Hey guys, this post is not intended to tell you what to do. I'm not a financial advisor. This isn't my day job. I am not even a day trader. I learned the difference between call and put options like 3 months ago. I don't trade options. I don't even know how yet, to be frank. I recently got an RH account to try to learn how and then this shit blew up. This post is viewable to the general public and is not "insider knowledge". Everything I am about to say, I have gleaned from PUBLICLY ACCESSIBLE DATA. That Hedge funds and other people in the media, the government, and in the general public ALL have access to. This is MORE VISIBLE than even Facebook. Let alone a country club or private "dinner party". Just saying. I am a real person. I am not a bot. I am not trying to screw anyone over. I like the stock I am choosing to gamble my disposable income on and think it will be a good investment regardless of the action over the next few weeks. 💎🙌
I CAN earn it back if I have to. I didn't stake my entire savings. I don't advise people to gamble with money they don't have. Not for financial reasons, solely, but more for mental health reasons.
Bias disclosure: I currently have 1882 shares of AMC at an average price of 9.27$ and I occupied Wall Street for a bit after the financial crisis, mostly on reddit as I was in medical school at the time, and supported occupy the SEC. Please see my post history. It's all there in the top posts. I have nothing to hide as I know I am a valued member of our society, I pay my taxes, I treat mental illness, I follow the law, and I don't normally gamble. This is not about the money for me personally, it's about principle. It's my token of rememberance for the failed actions of our government to hold these types of people accountable for the great recession and the subprime mortgage crisis. Also, WSB just happened to stumble upon these criminal vulture firms, in the act of active company rape and decided to give them a licking. If you were interested in GME and were one of the people on the other side [IE at one of these firms] reading the discussion over at WSB should have been your job as a form of market research. If you missed the warning, it's not Reddit's fault. If you suck at your job, it's not Reddit's fault. I don't see how pinning them in that position was illegal. It wasn't planned, it wasn't private. It developed organically like a movement. It continues to grow. Silencing us will only make it louder. You need to level the playing field and regulate the markets. What they did to defend themselves was illegal. The manipulation of the market and the media was illegal. The restriction of buying was illegal. The algorithmic ladder attacks were illegal. Thus I will hold the line, as I HAVE been since Tuesday. It's been a wild ride and I'm tired of this shitshow. I want to get back to normal investing after this fiasco. It's much better for my sleep.
*So here goes my theoretical question. AGAIN, I AM NOT saying you SHOULD do this. What you do is your call. I am asking if this has been done before or if it even can be done. I'm a n00b. Educate me. I'm trying to learn how the arena works. Like how it really works.
If short ladders by algorithms are being used to artificially deflate the stock price. IE: tanking the price of AMC with low trade volumes that they simply pass amongst themselves. I think yesterday it was 5% buy and hold and 95% sell for AMC but each time with low volumes in a very predictable pattern. (Trey from the link below explained it very well several times better than me.)...
What prevents retail traders from spacing out their purchase orders to 1-10 shares at a time and holding. Wouldn't that be better than just impulse buying 100 shares because you want in and you like the stock? Would it do the same thing as short laddering but in converse? Just curious. Would like to hear your opinions.

I've been watching this channel to learn about AMC action and markets in general and it has been super educational.

*I am not investing in AMC to make a quick buck. I am not a day trader or a pump and dumper. I am doing this because I think AMC will not die from the pandemic, was artificially deflated by vulture hedge funds, almost to the point of bankruptcy, and will NOW be able to pivot into a better business model with fresher screens, Hollywood exclusive releases, fancier theaters, pent up demand, etc., with the new capital and public interest. People LIKE the MOVIES. I grew up in NJ and movie theaters were a HUGE part of my life and many of my most memorable moments occurred at the movies. They make me warm and fuzzy. They have a certain nostalgia for me personally and I like supporting local business when I can. [I know AMC was bought by China, but the staff are all local]. In my opinion GME has an antiquated business model bc I buy games on STEAM and online. AMC was only struggling because of COVID and I don't think that otherwise people would completely stop going to the movies. We Americans LOVE going to the movies. I love going to the movies. That's just my opinion. Don't hate on me for it. I think that the "real value" of AMC is AT LEAST about 10-20$ which is what they were at before 2020 and it wasn't even their peak value. Even if the real value is closer to 5$, according to the arguments of experts, that's just their fucking opinion. It's a different situation now and I don't agree. Is that my right to disagree with them and pick my own stocks? Or can I only bet on what Fox Business tells me to. Or Jim Cramer. As an individual investor, am I free in this country to spend my money how I want on the stock market, or am I not? Am I free to make my own choices about whether to buy a stock or not? At least I think I should be. If I am not, it will solidify my opinion [and the watching world's opinion] that "free market" capitalism is indeed a farce. It will highly depreciate the value of the American dream and my respect for our current government. Which I was Ecstatic about during Election Day. [Disclosure, Bernie/Liz Bro, who voted for Biden and abstained from voting in 2016 due to bitterness about the primaries. Damn you DWS, you know what you did.] We all know the hedge funds sure are free to buy as much stock as they want to. Apparently even to buy stock that doesn't exist. WTF is that? Glad I found out now. Even if I lost 8k by betting it will be 10$ in 2022 rather than 5$ isn't it my CHOICE when to sell? Am I not free to HOLD the damn stock if in my opinion, I'm willing to consider it a tax on sending a giant reddit shaped middle finger into space to these people that rape companies regardless of the consequences to local staff? These parasites who prefer profit to morality and decency? Who sold their souls in the search of...what?...private islands and yachts? Let THIS MOMENT be your Memento Mori, you soulless motherfuckers. If you have any of it left, now is your time to search for it. Your actions will leave behind a husk of an economy and earth if left unchecked. We the Reddit "Retards" stumbled upon our teeth. For the first time the MARKET BITES BACK AND WE ARE NOT LETTING GO. WE ARE MAKING A STAND. FUCK YOU. We all know that the American Citizens will end up footing the