the wake of your Inclement Emeralds or Radical Reds, but you can palpably enjoy the effort that went into crafting its major battles...
And then there's the rest. Now, I'm not exactly sure what Run and Bun means (I think it's an edgy weed reference), but more than anything else, to me it reads like Run Back and Forth.
Mighty Arceus, most of this game is running back and forth to the Pokemon Center! I've just reached the Weather Center and am unsure if there's a convenience healing item soon to be earned, but I've already had enough. I'm dreading the sea routes. You might tell me to stock up on healing items, but then I'd run the risk of foregoing arbitrarily costly perks later on, right? Y'all know the feeling.
Besides venting into the void, I want to take this opportunity to have a constructive discussion about trainer battles: They're not bad! Run Back and Forth actually has many interestingly themed minor battles, but the great effort that also went into these encounters is overshadowed by their tedium.
So how can this be fixed? Mashing through trainers and running back and forth to the PC is a problematic gameplay loop that's been knotted into the Pokemon formula since forever. The mainline games sorta addressed the grind by marginalizing trainer battles as optional in S/V, and the Pokevial has been a helpful innovation on the community's part. But these don't fix the issue, they just mask it.
In my humble opinion, as someone who only has a surface knowledge of making hacks, I think here the sky's the limit. Let's consider a few fathomable ways in which the community could make trainer battles more engaging:
1) Encourage players to chain trainer victories with intrinsic rewards. With the possibility of a cookie, perhaps bonus EXP, players might push themselves to win 2 or 3 battles in a row instead of mindlessly returning to the PC after each encounter.
2) A win streak gimmick could even be expanded to endow more benefits. For instance, your Audino might automatically heal your party to at least half HP if you've chained 3 or more wins.
3) Have bespoke gimmicks for some routes. For instance, a dangerous cliffside route might only be safely traversed by rock, ground, and flying Pokemon; other types might automatically "slip and fall" (automatically faint) when out for consecutive turns.
There certainly would be coding hurdles to overcome, but I think with some hard work and creativity, the community could significantly elevate the moment-to-moment quality of their ROM hacks. The talented Pokemon super-fans among us have done an incredible job of pushing the series' formula toward its maximum potential, but it does feel like ROM hacks have peaked on the boss-rush side of the equation. Hopefully, we'll see the rest of the Pokemon formula get more love and attention in all the excellent hacks that are surely just over the horizon.
Tl;dr = Trainer battles and healing tedious. Come up with some new ways of doing things.
Thanks for reading and I'd love for this discussion to continue in the comments. Good luck in all your Gym battles to come (and may you find zen in repeatedly returning to Nurse Joy).

The whirring blades of my MD-902 throbbed against the warm evening air, and I smiled.
From 5,000 feet, the ground flew by in a carpet of dark forests and kelly-green fields. The sun hung low on the horizon in a picturesque array of dazzling orange and gold, and I could make out the narrow strip of the Ohio River to my left, glistening in the fading daylight. This time of year, the trees would be full of the sweet aroma of fresh blossoms, and the frequent rains kept small pockets of fluffy white mist hanging in the treetops. It was a beautiful view, one that reminded me of why being a helicopter pilot trumped flying in a jumbo jet far above the clouds every day of the week.
Fourteen more days, and I’m debt free.
That made me grin even more. I’d been working as a charter pilot ever since I obtained my license at age 19, and after years of keeping my nose to the grindstone, I was closing on the final payment for real-estate in western Pennsylvania. With no debt, a fixer-upper house on 30 rural acres all to myself, and a respectable wage for a 26-year-old pilot, I looked forward to the financial freedom I could now enjoy. Maybe I’d take a vacation, somewhere exotic like Venice Italy, or the Dominican Republic. Or perhaps I’d sock the money back for the day I started a family.
“Remember kleineun, a real man looks after his own.”
My elderly ouma’s voice came back from the depths of my memories, her proud, sun-tanned face rising from the darkness. She and my Rhodesian grandfather had emigrated to the US when they were newlyweds, as the violence against white Boer descendants in South Africa spiraled out of control. My mother and father both died in a car crash when I was six, and it had been my grandparents who raised me. Due to this, I’d grown up with a slight accent that many of my classmates found amusing, and I could speak both English, and Afrikaans, the Boer tongue of our former home.
I shifted in my seat, stretched my back muscles, and glanced at the picture taped to my console. Both my parents flanked a grinning, gap-toothed six-year-old me, at the last Christmas we’d spent together. My mother beamed, her dark hair and Italian features a sharp contrast to my father’s sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. Sometimes, I liked to imagine they were smiling at me with pride at how well I flew the old silver-colored bird my company had assigned to me, and that made the long, lonely flights easier to bear.
A flicker caught my eye, and I broke my gaze away from the photograph.
Perched in its small cradle above the controls, my little black Garmin fuzzed over for a few seconds, its screen shifting from brightly colored maps to a barrage of grey static.
Did the power chord come loose?
I checked, ensuring the power-cable for the unit’s battery was plugged into the port on the control panel. It was a brand-new GPS unit, and I’d used it a few times already, so I knew it wasn’t defective. Granted, I could fly and navigate without it, but the Garmin made my time as a pilot so much easier that the thought of going blind was dreadful.
My fuel gauge danced, clicked to empty, then to full, in a bizarre jolt.
More of the gauges began to stutter, the entire panel seeming to develop terrets all at once, and my pulse began to race. Something was wrong, very wrong, and the sludge inside my bowels churned with sour fear.
“Come on, come on.” I flicked switches, turned dials, punched buttons, but nothing seemed to fix the spasming electronics. Every gauge failed, and without warning, I found myself plunged into inky darkness.
Outside, the sun surrendered to the pull of night, the sky darker than usual. A distant rumble of thunder reverberated above the roar of my helicopter’s engine, and I thought I glimpsed a streak of yellowish lightning on the far horizon to my left.
Calm down Chris. We’re still flying, so it must just be a blown fuse. Stay in control and find a place to set her down.
My sweaty palm slid on the cyclic stick, and both feet weighed heavy on the yaw pedals. The collective stuck to my other hand with a nervous vibration, and I squinted against the abyss outside.
Beep.
I jumped despite myself, as the little Garmin on my panel flared back to life, the static pulling aside to reveal a twitching display. Each time the screen glitched, it showed the colorful map detailing my flight path over the ground below, but I noticed that some of the lines changed, the names shifting, as if the device couldn’t decide between two different versions of the world.
One name jutted out at me, slate gray like most of the major county names, appearing with ghostly flickers from between two neighboring ones.
Barron County.
I stared, confused. I’d flown over this section of southeastern Ohio plenty of times, and I knew the counties by heart. At this point, I should have been over the southern end of Noble County, and maybe dipping lower into Washington. There was no Barron County Ohio. I was sure of it.
And yet it shown back at me from the digital landscape, a strange, almost cigar-shaped chunk of terrain carved from the surrounding counties like a tumor, sometimes there, sometimes not, as my little Garmin struggled to find the correct map. Rain began to patter against my cockpit window, and the entire aircraft rattled from a strong gust of wind. Thick clouds closed over my field of vision like a sea of gray cotton.
The blood in my veins turned to ice, and I sucked in a nervous breath.
Land. I had to land. There was nothing else to do, my flight controls weren’t responding, and only my Garmin had managed to come back to life. Perhaps I’d been hit by lightning, and the electronics had been fried? Either way, it was too dark to tell, but a storm seemed to be brewing, and if I didn’t get my feet on the ground soon, I could be in real trouble.
“Better safe than sorry.” I pushed down on the collective to start my slow descent and clicked the talking button for my headset. “Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, over.”
Nothing.
“Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, requesting emergency assistance, over.”
Still nothing.
If the radio’s dead, I’m really up a creek.
With my hand shaking, I clicked on the mic one more time. “Any station, this is—”
Like a curtain pulling back, the fog cleared from around my window, and the words stuck in my throat.
Without my gauges, I couldn’t tell just how far I’d descended, but I was definitely very low. Thick trees poked up from the ground, and the hills rolled into high ridges with flat valley floors, fields and pastures pockmarking them. Rain fell all around in cold, silvery sheets, a normal feature for the mid spring in this part of Ohio.
What wasn’t normal, were the fires.
At first, I thought they were forest fires for the amount of smoke and flames that bellowed from each spot, but as I swooped lower, my eyes widened in horror.
They were houses.
Farms, cottages, little clusters that barely constituted villages, all of them belched orange flames and black pillars of sooty smoke. I couldn’t hear above the helicopter blades, but I could see the flashes on the ground, along the road, in between the trees, and even coming from the burning buildings, little jets of golden light that spat into the darkness with anger.
Gunfire. That’s rifle fire, a whole lot of it.
Tiny black figures darted through the shadows, barely discernable from where I sat, several hundred feet up. I couldn’t see much, but some were definitely running away, the streaks of yellow gunfire chasing them. A few dark gray vehicles rumbled down one of the gravel roads, and sprayed fire into the houses as it went. They were fighting, I realized, the people in the trucks and the locals. It was horrific, like something out of war-torn Afghanistan, but worse.
Then, I caught a glimpse of the others.
They didn’t move like the rest, who either fled from the dark vehicles, or fired back from behind cover. These skinny figures loped along with haphazard gaits, many running on all fours like animals, swarming from the trees by the dozens. They threw themselves into the gales of bullets without flinching, attacking anyone within range, and something about the way they moved, so fluid, so fearless, made my heart skip a beat.
What is that?
“Echo Four Actual to unknown caller, please respond, over.”
Choking back a cry of shock, I fumbled at the control panel with clumsy fingers, the man’s voice sharp and stern. I hadn’t realized that I’d let go of the talking button and clicked it down again. “Hello? Hello, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot out of Pittsburgh, over.”
An excruciating moment passed, and I continued to zoom over the trees, the fires falling away behind me as more silent forest took over.
“Roger that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, we read you loud and clear. Please identify yourself and any passengers or cargo you might be carrying, over.”
Swallowing hard, I eyed the treetops, which looked much closer than they should have been. How far had I descended? “Echo Four Actual, my name is Christopher Dekker, and I am alone. I’m a charter flight from PA, carrying medical equipment for OSU in Columbus. My controls have been damaged, and I am unable to safely carry on due to the storm. Requesting permission to land, over.”
I watched the landscape slide by underneath me, once catching sight of what looked like a little white church surrounded by smaller huts, dozens of figures in the yard staring up at me as I flew over a towering ridgeline.
“Solid copy on that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot. Be advised, your transponder shows you to be inside a restricted zone. Please cease all radio traffic, reduce your speed, climb to 3,000 feet and proceed north. We’ll talk you in from there. How copy, over?”
My heart jumped, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Roger that Echo Four Actual, my altimeter is down, but I’ll do my best to eyeball the altitude, over.”
With that, I pulled the collective upward, and tried my best to gauge how far I was by eyesight in the gathering night, rain still coming down all around me. This had to be some kind of disaster or riot, I decided. After all, the voice over the radio sounded like military, and those vehicles seemed to have heavy weapons. Maybe there was some kind of unrest going on here that I hadn’t heard about yet?
Kind of weird for it to happen in rural areas though. Spoiled college kids I get, but never saw farmers get so worked up before. They usually love the military.
Something moved in the corner of my eye, and I turned out of reflex.
My mouth fell open, and I froze, unable to scream.
In the sky beside me, a huge shadow glided along, and its leathery wings effortlessly carved through the gloom, flapping only on occasion to keep it aloft. It was too dark for me to see what color it was, but from the way it moved, I knew it wasn’t another helicopter. No, this thing was alive, easily the size of a small plane, and more than twice the length of my little McDonald Douglass. A long tail trailed behind it, and bore a distinct arrow-shaped snout, with twig-like spines fanned out around the back of its head. Whatever legs it had were drawn up under it like a bird, yet its skin appeared rough and knobby, almost resembling tree bark. Without pause, the gigantic bat-winged entity flew along beside me, as if my presence was on par with an annoying fly buzzing about its head.
Gripping the microphone switch so tight, I thought I’d crack the plastic, I whispered into my headset, forgetting all radio protocol. “T-There’s something up here.”
Static crackled.
“Douglas Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, say again your last, you’re coming in weak and unreadable, over.”
“There’s something up here.” I snarled into the headset, still glued to the controls of the helicopter, afraid to deviate even an inch from my course in case the monstrosity decided to turn on me. “A freaking huge thing, right beside me. I swear, it looks like a bat or . . . I don’t know.”
“Calm down.” The man on the other end of the radio broke his rigorous discipline as well, his voice deep, but level. “It won’t attack if you don’t move too fast. Slowly ease away from it and follow that course until you’re out of sight.”
I didn’t have time to think about how wrong that sounded, how the man’s strict tone had changed to one of knowledge, how he hadn’t been the least surprised by what I’d said. Instead, I slowly turned the helicopter away from the huge menace and edged the speed higher in tiny increments.
As soon as I was roughly two football fields away, I let myself relax, and clicked the mic switch. “It’s not following.”
“You’re sure?”
Eyeing the huge flapping wings, I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I’m well clear.”
“Good. Thank you, Mr. Dekker.”
Then, the radio went dead.
Something in my chest dropped, a weight that made my stomach roil. This wasn’t right, none of it. Who was that man? Why did he know about the thing I’d just seen? What was I supposed to—
A flash of light exploded from the trees to my right and shot into the air with a long finger of smoke.
What the . . .
On instinct, I jerked the cyclic stick to one side, and the helicopter swung to avoid the rocket.
Boom.
My world shook, metal screeched, and a dozen alarms began to go off inside the cockpit in a cacophony of beeps and sirens. Orange and red flames lit up the night sky just behind me, and the horizon started to spin wildly outside. Heat gushed from the cockpit door, and I smelled the greasy stench of burning oil. The safety belts dug into my shoulders, and with a final slip, the radio headset ripped free from my scalp.
I’m hit.
Desperate, I yanked on the controls, fought the bird even as she spun toward the ground in a wreath of flames, the inky black trees hurtling up to meet me. The helicopter went into full auto-rotation, the sky blurring past outside, and the alarms blared in a screech of doom. Panic slammed through my temples, I screamed at the top of my lungs, and for one brief second, my eyes locked on the little black Garmin still perched atop my control panel.
Its screen stopped twitching and settled on a map of the mysterious Barron County, with a little red arrow at the center of the screen, a few words popping up underneath it.
You are here.
Trees stabbed up into the sky, the belts crushed at my torso, glass shattered all around me, and the world went dark.
Copper, thick, warm, and tangy.
It filled my mouth, stank metallic in my nose, clogged my throat, choking me. In the murkiness, I fought for a surface, for a way out, blind and numb in the dark.
This way, kleineun.
My ouma’s voice echoed from somewhere in the shadows.
This way.
Both eyes flew open, and I gagged, spitting out a stream of red.
Pain throbbed in my ribs, and a heavy pressure sent a tingling numbness through my shoulders. Blood roared inside my temples, and stars danced before my eyes with a dizzying array. Humid night air kissed my skin, and something sticky coated my face, neck, and arms that hung straight up toward the ceiling.
Wait. Not up. Down.
I blinked at the wrinkled, torn ceiling of the cockpit, the glass all gone, the gray aluminum shredded like tissue paper. Just outside the broken windows, thick Appalachian bluegrass and stemmy underbrush swished in a feeble breeze, backlit by flashes of lightning from the thunderstorm overhead. Green and brown leaves covered everything in a wet carpet of triangles, and somewhere nearby, a cricket chirped.
Turning my head from side to side, I realized that I hung upside down inside the ruined helicopter, the top half burrowed into the mud. I could hear the hissing and crackling of flames, the pattering of rain falling on the hot aluminum, and the smaller brush fires around the downed aircraft sizzling out in the damp long grass. Charred steel and burning oil tainted the air, almost as strong as the metallic, coppery stench in my aching nose.
They shot me down. That military dude shot me out of the sky.
It didn’t make sense. I’d followed their orders, done everything they’d said, and yet the instant I veered safely away from whatever that thing in the sky had been, they’d fired, not at it, but at me.
Looking down (or rather, up) at my chest, I sucked in a gasp, which was harder to do that before.
The navy-blue shirt stuck to my torso with several big splotches of dark, rusty red. Most were clean slashes, but two held bits of glass sticking out of them, one alarmingly bigger than the other. They dripped cherry red blood onto my upturned face, and a wave of nausea hit me.
I gotta get down.
I flexed my arms to try and work some feeling back into them, praying nothing was broken. Half-numb from hanging so long, I palmed along my aching body until I felt the buckled for the seat belts.
“Okay.” I hissed between gritted teeth, in an effort to stave off my panic. “You can do this. Just hold on tight. Nice and tight. Here we go . . .”
Click.
Everything seemed to lurch, and I slid off the seat to plummet towards the muck-filled hole in the cockpit ceiling. My fingers were slick with blood and slipped over the smooth faux-leather pilot’s seat with ease. The shoulder belt snagged on the bits of glass that lay just under the left lowest rib, and a flare of white-hot pain ripped through me.
Wham.
I screamed, my right knee caught the edge of the aluminum ceiling, and both hands dove into a mound of leaf-covered glass shards on the opposite side of the hole. My head swam, being right-side-up again enough to make shadows gnaw at the corner of my eyes.
Forcing myself to breath slowly, I fought the urge to faint and slid back to sit on the smooth ceiling. I turned my hands over to see half a dozen bits of clear glass burrowed into my skin like greedy parasites, red blood weeping around the new cuts.
“Screw you.” I spat at the rubbish with angry tears in my eyes. “Screw you, screw you, screw you.”
The shards came out easy enough, and the cuts weren’t that deep, but that wasn’t what worried me. On my chest, the single piece of cockpit glass that remined was almost as big as my palm, and it really hurt. Just touching it felt like self-inflicted torture, but I knew it had to come out sooner or later.
Please don’t nick a vein.
Wiping my hands dry on my jeans, I gripped the shard with both hands, and jerked.
Fire roared over my ribs, and hot blood tickled my already grimy pale skin. I clapped a hand over the wound, pressing down hard, and grunted out a string of hateful expletives that my ouma would have slapped me for.
Lying on my back, I stared around me at the messy cargo compartment of the MD-902. Most of the medical supplies had been in cardboard boxes strapped down with heavy nylon tow-straps, but several cases had ruptured with the force of the impact, spraying bandages, syringes, and pill bottles all over the cluttered interior. Orange flames chewed at the crate furthest to the rear, the tail section long gone, but the foremost part of the hold was intact. Easily a million-dollar mess, it would have made me faint on any other trip, but today it was a godsend.
Half-blind in the darkness, I crawled along with only the firelight and lightning bolts to guide me, my right knee aching. Like a crippled raccoon, I collected things as I went, conscious of the two pallets of intact supplies weighing right over my head. I’d taken several different first-aid courses with some hunting buddies of mine, and the mental reflexes kicked in to help soothe my frazzled mind.
Check for bleeds, stop the worst, then move on.
Aside from my battered chest and stomach, the rest of me remained mostly unharmed. I had nasty bruises from the seatbelts, my right knee swelled, my nose slightly crooked and crusted in blood, but otherwise I was intact. Dowsing every scratch and cut with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol I found, I used butterfly closures on the smaller lacerations that peppered my skin. I wrapped soft white gauze over my abused palms and probed at the big cut where the last shard had been, only stopping when I was sure there were no pieces of glass wedged inside my flesh.
“Not too bad.” I grunted to myself, trying to sound impassive like a doctor might. “Rib must have stopped it. Gonna need stitches though. That’ll be fun.”
Pawing through the broken cases, I couldn’t find any suture chord, but just as I was about to give up, I noticed a small box that read ‘medical skin stapler’.
Bingo.
I tore the small white plastic stapler free from its packaging and eyeballed the device. I’d never done this before, only seen it in movies, and even though the cut in my skin hurt, I wondered if this wouldn’t be worse.
You’ve gotta do it. That bleeding needs to stop. Besides, no one’s coming to rescue you, not with those rocket-launching psychos out there.
Taking a deep breath, I pinched the skin around the gash together, and pressed the mouth of the stapler to it.
Click.
A sharp sting, like that of a needle bit at the skin, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the cut itself. I worked my way across the two-inch laceration and gave out a sigh of relief when it was done.
“Not going to bleed to death today.” I daubed ointment around the staples before winding more bandages over the wound.
Popping a few low-grade painkillers that tumbled from the cargo, I crawled wriggled through the nearest shattered window into the wet grass.
Raindrops kissed my face, clean and cool on my sweaty skin. Despite the thick cloud cover, there was enough constant lightning strikes within the storm to let me get glimpses of the world around me. My helicopter lay on its back, the blades snapped like pencils, with bits and pieces of it burning in chunks all around the small break in the trees. Chest-high scrub brush grew all around the low-lying ground, with pockets of standing water in places. My ears still rang from the impact of the crash, but I could start to pick up more crickets, frogs, and even some nocturnal birds singing into the darkness, like they didn’t notice the huge the hulk of flaming metal that had fallen from the sky. Overhead, the thunder rumbled onward, the feeble wind whistling, and there were other flashes on the horizon, orange and red ones, with crackles that didn’t sound quite like lightning.
The guns. They’re still fighting.
Instinctively, I pulled out my cellphone, and tapped the screen.
It fluttered to life, but no matter how I tried, I couldn’t get through to anyone, not even with the emergency function designed to work around having no service. The complicated wonder of our modern world was little better than a glorified paperweight.
Stunned, I sat down with my back to the helicopter and rested my head against the aluminum skin of the craft. How I’d gone from a regular medical supply run to being marooned in this hellish parody of rural America, I didn’t know, but one thig was certain; I needed a plan. Whoever fired the missile could have already contacted my charter company and made up some excuse to keep them from coming to look for me. No one else knew I was here, and even though I now had six staples holding the worst of my injuries shut, I knew I needed proper medical attention. If I wanted to live, I’d have to rescue myself.
My bag. I need to get my go-bag, grab some gear and then . . . head somewhere else.
It took me a while to gather my green canvas paratrooper bag from its place behind the pilot’s seat and fill it with whatever supplies I could scrounge. My knee didn’t seem to be broken, but man did it hurt, and I dreaded the thought of walking on it for miles on end. I focused instead on inventorying my gear and trying to come up with a halfway intelligent plan of action.
I had a stainless-steel canteen with one of those detachable cups on the bottom, a little fishing kit, some duct tape, a lighter, a black LED flashlight with three spare batteries, a few tattered road maps with a compass, a spare pair of socks, medical supplies from the cargo, and a simple forest green plastic rain poncho. I also managed to unearth a functioning digital camcorder my ouma had gotten me for Christmas a few years back, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to do any filming in such a miserable state. Lastly, since it was a private supply run from a warehouse area near Pittsburgh to a direct hospital pad in Ohio, I’d been able to bring my K-Bar, a sturdy, and brutally simple knife designed for the Marine Corps that I used every time I went camping. It was pitiful in comparison to the rifle I wished I had with me, but that didn’t matter now. I had what I had, and I doubted my trusty Armalite would have alleviated my sore knee anyway.
Clicking on my flashlight, I huddled with the poncho around my shoulders inside the wreck of the chopper and peered at the dusty roadmaps. A small part of me hoped that a solution would jump out from the faded paper, but none came. These were all maps of western PA and eastern Ohio. None of them had a Barron County on them anywhere.
The man on the radio said to head north, right before they shot me down. That means they must be camped out to the north of here. South had that convoy and those burning houses, so that’s a no-go. Maybe I can backtrack eastward the way I came.
As if on cue, a soft pop echoed from over the eastern horizon, and I craned to look out the helicopter window, spotting more man-made flashes over the tree tops.
“Great.” I hissed between clenched teeth, aware of how the temperature dipped to a chilly 60 degrees, and how despite the conditions, my stomach had begun to growl. “Not going that way, are we? Westward it is.”
Walking away from my poor 902 proved to be harder than I’d anticipated. Despite the glass, the fizzling fires, and the darkness, it still held a familiar, human essence to it. Sitting inside it made me feel secure, safe, even calm about the situation. In any other circumstance, I would have just stayed with the downed aircraft to wait for help, but I knew the men who shot me down would likely find my crash site, and I didn’t want to be around when they did.
Unlike much of central and western Ohio, southeastern Ohio is hilly, brushy, and clogged with thick forests. Thorns snagged at my thin poncho and sliced at my pant legs. My knee throbbed, every step a form of self-inflicted torture. The rain never stopped, a steady drizzle from above just cold enough to be problematic as time went on, making me shiver. Mud slid under my tennis shoes, and every tree looked ten times bigger in the flickering beam of my cheap flashlight. Icy fear prickled at the back of my neck at some of the sounds that greeted me through the gloom. I’d been camping loads of times, both in Pennsylvania and elsewhere, but these noises were something otherworldly to me.
Strange howls, screeches, and calls permeated the rain-soaked sky, some almost roars, while others bordered on human in their intonation. The more I walked, the softer the distant gunfire became, and the more prevalent the odd sounds, until the shadows seemed to fill with them. I didn’t dare turn off my flashlight, or I’d been completely blind in the dark, but a little voice in the back of my head screamed that I was too visible, crunching through the gloomy forest with my long beam of light stabbing into the abyss. It felt as though a million eyes were on me, studying me, hunting me from the surrounding brush, and I bitterly recalled how much I’d loved the old Survivor Man TV series as a kid.
Not so fun being out in the woods at night. Especially alone.
A twig snapped somewhere behind me, and I whirled on the spot, one trembling hand resting on the hilt of my K-Bar.
Nothing. Nothing but trees, bushes, and rain dripping down in the darkness.
“This is stupid.” I whispered to myself to keep my nerves in check as I slowly spun on the spot. “I should have went eastward anyway. God knows how long I’m going to have to—”
Creak.
A groan of metal-on-metal echoed from somewhere to my right, and I spun to face it, yanking the knife on my belt free from its scabbard. It felt so small and useless in my hand, and I choked down a wave of nauseas fear.
Ka-whump. Creak. K-whump. Creak.
Underbrush cracked and crunched, a few smaller saplings thrashed, and from deep within the gloom, two yellow orbs flared to life. They poked through the mist in the trees, forming into slender fingers of golden light that swept back and forth in the dark.
The soldiers . . . they must be looking for me.
I swallowed hard and turned to slink away.
Ice jammed through my blood, and I froze on the spot, biting my tongue to stop the scream.
It stood not yards away, a huge form that towered a good twelve feet tall in the swirling shadows. Unpolished chrome blended with flash-rusted spots in the faded red paint, and grime-smeared glass shone with dull hues in the flashes of lightning. Where the wheels should have been, the rounded steel axels curved like some enormous hand had bent them, and the tires lay face-down on the muddy ground like big round feet, their hubcaps buried in the dirt. Dents, scrapes, and chips covered the battered thing, and its crooked little radio antenna pointed straight up from the old metal fender like a mast. I could barely make out the mud-coated VW on the rounded hood, and my mind reeled in shock.
Is . . . is that a car?
Both yellow headlights bathed me in a circle of bright, blinding light, and neither I nor the strange vehicle moved.
Seconds ticked by, the screech-thumping in the background only growing closer. I realized that I couldn’t hear any engine noises and had yet to see any soldiers or guns pointed my way. This car looked old, really old, like one of those classic Volkswagen Beetles that collectors fought over at auctions. Try as I might, I couldn’t see a driver inside the murky, mold-smeared windows.
Because there wasn’t one.
Lightning arched across the sky overhead, and the car standing in front of me blinked.
Its headlights slid shut, as if little metal shades had crawled over the bulbs for a moment and flicked open again. Something about that movement was so primal, so real, so lifelike, that every ounce of self-control I had melted in an instant.
Cursing under my breath, I lunged into the shrubs, and the world erupted around me.
Under my shoes, the ground shook, and the car surged after me in a cacophony of ka-thumps that made my already racing heart skip several beats. A weather-beaten brown tow truck from the 50’s charged through the thorns to my left, it’s headlights ablaze, and a dilapidated yellow school bus rose from its hiding place in the weeds to stand tall on four down-turned axel-legs. They all flicked their headlights on like giants waking from their slumber, and as I dodged past them, they each blared their horn into the night in alarm.
My breaths came short and tight, my knee burned, and I crashed through thorns and briars without thought to how badly I was getting cut up.
The cheap poncho tore, and I ripped it away as it caught on a tree branch.
A purple 70’s Mustang shook off its blanket of creeping vines and bounded from a stand of trees just ahead, forcing me to swerve to avoid being run over, my adrenaline at all-time highs.
This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.
Slipping and sliding, I pushed through a stand of multiflora rose, and stumbled out into a flat, dark expanse.
I almost skidded to a stop.
What had once been a rather large field stood no taller than my shoestrings, the grass charred, and burnt. The storm above illuminated huge pieces of wreckage that lay scattered over the nearly 40-acre plot, and I could just make out the fire-blackened hulk of a fuselage resting a hundred yards away. The plane had been brought down a while ago it seemed, as there weren’t any flames left burning, and I threw myself toward it in frenzied desperation.
Burned grass and greasy brown topsoil slushed underfoot, and I could hear the squelching of the cars pursing me. Rain soaked me to the bone, and my lungs ached from sucking down the damp night air. A painful stich crept into my side, and I cursed myself for not putting in more time for cardio at the gym.
Something caught my left shoelace, and I hurtled to the ground, tasting mud and blood in between my teeth.
They’ve got me now.
I clawed at the mud, rolled, and watched a tire slam down mere inches from where my head had been. The Mustang loomed over me and jostled for position with the red Volkswagen and brown tow truck, the school bus still a few yards behind them. They couldn’t seem to decide who would get the pleasure of stomping me to death, and like a herd of stampeding wildebeest, they locked bumpers in an epic shoving match.
On all fours, I scampered out from under the sparring brutes, and dashed for the crumpled airplane, a white-painted DC-3 that looked like it had been cut in half by a gargantuan knife blade. I passed a snapped wing section, the oily remains of a turbo-prop engine, and a mutilated wheel from the landing gear. Climbing over a heap of mud, I squeezed into the back of the ruined flight cabin and dropped down into the dark cargo hold.
Wham.
No sooner had my sneakers hit the cold metal floor, and the entire plane rocked from the impact of something heavy ramming it just outside. I tumbled to my knees, screaming in pain as, once again, I managed to bash the sore one off a bracket in the wall.
My hand smeared in something gooey, and I scrabbled for my flashlight.
It clicked on, a wavering ball of white light in the pitch darkness, and I fought the urge to gag. “Oh man . . .”
Three people, or what was left of them, lay strewn over the narrow cargo area. Claret red blood coated the walls, caked on the floor, and clotted under my mud-spattered shoes. Bits of flesh and viscera were stuck to everything, and tatters of cloth hung from exposed sections of broken bone. An eerie set of bloody handprints adorned the walls, and the only reason I could tell it had been three people were the shoes; all of them bore anklebones sticking out above blood-soaked socks. It smelled sickly sweet, a strange, nauseas odor that crept into my nose and settled on the back of my tongue like an alien parasite.
Something glinted in the beam of my flashlight, and my pulse quickened as I pried the object loose from the severed arm that still clung to it.
“Hail Mary full of Grace.” I would have grinned if it weren’t for the fact that the plane continued to buck and roll under the assault from the cars outside.
The pistol looked old, but well-maintained, aside from the light coating of dark blood that stained its round wooden handle. It felt heavy, but good in my hand, and I turned it over to read the words, Waffenfabrik Mauser stenciled into the frame, with a large red 9 carved into the grip. For some reason, it vaguely reminded me of the blasters from Star Wars.
I fumbled with a little switch that looked like a safety on the back of the gun and stumbled toward a gap in the plane’s dented fuselage to aim out at the surrounding headlights.
Bang.
The old gun bucked reliably in my hand, its long barrel spitting a little jet of flame into the night. I had no idea if I hit anything, but the attacking cars recoiled, their horns blaring in confusion.
They turned, and scuttled for the tree line as fast as their mechanical legs could go, the entire ordeal over as fast as it had begun.
Did I do that?
Perplexed, I stared down at the pistol in my hand.
Whoosh.
A large, inky black shadow glided down from the clouds, and the yellow school bus moved too slow to react in time.
With a crash, the kicking nightmarish vehicle was thrown onto its side, spraying glass and chrome trim across the muddy field. Its electro-synth horn blared with wails of mechanical agony, as two huge talon-like feet clamped down on it, and the enormous head of the flying creature lowered to rip open its engine compartment.
The horn cut out, and the enormous flying entity jerked its head back to gulp down a mass of what looked like sticky black vines from the interior of the shattered bus.
At this range, I could see now that the flying creature bore two legs and had its wings half-tucked like a vulture that had descended to feed on roadkill. Its head turned slightly, and in the glow of another lightning bolt, my jaw went slack at the realization of what it was.
A tree trunk. It’s a rotted tree trunk.
I couldn’t tell where the reptilian beast began, and where the organic tree components ended, the upper part of the head shaped like a log, while the lower jaw resembled something out of a dinosaur movie. Its skin looked identical to the outside of a shagbark hickory but flexed with a supple featheriness that denoted something closer to skin. Sharp branch-like spines ranged down its back, and out to the end of its tail, which bore a massive round club shaped like a diseased tree-knot. Crouched on both hind legs, it braced the hooked ends of its folded wings against the ground like a bat, towering higher than a semi-truck. Under the folds of its armored head, a bulging pair of chameleon-like eyes constantly spun in their sockets, probing the dark for threats while it ate.
One black pupil locked onto the window I peered through, and my heart stopped.
The beast regarded me for a moment, with a curious, sideways sniff.
With a proud, contemptful head-toss, the shadow from the sky parted rows of razor-sharp teeth to let out a roar that shook the earth beneath my feet. It was the triumphant war cry of a creature that sat at the very top of the food chain, one that felt no threat from the fragile two-legged beings that walked the earth all around it. It hunted whenever it wanted, ate whatever it wanted, and flew wherever it wanted. It didn’t need to rip the plane apart to devour me.
Like my hunter-gatherer ancestors from thousands of years ago, I wasn’t even worth the energy it would take to pounce.
I’m hiding in the remains of the cockpit now, which is half-buried under the mud of the field, enough to shield the light from my screen so that thing doesn’t see it. My service only now came back, and it’s been over an hour since the winged beast started in on the dead bus. I don’t know when, or how I’m going to get out of here. I don’t know when anyone will even see this post, or if it will upload at all. My phone battery is almost dead, and at this point, I’m probably going to have to sleep among the corpses until daylight comes.
A dead man sleeping amongst friends.
If you live in the Noble County area in southeastern Ohio, be careful where you drive, fly, and boat. I don’t know if it’s possible to stumble into this strange place by ground, but if so, then these things are definitely headed your way.
If that happens . . . pray that they don’t find you.