bill anyway in taxes when all those people start relying on the government for survival after you motherfuckers artificially drive their employer into bankrupcy. FUCK YOU. You're already taking my money and you know it. I pay 47% in taxes due to my income and living in NYC. FUCK YOU for evading them with offshore accounts you GREEDY FUCKS. I am willing to lose 8k to do that (send you a message) and to rapidly learn about what is going on to manipulate markets. It's also partially the cost of education in my calculus. I have learned more in one week riding this wave, than in 4 years of getting my Economics degree. Either way, my current buy in as at 9.27 so I will hold at least until I make my initial investment back. I am also disclosing that if the stock goes up to 30$ I will likely SELL enough shares to cover half of my position because I am not a degenerate gambler and have been holding the line since Tuesday and it has taken a toll on my sleep and my sanity. I know I might lose some money and this is a crazy roller coaster. I want to get out most of my investment ASAP and then ride the wave to then END with you all. IF it happens. I know it may not. I don't care. The message seems to have been sent. Seems like they received it. But we don't know who will be regulated and how yet. I am tired of this fight. I don't like it. I don't want to do it anymore. But I stayed in for the principle not the principal, and for the people just finding out about this now to still be able to make a choice about what to do before we release them from the HOLD. This is a constantly evolving situation. Will they censor the media from talking about stocks? Why target Reddit? Reddit is LIKE the media. It's not a private chat room. THESE WORDS CAN BE READ BY ANYONE WITH AN INTERNET CONNECTION AND WE ARE AWARE OF THIS. If it falls, and I lose my money, I don't think the government will come in and save me. I don't expect them to. I EXPECT them to let this play out and not SIDE with these assholes. It upsets me that they seem to have decided to save Vulture capitalists. Anyway, despite my fear of posting this question and the associated rant, I really want to know the answer. Has it been done before by Algorithms pushing stocks higher? Is it possible to make a crowdsourced one? Is it legal?
If this gets removed or censored in some way. You have your answer I guess.
facta non verba.
Thanks.

****IMPORTANT ADDENDUM****: I want to add that I was quite revved up when I wrote this and have had some time to reflect. I want to stress that it is not my intention to lay blame or judge any individual person or organization for the current situation [Of stacked odds in the retail investor vs hedge fund battle]. Emotions run high in the stock market. I know this through experience now. I was angry when I wrote this post. [I am leaving it unedited for posterity and since whoever needed to see it already saw it so removing it would be pointless] This should not become a witch hunt or be personal. These guys and girls are people too. They work for a corporation. They earn a paycheck. They have friends, partners, and families too. I am a person. You, reader, are a person. Don't make this personal. They didn't invent algorithms and weren't the ones that necessarily wanted to take these short positions. The market calculus at the time, dictated that this was a good call for them, it wasn't. We accidentally stumbled upon it on WSB and shit-posted about it until it blew up and they were really in a bind. I understand their calculus to a degree, but I am a "smooth brained" "retard" when it comes to these things. I am learning fast though. I understand that certain companies are likely to fail and it is possible to make a profit off that. My moral views about it are irrelevant as the situation they're in dictates their actions, not my personal views about that. I understand that they're getting screwed at the moment and I'm sorry. I truly hope most of them do not get too damaged by this and have had time to change their positions. But I also believe in the American dream, and think that the people that were able to find a good position in the stock market [the retail investors] should be rewarded. I sincerely hope this doesn't trigger a massive systemic issue and we don't accidentally BREAK the stock market with this action on those stocks. It doesn't seem like that would happen, but again smooth brain here. WE NEED THE MARKET TO STAY ALIVE to have peace and stability in this country. Reddit crew, I beseech you, please understand that the individuals involved are also playing by the rules given to them by the market. The problem I personally have is that the rules are different for the retail investors vs. the big institutions. I don't have a problem with them as people. I don't want to destroy anything or any institutions. That was never my goal as an activist nor as an investor-activist and I can only speak about myself. I just hope they could find it in their hearts to try to understand our outrage and consider playing by the rules or at least letting us play by the same rules. We are attacking them and they don't like it. I get it. In either case, please understand that I am not vested too strongly in either outcome anymore. I am tired and want to return to my regular life and will not be on reddit for a while, nor will I be investing any more money into the stock market for a while... The whole thing has taken it's toll on me and I am going back to my regular life. This is not my war.
On the government's side, I also understand that their goal is to enforce the rules. I hope I'm not breaking any here and will remove my posts if I am. I am not trying to cause a revolution. This country has been through too much and we finally have a shot at beating COVID and have a competent administration that can guide us back on the right track. I truly believe that the people in charge now are decent people and will do good for this country. If Biden says no more diamond hands, I will listen to Biden. What I do further with my shares shall remain my business otherwise. I will no longer tell anyone what I am doing with my shares. I realize now that this is not always a good idea and should be done with tact and experience. I am not a financial advisor. But also, financial advice and being one is not a joke. I realize this now. MEMEing about stocks is like MEMEing about drinking bleach. People might listen to you and sacrifice their lives on a losing battle. Not everyone knows the stakes and not everyone knows what they're doing. Now that this is blowing up, people can get really hurt financially. Reddit, we could be putting people in danger. I see this now. So you all, too, reading this, PLEASE be careful. About investing and about what you say on social media. INVEST but INVEST RESPONSIBLY and not with money you can not bear to lose. I pledge that I will personally no longer post any inflammatory shit on Reddit. Because now I'm afraid that WE are suddenly some form of weird market makers and I don't have as many lawyers as the hedge funds. I am tapping out from posting any more about the current battle. I wish you all luck on both sides, truly. In the next round tomorrow.