This ones gonna be a long one so I'm sorry, but this is also for me to put this out into the world so I can be over it and move on with my life.
Tldr at end.
Let me give you backstory prior to meeting my ex. I was always a go getter, always had multiple things going on in life (played for a band and did local tours, did home rennovation, worked on cars, had multiple hobbies, played video games with friends etc.) And always was pushing myself to be better. 1 1/2 years before I met my now ex, I broke my neck. This hampered my lifestyle for about 3 months. My Stepdouche kicked me out of my house because I refused to put up shelving in the garage because and I quote "if you are able to play guitar you can easily put a shelf up." Mind you the day after surgery I had my parents bring me my acoustic guitar so I could make sure I still had normal function of my hands and muscles. And the doctors gave me a strict 10lb lift limit and not to raise my hands over my neck until I was healed from my fusion. Much to my and my moms pleading, the stepdouche wouldnt see it any other way.
So 3 months out of surgery I end up getting a full time job and end up working anywhere from 60-75 hours a week in the auto industry. My healing was going remarkable and I was getting my life together. Found a place to live, dumped my cheating ex, and was still playing gigs with my band and doing all my hobbies inbetween the busy workload. All seemed to be okay at this point and I seemed to be a fully functioning/never broken adult.
After about a year of this crazy workload, enter meeting my ex.
Almost 6 years ago I met my ex (July 2017). She was 19 and I was 22. For our first date I picked her up near her parents house at about 6ish. I dont remember all the details of the date, I wish I did (Ill explain soon) but theres two major things I remember. We clicked almost instantly had very similar views on life and what we expected out of eachother and ourselves. And secondly that I dropped her back off at her house at 6am. I had work in 30 minutes and that was the only reason I cut the date off.
So we started dating. Every day we would see eachother. And things went very well for a long time. I bought her food every night we would go and do things multiple times a week, and we generally had a very very healthy and good relationship. I tried to get her to come to car meets with me and my friends but she ended up just sitting in the car for hours by herself and when I would ask her to come out and hang out she would refuse. Nbd, I eventually stopped bringing her along because she was just sitting in the car. Figured that wasnt her scene so I figured id just keep that as guy time. I asked her out in early sept to be my girlfriend and she said she wasnt ready. We talked and she agreed to be exclusive to me however. A few weeks later she came back and asked me about being together and than we were official.
Our first major challenge came in January.
She went to a trade school for 2 months 4 states away. She was thankfully only gone for 2 months and I told her not to worry its only 2 months and I love her alot so Ill be right here when she got back. Thanks to my awesome boss and coworkers I planned it so I flew out to see her every 3 weeks. So she left, was alone for 3 weeks than I flew out for the weekend, than she was alone again for 3 weeks than I flew out to see her again for a weekend than she had 3 more weeks alone than she came back.
The first time I went up to visit her (it was a suprise) her mood completely shifted like she was a new person. She wasnt all lovey dovey like we had been, she was cold and distant. I chalked this up to her being alone and away frok everyone and its just part of her growth. It wasnt but well get to that.
During one of those weekend visits she took me to the shop to introduce me to her teacher and some of the other people. I remember one thing in particular happened. She was introducing me to everyone and all seemed good. The teacher was awesome, his wife was super nice and a few other older gentlemen I met were cool to talk to. Than we walk into the back of the shop and there was a guy probably 2 years older than me back there. She went up and introduced me as following "This is my friend, anon." I shook the dudes hand but he didnt seem interested in knowing me or even wanting to meet me.
Our first fight was here. I asked her why she was ashamed of calling me her BF and she had a million excuses. She was a bit eccentric (which is why I liked her) so I figured thats just the way she is. Nbd.
Now inbetween my two visits to her, I had got sent in a car from work to pick up another car and the rideshare I was in got hit and my neck fusion came loose. I essentially lost my job, lost my paycheck, lost my housing and lost all my hobbies and band over the next 2 months.
Her odd bevahior continued when she got back however and I noticed during the group photo of her class, she and the other young dude were standing close together. (Mind you I probably was over reacting given I was just cheated on but all the circumstances just seemed too much fir me at the time.) I tried to talk to her about what was going on but she was just cold and distant. I told her how I didnt appreciate being called a friend and made to seem like Im just some dude she knows and not someone who she is in a committed relationship with.
I dont remember when this conversation happened but I remember my ex finally telling me that she overheard a women giggling while I was on the phone with her the day before I left on the first trip to see her.
Long story short one of my good friends from middle/high school got a job working with me and she was kind enough to swing me by the airport on friday mornings to see her and pick me up when I got back sunday night. Thats who she heard giggling.
I told her if that was what is causing all this why didnt she talk to me about it and it could have been cleared up right away. She said she over reacted and thought it was much worse but said she can get over it (paraphrasing)
Well after that life went to crap for a while. I moved in with my grandparents. Couldnt do anything fun, couldnt take her out on the dates we used to do multiple times a week and I was in a sour mood a lot. Always in and out of doctor appointments etc. She had pulled away from me physically and it just hurt. She was still there sometimes emotionally but I felt like she just didnt physically see me as a partner.
My second surgery was in September I think. Instead of going through the front of my neck like the first time, they went through the back and my nervous system. This surgery happened about 8 months after the crash. I saw hell. No other way to describe it. 2 of the worst weeks of my life. I remember 3 very vivid things about those 2 weeks. One was literally hell. The second was a nurse aggressively rolling me on my side while I was asleep jarring me awake and sending a tremendous amount of pain throughout my body. The third was me getting up out of bed to go to the bathroom and having one of the loudest and longest farts I think Ive ever laid. I could hear people in adjacent rooms laughing. I use to have the video of this fart but I dont anymore.
This second surgery messed me up beyond belief. Physically, mentally and emotionally. The worst part is that my brain was running on like half power. Ive always been a smart guy, decently high IQ, and while memory was never a strong suit for me my memory was now nothing. Id forget things people told me just minutes after them telling me it... This was one of my biggest hurdles.
When I got home I refused pain pills and ended up throwing up blood. My ex was there by my side through this. She later told me that she was very mad at me because when I was heavily sedated for those two weeks I didnt acknowledge her. To be fair, I dont remember a single person who visited me that second surgery.
A little less than a week back from surgery I had my bearings set a little more straight and was depressed with where I was. I broke up with my ex and told her I cant provide her the life that she deserves. I was expecting pre surgery to be up and running in another 3 months like the first surgery but this was a completely different animal. I knew this wasnt going to be a quick recovery.
So I told her to go find someone better who can take care of her and her needs and spoil her like (i thought) she deserved. She begged and pleaded and after a few months I took her back because I loved her so much and if she was really willing to stick by my side than I would give her everything I could.
The recovery road was long. Little over 3 years. It took a huge toll on not only me but on my Ex. I hit new levels of depression, all my ways of letting out my emotions were now gone (playing music, drawing art, racing cars, etc) I lost my purpose in life, lost my will to push forward and overall just became super lazy about everything. I was sick of hitting rock bottom and starting iver again (this was about the 5th time Ive had to start over from nothing)
Our relationship definitely had its ups and downs during this time. For instance we went on multiple road trips to over 14 states, but she also would hold any physicalintamacy back from me for extended periods of time for seemingly no reason. She lived alone and I lived with my grandparents still. I would be over at her place at least once a week. And wed watch movies or go out and do light activity dates. Though, I was a bit of an ass and constantly would complain if something was too much or if I was in a bad mood and just didnt want to do anything.
Throughout this entire time Im fighting to get disability and settle my lawsuit with the insurance company for my injuries.
Well we hit a crossroads 2 years ago. I just got my disability and got screwed out of my backpay so I didnt have as much as I should have got.
During this time I find out my exs first BF had treated her in a way that was very forceful when they were together and commitied unalived recently. And our rocky physicallove life went nearly to zero at this point. I figured its no big deal shes just dealing with this bombshell of not ever being able to get closure and is probably just not taking it well.
I than find out my whole family was moving out of state. And my GF is highly considering moving out of state aswell. So we take another road trip because I wanted to find a place I could buy a house with a downpayment from my settlement and have a stable living situation for the first time in my life.
My exs parents had moved to a new state about a year after we started dating. So they offered to out us up while we found a place to live/rent. We had gone there a few times to visit over the years and thought that would be a good idea.
So this is where the crossroads were.
I had 3 options.
1) Build out an RV and live the nomadic wandering life I always wanted to live. (I told my ex about this many times and she seemed luke warm at best to the idea)
2) Move with my moms side of the family to State A
3) Move away from everyone I know and love to be with my GF and move to State B where I know no one.
I obviously went with 3. I spent A LOT (over half my settlement) of money moving to this state with her. She moved 2 months before I did and I drove up with her to move her. She ended up making a friend at her new job and I was happy for her because we both are pretty anti social. I got up there right before halloween. So she took me out with some coworkers on Halloween. She just sat at a table and didnt say much. Didnt introduce me to anyone and overall it was a pretty crap night.
At this point we had zero physicalintimacy in the relationship. We moved out of her parents place in 3 months and I figured that might help fix a little bit of the intimacy issues... it didnt. I suggested she see a therapist so she can work through this stuff and maybe we see a couples therapist so that we can work on us a bit more. I was still head over heels for this women and did everything I could to help her.
My depression took another turn for the worse at this point. I now had no friends. No family. I was all alone with this girl that I love that doesnt hold my hand or give me kisss on the cheeks or even a hug anymore. Id take her on dates and not even get a thanks. My already bad habits got worse. I kept pushing however to try and be better for her but it was never enough.
I am HORRIBLE at doing chores. Ever since I was a kid. I got better at them as I grew up but I aas back to a little kid by the time we were in our new place. We tried lots of things. I was working every day to be better at them and be mindful of them. I simply would just forget. Or maybe my blinders were on and I just wouldnt do them. However even if very little I was doing more and more every day. My body was giving out on me though and some days I couldnt do more than a hour before I was exhausted. She came to me a few months back and said "you need to do more " so I did. I pushed myself harder and harder. It was never enough.
Around this time she brought up that she wanted to go bear hunting with 3 of her guy co workers. I flat out said no. Not only is it innappropriate but I dont know a single one of those coworkers, dont know if she even told them shes in a relationship, and my ex is avidly against ever using a gun herself. This was a fighting point thats been getting brought up for months now. She seems to think its perfectly okay and I dont see it that way.
She always had something to tell me how I was wrong. She told me she hated that I was home all the time (we both are homebodies) she hated that I never let her go out with her co workers (I told her multiple times to go out aand hang out with them. Just let me know whats going on and occasionally invite mee out with you all so I can make some friends too) she said I never did chores even though she agreed I was doing a lot better and picking uo my slack. It just hurt a lot because I feeel like I absolutely had things I needed to work on but at least I was putting in the effort. Meanwhile she has never once tried to fix our physical love side which is the ONLY thing I have ever asked of her.
Well a month ago she broke up with me. I begged and pleaded that we could make it work but she was set on it. The next day I caught her on a backroad going on a date with a guy. She swears "its just dinner with a co worker." She did this 3 days before I had a trip for my Bday back to my home state. Long story short my trip that should have been about $1.2k and 2 weeks long ended up costing me $4.5k and I cut it short to get home.
When I get home I find other guys laundry in my house... than I find out my now ex doesnt come home until 4am drunk. (This really makes me mad because shes been curious about drinking and weed and I told her we could do it so she hhas a safe place at home to get as crazy as she wants. She always had a excuse why she didnt want to do it.) At this point im livid. Its clear shes been setting up another relationship/fwb situation and just stringing me along. Theres a lot of details that have happened over the last month but its mostly just her saying "we might work out but you have to leave the house for me to find out."
I also find out that she got a therapist and did everything I had asked of her for the past 2+ years the second she broke up with me.
My heart was broken. Im completely alone. I got no where to go. Every night now she is out til 2am with this dude, going on dates and even sleeping over at his place multiple times a week. She also is trying to kick me out of the house although we agreed that she would move out since I have 9 vehicles and the place we are staying is on mulitple acres. She flipped this and got her parents involved and they are all now trying to kick me out of the house. Even though her parents have more than enough room for her to stay with them for a while. But nope Im the bad guy and I need to move. And trust me, I want to move but sadly theres nowhere to rent. In a 60 mile radius there is 1 rental. Yes just one. All apartments waiting lists are 1 1/2 years +. My life is in shambles and I now have to start over once again.
Theres two major things that came up in our conversations over this past month that really completely destroyed me. 1) I was only 19 when we got together I shouldnt be locked down by you and stuck with you. 2) I dont date my best friend, and you never were my best friend.
Tldr
I know a lot was said in here but there also was a lot not said. Im not a perfect person. No one is. We all have our flaws. And I made many mistakes in this relationship. But I also own up to those which my Ex never would admit she ever did anything wrong. But If you made it this far I just want you to know. If you see red flags stop ignoring them. Do NOT move your entire life for someone and most importantly give up your material possessions.
Im just so devistated about how quick she moved on like a light switch and how awful she is being to me and how Im stuck here in this house while she already is shagging up with another person. It just really hurts and theres nothing I can do about it. I know this is for best in the long run. And we never would have worked out. But that doesnt stop it from hurting this bad. I just wish I didnt uproot my life for her and give her as much energy as I did.