Dear Government: If you want this to end, don't you have the power to delist these "Meme" companies and distribute the shares somehow? If not, the the system is truly stronger than our institutions. If you do this, please make sure people don't lose their life savings somehow. That would be nice. Then, please try to make sure this won't happen again and that the SEC actually regulates and prosecutes people so their calculus isn't that the fines are too low to justify following the rules. [Just my humble opinion as a smooth brain with limited experience of markets. Do what you think is best and I will obey the laws as an individual]. Sorry you might disagree hedge fund guys and girls, but I am entitle to my opinion in a free country. This is my platform. You can have CNN and Fox News. Sorry for saying something. I promise this is the end of it. But also, a lot of market makers on TV seem to assert that the market will self correct and I don't see how this should be a large risk for overall wealth. Who knows, none of us can predict the future. But I think if a bunch of Reddit "retards" get a couple hundred thousand bucks, it won't change the overall situation or necessarily be a net negative; and may in fact trigger a renaissance in this country. You'll still be the biggest fish, just in a more biodiverse pond. It may just create a new class of petite bourgeoise in this country. But it is not likely that if they win, it will cause something like the French Revolution. There will be losers and winners, but in the end, it will be a good story for Hollywood. [Hopefully played on an AMC screen in a post covid world] But what do I know, I'm a just another "retard" on reddit.
I hope that after this, you are all decent humans at the end and don't break any law on all sides. [Reddit, Retail investors, Government, Hedge fund investors, etc] I hope we don't break the market over this. If that is a true risk we need to make the market unbreakable or this WILL keep happening. If anyone is resentful about losing future gains on a good position so the government can fix the market, don't be a fucking greedy idiot and look at what we've achieved so far. This is already a big win for the small guy. And if our markets are vulnerable, the next winners will not be idiots on reddit. But will likely be our enemies from abroad. Not to name names. We will ALL benefit more from long term stability than short term gains. We MUST come together as a country so we can spend that money in the future for things. If we break the stock market, we will not be able to buy things with all that worthless money. But if the system isn't at risk, I don't understand what all the hullabaloo is about. There have been countless bubbles before. Why weren't those regulated as much. Maybe they were and I'm an ignorant smooth brain. In any case, I hope that we can stop fighting over carcasses for greed. This was always about making the rules of the casino fair for me, personally. It's not life or death. I'm not an extremist or an ideologue. It's not about burning down the casino. I hope that the government will intervene if they think it is going to short circuit the whole thing and that people reading this gamble responsibly.
This will be my last post about this as I have a life to live.
-Tememachine OUT.

EDIT 2: Now they're making fun of the movement. Fuck Wall Street. I hope they get what's coming to them one day. [In terms of regulation and prison sentences] I'm still out of this war. But seriously. Fuck them.

Tavern/Cabin Games to Spice up Long Voyages

Rough Night at The Running Bear Casino (PAGE 2 of 2)

PAGE 2 of 2
**** * ****
Hussein nudged his brother Iqbal and aimed his chin toward the bar. “Look, a fat, stupid American has finally managed some success.”
Iqbal smirked, “It is the only way the infidels can succeed. They have no education and no skills to do anything useful. They don’t even worship their own God anymore, only money and fame. They will soon learn better…”
The brothers were out enjoying a night of revelry, with a few more planned when they reached the city. The celebrations were a last reward before they fulfilled their mission and achieved True Paradise through martyrdom. Hussein was superstitious and hoped to find success at gambling before they took the great risk that if successful, would help to sustain their cause. They’d grown up in this land of debauchery and foolishness but had been taught from the first to honor their own Beliefs and culture above anything the Americans professed.
Hussein was on roll number five of what he intended to be a short run. He wished to win five times for the Five Pillars of Islam, the name of his cell in the latest great Jihad. He blew on the dice and tossed. The small cubes bounced against the back side of the pit and tumbled end over end as he watched breathlessly. “Another ten!” the barker called. And pushed the winnings toward Hussein. He placed a minimum bet and rolled once more. He had already left the table before the barker called, “Snakeyes! Next roller please.”
He held up his chips triumphantly, “Iqbal, more money from roll number five! I kept the bet in place for five rolls, I left only the minimum for the last roll, it is a Sign! We are fated to succeed. We will meet the others tomorrow, go over the plan, and then have a few last nights to revel in this world…”
Iqbal patted his brother on the shoulder, “There is something I would like more than winning chips. He nodded toward the bar and the attractive and sinuous young local who worked behind it, steadily polishing glasses.
Hussein watched for a moment, unsure whether his brother meant the alcoholic drinks that had been forbidden until now or the woman. Knowing Iqbal, he assumed both. “As you wish brother. Take your mortal enjoyments while you can. She looks a little sullen though, frown, lowered brows, I like the happy ones.”
Iqbal’s serpent-like smile widened, “She will look better when I have freed her from the miseries of the uncircumcised. She will enjoy a real man. Who knows? Maybe I will convert her so that we can meet again in Paradise.” With that, he surged away from his brother and slithered up to the bar opposite the young First Nations maid. “Good evening, I noticed that you do not have many customers at the bar. It seems odd that so beautiful a creature as yourself would not attract more company.”
The woman ignored him, intently focused on her task. He tried again, “Perhaps I must order a drink to remain at the bar? If so, a gin and tonic if you please.”
She continued to polish the glass. He leaned forward, “Did you hear me?” he inquired in an annoyed tone. “Perhaps you have no business because you are surly and unhelpful.”