I'm on day 3 going through HELL right now, but I know in a day or two things start to lighten up and a few months I'll be back to "normal". The hardest parts for me are the sweating, insomnia and lack of appetite. I've quit numerous times over the past 20 years of smoking, sometimes by choice for months at a time and sometimes not by choice for over a year and a half. I can DEFINITIVELY say that I am at about 40% of my potential (for everything) when I'm chronically smoking.(multiple times a day of wax and carts for the past 2 years recently) Screw this shit , it's not worth it, and every time I try to moderate it, it is futile, only lasting a few weeks/ months and I'm back to multiple times a day. Took the next 3 days off so hopefully by day 6, I will be presentable at work. (Right now look pale, emaciated and feeling puny.)Smoking weed is literally one of the biggest mistakes I have made in life. Glorifying and justifying it in my 20's, now at 36 and probably my 5th time actually trying to quit long term, hopefully this is the time!!

Hello there, i hope you enjoy the last third of this chapter.
To all of you who actually read all Awakening posts, i would like to apologise for not providing the links to previous/ next chapter. Have a good day.
​
Aberty drove in an armored troop transport and contemplated her day, her job and her life in general.
'This shit fucking sucks.'
After this sound assesment she turned her atention to her new pod. She didnt have a lot of time to really get to know them in any capacity but from what she knew they were periphery girls like her and she had seen earlier in the morning that they know how to keep their cool under fire.
They seemed like the kind of girls with whom one could enjoy a barbecue and ungodly amounts of alcohol.
'Aaand i just made myself homesick.'
After some further pondering she came to the conclussion that she is in a need of a drink. It probably wouldnt make things better but they could hardly get any worse.
'Not that Red Grain pisswater the coreworlders call a beer. A proper drink needs to hold a flame when you put a lighter to it.'
Grandma's brew could tranquilise a grox and was rutinely used as desinfectant and alternative fuell source. Just thinking about it improved her mood by a significant margin.
'Ah, so many good memories.'
She gave the girls another look and established what passed as eye contact when one is wearing a full helmet with a marine sitting oposite to her. The marine made the unofficial 'turn off the helmet camera i wanna talk' hand sign.
When everyone had done so she began to talk.
»Hello there, my name is Clee'us and im the pod leader. Im sory i didnt talk to you sooner but i only learned that you will be a part of my pod yesterday. I planned to do it in the morning but it didnt pan out so im talking to you now.«
She then pointed at her comrades.
»Those Empress finest paint stick eaters are Abby and Col'y. As for the sister you are standing in for today her name is Borneia She lost her foot two days ago and got shiped back to orbit«
»So Aberty, where you from?«
»Im from from the ass end of the periphery, coreworlders call it Niossohled , people who actualy live there call it Nines.
»One of us!«
The girls cheered.
»Godess damned turox girl! I like you allready.«
»Welcome to the pod.«
Clee'us then sighed, steped forward and put her hand on Aberty's shoulder.
»We herd what hapened to your pod and for what is it worth offer our deepest condolances. I dont know how long you will be a part of our pod but as long as you are here you are our sister and we take good care of our family.«
»Now, we have a job to do«
She sat back at her seat and began to brief her pod.
»The humans figgured out the cave scum cant hold their own in a fight and attacked their base just as they were getting ready to run back to whatever shitty moist hole they call home.«
»I dunno why they did so but i guess they too came to a conclusion that those good for nothin cowards need a beatin.«
»Now listen i know you might think they deserve it, because they do. But our job is to secure the site and evacuate the survivors back to our base.«
»I know you dun like it. I dont like it. You know how this goes. Im not the one who is giving out orders but i sure as deep will make sure we cary them out.
Normaly i would be saying shit like, i expect you to be on your best, most professiona behaviour. Today, knowing how you all feel bout them, all im asking is that you do your job and dont start shit with the 'redacted slur most foul''.
Some minutes later the APC arived at its destination. Clee'us checked the cameras and gave the signal to dissembark.
When the marines steped out of their emotional suport metal bawkses… ukhm i mean armored personel carriers they beheld a scene of absolute devastation.
»What in the deep hapened here.«
Exclaimed a marine when she saw what remained of a line of neatly parked vehicles not to dissimilar to one she arived in.
There were pieces and remains of smart wire, perimeter turrets, vehicles and personel everwhere. Prefabricated buildings were flattened as by a kinetic orbital strike.
Still the marines had seen and in some cases caused a comparable amount of damage before. What made even the more experienced of them look twice was the amount of damage to the ships. It was obvious they werent going anywhere anytime soon and probably never.
»They look like the navy used them as target practice, you sure the humans did this«
Someone asked.
Whille some continued to gawk at the destruction most of the marines soon succesfully sumised the situation.
'Yup, shit is fucked.'
And went on with their work.
First living mercenaries they encountered were at the makeshift baricades inside the ships. Those who expected that the insides of the ships cant posibly look worse than the hull were proved wrong. It was obvious that a brutal close quarters battle was fought for the cargo holds and even some of the main coridors.
In face of such destruction even the most predjudiced of the imperials put their hatred aside and helped their fellow woman regardless of their species, prefered ideology and ocupation.
They rendered first aid and rushed the more severelly wounded to the ambulances that were waiting outside. The marines used combat engineer power frames to remove the debry and cut trough the crushed and buckled metal to free those who were traped in their compartments.
It made for quite a moving scene one could use to advocate for peace and solidarity with fellow sentients so it naturaly didnt last for long.
Aberty was aplying liberal amounts of military grade burn cream/local anestetic to a back of a nighkru mercenary who was laying on the remains of her armor that just barelly saved her life when she heard muted shouting from behind the closed doors to her left. She stood up and asked.
»Do you hear that boss?«
She asked Clee'us who was helping another Nighkru woman put sterile med patches over some quite nasty cuts and scrapes over her lower extremities.
Clee'us stoped what she was doing and turned toward her when another louder cry was heard. Aberty heard way to many human cries of agony to not recognize what she was hearing.
Just as she realised what exactly this meant she saw the mercenary her pod leader was helping go trough a range of emotions before she reached for her pistol.
'No you wont!'
»Watch out boss!«
The nighkru was fast but Aberty was faster. She didnt know exactly what the slaver was trying to do and had no wish to find out.
She fired once and the mercenary colapsed. The nighkru at her feet, she was helping ten seconds ago, tried to stand up. Aberty stomped her into the ground and trained her pistol on her.
»Stay down you piece of shit!«
Clee'us who by now snaped out of the shock of almost geting shot by a woman she was bandaging up, and seeing the said womans head explode all over her, called the leutenant.
»sargeant Clee'us here. We have a situation. A mercenary tried to shoot me and was dispatched with extreme predjudice. There is at least one, posibly more humans on board held against their will.«
A short pause and an audible curse later she got a reply.
»Understood, wait where you are and hold your ground. Leutenant Reixas out.«
The pod positioned in what cover they had and split their weapons between covering the doors and making sure the still living mercenary wont get a chance to try anything.
Their periphery upbringing made it especialy hard to stand and wait when they could hear people call for help.
Fighting the pirates and slavers was at least one of if not the reason they joined the marines. Be it because of a personal experience, wish to protect or want for glory all they wanted to do was to burst trough the door and bring death to those who would dare to enslave Empirial subjects.
All of them at some point in their lives fanthasized about killing slavers and/or saving the innocents from their ville clutches. To be fair the second fanthasy often included a man who would fall in love with them but this still.
Now that they had a chance to, for once in their lives, do excactly what they wanted holding position proved extremely frustraiting. To say they were anything less than fuming at the mouth would be an understatement.
Two instances of gunfire and ten minutes later leutenant herself and three heavilly armed pods reached their position.
Leutenant firstly made sure everyones helmet cam was running. She then called to the mercenaries to surender and gave them ten seconds to walk out with their hands above their heads. When the time ran out she gave the signal to attack.
Were she without a helmet one could see Reixas was almost giddy as she did so.
This was her ticket to promotion the fact that she wanted to do this since she was a teen only sweatened the moment.
What followed was extremely satifying for some the imperials, extremely fatal for the most Way'U personel that hapened to be present there and very frightening and confusing for everyone else.

As it says in the bit you clicked on: I’m delightful. Read further for a small sample of the many ways in which I am wonderful, and find out how you, yes YOU, can take advantage to the amazing limited time offer. Also, we're social distancing, so I suppose this is a good time for torrid correspondence.
Offer includes:
Wit: I’m funny. Sometimes dry and biting, as when hanging out over drinks and I’m making acerbic sotto-voce comments about the dipshits at the other end of the bar, declaiming upon how Democrats are just as bad as Republicans and anyway Hillary is super corrupt. Sometimes absurdly silly, as when we are in bed, and especially in those awful moments during kink when pushing our emotional boundaries has inadvertently shattered the shared intimacy whereby situations that might otherwise be horrifying turn unbearably hot and sexy and intimate; (because you are firmly bound, suspended from a hook in this door-frame, with a ball gag distending your mouth and a large man is selecting amongst his toys for what to hit you with, now that you’ve been worked over with the crop that he’s still using to caress your clit. For example). Talking about the kink is supposed to be further down, but I’m proud of my ability to notice those moments and pull the gag and start improvising a progressively more absurd re-telling of the constitutional convention as a poorly organized swingers convention, using the contents of my pockets to represent the various founding fathers and their outhouse assignations with Jefferson.
Frightening intellect: I’m really, really bright. I read, constantly and voraciously and indiscriminately, at least as far as subject. I pay attention to news and politics and policy and everything else and I’m always glad to spend time with someone else who is as interested in the world as I am. I adore — really, deeply adore— doing kink with terrifically intelligent women; having the kind conversations where I feel like I must be a genius just because I can kind of keep up with you. Kinky sex is by nature pretty intimate, at least when it is something two people are doing together as opposed to some dude who figures kinky girls are easy and thinks being a dom means not caring if she comes and yelling bitch a lot. But I am not that guy. I fucking hate that guy. I spent years being miserable and basically at war with my sexuality because I thought being male and dom meant I had to be that guy and oh my God I think I’d rather just remove the entire apparatus using a rusty spoon from my Swiss Army knife rather than be like that walking indictment of humanity. So I need to like the person I’m performing misogyny at. She needs to be someone I can talk to before and after and not feel like I’m robbing an intellectual cradle. My capacity to be the most amazing dom you’ve ever invited to cross you boundaries — which I can totally be — is tied directly to how much I respect you as an equal making a choice and my assessment of your respect for me in the same way.
Sexy: There is no one true standard of hotness, and I don’t hold myself forth as the platonic ideal of the male form (for one thing? The Greeks were super into tiny penis. I’m serious. Had to do with their ideals of balance, apparently). I’m a big guy, 5’11, white, with a broad-shouldered sort of frame that leads people to think I’m taller than I am. I have a bit of a gut, but not so much that you’d call me fat, walking down the street; I suspect that the gut is something I notice but mostly no one else does. I get more compliments on my ass than I know what to do with.
I’m fit and active, I have nice eyes, a good smile and a better laugh. I’m currently clean shaven, although I’ve been known to grow a beard from time to time. (It is a small, neat Van Dyke sort of thing - I couldn’t grow a hipster lumberjack beard if I wanted to. Something else the Greeks would have had opinions on). Brown eyes, brown hair, and bespectacled. Nerd, but sexy nerd. And admit it: when a dude is tying you up and saying demeaning, degrading, frantically arousing things to you, wouldn’t you rather, when drops the crop and your world collapses to the feeling of his fingers (HOW many fingers? God, can you even tell any more, you are so wet...) moving inside your pussy and his thumb on your clit, when you suddenly feel his free hand up under your hair, right along the scalp, in that good, firm grab that makes you feel small and helpless and sexy and dirty and nasty and so, so good (and HEY! Did I tell you you could do that? If I wanted you to fuck your filthy hole on my fingers I’d have told you to, wouldn’t I? So stop, or I’ll have to take them away) ... in that moment, I have to believe you’d rather have the person whispering sweet, dirty nothings in your ear be one who can use words like “wanton” and “harlot” as well as “skank” and “hoe” or strangely popular “bitch”. Who can capture your imagination even more thoroughly than he’s bound your hands and ankles. I don’t know. I’m not even just a little bit submissive, and even if I was I’d still be a dude. But I have to believe -and user feedback surveys seem to support - that it is better when the violence of action is matched by wickedness of mind and quickness of wit.
Liberal: I’m not imposing a political litmus test. But because I only screw people I like and who I at least believe like me, and because the politics of the moment are centered around such a toxic person leading an even more toxic movement it matters: If you are on board with the current conservative movement in America, just... no. Because while I might get past the stupid policy, maybe. I mean probably not, but I can forgive well-meaning and ignorant, at least in principle. But I could never accept the cruelty.
Feminist: As much as I enjoy deploying the tropes and language of misogyny in bed with a likeminded partner, my enjoyment of that for that performative misogyny hinges on you being in on the joke (if you’ll allow). It isn’t just about “being good”; virtue has nothing to do with it, at least in this context. It is because as a dominant I get off, in large part, on your desire: controlling it, restraining it, heightening it, sustaining it and ultimately satisfying it (or not, as circumstances dictate). If we don’t start from a place where we both see ourselves as peers, I can never be really sure that desire is authentic or authentically mine. And I am egotistical enough, or maybe just have enough self-respect, to demand that I be certain that your desire is for me, specifically, at least in the time we are in “bed”. (although the bed is only the actually relevant piece of furniture at most half the time. Really, beds are actually terribly designed for good sex. Post coital cuddle and bullshit sessions, while we discussed what worked, what really worked, and what needs work? That is a fine use for the bed. For fucking and fucking related program activities? At best a poor second to a good couch or any of a wide variety of chairs.
Stoned-sex: I love the way it affects my physiology, keeping me aroused and in the moment for hours and hours and the way it drops my refractory period down to only a few minutes or a half an hour before I’m in the mood again. And I love the way it slows down my otherwise sometimes too quickly racing mind, so that I can slide effortlessly into the dominant analog of subspace; that mental space where calling a pretty girl who I like and respect and admire a lazy no good whore, where yanking her up by her hair, slapping her face and telling her to get her greedy little mouth all the way down my cock or I’ll show her what rough really means... Weed helps me be in that space without quite so much second guessing or worry that I’m going to hurt you. It lets me trust my instincts and you and your ability to safeword out, and that is good for both of us.
Kinky: Obviously. And obviously, this is shot through with examples. But: I like power and control. I like, more than anything getting to know you and your mind and being able to figure out how to wrap you around my fingers so thoroughly that I hardly have to lift them to have you dancing my tune. I can be rough, and cruel, and I love causing pain, even to the point of tears and balancing that against urgency and a desire to please and an orgasm that I can hold just out of reach until the moment I don’t and just as your are falling off from that peak ratcheting the sexual energy back up so that even though you just came call over my hands or cock or mouth you’d do anything-Anything-ANYTHING for one more caress, one more thrust, one more slide of my tongue (inside: that specific, delightful acid tang of the inside of a cunt that you only taste when you push your tongue deep inside - it never lasts on a finger, for some reason - then out and up and you can feel her tremble, strong and subtle and if it were a song this bit would be almost subsonic and then under the clit and around and there she goes, she’s starting to beg again and now I kinda have a crush on her because she is learning me back, harlot instead of whore, and an under-undercurrent of mirth beneath it all: the power is real and the desire is real but we also both know it is a joke, a shared secret: we can do this and still be friends and isn’t that fucking awesome?).
I have a few specific fetishes: I like to decide what you wear, when we are together: I love being able to look at you and know, not just that you’ve made yourself into an expression of my ideal of high femme sexuality, but that as you did so, with every little bit, anticipation was building. That I’ve been teasing you, maybe for hours, without doing a thing or saying a thing. (And of course, it plays back into desire and its close cousin, consent. If every stitch you are -and every stitch you are.- wearing was chosen with an eye to my desires, that is an implicit declaration of enthusiastic consent). I have a bit of a twist for deviance. Sitting next to a woman who I know has got nothing on under her panties but the butt plug I told her to wear is hot; hotter still if I handed it too her at the bar and she returns from the bathroom and hands me her panties. Hotter still if I hand it too her and she doesn’t go to the bathroom, but just looks around and then slides it up her ass with a smirk and a “Thank you SiDaddy”. I like being called Daddy, sometimes. There is something inherently provocative when the kind of woman -scary smart, self-confident, and self-aware - that I am drawn to lets a breathy, anxious “Daddy” slip her lips. There is something inherently filthy about hearing that word, with all its baggage, demeaning, infantilizing implications fall from the lips of someone who is alive to those implications and is calling to me in that way not despite them, but on account of them. (It isn’t my revolution if I can’t dance to it. And it isn’t my feminism if we can’t repurpose our cultural baggage in order to have a spectacular sex life in a magnificent relationship).
I have more than a bit of the daddy in me. A bit physically — I’m solid like that. And still more in attitude. As much as I demand of a partner, I cherish knowing I can be a very particular kind of safe place to stand for her. I enjoy, even need, to be protective and caring, supportive and nurturing. Not only in that quiet place after we have hit the climax (or between the first, easy release and starting the next assent — which is very much part of why I like being able to combine weed with my kink. As much as I love giving reign to some of the darker parts of my personality during the rush of kink, I also exulting that aftermath; when your head is on my chest and my arm wraps around you, and my hands explore your body without any urgency or any hesitation. I love that feeling of being a place of safety and feeling you relax into my size and my strength. It is the only feeling that I have that I identify as definitely masculine (in and for myself: I’m not trying to claim that experience as uniquely belonging to those issued a penis and number of testicles at birth).
It extends beyond sex; really, that is only the tip of the iceberg. Vital, and you sure as shit are going to sink if you miss it in the dark. But it runs all through my relationships. Arguable without the sexually charged overtones, it is just a over complicated way of saying “I like being a good boyfriend”. But where would we be without our sexually charged overtones? And it cuts both ways: if you are pulling from that part of me without returning the counterpoint of submission I need (or I feel I’m constantly reminding you that I need it and your compliance thus feels grudging) we are going to crash and burn. If you fail to make certain it is clear to me that you are as happy to give me what I need as I am eager to give you what you need, I’m going to feel really ill-used.
Having said all that, I’m not remotely a good fit for anyone who defines themselves as a little. A Daddy/daughter dynamic without the explicit embrace of childishness has an intense pull because it combines taboo violation with a power exchange dynamic that comports well with my personality — being both protective and demanding, authority and comfort works well for me. But I find that the idea of trying to be sexual with someone locked in to portraying a prepubescent very uncomfortable and suspect that I would still feel that way with someone who’s “little” age was more mature. That is a squick, rather than a value judgment. With me, that sort of age play (or even worse pet play) works strongly against the kind of intimacy that I value in kink. Role play can be a blast, and I love it, but I need it to clearly be play, something that can be stepped into and out of without stepping completely out of the kink dynamic. I bring the entirety of myself to everything I do, and I have enough self-regard to demand the same from my partner. If I like you enough to take you to bed, that necessarily means that I value your mind enough to lust after it — no matter how lovely you may be in repose, if you can’t or won’t turn me on with your intellect you will lose my interest so quickly as to acquire a visible redshift as you exit my life. Accordingly, when I reach for your mind, be it too discuss housing policy or my difficulty with a binding, to check on your well being or learn how your dissertation is progressing, (and I’ve done all of these during a scene) I deserve to be able to find it, and you, there reaching back.
If you’ve gotten this far and if you are at all the target audience: (cis-female, like weed and kink together, comfortable in yourself and your kinks, think you’re sexy) send me a PM. Don’t think yourself out of it or wait and see or anything. For fucks sake don't read the following Just put together a couple of paragraphs of message and fire it off. I don’t know what will happen, but I know for sure you won’t regret having done so. After all, like I said right up top: I’m delightful. I bet you are too.
I used to try and assert that I don’t have a type. That isn’t true, though: I have several even beyond the implicit, willful intellectual type suggested above. And the list keeps growing: I’m forever delighted by the variety of women who've made my hindbrain start barking and trying to do tricks, at one time or another. Granting that, my abiding lust objects resemble 40’s pin ups far more than 00’s porn stars, at least insofar as body type goes; tattoos and piercings can be wonderfully sexy. Likewise, though a wonderful rack can be a wonder to behold a girl in an A-cup who has that warm flare of hip and legs that go all the way down can lead to me walking into traffic. Finally, my experience of myself is sufficient for me to say confidently that race isn’t a factor in my libido, either for or against.
I live in Chicago, love my city, and for all I value the intellectual aspect of all this, I want ultimately to meet one (or more, I suppose;) women with whom I can spend time with both doing sexy things and the kind of things that make us both so terribly sexy. If that means an intense but memorable two days while you are visiting your great aunt Wilma, that is worth doing. If that means ongoing encounters frequent enough to keep us both sated, great. And if those are intermixed with enough non-sexual shared activities that the phrase “friends-with-benefits” is a fact and not just a more polite way of saying fuckbuddies? Even more great. Super, even. And if that last develops into a passion that carries us through the next three or four decades, both of us slightly bemused that we got along so well during the benighted days before first we fell upon one another, carried away on a passion so intense it is visible from orbit? Well. Wouldn’t that be delightful.