She looked at him and delivered a smirk that appeared to be far more evil than anything he could ever hope to muster, despite his thin, reptilian lips and predatory mind, “We don’t want customers to linger at the bar, getting drunk and building from misery to anger over their losses. We want them playing… and losing.” She leaned toward him and glared into his own eyes that he normally considered flinty and daunting. “You know about losing, don’t you?”
Hussein noted that the large man at the end of the bar in the “Security” shirt had begun stumping toward them. “Iqbal, perhaps it is time to go look for other entertainment.”
Iqbal ignored him, he was trapped in the serpent’s gaze, like a mouse dropped into a snake’s tank to be devoured while its owner watched with perverse interest. Hussein reached for his brother to tug at his arm but never got the chance. The big security officer seized his hand, drew it to his too wide chest and turned. The weight of the man drew him away from his brother and caused him to spin around so that he ended up facing the goon with his brother beyond the man and in the clutches of the Serpent Woman. The ham-fisted gargantuan continued to twist the hand he gripped until the pressure caused Hussein sever pain. He grunted and bent into the angle of his wrist to relieve the distress. He found himself bent forward and looking up desperately toward the man’s face.
The security staffer smiled, his square, blunt teeth showing dark behind an almost lipless mouth. His wide back and chest, covered in body armor under his shirt made him appear like a monster-sized… Turtle. Hussein felt himself lifted and placed behind the bar. His brother soon slithered over the top and fell to the floor beside him, smiling beatifically. Hussein opened his mouth to scream for help, but a large, blunt fist crashed into the side of his head and he saw stars… seven of them, like the Holy... The fist descended once more, and he saw only darkness.
**** * ****
Fr. Danilo Bayani was immensely enjoying his latest trip to the continental USA. He had visited Hawaii many years ago, and New York City more recently, but this was his first tour of the grand landbound spaces that this country offered. He’d managed to roam so far from his origins in Manila. Now, in his twilight years, he longed to see what he could of God’s Green Earth. All on the payroll of The Vatican while they cleanse the records of those hateful… allegations. The bitter thoughts raced across his mind. Of course he was a sinner, he was only mortal. He’d been expiated of those sins and had paid an enormous price to continue serving in his capacity as a parish priest. He forced his mind to return to the moment and more enjoyable pursuits.
He noted the hirsute and similar appearing pair of men who had gone to the bar and wondered why the Security officer approached them, but his attention was called once more to the round of Texas Hold’em and his table mates. When he again had a moment to look, no one was at the bar, in front or behind… curious, he thought, but he quickly refocused his attention on the fascinating new game he was in the process of learning. He was familiar with Poker, so it wasn’t difficult to learn. He liked the high level of interaction that this version of the old game allowed. He’d done well, certainly gained enough to fund extracurricular activities during the rest of his current sabbatical.
He’d been disturbed by the overall atmosphere of this place when he’d arrived. He did not care for the numerous paintings and sculptures of Ancient Native Deities and Spirits. They seemed to be mostly images of the Dark Beings of various Tribal cultures. He loved to study diverse cultures, but this place was an amalgamation of cultures, built for mutual support by several Tribes in the region. Much of the artwork was schlocky and clearly intended to cater to the garish and sordid tastes of the vapid gambling set. Some part of him did not feel… welcome, as though he had intruded on some private Place, set aside for Other Gods.
He shook off the depressing musings… There are NO Other Gods, he reassured himself. He soon stepped away from the table to take care of personal needs and to decide what he should do with the rest of his night. Perhaps he would visit the White Dove Restaurant & Ballroom on the other side of the hotel lobby from the casino. It boasted a good reputation according to online reviews, even though it was a simple buffet style with a dance floor to one side. He liked the name, it was… peaceful he decided.
He soon had a selection of food piled onto a plate and was seated near the dance floor. The place was sparsely occupied, so his hopes of being able to watch dancers as he ate were dashed. Still, the food was good enough. A little bland, but that was necessary in a place that acted as a crossroads of cultures. There was a spice table at the end of the primary row of entrees. He’d helped himself, yet nothing seemed to attach to his taste buds. The combination of eating nearly alone, having no one with energy around him, and the tasteless food soon had him growing restless. He finished up his repast and left the table to go out to the final section of the complex he had not visited, the River Overlook.
As he passed the table nearest the entrance, he saw a stout man in a rumpled sport coat, who glared daggers at him, eyes focused on his crucifix, the only outward sign of his profession. The man appeared to be so hostile, that he paused for a moment to determine whether he’d done anything to offend the fellow. “Excuse me sir, have I offended you in some way?”
The man looked startled. He was apparently unused to being confronted about his demeanor or behavior. He scowled, “Don’t like that thing you have around your neck. You Catholics are all Hell-bound. No concept of righteousness. Not that you’d understand, you people don’t even read The Book. You listen to your priests and pope and disregard The Word. All the kneeling and ritual prayers in the world won’t save you in the end. Go back to your idols and beads and leave me alone to seek Heaven.”
Fr. Bayani was startled by the vehemence with which the man spoke. He hadn’t been attacked directly for his Faith in years. “Sir, I’m not sure what Religion you practice, but I am a man of God, a consecrated priest of the Holy Church. I assure you that I understand more than most, if not as much as I would like. I meant no harm and wish you a peaceful night.”
With that, he started to walk past the man, but the man rose from his table and pointed his finger, “Your pope is the Anti-Christ, and your Church is a place of Satan! Look to the Bible for your salvation before it’s too late.”
Fr. Bayani increased his pace and continued on his journey to the River Overlook. He would need the peace and tranquility that nature and the sound of flowing water would provide to settle his roiling mind.