So this is a weird crazy story/summary of life this far. I (28M) feel like I have been living my life with an absurd amount of masking. I set out on a spiritual awakening journey when I was 18 and started college, the first time I had ever been truly alone and truly started feeling that deep sense of loneliness. Which is what kicked in my spiritual awakening, by asking questions about who I was, why was I here and why did I have such a deep unexplainable yearning for "home" which was not "physically" attainable. Not a yearning for home in the sense of being with my family, but a deep, deep cry out from what I felt was my soul essence.
Fast forward through some heavy years of partying, clubbing/going to shows, drugs and alcohol. At 23, I met who is now my wife and the mother of my/our amazing daughter and through the 5 years we've been going through this human experience together, we both got a lot deeper and a lot more "serious" about expanding and opening up our spiritual bodies. We were kind of forced into delving DEEP into it because our first true "interactions/dates" were so deeply rooted in spirit that we (very fortunately) discovered/realized that we are cut off the same soul cloth and are infact soulmates/twin flames or whatever floats your boat for descriptions regarding life partners.
We have learned and discovered a lot about ourselves as well as a newly found perception of the outter world (largely influenced emotionally, spiritually, mentally by Ram Dass, Jack Kornfield, Dale RamDev. . . Spiritual Adepts/teachers, guides etc.) This absolutely transformed a lot of our inner and outer world (through disciplined routines and practices) for the better in a very beautiful way. Then in 2021 we moved to Idaho on an instinctual as well as an impulse decsion to be closer to my wife's side of the family out there, and our intuitive feeling of needing to go to the northwest part of the country. When we got there we were almost instantly met with extreme adversity and complications with my wife's health, our marriage, and life as a whole. So needless to say it was not the "change" we had in mind. Though we now see it all as the change/step that was necessary for self discovery and growth personally, together and as a while family unit. In late 2021 I was waiting for an orientation class for a new job and had to wait until the next class (2 weeks out) so while waiting two weeks, we needed money to eat and keep life running so I decided since I had a drill and basic tools I'd to do some side work/odd jobs (honey do list kind of things) to bring in whatever cash I could. This ended up blowing up in a beautiful way and I ended up quitting that new job on orientation day to set off and fully jump into the possible opportunity of working for myself. Now almost 2 years later and I'm still doing my own thing (bathroom remodels, tile, carpentry and flooring) and it's been amazing.
We also recently moved back home to Colorado and since we've been back it's been a struggle for a miriad of reasons, but the one struggle that I've found myself dealing with the most and is the heaviest emotion, is my own personal sense of validation. I actually just (today) realized that I have been chasing external validation for as long as I can remember (about 3-4 years old) While thinking about the current slump that I'm in I started thinking about what makes me "feel okay/feel like me" and most of those things are (now) related to my work. Building things for people, fixing things, repairs, custom furniture, etc. And then being validated by a "good job, we are so happy!" Kind of thing from my clients. Thinking further back before this and it's all been an ongoing search for validation through my external world. My party phase, the validation came from my knowledge of drugs, artists, previous party stories and a whole bunch of unhealthy methods and vices. Before that, through the beginnings of highschool getting into heavy drug use (psychedelics, weed and cocaine/stimulants) and partying I was a hardcore WoW gamer (big time raider in a progressive guild that sought to be the best in the game) and always sought out to be the best in my guild (for whatever role character I was playing). Seeking validation through being the best gamer. Before that I was obsessed with skateboarding, from age 9-16 or 17 I would strive to be the best skater in my school, at the skate park (within reason) and from my parents. I was small town sponsored (nothing really fancy, just discounted apparel/gear and occasionally a free board) And before that, but also mixed in through the years until about 20, I was huge on drawing mythical/fantasy creatures and characters and was pretty damn good. But looking back at all the "phase of interest transitions" I see one common goal. External validation through an attempt to prove myself in an outward expression/skill.
I was also looking back at the overall "emotional neglect" that I got from my parents (mom and step dad, bio dad left the picture when I was about 1, 1/2 ) And not to say that they were absolute assholes or anything like that, but they were very young (I was 2 and my mom was 18 when she met my step dad) and learning life for themselves. So I know that they didn't "intentionally" emotionally neglect me or invalidate me. But I wasn't good at the things they wanted me to do (playing tee ball/baseball as a toddleyoung kid) because my step dad was a huge baseball guy. And because I wasn't into or good at the things they wanted to see me do, I found my own interests, independently and amongst my friend group. However this caused parental tension because I was (in their eyes) becoming a hoodlum. Never got the acknowledgement or 'parental praise and proudness' from skating, drawing, playing WoW (step dad played too), obviously not for partying and doing drugs, but not even now. Not even as a 28 year old married man running my own business and father to a beautiful 3 year old daughter. Most of my side of the family disagrees with "entrepreneurship/self employment" because it isn't as "stable" as a corporate box job. - According to them, even though they've all been laid off at some point or another from corporations that are "never going anywhere, we have job security for life".
Sorry, tangent rants aside! I am now facing an immense amount of emotional pain/flashbacks for the lack of validation I have within myself. I am able to see and recognize the immense amount of growth I've undergone and the fact that I didn't die from drugs and partying and pushed through all of that to get where I am now. And I see that I have a shit ton to validate my own worth, I understand the growth that I've undergone and will continue to go through, but I absolutely struggle with giving myself credit, feeling okay with where I am. I can't help but feel like I'm not doing enough and always feel like there is something to do.
This morning I recognized that as an issue of control, and when I don't have the ability to control my volume/standard of output with "things to show" whether it be through work, hobby projects or anything else where I can do/build/repair something for someone. I get extremely depressed. And only really feel 'okay' when I'm doing things. I see this as a trauma wound that has deepend through my years and has gone essentially completely unacknowledged within myself. Until our TRUE spiritual journey began 5 years ago. I do not want to be mentally controlled or enslaved to the inner ego narrative that I'm not doing enough, but I have no idea how to truly accept myself. Accept who I was, who I am and who I'm becoming. I feel like I've just gotten so good at distracting myself by staying busy and constantly seeking validation through helping others that I have no idea who I actually am. I feel like I've been living the biggest lie ever and I've deceived everyone in my life but mostly myself. When I truly sit and think about what I truly enjoy for myself, I can't think of anything. Aside from the cliche of 'being with my family' (wife and daughter) which does truly bring me happiness. But I can't live in or hold on to "those moments" forever. And outside of them, or doing something for someone to give me that pat on the back, I do not have a damn clue who I am.
And I know that who I am is a culmination of everything I've done and am becoming. But that's still only validated through the external. And I know ram Dass would tell me to just let go and release the inner narrative to what is and just be in/of loving awareness. But, he too struggled with identity. Struggled with feeling like a phony and seeking external validation through experiences or services.
So if you made it this far, and have either evolved passed this state/level of emotional consciousness and awareness or you too are feeling the same. I'd love some tips, tricks suggestions or anything for how to help get through this obstacle of the human experience.
And because it was pretty long, and I jump around in here, if there's anything anyone wants further detail or clarification on, I'd be more than happy to attempt to fumble a rambling story again.

Ever since I've moved in, our next door neighbor has been avoiding us like the plague. Even when I said hi to him when we were both in our front yards, he just ran back inside his house. Talking to other neighbors, he's the neighborhood weirdo. No one knows talked to him, and he'll go out on walks in the middle of the night (past midnight) checking other people's houses front porch area, looking over their side gate, etc (caught on camera).
Anyways, my next door neighbor let their weeds grow to about 2-3 feet tall. They finally had someone come out and cut it... but guess what. They left a 3 foot wide patch of weeds that run in between our property lines. It's frustrating because their weeds are (im guessing) dropping seeds onto our lawn and causing weeds to grow since we haven't had a weeding problem until theirs started coming in. Even more annoying is that the weeds are getting longetaller, but collapsing so most of the weeds are now just limping into our yard. I've cut the portion over hanging on our side, but it's an ABSOLUTE piss off.
Then from there, I can't even enjoy going in my backyard anymore. I don't mind they have a security camera, but the problem is that it's mounted on the back corner of their house, pointed at our house/yard.... Sure it still has parts of their yard, but i'm willing to bet that they can only see their side of the fence, and then just our house/yard.
I bought a flood light and going to install it pointing to their camera, but beyond that, is there anything else I can do about these things?

Have a lot of models from various editions and in different conditions, prices firm but willing to negotiate on some of them. Additional $10 on purchases for shipping.
https://imgur.com/a/ZOoAmWo
Army List:
Necrons:
30 Necron Warriors (Older models) - $12 for 10 or $30 for all (Will come with original green plastic bits for Gauss weapons)
10 Necron Warriors (Newer Models) - $25 fuly painted
Various Broken Necrons - $8 for all
Khorne Daemons:
5 Bloodcrushers - $9 ea.
16 11 Flesh Hounds (4th Ed.) - $25 for 4
2 1 Karanak (4th Ed.) - $15/$8 for the unpainted/missing parts
3 Juggernauts (2nd Ed.) - $20 ea.
Chaos Space Marines:
1 Kharn the Betrayer + 1 Baseless Khorne Beserker - $12 (Kharn missing parts)
1 (Metal) World Eaters Space Marine - $9
5 Warp Talons - $20 for all
1 Chaos Aspiring Champion - $13
1 Chaos Prince (conversion) - $30
Tzeentch Daemons:
4 Pink Horrors - $15 for all
1 Custom Horror Model - $20
Slannesh Daemons:
4 Daemonettes (2nd Ed.) - $25
1 Fiend (4th Ed. Juan Diaz scuplt) - $23 (missing arms)
3 1 Fiends (WFB?) - $17 ea.
Space Marines:
2 Mepheston - $10 ea.
1 Sanguinor (converted) - $25
7 Sanguinary Guard - $6 ea. for missing parts/$8 ea. for undamaged
2 Blood Angels w/ Jumppacks - $7 ea.
1 Dark Angel Marine - $5

​
I wish you were different. I wish you choose me over your family. I wish you came back for me on New Years Day, when i asked you to come
back. Not only that but it was our first date!
Honestly, it didnt set a good tone not only of who you are, but our entire relationship.
Did you know that the only reason I agreed to give you a second chance on the first date was because i wanted to eat good food. And my New Years wasnt that great.
You went to get drinks from the store, and you didnt invite me. I fee this isnyou trying to pull awya from me. Its sad but true. Right mow i feel numb towards things, but i know it will hot me hard when i go back home, and see everyone having someone by their side and having kids too.
A part of me wants you to join the military and come back for me. A part of me wnats me to find someone better. Someone who will put my needs, wants, and happiness no. 1 in his life. Someone who will defend me against anyone, even his own family. Someone who will give me a Valentines Day gift on our first Valnetines Day together as a couple. Someone who will try and make our first date the best thing ever. This are all things that you didnt do.
Another list of things i wish you would do:

1. Stop being vengeful & vindictive as me
2. Keeps promises to me
3. That you would be considerate, respectful, and treat me with dignity

Thank you for being patient with me. Tbh, i am ashamed of you:
That your house aint that great.
That there wont be chicken shit in your garage so i can bring my family show you off
I know when im gone. Your family will be so happy. Thats what hurts me the most. they never liked me. But i cant change who i am, esp since i dont see whats wrong with me being a loner and being timid, individualized, and passionate. I can change some parts of myself that aint great like wanting you all the time, being gluttnous, greedy, stinchy.
You know you said that you hate your brothet being a druggie and being a stealer, yet you still hangout with him.
Its sad but true. To me, you hanging out with him is like “ hey bro, its okay you stole from me. You dont have to pay me back for the weed, shirt, money, and other stuff you stole from me.”
I know in my heart of hearts that you wont join the military. Maybe the national guard, so you and your family could get into the base. But not the active duty like you promised me. It breaks my heart that you will never reach your full potential. Like how you encourage me. Its so sad. But honestly i felt this relationship could never last. I remember promising myself i will never end up with someone who has a drinking problem or addicted to drugs (weed). I remember promising myself that my boyfriend/future husband will be immediately liked and accepted by my family.
Im gonna miss sleeping next to you. Having you around. Our late night strolls. Our smoothie dates. The sex (it aint nothing to brag about but im gonna miss having a sex partner).

My wife might be losing her job because her boss is a cunt and is trying to get her fired. My daughter has a type of cancer called myofibroma and her last scans showed an "object of concern" in her lungs, and my wife is also having issues with her "internal lady parts" and her Dr's appt isn't for another week... I feel like my life is falling apart. Weed is sorta helping but it also has been making my anxiety worse. So I'm trying to use it when I'm in one of my less stressful frames of mind... I don't know what to do... I'm scared and anxious and worried... I guess I just needed someplace to vent and maybe get some words of motivation... I don't know... I'm just stressed to the max and not sure what my next move should be. We won't know what the results of her job hearing is until Monday at the earliest so I've got all weekend to deal with this... Just, anything helps I guess. Much love.

Hey everyone, I need a bit to explain my situation but bear with me.
I'm a 24f and I regularly struggle with the issue of my skin on erogenous zones getting too sore if my partner tries to get me off with her fingers, by oral or sometimes even if I use my own fingers. I often need breaks and most of the time even then it can be that my partner can't get me to orgasm before it gets painful from being sore/it numbs out because of it. When I'm on my own I can usually get off very reliably with a vibrator but trying to orgasm with just my fingers alone can be quite difficult.
I have been trying out various things with my partner like different oral techniques, rubbing through panties or foreplay with a vibrator. Sadly I also need rather strong stimulation to really orgasm and just grinding against soft things for example isn't enough to quite push me over the edge.
Additionally I've heard that losing focus during sex, which happens to me often is an ADHD thing and might be part of the issue why I need stronger stimulation to keep me interested or orgasm before I lose my focus.
For context i also generally struggle with orgasming during sex but weed for example helps with the anxiety surrounding it but the issue of becoming too sore or overstimulated persists.
I'm wondering if anyone has had any similar experience or found a way to better deal with it, since I haven't found any posts that felt like they accurately described my issue.
P.S. I'm not taking any antidepressants and I don't have any known physical medical conditions.

This question relates to renting an apartment for my two adult children. Both are somewhat disabled by both physical and mental health issues. Nothing serious enough that my wife and I would qualify for the Disability Tax Credit, but you know what I mean.
Currently they live with my wife and I but it is difficult because they are a bit volatile at times and their standards of cleanliness etc are way below ours. This is particularly difficult for me as I have my own mental health challenges and this living arrangement is making it difficult for me to live my best life in retirement.
Some background. Adult child #1 has both physical and mental illness issues. They were in uni, but have been at home with no income over a year now. I would like them to get on Ontario Works, and possibly disability down the road depending on how well recovery goes.
Adult child #2 recently got a psychiatric diagnosis after a decade of struggling which has unfortunately left them with dependencies on weed, tobacco and alcohol to cope. They have just started on a medication that will hopefully make things better in terms of getting these addictions under control. We are fairly sure this child has driven impaired in the past, but has never gotten caught and charged. We have had many conversations re the need to never drive when impaired, for their safety and of course for that of others. In the past year and a half we have observed this child ‘do the right thing’ and get picked up by a friend, take public transit or Uber if they are going to indulge. We gave this child a old car of ours we wanted to get rid of last summer so they can get to work. This child goes through jobs like crazy but seems to have a desire to work and pay some of their own bills (usually just the fun stuff—but that’s another issue we’re working on). The current job this child has seems like a good fit and we are hopeful it will last.
Anyways, back to renting them an apartment. I know it would be extremely difficult for them to rent with their own names on the lease, so I’m willing to backstop them and put my name on the lease.
I would like each of them so sign a sublet agreement agreeing to pay a certain amount and sublet from me. Child #1 would pay the maximum amount for rent allowed by OW. Child #2 would pay whatever they could afford from part time job while working and attending college part time.
I guess my legal question is this: if child #2 were to falter and drive impaired and injure or kill someone, would my wife and I have any legal liability because we are subsidizing their lifestyle?
I know anyone can sue anybody for anything, but my kid is a poor target as they have no assets. My wife and I would be the targets of any lawsuit as we have retirement savings to go after.
Yes it is an option to boot them out and let them figure out their own living arrangements, but my wife will never stand for them living in some public housing shithole (excuse my language).
How do we give them a hand up without exposing ourselves to liability should they falter?
My thanks for any replies from you legal minds out there!
Concerned Dad