**** * ****
Pastor Bill resumed his seat and shook his head, “Fool, doesn’t know that he’s risking his soul, courting Damnation.” He’d had a bad run at the tables over at the casino. His Denomination frowned on games of chance, but he had needed the money. One of his congregation had come up pregnant and they had to get it resolved before the three-month deadline for abortions. He knew that if his wife found out about Carmen, then she would divorce him. He was here to break every major rule that he professed to hold dear each week. His plan for quick money had failed, so he’d visited the bar. Now he hoped that eating would guide him back to sobriety. He had to think of another plan.
Seeing that… priest had annoyed him. Had he not been inebriated, he would never have said what he did, nor stared so rudely in the first place. Yet he wanted someone on whom to vent the anger he felt, that arose from fear and he’d always disliked the papists. If his wife divorced him, if the scandal involving the woman who cleaned the church all week and then occupied the back pew every Sunday ever broke; he would lose his ministry, his livelihood. His degree in Theology would be worthless. He might be able to get a job teaching, at some secular school, but most would not hire fervent Christians like himself.
He stared dejectedly at his plate of food that had contained more spice and flavors than he liked, a shadow passed in his periphery. It was low-slung and blurred just a bit as it loped along the wall. He thought he heard an odd laugh, somewhere between human and… canine? Maybe a little like a hyena might sound, or so he imagined. There was a manic quality to the laughter. A jest that was on him so that only the other Entity knew what it was. It was the wicked laughter of children at play, who’d decided to target a fat kid with glasses. A kid whose parents had been abusive addicts but who later “got right” through religious-based recovery programs. Their faith had led him to his own, but he’d never really lost those early traumas of being unaccepted by his peers and being beaten by people who later professed faith above all.
A mocking whine, definitely doggish, his now sobering consciousness informed him. Something was making fun of him, teasing him from the shadows. He looked around for staff members or other customers but found himself alone. The dining area and the dance floor were deserted. It was odd, there was almost always someone at the buffet service tables. He looked over to the kitchen doors in hopes that one of the employees would burst through with a fresh serving of chicken wings or whatever tray had been emptied. He saw dark figures move past the clouded round windows on the swinging doors and temporarily occlude the bright kitchen lights within, but they were indistinct blobs, and appeared to be focused on tasks of their own choosing rather than service of his needs.
He stood and realized that he was more intoxicated than he’d realized. He immediately resumed his seat and bent forward to regain his balance and bearings… and to swallow his rising gorge. When he sat up again, a dark, shaggy form perched in the chair across from him. The figure was no more than a silhouette, a raggedly hewn shadow. Yet there were eyes. Sinister golden gleams appeared and blinked at him. He heard a heavy, panting sort of breathing and a gust of foul-smelling carnivore breath assaulted his olfactory senses. “Who? Er, what are you doing at my table?” he asked in a mushy, confused manner. Still fighting off waves of nausea.
He could not see it very well in the poorly illuminated dining room, but his impression was that the... Being… smiled at him: a gaping, lolling smile, with a tongue dangling out to one side and sharp canines gleaming. “I thought I would check on you my righteous friend. You seem to be upset, unhappy. You nipped and barked at that other person who shares your Faith. I thought perhaps there was a deeper concern preying on your conscience?”
Pastor Bill had to force himself to think through what this… person? Had said to him. Likely some hippie-dippy weirdo. “That guy was a Catholic priest, we’re nowhere near the same Religion.”
Once more he heard the chortling laughter that was now very clear, “I’m sure you think it’s different. Those of his specific religion, came to these lands many years ago. They were the first of you Christians to arrive. The rest have been simple variations on a theme. The problems began, when your co-religionists assumed that only your God exists; that all of the local Gods and Spirits were instead Demons and Dark Powers. Instead of trying to show that yours is a better Way, you Christians insisted that yours is the only Way. You’ve forgotten that in Ancient Times, people held True to Deities who were attached to local communities or to the land and features around them; geographically and ethnically relevant. You have gone from subsuming and incorporating Older Gods as Angels and Saints, to Demonizing Them, and now in your hubris, to denying Them altogether.” He shook His head. “Too bad really, it creates an Adversarial relationship.” He chuckled at some joke that Pastor Bill was still too drunk to comprehend.
Pastor Bill had grown increasingly fearful as the Voice intoned Its Philosophies. He wanted to refute that Voice, to deny Its very Existence. Yet he feared Its Wrath more than anything he’d ever feared, even the Fires of Hell. Instead of making a stand and arguing his faith, he staggered to his feet and ran, stumbled, blindly toward the kitchen and the pale, ghostly figures within. Surely someone within would save him! The sardonic laughter chortled after him and chased him into the too bright lights, descending into the yips and howls of Coyote even as the doors swung shut behind him. He looked around at the glowing white figures who halted in their various progresses to stare at him. Their eyes! There were none, just empty sockets, faces slack, with gaping, lamprey maws. He heard a new sound as they swarmed him… his own forlorn screams of ultimate agony.
**** * ****
Fr. Bayani stood out on the River Overlook platform and enjoyed the solitude that had so recently left him restless. There were plenty of noises out across the flowing torrent: the water itself, as it passed over hidden objects, fish as they leapt from its embrace to kiss the night air, frogs and insects, and the warbling, mournful sounds of a loon, and the soft sigh of the wind as it passed through the verdant landscape. This is much more peaceful than the White Dove he thought. He had some trouble shaking off ruminations on the verbal assault from the strange, possibly drunken man in the restaurant. He decided that he would pray for the man, that he would one day soon find The True Faith. Sometimes that was all one could do for the short-sighted.
He heard a deep, coughing hiss out in the dark. He was startled but quickly realized that it was an American Alligator, cousin to creatures he had observed in many places around the planet. He was truly content, at one with Nature in all Her Glory… in all the natural splendor of Creation! he immediately corrected himself. A sound impinged on his senses as it slowly rose and obscured the others… it was a lapping sound at first, more like ocean waves on a beach than the banks of a river. Waves, at cross purposes to the flow of the river, slapped at the base of the platform. Soon they sounds evolved into splashes, as if something very large approached the River Overlook platform. He leaned over the rail to have a closer look. Perhaps it was a large water creature or a boat… maybe a ‘gator as the locals called the big reptiles.
He peered down at the dim rippling surface below. At first, he was unable to discern anything but small reflections on the water as it swirled and lapped; then from below the surface, he spotted an eye, a too large eye! It glowed from within with a sickly luminescence akin to that produced by deep growing fungi. As he stared in horror, he saw a mouth gape below the eye, and enormous frog-like opening with no teeth but serrated lips, like some monstrous catfish. As he stared, too much in shock to act, he suddenly felt his body wrapped in strong, leprous flesh and he quickly lost his ability to breathe. The last sight he saw before he plunged over the safety rail was the thin, grey, first light of dawn.
**** * ****
Chief Harry Whitehorse gazed around at his fellow chiefs and Shamans from various local Tribes, “So, are The Dark Ones satisfied once again? Have They sated their appetites on strangers so that our peoples will be safe for another year?”
Affirmative rumbles muttered around the conference room. Red Wolf, a Shaman, spoke from near the back row, “They are not only satisfied but Coyote assures us that the prey people will not be linked with our premises or business operations.”
Most of the fresh mutters sounded pleased, but old Harry had to ask, “Can we trust Him?”
Chortling laughter sounded throughout the conference room and ascended into thunderous yips and howls of hysterical glee.

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Surviving a BPD breakup: One Dude's Journey

Surviving a BPD breakup: one dude’s journey
Disclaimer: BPD is a spectrum of traits. Not everyone who holds these traits has BPD. Moreover, everyone’s experience with a pwBPD is different. My ex most likely was what one would call a quiet pwBPD, and what has helped me may not be helpful for you. However, if you find my story is helpful, then awesome. Thank you for reading.
So if your experience is anything like mine, you may find yourself sitting in your car staring out into space dumbfounded after getting an abrupt call from who you thought was your girlfriend. You are shocked because after almost two years she has just broken up with you in the most robotic and unempathetic way possible. You may be feeling empty or devastated or numb. This is totally understandable. What’s hard to understand at this moment is how someone who showered you with so much love could be so cold and cruel to you.
For me, this is where my journey started - sitting in my car staring out into space. Everyone’s experience is different, but I wanted to share the process that I went through to start my recovery. I am by no means through the thicket of a BPD breakup, but I have started to see the light. From one person to another, I want to sincerely say that I’m sorry this is happening to you. You didn’t deserve this, and in time I think you will come to understand it largely had nothing to do with you, your looks, your financial means, your personality, or your job. I now look at this experience like a natural disaster - it just happens. The tornado didn’t hit your house because you were a few pounds overweight - it is so far out of your control it is more akin to an act of god.
Step One: Triage
If you are like me, you had become quite attached to this person. This is by design. What looked like falling in love to you was actually falling for a calculated, constructed persona that mirrored your own. My ex wrote down everything I said on our first date into a notebook. I realized later she used this to construct a persona that I would become hopelessly attached to. Needless to say, it worked. I fell head over heels for this person and thought that I had found my soulmate. I was wrong. I was being idealized and manipulated into attaching to someone who at best has an avoidant attachment style. They put together this persona and play this role, but this is not their true self. They have a cycle of attachment and breakups that will continue throughout their lives until they choose to seek help. Some are aware of their tendencies, and some are strangers to themselves. Either way, the act of creating this persona takes a lot of energy. They have only so much gas in their tank, and once it begins to run low the relationship will hit the rocks.
A person with BPD (pwBPD) sees romantic partners as either all good or all bad. When they decide that you have switched from all good to all bad, this is called splitting. In a moment of clarity, my ex referred to this as “my lens just changed”, like at the eye doctor. In a split second, you move from the soulmate category to the existential threat category in their brain. Even if you get back together with them and move back into an idealization cycle, the clock is ticking on your relationship. You will be devalued and discarded, it is only a matter of time. What will ensue between these moments will most likely be quite an emotional roller coaster.
So when a pwBPD finally discards you, they will treat you like you have zero worth to them (because that’s how they view you). My ex told me that “I believe that every next relationship will be better than this one.” She also said, “I hope one day you and I can both agree that this is the best thing for me.” Ouch. Keep in mind, this is only days after inviting me on a vacation to the beach next summer and sending me romantic good morning text messages. They split because they need you to be out of their lives immediately. They have decided that you are going to abandon them which would destroy them. You are going to knock down their house of cards and you need to disappear post haste. It’s also important to understand that by the time you are finally discarded they are most likely already setting up their next “favorite person”. Online dating is an incredibly fertile hunting ground for pwBPD, and they use it deftly.
So, back to triage. You have just experienced an emotional trauma that can be hard to deal with. I still remember the feeling of sitting in my car staring out the window feeling numb. This is what I call the great “rug pull”. You just found out that your trust, love, and loyalty meant very little to this person, and they will leave you with zero closure. It can feel like a car hitting a wall at 60 miles per hour. With most relationships, you know when things are going badly. To go back to the car analogy, you hear something in the engine that doesn’t sound right or the car breaks down from time to time. When a relationship with a pwBPD goes bad, it goes bad abruptly.