I also understand this may not quite fit in this subreddit, but I'm desperate at this point, mods please feel free to remove if you deem necessary.
This is a very long post.
I'll post a TLDR at the bottom, and I appreciate you taking the time to read this. I understand it's an awful lot, but it's an awful lot that's happening to us!
Where do I begin... I live on a quiet street. I am a private tennant to a very sweet landlord who knew all of the neighbours on said street as they lived here long before I even moved to this town. All of the neighbours, apart from two houses and my own are privately owned by the occupants. The other two are council owned. I live in a terrace, and the property next to me is the end of the terrace, which is a council house. This is sort of important to state.
We had nightmare neighbours before when we moved in, but after a few (this is an understatement but it's not important right now) noise complaints and constant council pressing, they abandoned the property. It was empty for maybe half a year and then a family had been moved in. A pregnant lady (the main issue), who I shall call Beach, the baby daddy, who I'll call Aggro, and their two sweet twin toddlers. I'm salty I can't think of names right now Beach was actually due that week, which I could resonate with as I was currently pregnant at that time also. We had a nice greeting, sometimes said hello but as I was having a difficult pregnancy I stayed inside a lot.
A couple months pass and the arguments started. This is the downhill part. At first, we thought nothing of it. They have a newborn, things are heated enough, it's stressful, we get it. It was for us when ours finally came along, but then the arguments got violent. The words they used were awful, and I mean AWFUL. He would constantly call her a fat [email protected] (I'm sorry) and any other name under the sun, she would scream at him so loud we couldn't understand most of the words but they weren't nice. The little ones are screaming, crying, generally upset because of this shouting match. It goes on for days on end, and we're getting so stressed having to hear this. We start recording what's going on (learned that from the last ones) and call it in. At first, it was terrifying because when the police would turn up, Beach would scream at the officers. (Like, wtf?) The more they argued, the more we called, and it was getting very heated. There were incidents where they would recklessly drive off, would scream in the street, one time the police had blocked their car in the middle of the street and she was SCREAMING at everyone, saying things like "he's a drug dealer go arrest him" and other weird statements. We then came to learn he actually is a dealer as we've witnessed multiple deals go on, and Aggro has even gone so far as to leave the house with the children unattended briefly to complete a drop around the corner. It's a LOT of drama.
I have multiple recordings of them arguing, of her screaming, of him acting extremely agressive towards her, sounds of walls being punched, their children crying, her abuse towards her children, with some examples being her stating "get out of my bag you filthy brat, where's my weed" said in a very alarming tone... To her toddler. She has said a lot of alarming things to her children which you just, don't say.
The heat gets bigger and she gets more upset that the police are being called on her all of the time, but any time they are called it's always for a legitimate reason, and I always have proof to back it up. The police have reassured me I'm not doing anything wrong, and to keep doing what I'm doing. At this point, the council are also involved, as much as they can be because most of the issues are for the police to handle, but they're still in the loop. This is where the housing layout is important. Because I am their only neighbour, they assume that it is me and only me who is calling. I have spoken with my other neighbours as we get along well, and they also call when they can hear it. One of them even got involved when Beach was screaming and swearing at her little ones to tell her to knock it off because they're only little. The whole street is sick of them at this point.
Fast forwards a little. One of my good friends takes me grocery shopping sometimes in his van. We had set out, baby in her seat in the back and had got as far as one street over. We had stopped at a junction because a tram had just pulled into the stop on the right, and a bus was also parked in the bus stop on the left. We couldn't move, as there was no clear right of way, so we waited, like literally anyone would. And then we hear beeps. Check the rear view mirrors, and we can see the neighbours car behind us getting impatient. The important thing to note, was that we have been sitting waiting for less than 20 seconds. We then hear the engine get loud, and see that the car is pulling up onto the pavement to undercut us, drive out onto the path near the bus stop and then very quickly speed off over two lanes. I wish I had this recorded because it was so illegal and horrid. We laughed it off, didn't think much of it after.
More time passes, and my parents are visiting to see their grandbaby. Beach has a friend over, let's call her Syko. My parents are parked on the road near the neighbours house, as my driveway is full with two cars who have rented my driveway out through Your Parking Space. Where they have parked is not on the neighbours property, nor is it in front of their property, it is about a car lengths behind - usually where visitors park for our street. Not in front of anyone's driveway or anything, just down the side of another person's house on the road. Syko appears a while after my parents do in her car, along with Beach in her own car and parks in front of her house. Syko parks super close to my mum's car and they're both out there revving their engines, causing a lot of noise. I make a side comment to my mum saying oh be careful they don't hit your car, joking about the previous situation. This causes my mum to go out and check on her car, and we don't think anything of it. I'm cooking my baby breakfast, we're just chilling. Then the shouting happens. I step outside with my dad to see what's going on, and the two are screaming at my mum, my mum is stood startled and confused why she's being screamed at. They turn to me and start screaming at me, "who is this?" In which I reply "none of your business?" Because, well, it isn't? They then get childish and start calling all of us names, saying my mum looks like a bloke and other random nonsense. My mum can't pass at this point as we were certain that she'd get attacked. I'm holding my baby the whole time this is happening so I don't have my phone (which I regret to this day) and I'm just trying to diffuse the situation. Meanwhile they're in their cars and Aggro is stood with the cars giving us a sht eating smirk in my direction. All the while, her children are in the back of her car. They're getting under all of our skins at this point as it's a lot of nonsense going on, when we're just trying to get my mum back in the house. She finally gets to my driveway, the cars start to drive off and I flip them the bird as they drive away. *Oh no, big mistake. (I want to add here, it was really hard to stay calm and be the bigger person this entire time. They have caused my family so much greif, and where I suffer from major anxiety it all got to me. I kept a brave face the entire time, but even the police agreed when I admitted my wrongdoing, they agreed it was hard as they got to me, and what they did next wasn't warranted in the slightest.)
Aggro starts shouting at me, asking why I did that. I stayed calm and just replied, or at least tried to, say something along the lines of well, they can say all of that to us and you're upset by a finger, to which I was interrupted with agression. Talking down to me, towering over me (at this point, my mum has the baby) and I'm just looking back up at him expressionless. He walks away to his house, then starts walking back over chanting "go get your man. I'm gonna fight him" over and over again, shouting louder and louder each time. At this point, the girls get out of their cars, abandoning them in the road along with her children in it, and my "man" (who is actually my wife 🏳️‍⚧️) isn't even home, she's in the office. Aggro spots my dad through my front door and says fine I'll fight you instead, to which my mum quickly gives the baby to him. Aggro steps over my wall, and barges into my house. Yes. He's trespassing with intent to assault. Unfortunately the next part is a haze for me, as my anxiety shoots into fight or flight. I'm pulling Aggro out of my house by his coat, which comes off unfortunately. My mum is then also pushing him out of the house, and we hear Beach shout "get your hands off my man", which looking back at, is hilarious. You're not bothered he's entering someone's house, you don't care he belittles and screams those vile words at you. Ugh, anyway. I'm then suddenly graced with two fists to both sides of my head/face and from then, everything sort of gets blurred. From there, the two are on my driveway screaming at myself and my mum "I'm autistic, I'm disabled", and I mean they're both claiming the same thing. I'm sort of ignoring them at this point, I'm emotionally burnt out and just want to get inside. We finally get inside and lock the door, my dad is on the phone to the police already and the two girls flee the scene. I'm an emotional mess now I finally don't have to keep a straight face, I call my wife to get her to come home, it's just awful. There's blood all over my shirt and face as my lobe was ripped open, my face is marked and I'm a wet sobbing mess.
Police turn up, get everyone's story then go to Aggro to get his story. The girls are on the phone to Aggro instead of present, because if they were present they'd have been arrested. I should add, nobody was arrested at all. PO came back stating that Aggro claims he just wanted to talk, I start crying and hold my tongue as I just wanted to scream at that point. I make sure pictures of my face is taken, numbers were exchanged as my parents aren't from around here and they left. From what I gathered happened was the officers spoke to various neighbours to get CCTV and we're going to get in touch to take statements.
The following day, they have a huge domestic. All day, they're shouting at each other. I'm terrified to call it in and just drown it out, but it gets worse and worse as the day goes on, and there was a lot of physical violence e.g. punching walls, slamming doors. The children are terrified. I finally call it in, but I make sure to have a decent recording. The police attend, diffuse and leave. They call me to obtain the recording, I comply, easy peasy. Things get quiet from there on. We wait for the police to get back to us but we're left in the dark. At this point, the council are aware of the situation and are on our side. The domestics start up again, I'm recording it all, calling it in, they come out and diffuse. We're back to before the incident. Fortunately, at this point I have set up CCTV which records 24/7.
Then the aggravation starts again. They're banging on the walls, screaming through to us. They're reversing up onto our driveway as one of the students isn't there at the time. I'm being heckled when I leave the house to take rubbish out. I'm being watched when I'm hanging my laundry out. It's emotionally draining. I can't sleep, I'm not myself anymore. I've developed PTSD from the incident, I'm having panic attacks, I'm in a very low place. I'm keeping the council informed with what's going on as it's unacceptable antisocial behaviour, I'm also updating the police when I can. I file an online report to explain the trespassing and how it's affecting us and a BEAT team comes out to speak with us. I explain that whilst we know what they're doing isn't technically illegal there's still intent to upset us. They offer to speak with them, we say no because their presence is enough. We're told to keep doing what we're doing, keep recording, keep calling because it's not okay.
A couple weeks pass and everything is quiet. We're still waiting for the original officer to get back to us but nothing. And then it happens. A huge domestic. Record, call, police arrive. Beach is screaming at the officers, they leave and she's back in the house still screaming. Her parents arrive to calm her down and they're all in the garden. Because she's still shouting I go upstairs to record and I record at the exact time she exclaims that she wants to kill me, and she doesn't care if she gets arrested. Big yikes. I call it in and update, I'm then asked to attend the police station. The whole family leave the house, Beach is having a meltdown and the dad is trying to calm her. They take the children away (no car seats, just buckle them in the cars, clearly shown on CCTV) and leave her behind. She then storms into her car, carelessly reverses onto my drive, shouts out of her window and then speeds off. We then flee to the station, speak with an officer, all is filed. They said because the threat was indirect they can't help us as it wouldn't hold up in court, but have major sympathy for us as they know it's awful what's going on.
At this point the log against them is huge. I've contacted the NSPCC to update them on what's happening, all of the concerns from the past year and a half, everything. They are taken back by what's going on, they link in with the police and CPS and we're just waiting for them to do what they need to do. The odd domestic happens here and there, call, police intervene, leave. (I should also note, the incident happened two months ago. Two months.) Things have slowed down, I'm trying to get a reply from the original officer but they're on leave, and it turns out they were trying to find any CCTV for the case before they got back to me.
One morning there was music, loud music. Blaring for quite a while, it's not your average oh they're playing music it's so loud you can't think inside your own home. I report it to the council and they come out to tell them off. Think nothing more of it. We then get a knock on our door later in the afternoon from three lovely officers who ask to speak with us. An anonymous caller proclaimed my wife and I were having a domestic, and our baby was crying. To their surprise, they come in to see our baby happily playing with her toys and us just vibing watching TV. They talk to us separately, we comply, they're happy and agree it was a nonsense call. They had actually attended a domestic in the past, so are aware of the situation. We fill them in on what's been going on and they're shocked. They leave, we see them out, no harm done. I let them know they are always welcome to chat with us. (Fun fact, wasting police time is a criminal offence). About a week ago they're going off on one again, he's calling her everything under the sun, the kids are crying. I hesitate to call it in at this point because I know there will be repercussions, but I brave it. Police come out, they're all outside talking and I can hear Aggro saying they're wasting their time. Police argue they're not. They leave, whatever.
Now for the drama. To set the scene, last week I'm home with the baby, my wife is at work. The police have left. I'm putting my baby down for her first nap of the day, then go to wash my hair. I finish up, and start tidying the kitchen from breakfast when I get a knock on the door from one of the officers from the last call out. I happily invite her in, and she states she needs to check some CCTV with me, I happily oblige. At this point, I'm not being told what's going on yet as she needs to confirm what's been said by the anonymous caller. What we see on the CCTV is the neighbours both leaving at around 9:03. 9:06 was the time of the incident they were proclaiming to have happened. The officer then explains that apparently at 9:06 I was screaming at the baby and she was crying. I laughed and brought up the baby cam showing she's fast asleep, and showed her my baby sleep tracking app, that she's been asleep since 9am. We both agree it was another nonsense call and move on, I wish her a good day and see her out.
Jump to yesterday, Syko, Beach and the other council tenant from across the road are on their front lawn having a very loud discussion about the incident. I open the ring camera to start recording as what they say could be incriminating and useful, as they were basically admitting to what happened. Syko is going off on one saying she'd happily beat me up, Beach is making us sound like were nonsense calling and that the police don't care about us when we call - which was laughable but they are still admitting to it. The neighbour is lapping up the drama and laughing with them, and then suggests that they post a lit bag full of vodka through our letterbox, pointing towards out door. Now, I'm stood with my wife showing her what's being said as it's happening. We're both in shock with what's being said, and I'm having a full body meltdown from the adrenaline. I'm frightened, and appauled. I send an email to the original officer explaining what's happened, that this really isn't okay and linked them the recordings. Now we're waiting for a response.
Phew that took a long time to write out. I'm sorry a lot of it seems like I'm blabbering, but when everything is put in the same basket, you can see that all of these events are horrible and inexcusable.
I will also add, after the first nonsense call, the council manager went to speak with her and her specialist at the property, and he called me to explain that she does in fact have autism, and she wants to let me know that she's sorry for what's happened. I replied almost laughing stating that what she has done is not okay, and just because she has autism doesn't mean her actions are justified AT ALL. We now know she really isn't sorry, proven by what followed with what I mentioned above.
What the heck do I do. I'm an emotional mess, the police are trying to help as much as they can but it's a long slow process. I can't move house, I'm on a long waiting list for psychotherapy, my wife is afraid to leave the house as her true self in fear of a hate crime as they have previously made a not so subtle side comment about her hair before, it's eating us alive. We're speaking with one of our neighbours who knows the other neighbour who may have gotten the incident on CCTV, but they're too fed up with getting involved with the police which is why it was never submitted in the first place. A lot of mistakes were made, I should have spoken to them sooner to convince them to send us the footage but I also think it was understandable as I'm having to live like a hermit in hopes I'm not targeted by these insane people. We need help, and I don't know who to turn to anymore.
TLDR:
Next door neighbours are having frequent domestic arguments with their children present. We are targeted by them as we call the police when they have these arguments. Young children / infant is present with all of this. Mother is abusive to said children, Father is an drug dealer with serious anger issues. I was attacked outside my home after a parking dispute by them. No CCTV evidence (yet, hopefully). Father trespassed in my home to assault my father but didn't succeed. Continuing domestic violence, continued aggravation towards us. They're getting desperate so call the police about fake incidents at our property. They're trespassing on our property to get a raise out of us but police can't intervene. Whole street is fed up with these crazy people living on our street. Council can't help. Mental health is in the pit as I can't leave the house without being heckled or my wife being put at risk for transphobia. We are stuck with what to do.

BOY this is gonna be a VERY long one. I'm also crossposting to a few subs as I need all the help I can get. But also, enjoy the drama? Trying to laugh about it all but it hurts so much, and their kids are also suffering.
I'll post a TLDR at the bottom, and I appreciate you taking the time to read this. I understand it's an awful lot, but it's an awful lot that's happening to us!
Where do I begin... I live on a quiet street. I am a private tennant to a very sweet landlord who knew all of the neighbours on said street as they lived here long before I even moved to this town. All of the neighbours, apart from two houses and my own are privately owned by the occupants. The other two are council owned. I live in a terrace, and the property next to me is the end of the terrace, which is a council house. This is sort of important to state.
We had nightmare neighbours before when we moved in, but after a few (this is an understatement but it's not important right now) noise complaints and constant council pressing, they abandoned the property. It was empty for maybe half a year and then a family had been moved in. A pregnant lady (the main issue), who I shall call Beach, the baby daddy, who I'll call Aggro, and their two sweet twin toddlers. I'm salty I can't think of names right now Beach was actually due that week, which I could resonate with as I was currently pregnant at that time also. We had a nice greeting, sometimes said hello but as I was having a difficult pregnancy I stayed inside a lot.
A couple months pass and the arguments started. This is the downhill part. At first, we thought nothing of it. They have a newborn, things are heated enough, it's stressful, we get it. It was for us when ours finally came along, but then the arguments got violent. The words they used were awful, and I mean AWFUL. He would constantly call her a fat [email protected] (I'm sorry) and any other name under the sun, she would scream at him so loud we couldn't understand most of the words but they weren't nice. The little ones are screaming, crying, generally upset because of this shouting match. It goes on for days on end, and we're getting so stressed having to hear this. We start recording what's going on (learned that from the last ones) and call it in. At first, it was terrifying because when the police would turn up, Beach would scream at the officers. (Like, wtf?) The more they argued, the more we called, and it was getting very heated. There were incidents where they would recklessly drive off, would scream in the street, one time the police had blocked their car in the middle of the street and she was SCREAMING at everyone, saying things like "he's a drug dealer go arrest him" and other weird statements. We then came to learn he actually is a dealer as we've witnessed multiple deals go on, and Aggro has even gone so far as to leave the house with the children unattended briefly to complete a drop around the corner. It's a LOT of drama.
I have multiple recordings of them arguing, of her screaming, of him acting extremely agressive towards her, sounds of walls being punched, their children crying, her abuse towards her children, with some examples being her stating "get out of my bag you filthy brat, where's my weed" said in a very alarming tone... To her toddler. She has said a lot of alarming things to her children which you just, don't say.
The heat gets bigger and she gets more upset that the police are being called on her all of the time, but any time they are called it's always for a legitimate reason, and I always have proof to back it up. The police have reassured me I'm not doing anything wrong, and to keep doing what I'm doing. At this point, the council are also involved, as much as they can be because most of the issues are for the police to handle, but they're still in the loop. This is where the housing layout is important. Because I am their only neighbour, they assume that it is me and only me who is calling. I have spoken with my other neighbours as we get along well, and they also call when they can hear it. One of them even got involved when Beach was screaming and swearing at her little ones to tell her to knock it off because they're only little. The whole street is sick of them at this point.
Fast forwards a little. One of my good friends takes me grocery shopping sometimes in his van. We had set out, baby in her seat in the back and had got as far as one street over. We had stopped at a junction because a tram had just pulled into the stop on the right, and a bus was also parked in the bus stop on the left. We couldn't move, as there was no clear right of way, so we waited, like literally anyone would. And then we hear beeps. Check the rear view mirrors, and we can see the neighbours car behind us getting impatient. The important thing to note, was that we have been sitting waiting for less than 20 seconds. We then hear the engine get loud, and see that the car is pulling up onto the pavement to undercut us, drive out onto the path near the bus stop and then very quickly speed off over two lanes. I wish I had this recorded because it was so illegal and horrid. We laughed it off, didn't think much of it after.
More time passes, and my parents are visiting to see their grandbaby. Beach has a friend over, let's call her Syko. My parents are parked on the road near the neighbours house, as my driveway is full with two cars who have rented my driveway out through Your Parking Space. Where they have parked is not on the neighbours property, nor is it in front of their property, it is about a car lengths behind - usually where visitors park for our street. Not in front of anyone's driveway or anything, just down the side of another person's house on the road. Syko appears a while after my parents do in her car, along with Beach in her own car and parks in front of her house. Syko parks super close to my mum's car and they're both out there revving their engines, causing a lot of noise. I make a side comment to my mum saying oh be careful they don't hit your car, joking about the previous situation. This causes my mum to go out and check on her car, and we don't think anything of it. I'm cooking my baby breakfast, we're just chilling. Then the shouting happens. I step outside with my dad to see what's going on, and the two are screaming at my mum, my mum is stood startled and confused why she's being screamed at. They turn to me and start screaming at me, "who is this?" In which I reply "none of your business?" Because, well, it isn't? They then get childish and start calling all of us names, saying my mum looks like a bloke and other random nonsense. My mum can't pass at this point as we were certain that she'd get attacked. I'm holding my baby the whole time this is happening so I don't have my phone (which I regret to this day) and I'm just trying to diffuse the situation. Meanwhile they're in their cars and Aggro is stood with the cars giving us a sht eating smirk in my direction. All the while, her children are in the back of her car. They're getting under all of our skins at this point as it's a lot of nonsense going on, when we're just trying to get my mum back in the house. She finally gets to my driveway, the cars start to drive off and I flip them the bird as they drive away. *Oh no, big mistake. (I want to add here, it was really hard to stay calm and be the bigger person this entire time. They have caused my family so much greif, and where I suffer from major anxiety it all got to me. I kept a brave face the entire time, but even the police agreed when I admitted my wrongdoing, they agreed it was hard as they got to me, and what they did next wasn't warranted in the slightest.)
Aggro starts shouting at me, asking why I did that. I stayed calm and just replied, or at least tried to, say something along the lines of well, they can say all of that to us and you're upset by a finger, to which I was interrupted with agression. Talking down to me, towering over me (at this point, my mum has the baby) and I'm just looking back up at him expressionless. He walks away to his house, then starts walking back over chanting "go get your man. I'm gonna fight him" over and over again, shouting louder and louder each time. At this point, the girls get out of their cars, abandoning them in the road along with her children in it, and my "man" (who is actually my wife 🏳️‍⚧️) isn't even home, she's in the office. Aggro spots my dad through my front door and says fine I'll fight you instead, to which my mum quickly gives the baby to him. Aggro steps over my wall, and barges into my house. Yes. He's trespassing with intent to assault. Unfortunately the next part is a haze for me, as my anxiety shoots into fight or flight. I'm pulling Aggro out of my house by his coat, which comes off unfortunately. My mum is then also pushing him out of the house, and we hear Beach shout "get your hands off my man", which looking back at, is hilarious. You're not bothered he's entering someone's house, you don't care he belittles and screams those vile words at you. Ugh, anyway. I'm then suddenly graced with two fists to both sides of my head/face and from then, everything sort of gets blurred. From there, the two are on my driveway screaming at myself and my mum "I'm autistic, I'm disabled", and I mean they're both claiming the same thing. I'm sort of ignoring them at this point, I'm emotionally burnt out and just want to get inside. We finally get inside and lock the door, my dad is on the phone to the police already and the two girls flee the scene. I'm an emotional mess now I finally don't have to keep a straight face, I call my wife to get her to come home, it's just awful. There's blood all over my shirt and face as my lobe was ripped open, my face is marked and I'm a wet sobbing mess.
Police turn up, get everyone's story then go to Aggro to get his story. The girls are on the phone to Aggro instead of present, because if they were present they'd have been arrested. I should add, nobody was arrested at all. PO came back stating that Aggro claims he just wanted to talk, I start crying and hold my tongue as I just wanted to scream at that point. I make sure pictures of my face is taken, numbers were exchanged as my parents aren't from around here and they left. From what I gathered happened was the officers spoke to various neighbours to get CCTV and we're going to get in touch to take statements.
The following day, they have a huge domestic. All day, they're shouting at each other. I'm terrified to call it in and just drown it out, but it gets worse and worse as the day goes on, and there was a lot of physical violence e.g. punching walls, slamming doors. The children are terrified. I finally call it in, but I make sure to have a decent recording. The police attend, diffuse and leave. They call me to obtain the recording, I comply, easy peasy. Things get quiet from there on. We wait for the police to get back to us but we're left in the dark. At this point, the council are aware of the situation and are on our side. The domestics start up again, I'm recording it all, calling it in, they come out and diffuse. We're back to before the incident. Fortunately, at this point I have set up CCTV which records 24/7.
Then the aggravation starts again. They're banging on the walls, screaming through to us. They're reversing up onto our driveway as one of the students isn't there at the time. I'm being heckled when I leave the house to take rubbish out. I'm being watched when I'm hanging my laundry out. It's emotionally draining. I can't sleep, I'm not myself anymore. I've developed PTSD from the incident, I'm having panic attacks, I'm in a very low place. I'm keeping the council informed with what's going on as it's unacceptable antisocial behaviour, I'm also updating the police when I can. I file an online report to explain the trespassing and how it's affecting us and a BEAT team comes out to speak with us. I explain that whilst we know what they're doing isn't technically illegal there's still intent to upset us. They offer to speak with them, we say no because their presence is enough. We're told to keep doing what we're doing, keep recording, keep calling because it's not okay.
A couple weeks pass and everything is quiet. We're still waiting for the original officer to get back to us but nothing. And then it happens. A huge domestic. Record, call, police arrive. Beach is screaming at the officers, they leave and she's back in the house still screaming. Her parents arrive to calm her down and they're all in the garden. Because she's still shouting I go upstairs to record and I record at the exact time she exclaims that she wants to kill me, and she doesn't care if she gets arrested. Big yikes. I call it in and update, I'm then asked to attend the police station. The whole family leave the house, Beach is having a meltdown and the dad is trying to calm her. They take the children away (no car seats, just buckle them in the cars, clearly shown on CCTV) and leave her behind. She then storms into her car, carelessly reverses onto my drive, shouts out of her window and then speeds off. We then flee to the station, speak with an officer, all is filed. They said because the threat was indirect they can't help us as it wouldn't hold up in court, but have major sympathy for us as they know it's awful what's going on.
At this point the log against them is huge. I've contacted the NSPCC to update them on what's happening, all of the concerns from the past year and a half, everything. They are taken back by what's going on, they link in with the police and CPS and we're just waiting for them to do what they need to do. The odd domestic happens here and there, call, police intervene, leave. (I should also note, the incident happened two months ago. Two months.) Things have slowed down, I'm trying to get a reply from the original officer but they're on leave, and it turns out they were trying to find any CCTV for the case before they got back to me.
One morning there was music, loud music. Blaring for quite a while, it's not your average oh they're playing music it's so loud you can't think inside your own home. I report it to the council and they come out to tell them off. Think nothing more of it. We then get a knock on our door later in the afternoon from three lovely officers who ask to speak with us. An anonymous caller proclaimed my wife and I were having a domestic, and our baby was crying. To their surprise, they come in to see our baby happily playing with her toys and us just vibing watching TV. They talk to us separately, we comply, they're happy and agree it was a nonsense call. They had actually attended a domestic in the past, so are aware of the situation. We fill them in on what's been going on and they're shocked. They leave, we see them out, no harm done. I let them know they are always welcome to chat with us. (Fun fact, wasting police time is a criminal offence). About a week ago they're going off on one again, he's calling her everything under the sun, the kids are crying. I hesitate to call it in at this point because I know there will be repercussions, but I brave it. Police come out, they're all outside talking and I can hear Aggro saying they're wasting their time. Police argue they're not. They leave, whatever.
Now for the drama. To set the scene, last week I'm home with the baby, my wife is at work. The police have left. I'm putting my baby down for her first nap of the day, then go to wash my hair. I finish up, and start tidying the kitchen from breakfast when I get a knock on the door from one of the officers from the last call out. I happily invite her in, and she states she needs to check some CCTV with me, I happily oblige. At this point, I'm not being told what's going on yet as she needs to confirm what's been said by the anonymous caller. What we see on the CCTV is the neighbours both leaving at around 9:03. 9:06 was the time of the incident they were proclaiming to have happened. The officer then explains that apparently at 9:06 I was screaming at the baby and she was crying. I laughed and brought up the baby cam showing she's fast asleep, and showed her my baby sleep tracking app, that she's been asleep since 9am. We both agree it was another nonsense call and move on, I wish her a good day and see her out.
Jump to yesterday, Syko, Beach and the other council tenant from across the road are on their front lawn having a very loud discussion about the incident. I open the ring camera to start recording as what they say could be incriminating and useful, as they were basically admitting to what happened. Syko is going off on one saying she'd happily beat me up, Beach is making us sound like were nonsense calling and that the police don't care about us when we call - which was laughable but they are still admitting to it. The neighbour is lapping up the drama and laughing with them, and then suggests that they post a lit bag full of vodka through our letterbox, pointing towards out door. Now, I'm stood with my wife showing her what's being said as it's happening. We're both in shock with what's being said, and I'm having a full body meltdown from the adrenaline. I'm frightened, and appauled. I send an email to the original officer explaining what's happened, that this really isn't okay and linked them the recordings. Now we're waiting for a response.
Phew that took a long time to write out. I'm sorry a lot of it seems like I'm blabbering, but when everything is put in the same basket, you can see that all of these events are horrible and inexcusable.
I will also add, after the first nonsense call, the council manager went to speak with her and her specialist at the property, and he called me to explain that she does in fact have autism, and she wants to let me know that she's sorry for what's happened. I replied almost laughing stating that what she has done is not okay, and just because she has autism doesn't mean her actions are justified AT ALL. We now know she really isn't sorry, proven by what followed with what I mentioned above.
What the heck do I do. I'm an emotional mess, the police are trying to help as much as they can but it's a long slow process. I can't move house, I'm on a long waiting list for psychotherapy, my wife is afraid to leave the house as her true self in fear of a hate crime as they have previously made a not so subtle side comment about her hair before, it's eating us alive. We're speaking with one of our neighbours who knows the other neighbour who may have gotten the incident on CCTV, but they're too fed up with getting involved with the police which is why it was never submitted in the first place. A lot of mistakes were made, I should have spoken to them sooner to convince them to send us the footage but I also think it was understandable as I'm having to live like a hermit in hopes I'm not targeted by these insane people. We need help, and I don't know who to turn to anymore.
TLDR:
Next door neighbours are having frequent domestic arguments with their children present. We are targeted by them as we call the police when they have these arguments. Young children / infant is present with all of this. Mother is abusive to said children, Father is an drug dealer with serious anger issues. I was attacked outside my home after a parking dispute by them. No CCTV evidence (yet, hopefully). Father trespassed in my home to assault my father but didn't succeed. Continuing domestic violence, continued aggravation towards us. They're getting desperate so call the police about fake incidents at our property. They're trespassing on our property to get a raise out of us but police can't intervene. Whole street is fed up with these crazy people living on our street. Council can't help. Mental health is in the pit as I can't leave the house without being heckled or my wife being put at risk for transphobia. We are stuck with what to do.

BOY this is gonna be a VERY long one. I'm also crossposting to multiple subreddits as I'm desperate.
I'll post a TLDR at the bottom, and I appreciate you taking the time to read this. I understand it's an awful lot, but it's an awful lot that's happening to us!
Where do I begin... I live on a quiet street. I am a private tennant to a very sweet landlord who knew all of the neighbours on said street as they lived here long before I even moved to this town. All of the neighbours, apart from two houses and my own are privately owned by the occupants. The other two are council owned. I live in a terrace, and the property next to me is the end of the terrace, which is a council house. This is sort of important to state.
We had nightmare neighbours before when we moved in, but after a few (this is an understatement but it's not important right now) noise complaints and constant council pressing, they abandoned the property. It was empty for maybe half a year and then a family had been moved in. A pregnant lady (the main issue), who I shall call Beach, the baby daddy, who I'll call Aggro, and their two sweet twin toddlers. I'm salty I can't think of names right now Beach was actually due that week, which I could resonate with as I was currently pregnant at that time also. We had a nice greeting, sometimes said hello but as I was having a difficult pregnancy I stayed inside a lot.
A couple months pass and the arguments started. This is the downhill part. At first, we thought nothing of it. They have a newborn, things are heated enough, it's stressful, we get it. It was for us when ours finally came along, but then the arguments got violent. The words they used were awful, and I mean AWFUL. He would constantly call her a fat [email protected] (I'm sorry) and any other name under the sun, she would scream at him so loud we couldn't understand most of the words but they weren't nice. The little ones are screaming, crying, generally upset because of this shouting match. It goes on for days on end, and we're getting so stressed having to hear this. We start recording what's going on (learned that from the last ones) and call it in. At first, it was terrifying because when the police would turn up, Beach would scream at the officers. (Like, wtf?) The more they argued, the more we called, and it was getting very heated. There were incidents where they would recklessly drive off, would scream in the street, one time the police had blocked their car in the middle of the street and she was SCREAMING at everyone, saying things like "he's a drug dealer go arrest him" and other weird statements. We then came to learn he actually is a dealer as we've witnessed multiple deals go on, and Aggro has even gone so far as to leave the house with the children unattended briefly to complete a drop around the corner. It's a LOT of drama.
I have multiple recordings of them arguing, of her screaming, of him acting extremely agressive towards her, sounds of walls being punched, their children crying, her abuse towards her children, with some examples being her stating "get out of my bag you filthy brat, where's my weed" said in a very alarming tone... To her toddler. She has said a lot of alarming things to her children which you just, don't say.
The heat gets bigger and she gets more upset that the police are being called on her all of the time, but any time they are called it's always for a legitimate reason, and I always have proof to back it up. The police have reassured me I'm not doing anything wrong, and to keep doing what I'm doing. At this point, the council are also involved, as much as they can be because most of the issues are for the police to handle, but they're still in the loop. This is where the housing layout is important. Because I am their only neighbour, they assume that it is me and only me who is calling. I have spoken with my other neighbours as we get along well, and they also call when they can hear it. One of them even got involved when Beach was screaming and swearing at her little ones to tell her to knock it off because they're only little. The whole street is sick of them at this point.
Fast forwards a little. One of my good friends takes me grocery shopping sometimes in his van. We had set out, baby in her seat in the back and had got as far as one street over. We had stopped at a junction because a tram had just pulled into the stop on the right, and a bus was also parked in the bus stop on the left. We couldn't move, as there was no clear right of way, so we waited, like literally anyone would. And then we hear beeps. Check the rear view mirrors, and we can see the neighbours car behind us getting impatient. The important thing to note, was that we have been sitting waiting for less than 20 seconds. We then hear the engine get loud, and see that the car is pulling up onto the pavement to undercut us, drive out onto the path near the bus stop and then very quickly speed off over two lanes. I wish I had this recorded because it was so illegal and horrid. We laughed it off, didn't think much of it after.
More time passes, and my parents are visiting to see their grandbaby. Beach has a friend over, let's call her Syko. My parents are parked on the road near the neighbours house, as my driveway is full with two cars who have rented my driveway out through Your Parking Space. Where they have parked is not on the neighbours property, nor is it in front of their property, it is about a car lengths behind - usually where visitors park for our street. Not in front of anyone's driveway or anything, just down the side of another person's house on the road. Syko appears a while after my parents do in her car, along with Beach in her own car and parks in front of her house. Syko parks super close to my mum's car and they're both out there revving their engines, causing a lot of noise. I make a side comment to my mum saying oh be careful they don't hit your car, joking about the previous situation. This causes my mum to go out and check on her car, and we don't think anything of it. I'm cooking my baby breakfast, we're just chilling. Then the shouting happens. I step outside with my dad to see what's going on, and the two are screaming at my mum, my mum is stood startled and confused why she's being screamed at. They turn to me and start screaming at me, "who is this?" In which I reply "none of your business?" Because, well, it isn't? They then get childish and start calling all of us names, saying my mum looks like a bloke and other random nonsense. My mum can't pass at this point as we were certain that she'd get attacked. I'm holding my baby the whole time this is happening so I don't have my phone (which I regret to this day) and I'm just trying to diffuse the situation. Meanwhile they're in their cars and Aggro is stood with the cars giving us a sht eating smirk in my direction. All the while, her children are in the back of her car. They're getting under all of our skins at this point as it's a lot of nonsense going on, when we're just trying to get my mum back in the house. She finally gets to my driveway, the cars start to drive off and I flip them the bird as they drive away. *Oh no, big mistake. (I want to add here, it was really hard to stay calm and be the bigger person this entire time. They have caused my family so much greif, and where I suffer from major anxiety it all got to me. I kept a brave face the entire time, but even the police agreed when I admitted my wrongdoing, they agreed it was hard as they got to me, and what they did next wasn't warranted in the slightest.)
Aggro starts shouting at me, asking why I did that. I stayed calm and just replied, or at least tried to, say something along the lines of well, they can say all of that to us and you're upset by a finger, to which I was interrupted with agression. Talking down to me, towering over me (at this point, my mum has the baby) and I'm just looking back up at him expressionless. He walks away to his house, then starts walking back over chanting "go get your man. I'm gonna fight him" over and over again, shouting louder and louder each time. At this point, the girls get out of their cars, abandoning them in the road along with her children in it, and my "man" (who is actually my wife 🏳️‍⚧️) isn't even home, she's in the office. Aggro spots my dad through my front door and says fine I'll fight you instead, to which my mum quickly gives the baby to him. Aggro steps over my wall, and barges into my house. Yes. He's trespassing with intent to assault. Unfortunately the next part is a haze for me, as my anxiety shoots into fight or flight. I'm pulling Aggro out of my house by his coat, which comes off unfortunately. My mum is then also pushing him out of the house, and we hear Beach shout "get your hands off my man", which looking back at, is hilarious. You're not bothered he's entering someone's house, you don't care he belittles and screams those vile words at you. Ugh, anyway. I'm then suddenly graced with two fists to both sides of my head/face and from then, everything sort of gets blurred. From there, the two are on my driveway screaming at myself and my mum "I'm autistic, I'm disabled", and I mean they're both claiming the same thing. I'm sort of ignoring them at this point, I'm emotionally burnt out and just want to get inside. We finally get inside and lock the door, my dad is on the phone to the police already and the two girls flee the scene. I'm an emotional mess now I finally don't have to keep a straight face, I call my wife to get her to come home, it's just awful. There's blood all over my shirt and face as my lobe was ripped open, my face is marked and I'm a wet sobbing mess.
Police turn up, get everyone's story then go to Aggro to get his story. The girls are on the phone to Aggro instead of present, because if they were present they'd have been arrested. I should add, nobody was arrested at all. PO came back stating that Aggro claims he just wanted to talk, I start crying and hold my tongue as I just wanted to scream at that point. I make sure pictures of my face is taken, numbers were exchanged as my parents aren't from around here and they left. From what I gathered happened was the officers spoke to various neighbours to get CCTV and we're going to get in touch to take statements.
The following day, they have a huge domestic. All day, they're shouting at each other. I'm terrified to call it in and just drown it out, but it gets worse and worse as the day goes on, and there was a lot of physical violence e.g. punching walls, slamming doors. The children are terrified. I finally call it in, but I make sure to have a decent recording. The police attend, diffuse and leave. They call me to obtain the recording, I comply, easy peasy. Things get quiet from there on. We wait for the police to get back to us but we're left in the dark. At this point, the council are aware of the situation and are on our side. The domestics start up again, I'm recording it all, calling it in, they come out and diffuse. We're back to before the incident. Fortunately, at this point I have set up CCTV which records 24/7.
Then the aggravation starts again. They're banging on the walls, screaming through to us. They're reversing up onto our driveway as one of the students isn't there at the time. I'm being heckled when I leave the house to take rubbish out. I'm being watched when I'm hanging my laundry out. It's emotionally draining. I can't sleep, I'm not myself anymore. I've developed PTSD from the incident, I'm having panic attacks, I'm in a very low place. I'm keeping the council informed with what's going on as it's unacceptable antisocial behaviour, I'm also updating the police when I can. I file an online report to explain the trespassing and how it's affecting us and a BEAT team comes out to speak with us. I explain that whilst we know what they're doing isn't technically illegal there's still intent to upset us. They offer to speak with them, we say no because their presence is enough. We're told to keep doing what we're doing, keep recording, keep calling because it's not okay.
A couple weeks pass and everything is quiet. We're still waiting for the original officer to get back to us but nothing. And then it happens. A huge domestic. Record, call, police arrive. Beach is screaming at the officers, they leave and she's back in the house still screaming. Her parents arrive to calm her down and they're all in the garden. Because she's still shouting I go upstairs to record and I record at the exact time she exclaims that she wants to kill me, and she doesn't care if she gets arrested. Big yikes. I call it in and update, I'm then asked to attend the police station. The whole family leave the house, Beach is having a meltdown and the dad is trying to calm her. They take the children away (no car seats, just buckle them in the cars, clearly shown on CCTV) and leave her behind. She then storms into her car, carelessly reverses onto my drive, shouts out of her window and then speeds off. We then flee to the station, speak with an officer, all is filed. They said because the threat was indirect they can't help us as it wouldn't hold up in court, but have major sympathy for us as they know it's awful what's going on.
At this point the log against them is huge. I've contacted the NSPCC to update them on what's happening, all of the concerns from the past year and a half, everything. They are taken back by what's going on, they link in with the police and CPS and we're just waiting for them to do what they need to do. The odd domestic happens here and there, call, police intervene, leave. (I should also note, the incident happened two months ago. Two months.) Things have slowed down, I'm trying to get a reply from the original officer but they're on leave, and it turns out they were trying to find any CCTV for the case before they got back to me.
One morning there was music, loud music. Blaring for quite a while, it's not your average oh they're playing music it's so loud you can't think inside your own home. I report it to the council and they come out to tell them off. Think nothing more of it. We then get a knock on our door later in the afternoon from three lovely officers who ask to speak with us. An anonymous caller proclaimed my wife and I were having a domestic, and our baby was crying. To their surprise, they come in to see our baby happily playing with her toys and us just vibing watching TV. They talk to us separately, we comply, they're happy and agree it was a nonsense call. They had actually attended a domestic in the past, so are aware of the situation. We fill them in on what's been going on and they're shocked. They leave, we see them out, no harm done. I let them know they are always welcome to chat with us. (Fun fact, wasting police time is a criminal offence). About a week ago they're going off on one again, he's calling her everything under the sun, the kids are crying. I hesitate to call it in at this point because I know there will be repercussions, but I brave it. Police come out, they're all outside talking and I can hear Aggro saying they're wasting their time. Police argue they're not. They leave, whatever.
Now for the drama. To set the scene, last week I'm home with the baby, my wife is at work. The police have left. I'm putting my baby down for her first nap of the day, then go to wash my hair. I finish up, and start tidying the kitchen from breakfast when I get a knock on the door from one of the officers from the last call out. I happily invite her in, and she states she needs to check some CCTV with me, I happily oblige. At this point, I'm not being told what's going on yet as she needs to confirm what's been said by the anonymous caller. What we see on the CCTV is the neighbours both leaving at around 9:03. 9:06 was the time of the incident they were proclaiming to have happened. The officer then explains that apparently at 9:06 I was screaming at the baby and she was crying. I laughed and brought up the baby cam showing she's fast asleep, and showed her my baby sleep tracking app, that she's been asleep since 9am. We both agree it was another nonsense call and move on, I wish her a good day and see her out.
Jump to yesterday, Syko, Beach and the other council tenant from across the road are on their front lawn having a very loud discussion about the incident. I open the ring camera to start recording as what they say could be incriminating and useful, as they were basically admitting to what happened. Syko is going off on one saying she'd happily beat me up, Beach is making us sound like were nonsense calling and that the police don't care about us when we call - which was laughable but they are still admitting to it. The neighbour is lapping up the drama and laughing with them, and then suggests that they post a lit bag full of vodka through our letterbox, pointing towards out door. Now, I'm stood with my wife showing her what's being said as it's happening. We're both in shock with what's being said, and I'm having a full body meltdown from the adrenaline. I'm frightened, and appauled. I send an email to the original officer explaining what's happened, that this really isn't okay and linked them the recordings. Now we're waiting for a response.
Phew that took a long time to write out. I'm sorry a lot of it seems like I'm blabbering, but when everything is put in the same basket, you can see that all of these events are horrible and inexcusable.
I will also add, after the first nonsense call, the council manager went to speak with her and her specialist at the property, and he called me to explain that she does in fact have autism, and she wants to let me know that she's sorry for what's happened. I replied almost laughing stating that what she has done is not okay, and just because she has autism doesn't mean her actions are justified AT ALL. We now know she really isn't sorry, proven by what followed with what I mentioned above.
What the heck do I do. I'm an emotional mess, the police are trying to help as much as they can but it's a long slow process. I can't move house, I'm on a long waiting list for psychotherapy, my wife is afraid to leave the house as her true self in fear of a hate crime as they have previously made a not so subtle side comment about her hair before, it's eating us alive. We're speaking with one of our neighbours who knows the other neighbour who may have gotten the incident on CCTV, but they're too fed up with getting involved with the police which is why it was never submitted in the first place. A lot of mistakes were made, I should have spoken to them sooner to convince them to send us the footage but I also think it was understandable as I'm having to live like a hermit in hopes I'm not targeted by these insane people. We need help, and I don't know who to turn to anymore.
TLDR:
Next door neighbours are having frequent domestic arguments with their children present. We are targeted by them as we call the police when they have these arguments. Young children / infant is present with all of this. Mother is abusive to said children, Father is an drug dealer with serious anger issues. I was attacked outside my home after a parking dispute by them. No CCTV evidence (yet, hopefully). Father trespassed in my home to assault my father but didn't succeed. Continuing domestic violence, continued aggravation towards us. They're getting desperate so call the police about fake incidents at our property. They're trespassing on our property to get a raise out of us but police can't intervene. Whole street is fed up with these crazy people living on our street. Council can't help. Mental health is in the pit as I can't leave the house without being heckled or my wife being put at risk for transphobia. We are stuck with what to do.