Over the next few weeks, your own brain will be at war with your reality. You will need to find your people and lean on your support system. Family, friends, therapists, and even pets will be crucial for supporting you through these first weeks. Call them up. Talk through your feelings and your confusion. Lean on those people that love you. I had multiple people on both coasts talking to me for the first week at all hours of the day. I can’t thank these people enough now. They were crucial to my recovery. Remember to eat, brush your teeth, and feed the fish. Just being quasi-functional for the first few weeks should be considered a win. Do what you need to do to make it through the first weeks, but there is only one hard and fast rule in this stage: No Contact! Do not initiate any contact whatsoever with your ex. They may reach out to you trying to “be friends” during this stage. Block them if they do. The person who is causing your pain cannot be the source of your comfort. Say that to yourself everyday all day.
Step Two: Acceptance
Your brain has gotten used to being in love or attached to this person. If you have tendencies toward codependency, the feelings you had may have even bordered on an addiction. This is a tough stage to manage. If you are like me, your brain will fight tooth and nail against accepting reality. This is totally understandable as the reality is quite harsh. You were merely an attachment placeholder for this person, and when you had no more use for them you were discarded and replaced immediately. Again, ouch.
The next waypoint on this journey is radical acceptance of the facts. Ironically, the pwBPD will be helping you with your radical acceptance stage with their cruelty, their silence, their heartlessness, or through flaunting their new life on social media. My ex was not overly cruel to me, but it was very important to her that I had all my stuff out of her place and I returned her key to her quickly. Again, you need to cease to exist as fast as possible.
Watch any videos online you need to about radical acceptance. Call up a friend and tell them how unfair all this is. Go out into the woods and yell up into the trees. Write letter after letter to them and burn them (under no circumstances send them). Do whatever you need to do, but you cannot move on to the next step until you can accept these two facts: 1) This person is gone forever, and 2) The person you fell in love with no longer exists. Super harsh, I know, but those are the facts. You will need to find a way to accept them.
Step Three: Agency
Once you begin to accept some of the harsher truths of a breakup with a pwBPD, you are ready to begin to process the trauma through agency. My first act of agency was to begin walking. I processed my feelings through walking around parks and neighborhoods in my town - sometimes up to 20,000 steps a day. Exercise is a great pastime for heartbreak. You get a slight reprieve from your pain, and you get to possibly lose a little weight or feel more in shape. Other really great activities during this stage are journaling, deleting photos, burning any love letters or cards, removing any reminders lying around your house, or blocking the person on social media. If you are having trouble with any of these cathartic “screw them” activities, chances are you are still stuck in step two. If this is you, take a step back, call up some friends, and process the finality of the situation.
Ideally, this agency step has the potential to be a great catalyst for change in your life. However, steer clear of any negative coping strategies like black out drinking, sleeping around, or drugs. It is important to realize that this self-destructive thinking is motivated by the part of you that identified with your ex. If you were in an enmeshed relationship, its very easy for her harsh judgement of you to become your own harsh judgement of yourself. You need to reject this concept. Her actions towards you were aggressive and primitive. You are under attack, and you were abused. Begin to fight back. Fight like hell. The way you do this is through positive agency. Get on a bike and ride. Volunteer at a women’s shelter. Bake a billion cookies and give them out for free. Knit scarves for every homeless vet in your town. I know the pain you feel, and I know how it can twist your thinking. Positive outlets are your way through this dark moment in your life. Cherish them.
Step Four: Education
This stage can be concurrent with any of the stages listed above, but it is no less important. In fact, learning about Borderline Personality Disorder and the many ways it can manifest is essential for your healing. The BPDlovedones subreddit and the Nicola Method website were indispensable for my education about the disorder. I had no idea what BPD even was until I googled “Why does it feel like my ex died”. The next few hours were consumed with a crash course in Cluster B Personality Disorders. I was shocked that each new website was able to describe my relationship and my breakup so accurately. It amazed me to learn that many pwBPD use similar language during splitting and breakups. They talk excessively and have mothers with psychosis. I was dumbfounded to realize that my experience was in no way unique, and that many other people have been fooled and manipulated by pwBPD.
Read it all, and read everything you can. However, there is one big caveat here: find your stopping point. I realized my stopping point was when the heaviness of the situation started affecting my sleep. I had trouble letting it all go in my mind. I felt a strong feeling of compassion for my ex and the harsh emotional world she endures day in and day out. She was abandoned and abused as a child. These feelings for someone who had treated me so harshly were confusing, and I started to feel myself slipping back into the triage phase. So, I just stopped. I closed all the tabs. I stopped reading about other people’s experiences. I had learned all I needed to know and I was ready to move on.
It is important to say that during this education phase you may feel the great White Knight rising up in you. You may feel the great tidal pull towards helping this person who suffers so greatly. Do not fall prey to this thinking. I don’t want to speak for all people with BPD, but I spoke with a psychologist about the tendencies of pwBPD. They rarely seek treatment on their own. They most likely know their interpersonal relationships are messed up. You are not the first person that she will do this to, and you won’t be the last. pwBPD like many people with major problems in their lives (addiction, gambling, etc) don’t seek help until they hit rock bottom. As long as there is a steady supply of people out there willing to enter into this dysfunctional dance with them, they will most likely not seek treatment. It takes the PROLONGED dedication and sacrifice of a parent, a spouse, or a child to get someone into treatment. Unless you are one of the aforementioned, the purpose of educating yourself is to free you from their blame and to walk away with your head held high. Read that last sentence again (or as many times as you need).
Step Five: Introspection
Once you have learned all you care to know about pwBPD, it is time to look inward for answers as well. If your relationship was intense and you had difficulty setting boundaries with or disentangling from the pwBPD, you may have codependent tendencies. This was another harsh reality that I had to accept about myself. I had my own unresolved childhood trauma that made me lose myself and become enmeshed in relationships. This can be problematic in any relationship, but with a pwBPD codependency can cause a tragic whirlpool of events that leaves the codependent heartbroken, confused, and rejected at the end.