BOY this is gonna be a VERY long one. I also understand this may not quite fit in this subreddit, but I'm desperate at this point.
I'll post a TLDR at the bottom, and I appreciate you taking the time to read this. I understand it's an awful lot, but it's an awful lot that's happening to us!
Where do I begin... I live on a quiet street. I am a private tennant to a very sweet landlord who knew all of the neighbours on said street as they lived here long before I even moved to this town. All of the neighbours, apart from two houses and my own are privately owned by the occupants. The other two are council owned. I live in a terrace, and the property next to me is the end of the terrace, which is a council house. This is sort of important to state.
We had nightmare neighbours before when we moved in, but after a few (this is an understatement but it's not important right now) noise complaints and constant council pressing, they abandoned the property. It was empty for maybe half a year and then a family had been moved in. A pregnant lady (the main issue), who I shall call Beach, the baby daddy, who I'll call Aggro, and their two sweet twin toddlers. I'm salty I can't think of names right now Beach was actually due that week, which I could resonate with as I was currently pregnant at that time also. We had a nice greeting, sometimes said hello but as I was having a difficult pregnancy I stayed inside a lot.
A couple months pass and the arguments started. This is the downhill part. At first, we thought nothing of it. They have a newborn, things are heated enough, it's stressful, we get it. It was for us when ours finally came along, but then the arguments got violent. The words they used were awful, and I mean AWFUL. He would constantly call her a fat [email protected] (I'm sorry) and any other name under the sun, she would scream at him so loud we couldn't understand most of the words but they weren't nice. The little ones are screaming, crying, generally upset because of this shouting match. It goes on for days on end, and we're getting so stressed having to hear this. We start recording what's going on (learned that from the last ones) and call it in. At first, it was terrifying because when the police would turn up, Beach would scream at the officers. (Like, wtf?) The more they argued, the more we called, and it was getting very heated. There were incidents where they would recklessly drive off, would scream in the street, one time the police had blocked their car in the middle of the street and she was SCREAMING at everyone, saying things like "he's a drug dealer go arrest him" and other weird statements. We then came to learn he actually is a dealer as we've witnessed multiple deals go on, and Aggro has even gone so far as to leave the house with the children unattended briefly to complete a drop around the corner. It's a LOT of drama.
I have multiple recordings of them arguing, of her screaming, of him acting extremely agressive towards her, sounds of walls being punched, their children crying, her abuse towards her children, with some examples being her stating "get out of my bag you filthy brat, where's my weed" said in a very alarming tone... To her toddler. She has said a lot of alarming things to her children which you just, don't say.
The heat gets bigger and she gets more upset that the police are being called on her all of the time, but any time they are called it's always for a legitimate reason, and I always have proof to back it up. The police have reassured me I'm not doing anything wrong, and to keep doing what I'm doing. At this point, the council are also involved, as much as they can be because most of the issues are for the police to handle, but they're still in the loop. This is where the housing layout is important. Because I am their only neighbour, they assume that it is me and only me who is calling. I have spoken with my other neighbours as we get along well, and they also call when they can hear it. One of them even got involved when Beach was screaming and swearing at her little ones to tell her to knock it off because they're only little. The whole street is sick of them at this point.
Fast forwards a little. One of my good friends takes me grocery shopping sometimes in his van. We had set out, baby in her seat in the back and had got as far as one street over. We had stopped at a junction because a tram had just pulled into the stop on the right, and a bus was also parked in the bus stop on the left. We couldn't move, as there was no clear right of way, so we waited, like literally anyone would. And then we hear beeps. Check the rear view mirrors, and we can see the neighbours car behind us getting impatient. The important thing to note, was that we have been sitting waiting for less than 20 seconds. We then hear the engine get loud, and see that the car is pulling up onto the pavement to undercut us, drive out onto the path near the bus stop and then very quickly speed off over two lanes. I wish I had this recorded because it was so illegal and horrid. We laughed it off, didn't think much of it after.
More time passes, and my parents are visiting to see their grandbaby. Beach has a friend over, let's call her Syko. My parents are parked on the road near the neighbours house, as my driveway is full with two cars who have rented my driveway out through Your Parking Space. Where they have parked is not on the neighbours property, nor is it in front of their property, it is about a car lengths behind - usually where visitors park for our street. Not in front of anyone's driveway or anything, just down the side of another person's house on the road. Syko appears a while after my parents do in her car, along with Beach in her own car and parks in front of her house. Syko parks super close to my mum's car and they're both out there revving their engines, causing a lot of noise. I make a side comment to my mum saying oh be careful they don't hit your car, joking about the previous situation. This causes my mum to go out and check on her car, and we don't think anything of it. I'm cooking my baby breakfast, we're just chilling. Then the shouting happens. I step outside with my dad to see what's going on, and the two are screaming at my mum, my mum is stood startled and confused why she's being screamed at. They turn to me and start screaming at me, "who is this?" In which I reply "none of your business?" Because, well, it isn't? They then get childish and start calling all of us names, saying my mum looks like a bloke and other random nonsense. My mum can't pass at this point as we were certain that she'd get attacked. I'm holding my baby the whole time this is happening so I don't have my phone (which I regret to this day) and I'm just trying to diffuse the situation. Meanwhile they're in their cars and Aggro is stood with the cars giving us a sht eating smirk in my direction. All the while, her children are in the back of her car. They're getting under all of our skins at this point as it's a lot of nonsense going on, when we're just trying to get my mum back in the house. She finally gets to my driveway, the cars start to drive off and I flip them the bird as they drive away. *Oh no, big mistake. (I want to add here, it was really hard to stay calm and be the bigger person this entire time. They have caused my family so much greif, and where I suffer from major anxiety it all got to me. I kept a brave face the entire time, but even the police agreed when I admitted my wrongdoing, they agreed it was hard as they got to me, and what they did next wasn't warranted in the slightest.)
Aggro starts shouting at me, asking why I did that. I stayed calm and just replied, or at least tried to, say something along the lines of well, they can say all of that to us and you're upset by a finger, to which I was interrupted with agression. Talking down to me, towering over me (at this point, my mum has the baby) and I'm just looking back up at him expressionless. He walks away to his house, then starts walking back over chanting "go get your man. I'm gonna fight him" over and over again, shouting louder and louder each time. At this point, the girls get out of their cars, abandoning them in the road along with her children in it, and my "man" (who is actually my wife 🏳️‍⚧️) isn't even home, she's in the office. Aggro spots my dad through my front door and says fine I'll fight you instead, to which my mum quickly gives the baby to him. Aggro steps over my wall, and barges into my house. Yes. He's trespassing with intent to assault. Unfortunately the next part is a haze for me, as my anxiety shoots into fight or flight. I'm pulling Aggro out of my house by his coat, which comes off unfortunately. My mum is then also pushing him out of the house, and we hear Beach shout "get your hands off my man", which looking back at, is hilarious. You're not bothered he's entering someone's house, you don't care he belittles and screams those vile words at you. Ugh, anyway. I'm then suddenly graced with two fists to both sides of my head/face and from then, everything sort of gets blurred. From there, the two are on my driveway screaming at myself and my mum "I'm autistic, I'm disabled", and I mean they're both claiming the same thing. I'm sort of ignoring them at this point, I'm emotionally burnt out and just want to get inside. We finally get inside and lock the door, my dad is on the phone to the police already and the two girls flee the scene. I'm an emotional mess now I finally don't have to keep a straight face, I call my wife to get her to come home, it's just awful. There's blood all over my shirt and face as my lobe was ripped open, my face is marked and I'm a wet sobbing mess.
Police turn up, get everyone's story then go to Aggro to get his story. The girls are on the phone to Aggro instead of present, because if they were present they'd have been arrested. I should add, nobody was arrested at all. PO came back stating that Aggro claims he just wanted to talk, I start crying and hold my tongue as I just wanted to scream at that point. I make sure pictures of my face is taken, numbers were exchanged as my parents aren't from around here and they left. From what I gathered happened was the officers spoke to various neighbours to get CCTV and we're going to get in touch to take statements.
The following day, they have a huge domestic. All day, they're shouting at each other. I'm terrified to call it in and just drown it out, but it gets worse and worse as the day goes on, and there was a lot of physical violence e.g. punching walls, slamming doors. The children are terrified. I finally call it in, but I make sure to have a decent recording. The police attend, diffuse and leave. They call me to obtain the recording, I comply, easy peasy. Things get quiet from there on. We wait for the police to get back to us but we're left in the dark. At this point, the council are aware of the situation and are on our side. The domestics start up again, I'm recording it all, calling it in, they come out and diffuse. We're back to before the incident. Fortunately, at this point I have set up CCTV which records 24/7.
Then the aggravation starts again. They're banging on the walls, screaming through to us. They're reversing up onto our driveway as one of the students isn't there at the time. I'm being heckled when I leave the house to take rubbish out. I'm being watched when I'm hanging my laundry out. It's emotionally draining. I can't sleep, I'm not myself anymore. I've developed PTSD from the incident, I'm having panic attacks, I'm in a very low place. I'm keeping the council informed with what's going on as it's unacceptable antisocial behaviour, I'm also updating the police when I can. I file an online report to explain the trespassing and how it's affecting us and a BEAT team comes out to speak with us. I explain that whilst we know what they're doing isn't technically illegal there's still intent to upset us. They offer to speak with them, we say no because their presence is enough. We're told to keep doing what we're doing, keep recording, keep calling because it's not okay.
A couple weeks pass and everything is quiet. We're still waiting for the original officer to get back to us but nothing. And then it happens. A huge domestic. Record, call, police arrive. Beach is screaming at the officers, they leave and she's back in the house still screaming. Her parents arrive to calm her down and they're all in the garden. Because she's still shouting I go upstairs to record and I record at the exact time she exclaims that she wants to kill me, and she doesn't care if she gets arrested. Big yikes. I call it in and update, I'm then asked to attend the police station. The whole family leave the house, Beach is having a meltdown and the dad is trying to calm her. They take the children away (no car seats, just buckle them in the cars, clearly shown on CCTV) and leave her behind. She then storms into her car, carelessly reverses onto my drive, shouts out of her window and then speeds off. We then flee to the station, speak with an officer, all is filed. They said because the threat was indirect they can't help us as it wouldn't hold up in court, but have major sympathy for us as they know it's awful what's going on.
At this point the log against them is huge. I've contacted the NSPCC to update them on what's happening, all of the concerns from the past year and a half, everything. They are taken back by what's going on, they link in with the police and CPS and we're just waiting for them to do what they need to do. The odd domestic happens here and there, call, police intervene, leave. (I should also note, the incident happened two months ago. Two months.) Things have slowed down, I'm trying to get a reply from the original officer but they're on leave, and it turns out they were trying to find any CCTV for the case before they got back to me.
One morning there was music, loud music. Blaring for quite a while, it's not your average oh they're playing music it's so loud you can't think inside your own home. I report it to the council and they come out to tell them off. Think nothing more of it. We then get a knock on our door later in the afternoon from three lovely officers who ask to speak with us. An anonymous caller proclaimed my wife and I were having a domestic, and our baby was crying. To their surprise, they come in to see our baby happily playing with her toys and us just vibing watching TV. They talk to us separately, we comply, they're happy and agree it was a nonsense call. They had actually attended a domestic in the past, so are aware of the situation. We fill them in on what's been going on and they're shocked. They leave, we see them out, no harm done. I let them know they are always welcome to chat with us. (Fun fact, wasting police time is a criminal offence). About a week ago they're going off on one again, he's calling her everything under the sun, the kids are crying. I hesitate to call it in at this point because I know there will be repercussions, but I brave it. Police come out, they're all outside talking and I can hear Aggro saying they're wasting their time. Police argue they're not. They leave, whatever.
Now for the drama. To set the scene, last week I'm home with the baby, my wife is at work. The police have left. I'm putting my baby down for her first nap of the day, then go to wash my hair. I finish up, and start tidying the kitchen from breakfast when I get a knock on the door from one of the officers from the last call out. I happily invite her in, and she states she needs to check some CCTV with me, I happily oblige. At this point, I'm not being told what's going on yet as she needs to confirm what's been said by the anonymous caller. What we see on the CCTV is the neighbours both leaving at around 9:03. 9:06 was the time of the incident they were proclaiming to have happened. The officer then explains that apparently at 9:06 I was screaming at the baby and she was crying. I laughed and brought up the baby cam showing she's fast asleep, and showed her my baby sleep tracking app, that she's been asleep since 9am. We both agree it was another nonsense call and move on, I wish her a good day and see her out.
Jump to yesterday, Syko, Beach and the other council tenant from across the road are on their front lawn having a very loud discussion about the incident. I open the ring camera to start recording as what they say could be incriminating and useful, as they were basically admitting to what happened. Syko is going off on one saying she'd happily beat me up, Beach is making us sound like were nonsense calling and that the police don't care about us when we call - which was laughable but they are still admitting to it. The neighbour is lapping up the drama and laughing with them, and then suggests that they post a lit bag full of vodka through our letterbox, pointing towards out door. Now, I'm stood with my wife showing her what's being said as it's happening. We're both in shock with what's being said, and I'm having a full body meltdown from the adrenaline. I'm frightened, and appauled. I send an email to the original officer explaining what's happened, that this really isn't okay and linked them the recordings. Now we're waiting for a response.
Phew that took a long time to write out. I'm sorry a lot of it seems like I'm blabbering, but when everything is put in the same basket, you can see that all of these events are horrible and inexcusable.
I will also add, after the first nonsense call, the council manager went to speak with her and her specialist at the property, and he called me to explain that she does in fact have autism, and she wants to let me know that she's sorry for what's happened. I replied almost laughing stating that what she has done is not okay, and just because she has autism doesn't mean her actions are justified AT ALL. We now know she really isn't sorry, proven by what followed with what I mentioned above.
What the heck do I do. I'm an emotional mess, the police are trying to help as much as they can but it's a long slow process. I can't move house, I'm on a long waiting list for psychotherapy, my wife is afraid to leave the house as her true self in fear of a hate crime as they have previously made a not so subtle side comment about her hair before, it's eating us alive. We're speaking with one of our neighbours who knows the other neighbour who may have gotten the incident on CCTV, but they're too fed up with getting involved with the police which is why it was never submitted in the first place. A lot of mistakes were made, I should have spoken to them sooner to convince them to send us the footage but I also think it was understandable as I'm having to live like a hermit in hopes I'm not targeted by these insane people. We need help, and I don't know who to turn to anymore.
TLDR:
Next door neighbours are having frequent domestic arguments with their children present. We are targeted by them as we call the police when they have these arguments. Young children / infant is present with all of this. Mother is abusive to said children, Father is an drug dealer with serious anger issues. I was attacked outside my home after a parking dispute by them. No CCTV evidence (yet, hopefully). Father trespassed in my home to assault my father but didn't succeed. Continuing domestic violence, continued aggravation towards us. They're getting desperate so call the police about fake incidents at our property. They're trespassing on our property to get a raise out of us but police can't intervene. Whole street is fed up with these crazy people living on our street. Council can't help. Mental health is in the pit as I can't leave the house without being heckled or my wife being put at risk for transphobia. We are stuck with what to do.

The worst part for me when I take a break is the appetite issues.
Exercise helps immensely. Anything helps! Go for a damn walk! Still want weed? Go for another walk or run, but get them endorphins! Helps with the depression side of it all.
But back to the worst part. The appetite. The nausea of hunger backed by nothing.
So I eat slow, drink lots of liquids, and write this between bites.
Uff

Hello there, people. It’s been a while since last blog. So, I was reading Extracurricular Activities and Burrows, but while doing that Arches full story came out and some people asked for my opinion. I read it along with a friend and… well, let’s see what happened.
DISCLAIMER
Spoilers, lots of them. The story is not that long, you can probably read it in one afternoon.
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BEFORE PLAYING
So, Arches is like a “sequel” to Echo the VN and The Smoke Room. But, you can actually read on its own, nothing from Echo is properly explored here, nothing new is added to the lore of Echo. It’s not even the end of the town neither.
But, it’s written by the same one who wrote three routes in Echo, Adastra, Khemia and Interea… so you can expect low quality here right from the start. I had pretty low expectations and yet I found myself disappointed. It’s magical.
I have a blogs talking about Echo, I should probably remake them, my very first blogs are not really that good explaining my points, but for now they work, kinda. As for The Smoke Room, I think is going fine for now, I recommend it, but probably won’t make a blog about it until it is done.
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THE ART
So, the art was made mainly for PaintFox, a pretty good artist, the characters look fine for the most part. However, I think it was a mistake to have him as the main artist, his style just doesn’t fit the kind of story the VN is trying to deliver. This can be also the fault of the direction he was given, the character, even tho they have body language, they look rather stiff, there is not a great use of body language and CGs were wasted for the most part, illustrating parts that didn’t need it.
But, as a typical Echo related game, we have the worst offender: Empty Screens. Man, there are too many times where the screen is just empty with an overly long narration, which would be always a sin on my book, this is a visual novel. It doesn’t help that the scene with the most action are the emptiest.
So, we have a combo of the wrong art style, misuse of it to even outright now having visuals, which only concludes on the art being bad. Which is a shame because the artists who worked here clearly put effort on it and they are good artists.
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https://twitter.com/i/status/1464318180831158275
MUSIC AND SOUNDS
The music is forgettable for the most part, boring and most of the time doesn’t really fit the scene. The sound effects are just like Echo, meaning they have little to no impact.
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THE PLOT
A stupid couple does what every stupid couple in a bad horror movie does, go to a dangerous ghost town with no service and proceed to take all the decisions that would kill them. The main different is that in a horror movie, the writers would have the balls to kill them. But, we are talking about the same writer as Adastra, of course the ONLY one who dies here is the boring, generic and plain villain.
So, Devon and Cameron go to visit Echo to do some ghost hunting. Devon thinks his boyfriend is a psychic so that’s why he brought him here despite his mate having a past of plenty of mental issues. Cameron has a long scene explaining his tragic past to his boyfriend, after 5 years of relationship, and Devon still took him to Echo… because in Echo character agency doesn’t exist. And, no, it’s not my interpretations, he narration heavily implies it’s the town’s influence.
So, once there, the couple go through some typical Echo shenanigans, including corrupting characters, vision, possession and such.
Plenty of interesting concept are presented on the table… and then are immediately dropped.
Later on, Artie is added to the story… he is just a walking plot device, another idiot that won’t be killed.
And then, we have the Brian sections, a good chunk of the story is spent with Echo’s most useless serial killer, whose entire number of victims were killed of screen. And the dies… again… for the third time in this saga… and people still think he is dead for good.
At the end, everyone but the villain survives, we have and dragged out epilogue which tries to convey there were consequences for this event, but since most of this time frame is skipped, it’s pretty shallow.
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WORLDBUILDING
Now, there are psychics in the Echoverse, they are more susceptible to paranormal activity and can develop the power to read minds. This is greatly wasted in this story.
There are multiple timeless and dimensions… already confirmed in Echo, so, no new info there. Yes, your fanfic is canon.
This VN is not a follow up to any of the routes in Echo VN. Brian died in Jenna’s and Leo’s route, Duke died in Flynn’s and Leo’s, the hysteria happened in 2017 in TJ’s route and here is took place in 2015, and the whole Echo paranormal stuff was solved in Carl’s route.
CHARACTERS
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CAMERON
The main protagonist of this story. He is so annoying with being so stubborn to stick in Echo so he can have more trips with the paranormal stuff, and he even willingly smoke weed to make it easier.
He has a sad backstory with his mother, he has plenty of mental issues and had drug issues. Yet, most of that is exposed through exposition dumbs by the narrator, we don’t really see the consequences of those behaviors during his entire life, but they treated more as an excuse to make the plot happen.
He has little to no arch in this story, unless you consider him appreciating his previous perfect life as an arch. He also tries to show he can take of himself… and fails throughout the entire VN, and even endangers everyone else in the group.
Yeah, we “see” his change in the epilogue and the “consequences” of the events in Echo. But, honestly, watching one scene, of one day of each period is barely exploring the consequences. Again, most of the consequences are explained through narrations and most development happens off screen.
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DEVON
The boyfriend of our main protagonist. He is one at fault for bringing everyone into this mess. But, the moment he wants to leave and EVERYONE else tries their best to die, it’s hard to really keep blaming him anymore.
He is… a pretty passive character actually. Like, really, after bringing Cam to Echo, he is completely stripped of agency in the story, his voice doesn’t matter, most of his actions don’t matter, he is just there for the ride.
Yeah, the story gives him motivation to be in Echo, but nothing is done with that. He is just so useless until the very end of the story that we have entire scenes dedicated to him trying and failing to do anything.
And, again, most of his backstory is not showed through actions but by long info dumps from the narrator.
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ARTURO
He is barely a character, he comes, give weed to Cameron and proceed to be there, and then he helps drag out the story. He is there just to fill space, he brings nothing to the table other than, you guessed, info dumps, explaining Cam, Devon and their relationship because writing actual relationships is hard.
I so much wished he died, but he survived thanks to the script.
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BRIAN
Our favorite useless serial killer (numbers in the two digits, hahahahahaha), he is here to turn this boring and dragged story into a “thriller” and cause some bodily harm to the protagonists.
Really, if it wasn’t for him, Arturo, the couple could have left the story a long time ago.
He wasn’t needed in the story, his section is pretty much filler and an excuse for some harm. Stupid motivations to keep everyone alive.
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DUKE
He only has two scenes. One where he fucks up Artie’s car so they can’t leave the town, and told them to leave the town because is dangerous. And a second scene where he helps one of them leave the town with his car.
Like, he is stupid and contradictory in only two appearances, he managed to be an deux ex machine and a plot device to drag the story.
It’s magical.
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ROMANCE
Well, the protagonist of this story is a couple, and we have plenty of scenes with them, such a shame most of their dynamics are TOLD to us instead of showed, most of their character is told rather than showed too. Their relationship is cute on the surface but lacks real depth, not because they cannot be complex, but rather because the plot demanded them to behave in a certain way so the plot can keep going.
Also, we are given plenty of reasons why Cameron loves Devon, but almost zero reason on why Devon loves Cameron. We are given a reason on why Devon had a crush on Cameron, but not how that developed into real love. Cameron’s reasons are explained around 20 times in the story, so pretty hard to miss that one.
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TOO LONG TOO MANY ENDINGS
Honestly, with how flat the characters were handled, this should have been a short VN, maybe just the first build.
About the endings, there is only one ending, but I see it as four. Let me explain. This story has four sections, each one with a clear ending that is then linked to the following sections, in a very artificial way.
· First Ending: and they never came back again
Devon and Cameron, after the first paranormal experience, decided to leave the town and drive back home. We could have had an ending about them exploring with other safer paranormal places, Devon explained Echo was especially dark.
But, this ending is ruined by Cameron seeing Sydney on the road, and making Devon crash the car. Also, Sydney is never seen or mentioned again, so I hope you enjoyed his cameo.
· Second Ending: I’m not Especial
After having a panic attack, Cameron realizes he had a perfect life already and decided to go back home with Devon, learning that he isn’t especial, that we wanted to feel useful with being a psychic. This could have been followed up with a nice ending of the couple working on making Cameron feel more useful without relying on his psychic ability.
But, this ending is ruined by Artie going into a forest and they followed him, and then Brian captured all of them.
· Third Ending: I found the Arch, mom
After defeating Brian, they are walking out of the cave and Cameron saw the real Arch to heaven, which can represent whatever you feel like, the theme with arches hasn’t been consistent nor especially focused on. So, it means Devon was the Arch, the arch means entering your new chapter in life, never coming back or whatever you feel like.
I would say it is open to interpretation, but given there are scenes to explain that Brian, the serial killer, is a bad person, I wouldn’t say this VN is really good with leaving interpretations to the reader.
· Fourth ending: Can you finish already?!
Then, we have an epilogue that is all the bad aspect in Echo and Adastra combined. Meaningless consequences that are mostly skipped and narrated instead of living with the characters, no real deathly consequences for the MC’s and yet a good ending with everyone being happy.
It’s magical.
https://preview.redd.it/3ikl0g41nf3b1.png?width=1960&format=png&auto=webp&s=96f30cd7773aefcd513ac73445d8b5c27dfd157c
THE REAL THEME OF THE STORY: YOU CANNOT HAVE YOUR CAKE AND EAT IT TOO
It’s so magical how this story is full of contradictory ideas that fight to be true at the same time for the sake of the plot. Here is a little list of examples:
· Devon thinks psychology is not real, but believes in ghosts
· Devon is bad because he brought his boyfriend to Echo, also Cameron actually did want to go
· Devon no one lives in Echo, also Devon knows people live in Echo (he just conveniently fogot)
· Echo is safe, but also Brian lives there
· Artie studied psychology, also gives weed to a mentally ill guy with drug issues
· He remembers Cam was friends with his girlfriend because both had mental issues, also forgot Cam had mental issues.
· Duke wants them to leave Echo, also fucks up their car so they can’t leave
· Brian is serial killer with victims in the double digits, also can’t kill an inexperienced nerd, a drugged twink and a stupid high cat.
· Using drugs can ruin your life, also drugs lets you see ghosts and develop super powers.
And those are from the top of my head, there are more.
https://preview.redd.it/slwrcxu4nf3b1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=bdaa69dcb0495fb32b1537e0ad2e28c9283fade8
MENTAL ILLNESS AND DRUG ABUSE
So, this the thing, the story features drug abuse and multiple mentions of mental illnesses, my issue with it is that it “features” them but it is not about them.
We like it or not, mental issues and drug abuse are mostly used for shock effect and plot device, but they are not genuinely explored in this VN. They are treated as nothing more than excuses to feel pity for the character and explains their actions, yet we don’t really spend that much time in the life of this characters to have a real grasp of them
For example, and they can be added to “cannot have your cake and eat it too”:
· Cameron has trauma for his father and mother suiciding, and he abused all kind of drugs during high school, but also he was a top student and even got a scholarship in one of the most prestigious colleges of the country.
· Devon used to be a party animal who abused a lot of weed, yet he was one of the top students too.
· Cameron has mental issues, but it’s been years since that really affected his life since he has been in a relationship with Devon (of course this is retconned constantly)
we just don’t expend enough time with this people to really get through those very real issues.
And then… we have combining someone he says sees thing which aren’t real with having psychic powers, seeing things that no one else can. And then, giving said person super powers by taking strong dangerous drugs that he himself said changes your entire life and can ruin them.
This is… this is just a mess.
It’s magical.
https://preview.redd.it/kx45vqk8nf3b1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=ecb4e9c3c66f31660559f5b8047bf19698a928e2
CONCLUSION
This is one of the worst VNs that I have read, the worst from this writer, the second worst story in the Echoverse (Jenna’s route is still the worst), the worst VN in the Echoverse. The art is misguided and misused. Forgettable music. I just can’t recommend it at all.
Again, as I always say, if you like it and enjoy it, then good for you, I won’t shame you for that. But, I cannot really agree.
…
Well, time to go back and read some good VNs.
Also, Happy pride day/month

Bonus chapter to celebrate 100 followers on Royal Road. Hopefully we're just getting started.
Previous Chapter - Read 10 weeks ahead on Patreon - Read the story so far on Royal Road
*
Chapter Twelve - The Blacksmith's Boy (Part One)
‘Lokk?’
Lokk glanced over his shoulder at the sound, frowning, and thought better of responding. Carel could manage without him a few moments longer.
‘Is someone calling you?’ The girl beside him asked, looking up at him with large eyes. Wanda, her name was, with a set of generous, pleasing dimples either side of a smiling mouth, freckled skin framed with a shock of crimson hair. His age. Maybe a year or so older. Who could tell? Who would care? Fifty men and women called Rindon home. Ten were close to his age. Four of them were women. Three of those weren’t his kin, and only one of those wasn’t already sick of the sight of him. Not yet, anyway.
‘Lokk?’ She asked him again, and he met her eye, brushing a strand of fair hair back from his brow.
‘They’ll wait.’ He told her, favouring her with a careless smile. ‘What were you saying? About your mother?’
‘Lokk!’ The call came again, louder this time, and accompanied by a loud clatter of pots through the kitchen door. He flinched, glancing up irritably. When he looked down again, Wanda was frowning, dimples dimpling into a polite, if apologetic, smile.
‘I… had best be going.’
‘Wait, Wanda, I...’ But she was already gone, hurrying off through the little maze of tables and chairs towards the Nest’s door. Lokk watched her go, not a little wistfully, ignoring a quiet smirk from one of the early arrivals. Then he sighed and went out through the door behind the bar, scowling.
The heat in the kitchen was thick with vapour. Steam poured out of a large pot hung swinging over the fire, steam that smelled of scavenged herbs and stale meat. Carel was standing beside it, stirring the contents with a ladle longer than her arm, pale hair tied back in a tight knot behind her head. On the counter beside her, the desiccated remains of a half-dozen different vegetables. The meat had left nothing behind.
‘What?’ He asked irritably, closing the door behind him.
‘What do you think?’ His sister replied, shooting him an irritable glance over her shoulder. ‘I don’t think me doing all the work whilst you drink our casks dry is what Da had in mind.’
‘I wasn’t just drinking.’ He told her. An apron was hanging up by the door, and he hung it sullenly over his shoulders, frowning. ‘Besides, you look like you were managing just fine without me.’
Carel snorted. ‘Someone had to.’
‘You’re much better at it than me, anyways.’ He added offhandedly, taking the ladle from her hands and sipping appreciatively from the little bowl of brownish broth. ‘Leave me to the casks. I’ll keep them company instead.’
‘I’m only better at it because Da taught me.’ Carel told him, scowling. ‘And he only taught me because he knew you’d be off trying to bed every girl in the village whenever his back’s turned. How is Maddy, by the way?’
‘Wanda.’ He corrected.
Carel snorted. ‘Anything that breathes, I suppose.’
Lokk gave her a hurt look. ‘Now, I’d hardly say anyth-‘
‘That’s actually my point.’ She interrupted him, snatching back the ladle. ‘You would say anything, if it got you what you wanted. Now make yourself useful and cut some bread.’
‘No need to be hurtful.’ He told her with a frown, going over to the counter and snatching up a knife. ‘Would be much simpler if I only had eyes for one someone. Not all of us have it so easy.’
He ducked just in time as part of a turnip crunched into the wall beside his head.
‘You’re right, I’m better off without your help!’ Carel told him, turning back to the pot. ‘Go back to your barrels.’
‘Thought you’d never ask.’ He shrugged the apron off his shoulders, and ducked through the door, just as another dismembered vegetable whistled past his ear.
Back in the common room, a few more of the villagers had assembled around one of the tables near the fire, making the early overtures of evening conversation around the edges of their ale mugs. Da had emerged from the Nest’s bowels, and was now skirting the table skilfully, fresh cask under arm. Lokk took his place behind the bar, doing his best to look busy. It was only then he noticed the other table. Further from the fire, this one. Quieter, too. Dark cloaks, dark faces. Lokk didn’t recognise them, and there wasn’t anyone in Rindon he didn’t know. As he watched, one of them looked up towards him with dark eyes, and he looked away, busying himself polishing a particularly stubborn mug.
‘You look busy.’
Da had appeared at his side, setting the cask down on the bar with a little sigh of effort. His rosy cheeks were rosier than ever, and his clothes smelt of pipe-smoke.
‘I am busy.’
‘I suppose your sister didn’t need your help?’ The innkeep smiled knowingly, taking his old pipe from a pocket in his shirt and rubbing it clean on his sleeve.
‘Said so herself.’
‘Course she did.’
‘I-’
‘Well, it was a fucking storm wasn’t it. Not every little shower gets farted out a wizard’s arse.’ Albin, the butcher, exclaimed from near the fire. Overtures done then. Time for an argument. Lokk might have smiled, had he not been so terribly bored by it all.
‘This is a long one. They’ll be here a while yet.’ Da told him thoughtfully, chewing idly at the nib of his pipe. He frowned. His Ma had hated that thing. But Ma was gone, and it wouldn’t do any good, thinking about her. ‘We’ll need another cask.’
‘Older the better?’
‘Oldest the best.’ The innkeep agreed, grinning at him.
Lokk nodded and turned towards the door, then hesitated.
‘I don’t know them folk.’ He said quietly, nodding towards the little group of dark figures sitting away from the fire. The innkeep caught his look and frowned.
‘Solen’s new hands. Lowlanders.’ He replied, tamping some weed into the end of his pipe with the end of his thumb. ‘Nosey bunch. He’s got a few more besides, I hears. Must be a busy season up at the mine.’
Lokk frowned. ‘Do mines have busy seasons?’
‘Damned if I know. Keep to ‘emselves, mostly, anyways. Been here best part of a month, I reckon. Had one of ‘em in here asking questions, few days back, nothing since.’ The innkeep stopped fiddling with his pipe for a moment, giving his son a sideways look. ‘Still, they pay their way. Up front. Which is more than I can say for most of this lot.’
Lokk stole one last look at the quiet table of strangers, then turned and went out through a side door and into the night beyond, leaving Da at the bar alone.
The cold air bit at his skin as he emerged into the dark, and he shivered, shrugging himself a little deeper into his shirt. Winter came quickly, this close to the Teeth, filling the rocks with the kind of deep, dark cold that lasted well into spring. Presently, a rumbling cloud of purpling rain was drawing in over the mountains, and the wind was picking up. Lokk shivered again, scowling. Just his luck to catch the rain.
He made his way around the side of the sloping roof of the inn, head low against the gathering whine of the wind. Another night, another cask. Another squabble over nothing by the fire. Another restless sleep, wrapped in cold blankets. Alone. Summer was bad enough, but winter in the foothills was slower than a monk in a brothel. The women, such as they were, stayed home, for the most part. Those that did make it to the Nest didn’t wait out the first mugs. Even Cal had stopped calling, this past month.
Overheard, a pale flash of light, followed by a distant rumble. Rain had started, somewhere off up the slopes. Lokk aimed another choice curse at no one in particular. No women, no friends. No money. It was a sorry state of affairs, if ever he’d seen one.
He reached the store and began fiddling with the lock with numb fingers, frowning. It was hardly Cal’s fault, he knew. That blacksmith was quite mad. Everyone knew it. Locked up in that old forge, hammering away, night and day. Lokk had seen him a few times. Fonder of glaring than talking. Wasn’t exactly afraid of him, but he certainly didn’t like him. Big tree of a man, arms thick as thighs, had to stoop to get through most doorways. And his eyes! Lokk shivered again. Felt like ice on your skin when he looked at you. Strays like Cal couldn’t be choosers, Lokk knew that well enough. But if he was him, he’d have run off years ago.
The latch finally gave, and he swung the door open with a triumphant snort. He felt his way along the row of casks closest to the door, where the older ones were, fumbling in the dark. Behind him, the thunder crashed against the side of the hills, vibrating through his boots, and he flinched in spite of himself. If that mad blacksmith was going to keep Cal locked up like some trained animal, he’d have to get by without him. Not like Cal was the best company, anyway, these days. Always had been a strange one, but pale eyes had started getting far too clever for his own good, recently. More full of secrets than a Westri merchant. Sometimes he wondered if Cal saw the world the rest of them did, or one entirely his own. And then there was the Carel problem.
His hand settled on the cask closest to the far wall, and he dragged it grumbling from its place, wedging it under one arm. No, he could hardly blame Cal for any of it. He was just bored. Still, better bored at the inn than locked up in that damn forge with the cracked old blacksmith and his scarred face. He snorted under his breath, shivering at the thought. They’d been talking about leaving for years now. Going west. Arinath, maybe, Uldoroth, even. Men could make a good living in the white stones, so they’d heard. Makers knew they couldn’t stay here forever. Run the inn? Take up mining? No, they wouldn’t be here, forever. Maybe this year. Maybe next. But they’d get there. Tough place, the Lowlands, but they’d look out for each other. Always had. Besides, couldn’t be any tougher than these fucking hills. He wondered if Carel would follow them there, too. Who’d do the Nest's cooking, then?
He was halfway to the door when he heard it. The slow whisper of a thousand thousand breaths, brushes on the stones, rippling closer. He hesitated for a moment, then cursed, staggering for the door, cask slipping against his arm. The rain caught him on the doorstep, turning him silver with a layer of frigid water, and he spilled clumsily into the firelight beyond, nearly dropping the cask.
‘Easy!’
‘I’ve got it!’ He snapped back, straightening and setting it down on the bar beside the other. Da had got his pipe lit in the time Lokk had been outside, and the little twisting strings of smoke were curling upwards from his whiskered mouth. Carel was beside him, spooning her steaming brown broth into three small bowls on the bar.
‘Just in time for dinner.’ Da told him, sucking on his pipe.
‘As always.’ Carel murmured.
‘I-’
‘You look wet.’
‘I swear to-’
‘Get the door, will you. You trying to let the storm in?’
Lokk scowled, latching the door, and snatched up his bowl silently. He looked out at the rest of the common room, savouring the heat of the fire for a moment. Just as he left it. Of course it was. What would have changed?
‘What about Isandur, then?’ One of the villagers beside the fire was asking. Lokk snorted.
‘This one, again?’
‘It’s a good story.’ Da said quietly, blowing a little stream of smoke through his pursed lips.
‘Heard it a half-dozen times already, this month.’
‘Don’t let Godry hear you talking rot.’ Carel told him, taking up her own bowl and stirring it gently. ‘Wouldn’t want him giving it up. Albin would have to take over.’
Lokk’s eyes caught the little group of strangers again, sitting in the shadows away from the fire. Talking quietly amongst themselves. Dark cloaks and dour faces. At least that was new. They even looked like they might be more bored than he was.
Outside, the rain drummed down over the thatching, and the wind whined over the hills. He sighed, and took a mouthful of the steaming, tasteless stew, frowning to himself. Another night. Another boring fucking night.

Bonus chapter to celebrate 100 followers on Royal Road. Hopefully we're just getting started.
Series Page - Read 10 weeks ahead on Patreon - Read the story so far on Royal Road
*
Chapter Twelve - The Blacksmith's Boy (Part One)
‘Lokk?’ Lokk glanced over his shoulder at the sound, frowning, and thought better of responding. Carel could manage without him a few moments longer. ‘Is someone calling you?’ The girl beside him asked, looking up at him with large eyes. Wanda, her name was, with a set of generous, pleasing dimples either side of a smiling mouth, freckled skin framed with a shock of crimson hair. His age. Maybe a year or so older. Who could tell? Who would care? Fifty men and women called Rindon home. Ten were close to his age. Four of them were women. Three of those weren’t his kin, and only one of those wasn’t already sick of the sight of him. Not yet, anyway. ‘Lokk?’ She asked him again, and he met her eye, brushing a strand of fair hair back from his brow. ‘They’ll wait.’ He told her, favouring her with a careless smile. ‘What were you saying? About your mother?’ ‘Lokk!’ The call came again, louder this time, and accompanied by a loud clatter of pots through the kitchen door. He flinched, glancing up irritably. When he looked down again, Wanda was frowning, dimples dimpling into a polite, if apologetic, smile. ‘I… had best be going.’ ‘Wait, Wanda, I...’ But she was already gone, hurrying off through the little maze of tables and chairs towards the Nest’s door. Lokk watched her go, not a little wistfully, ignoring a quiet smirk from one of the early arrivals. Then he sighed and went out through the door behind the bar, scowling. The heat in the kitchen was thick with vapour. Steam poured out of a large pot hung swinging over the fire, steam that smelled of scavenged herbs and stale meat. Carel was standing beside it, stirring the contents with a ladle longer than her arm, pale hair tied back in a tight knot behind her head. On the counter beside her, the desiccated remains of a half-dozen different vegetables. The meat had left nothing behind. ‘What?’ He asked irritably, closing the door behind him. ‘What do you think?’ His sister replied, shooting him an irritable glance over her shoulder. ‘I don’t think me doing all the work whilst you drink our casks dry is what Da had in mind.’ ‘I wasn’t just drinking.’ He told her. An apron was hanging up by the door, and he hung it sullenly over his shoulders, frowning. ‘Besides, you look like you were managing just fine without me.’ Carel snorted. ‘Someone had to.’ ‘You’re much better at it than me, anyways.’ He added offhandedly, taking the ladle from her hands and sipping appreciatively from the little bowl of brownish broth. ‘Leave me to the casks. I’ll keep them company instead.’ ‘I’m only better at it because Da taught me.’ Carel told him, scowling. ‘And he only taught me because he knew you’d be off trying to bed every girl in the village whenever his back’s turned. How is Maddy, by the way?’ ‘Wanda.’ He corrected. Carel snorted. ‘Anything that breathes, I suppose.’ Lokk gave her a hurt look. ‘Now, I’d hardly say anyth-‘ ‘That’s actually my point.’ She interrupted him, snatching back the ladle. ‘You would say anything, if it got you what you wanted. Now make yourself useful and cut some bread.’ ‘No need to be hurtful.’ He told her with a frown, going over to the counter and snatching up a knife. ‘Would be much simpler if I only had eyes for one someone. Not all of us have it so easy.’ He ducked just in time as part of a turnip crunched into the wall beside his head. ‘You’re right, I’m better off without your help!’ Carel told him, turning back to the pot. ‘Go back to your barrels.’ ‘Thought you’d never ask.’ He shrugged the apron off his shoulders, and ducked through the door, just as another dismembered vegetable whistled past his ear. Back in the common room, a few more of the villagers had assembled around one of the tables near the fire, making the early overtures of evening conversation around the edges of their ale mugs. Da had emerged from the Nest’s bowels, and was now skirting the table skilfully, fresh cask under arm. Lokk took his place behind the bar, doing his best to look busy. It was only then he noticed the other table. Further from the fire, this one. Quieter, too. Dark cloaks, dark faces. Lokk didn’t recognise them, and there wasn’t anyone in Rindon he didn’t know. As he watched, one of them looked up towards him with dark eyes, and he looked away, busying himself polishing a particularly stubborn mug. ‘You look busy.’ Da had appeared at his side, setting the cask down on the bar with a little sigh of effort. His rosy cheeks were rosier than ever, and his clothes smelt of pipe-smoke. ‘I am busy.’ ‘I suppose your sister didn’t need your help?’ The innkeep smiled knowingly, taking his old pipe from a pocket in his shirt and rubbing it clean on his sleeve. ‘Said so herself.’ ‘Course she did.’ ‘I-’ ‘Well, it was a fucking storm wasn’t it. Not every little shower gets farted out a wizard’s arse.’ Albin, the butcher, exclaimed from near the fire. Overtures done then. Time for an argument. Lokk might have smiled, had he not been so terribly bored by it all. ‘This is a long one. They’ll be here a while yet.’ Da told him thoughtfully, chewing idly at the nib of his pipe. He frowned. His Ma had hated that thing. But Ma was gone, and it wouldn’t do any good, thinking about her. ‘We’ll need another cask.’ ‘Older the better?’ ‘Oldest the best.’ The innkeep agreed, grinning at him. Lokk nodded and turned towards the door, then hesitated. ‘I don’t know them folk.’ He said quietly, nodding towards the little group of dark figures sitting away from the fire. The innkeep caught his look and frowned. ‘Solen’s new hands. Lowlanders.’ He replied, tamping some weed into the end of his pipe with the end of his thumb. ‘Nosey bunch. He’s got a few more besides, I hears. Must be a busy season up at the mine.’ Lokk frowned. ‘Do mines have busy seasons?’ ‘Damned if I know. Keep to ‘emselves, mostly, anyways. Been here best part of a month, I reckon. Had one of ‘em in here asking questions, few days back, nothing since.’ The innkeep stopped fiddling with his pipe for a moment, giving his son a sideways look. ‘Still, they pay their way. Up front. Which is more than I can say for most of this lot.’ Lokk stole one last look at the quiet table of strangers, then turned and went out through a side door and into the night beyond, leaving Da at the bar alone. The cold air bit at his skin as he emerged into the dark, and he shivered, shrugging himself a little deeper into his shirt. Winter came quickly, this close to the Teeth, filling the rocks with the kind of deep, dark cold that lasted well into spring. Presently, a rumbling cloud of purpling rain was drawing in over the mountains, and the wind was picking up. Lokk shivered again, scowling. Just his luck to catch the rain. He made his way around the side of the sloping roof of the inn, head low against the gathering whine of the wind. Another night, another cask. Another squabble over nothing by the fire. Another restless sleep, wrapped in cold blankets. Alone. Summer was bad enough, but winter in the foothills was slower than a monk in a brothel. The women, such as they were, stayed home, for the most part. Those that did make it to the Nest didn’t wait out the first mugs. Even Cal had stopped calling, this past month. Overheard, a pale flash of light, followed by a distant rumble. Rain had started, somewhere off up the slopes. Lokk aimed another choice curse at no one in particular. No women, no friends. No money. It was a sorry state of affairs, if ever he’d seen one. He reached the store and began fiddling with the lock with numb fingers, frowning. It was hardly Cal’s fault, he knew. That blacksmith was quite mad. Everyone knew it. Locked up in that old forge, hammering away, night and day. Lokk had seen him a few times. Fonder of glaring than talking. Wasn’t exactly afraid of him, but he certainly didn’t like him. Big tree of a man, arms thick as thighs, had to stoop to get through most doorways. And his eyes! Lokk shivered again. Felt like ice on your skin when he looked at you. Strays like Cal couldn’t be choosers, Lokk knew that well enough. But if he was him, he’d have run off years ago. The latch finally gave, and he swung the door open with a triumphant snort. He felt his way along the row of casks closest to the door, where the older ones were, fumbling in the dark. Behind him, the thunder crashed against the side of the hills, vibrating through his boots, and he flinched in spite of himself. If that mad blacksmith was going to keep Cal locked up like some trained animal, he’d have to get by without him. Not like Cal was the best company, anyway, these days. Always had been a strange one, but pale eyes had started getting far too clever for his own good, recently. More full of secrets than a Westri merchant. Sometimes he wondered if Cal saw the world the rest of them did, or one entirely his own. And then there was the Carel problem. His hand settled on the cask closest to the far wall, and he dragged it grumbling from its place, wedging it under one arm. No, he could hardly blame Cal for any of it. He was just bored. Still, better bored at the inn than locked up in that damn forge with the cracked old blacksmith and his scarred face. He snorted under his breath, shivering at the thought. They’d been talking about leaving for years now. Going west. Arinath, maybe, Uldoroth, even. Men could make a good living in the white stones, so they’d heard. Makers knew they couldn’t stay here forever. Run the inn? Take up mining? No, they wouldn’t be here, forever. Maybe this year. Maybe next. But they’d get there. Tough place, the Lowlands, but they’d look out for each other. Always had. Besides, couldn’t be any tougher than these fucking hills. He wondered if Carel would follow them there, too. Who’d do the Nest's cooking, then? He was halfway to the door when he heard it. The slow whisper of a thousand thousand breaths, brushes on the stones, rippling closer. He hesitated for a moment, then cursed, staggering for the door, cask slipping against his arm. The rain caught him on the doorstep, turning him silver with a layer of frigid water, and he spilled clumsily into the firelight beyond, nearly dropping the cask. ‘Easy!’ ‘I’ve got it!’ He snapped back, straightening and setting it down on the bar beside the other. Da had got his pipe lit in the time Lokk had been outside, and the little twisting strings of smoke were curling upwards from his whiskered mouth. Carel was beside him, spooning her steaming brown broth into three small bowls on the bar. ‘Just in time for dinner.’ Da told him, sucking on his pipe. ‘As always.’ Carel murmured. ‘I-’ ‘You look wet.’ ‘I swear to-’ ‘Get the door, will you. You trying to let the storm in?’ Lokk scowled, latching the door, and snatched up his bowl silently. He looked out at the rest of the common room, savouring the heat of the fire for a moment. Just as he left it. Of course it was. What would have changed? ‘What about Isandur, then?’ One of the villagers beside the fire was asking. Lokk snorted. ‘This one, again?’ ‘It’s a good story.’ Da said quietly, blowing a little stream of smoke through his pursed lips. ‘Heard it a half-dozen times already, this month.’ ‘Don’t let Godry hear you talking rot.’ Carel told him, taking up her own bowl and stirring it gently. ‘Wouldn’t want him giving it up. Albin would have to take over.’ Lokk’s eyes caught the little group of strangers again, sitting in the shadows away from the fire. Talking quietly amongst themselves. Dark cloaks and dour faces. At least that was new. They even looked like they might be more bored than he was. Outside, the rain drummed down over the thatching, and the wind whined over the hills. He sighed, and took a mouthful of the steaming, tasteless stew, frowning to himself. Another night. Another boring fucking night.

My coterie of independent fledglings is playing in a heavily modified Chicago by night setting (potential spoilers), and are just getting ready to start a REALLY dangerous political story arc, and I thought it was worth getting an outside opinion before we jump into the deep end.
The players:
A pissed off independent Lasombra who feels he and his clan are being wronged by the Camarilla with the move to be incorporated. Wants to use the forces of American Far Right extremism to shatter the status quo in the city and in the process weed out the Cam and start over.
A Brujah civil rights lawyer who is in deep with the Anarchs...at least she was until she frenzied in Elysium and got herself blood bonded to the Prince. Yes, it is a massive problem.
A Catiff investigator pretending to be a Ventrue, with a focus on Auspex. So far, he's gotten away with it, but it will again me a major problem at some point.
A Catiff book shop owner childer of a Tremere. Yes, he has blood sorcery. Yes, it's going just as well as you'd imagine. Our coterie has a 2 dot enemy Tremere.
A Tzimisce surgeon who is working towards the goals of his mysterious Methusala Mwala. All we know is that they don't align with any of the sects as they currently exist.
The situation:
After some early successes, we've gotten a reputation as reliable, discrete, and fast when it comes to finding information. This led to us getting two separate offers, more or less, at the same time.
First was a request individually to our fake Ventrue from the Senechal to work with the Malkavian Primogen to discredit his Sire, the head of a massive Ventrue run multinational corporation, so that he could assume control of the family business.
The Malk, true to form, treats the whole thing as a wonderful joke is anonymously blackmailing the Sire into publicly humiliating himself. Through some great investigating by our fake Ventrue, he discovered that the Primogen is threatening to leak his real identity to SI. Every single one of our characters agrees that getting SI involved over essentially a prank is a completely unacceptable and stupid move and justifies his death, one way or another.
A short time later, we get called to visit Mr. Fat Cat Sire at his office building, where we are hired to find whoever is anonymously threatening him, at the price of 2 minor boons to the coterie, or 1 major if we both find and eliminate the culprit. During the visit, a well-timed Premontion and a little sleuthing helped us discover that he was somehow involved in the werewolf attack that killed the last Prince and has been taking meetings from the group of Hecata which recently took over NYC at the end of our last Chronicle. Again, we all agreed that letting lose a pack of werewolves on the streets of Chicago was an action worthy of death. Plus, he's a despicable person who tried to make us sign a contract in blood enforced by the Tremere, and we don't like getting pushed around.
Lastly, we discovered that this guy is a MAJOR financial player, to the point that his death, if done poorly, has the potential to seriously destabilize financial markets.
The plan
We all agree that Mr. Malk and Mr. Money bags need to go. While some of us are on board for collapsing the global financial structure, we've agreed that we'd effectively be declaring war on all of Clan Ventrue if we were ever remotely implicated. That means someone needs to be able to come up with the ball at the end of all this, and the logical choice is the Senechal. (Our Lasombra and Brujah aren't happy with this and are looking for another solution)
We DO want to get paid somewhere along the line, and that means dealing with the Malk before the Ventrue. Luckily, our fake Ventrue has a meeting scheduled with him for his part in the "prank" and is going to wear a wire to capture the conversation on tap and try to incriminate him. Evidence in hand, we set up a hit on him, and Torpor Mr. Malk. Specifics of the hit are TBD, but the Brujah has an assassin Gangrel as a Mwala who might be interested for the right price. Premonition is a hell of a power, though, and we have no ideas how to get around it yet.
Ideally, we aren't implicated, but this next part is tricky regardless. We need to go to Mr. Fat Cat's place, show him the evidence, give him the Torpored body, collect our boon, more or less immediately cash it in, then somehow find actual evidence of the Werewolf/Hecata stuff, and scurry over to the Senechal to get his fat ass Blood Hunted.
Obviously, there are holes in that plan big enough to drive a truck through, but we figure that, in the worst case, we use the boon to get Mr. Fat Cat to cover us for the disappearance of the Malk Primogen and cut out losses there.
BEST case, which seems unlikely, everything goes perfectly to plan, Mr. Fat Ass gets taken down, and the Senechal inherits, we manipulate him into making a play for Prince with his newfound wealth, then get to take advantage of the internal struggle to topple the whole tower in the city, with the loss of the Prince, Senechal, a Primogen, and one of the largest bank rollers in the city.
So yeah...how screwed are we?