Once this realization bubbled to the surface for me, I began to focus my agency on the task of healing some of these wounds and restoring self-love into my life. I created a self-love walking group, read some great posts on reddit, and watched some great videos about codependency. I will post some of what I found in the resources list below. Working with a therapist, I set up appointments to practice EMDR therapy to tackle early childhood trauma. I made therapy goals and a healing road map. I doubled my efforts and redoubled them again.
While all this agency seemed really great at the time, I had another realization that stopped me in my tracks yet again one day. My investigation of codependence was bordering on obsession. I was really motivated to change, but I felt I was doing it for the wrong reasons. I was still feeling the blame and judgement from my ex and accepting their shame as my own shame. I was not being compassionate to my pain; I was being judgmental and harsh towards myself. This realization led me to search for how to finally end the enmeshment and exit this trance of unworthiness.
Step Six: Individuation
One book recommended to me by a friend was the book Inner Engineering by Sadhguru. While I was a bit skeptical going into the book, some of the quotes early in the book kept me reading. I liked the idea that “The only way out is by going in.” I liked the focus on meditation and accessing the joy inherent in the present moment.
While the first chapters are more autobiographical, there is a section in the introduction where Sadhguru explains the essence of his philosophy. For me, this was the game changer. His philosophy all boils down to this one phrase: “I am responsible.” Just reading these words already had an affect on my outlook. He continues, “My responsibility is limitless. If I am willing I can respond to everything. I am 100% responsible for everything I am and everything I am not. For my capacities and my incapacities, for my joys and my miseries. I am the one who determines the nature of my experience in this life and beyond. I am the maker of my life.” Sadhguru is using the word responsible to mean response-able here. What he is saying is that if you are able to look inside yourself, you have limitless power to respond to anything. He is also using the other meaning of responsible here too. You and you alone are responsible for your life.
I began saying this phrase to myself over and over again. I thought it to myself as I lay down to go to sleep and when I woke up in the morning. I did some mindfulness meditation and processed this idea, “I am the one who determines the nature of my experience. I am the maker of my life.” Through this process I realized that the person who had both lifted me up and then dropped me so abruptly no longer had any power in my mind. I have the power to control my thoughts and respond to life events.
Another way that I heard it put is that, “Between stimulus and response is space. In this space is your power.” I began to take control of that space and to tend to my own mind like someone might tend to a garden - pruning and weeding as necessary. If I feel self-damaging thoughts rising, I remember that I am responsible for those thoughts, and I have a choice to think differently. In my journal I began to keep track of this positive thinking. I wrote down achievements and goals, and I began noticing with fresh eyes the wonderful aspects to my self.
The goal during this phase is to shift something called "internal locus of control." Your internal locus of control is your inner philosophy about your interactions with the world. This locus is largely formed in childhood and adverse experiences can cause a child to hold an external locus of control. This is the belief that your life is governed by external forces: luck, fate, circumstance, other people. This can cause many problems, but for me it caused an overdependence on other people for happiness and fulfillment. In relationships, this can cause a codependency and neediness that can be toxic.
What I have found is that shifting your perspective to an internal locus of control takes a dedication not only to controlling the present, but also to revisiting the past traumas that keep you stuck. In therapy, I have learned that these traumas are caused by a lack of agency when they happen. One of my experiences was that I was relentlessly bullied by much older boys when I was younger. In the moment, I responded not by fighting back, but freezing. My fight or flight response in that moment lacked agency and as a result, I developed a more external locus of control. I believed that my life (trauma, success, emotions, etc) happens to me, and that I had limited control over that.
By practicing some inner child meditation and visualizations, I was able to revisit these moments and regain that lost agency. For instance, I revisited one particularly terrifying moment and comforted and coached myself through saying no and setting boundaries with the bullies. This was really helpful in rebalancing my locus of control and taking ownership of my thoughts, my actions, and my goals. This was an intensely liberating realization overall, and I found my recovery from depression, anxiety, and heartbreak began to happen once I began the process of unlocking agency in my past.
Step Seven: Goal-Oriented Therapy
At this point in your recovery you may be feeling stronger and more confident. You may think about your ex only rarely and the No Contact has helped give you the space to heal. One activity that helped me to continue the process of moving forward was goal setting. For someone who had codependency and locus of control issues, goals can be fluid when they should be absolute. If my girlfriend needed to complete x on a given day while I had to complete y, more often than not I would abandon my goal and focus on hers. This is a clear symptom of a codependent relationship and ultimately very unhealthy.
The antidote to this is to begin the process of setting and achieving your own goals. Starting small is a good idea. Write down three goals for a Saturday in your journal and complete them. Set a weekly goal or a monthly goal. As you begin to be more reliable about meeting your goals, more seem to appear out of the woodwork. Maybe new hobbies or friendships appear. Maybe you start to set financial goals and meet them. Maybe your goals become longer term goals. No matter what the goal, the important thing for this stage is this: show up for yourself. You again are limitlessly responsible, and you alone are the maker of your life. Show Up For Yourself. You are worthy of love, and if you don't show up for yourself then no one else will.
Step Eight: Boundaries and Values
After working on being more goal oriented, I began to consider another relationship again. It was pretty evident to me, however, that I should probably only enter into a relationship when I was again stable and recovered from my breakup. I began to think about what I would need to feel that I was out of the woods (or at least well on my way).
My first need was to identify and name my personal values. I realized that these values are the unshakeable foundation of my personality, and they should not be subject to outside forces. When you are codependent and dating someone who has a constantly changing sense of self, you can sometimes unconsciously mirror their tendencies. I found I was unmoored from my own values in this relationship and really lost my sense of self. So, cementing those values was a really important step towards healing. You have to honor what makes you you.
Some of the areas where I defined one or more values were family, my children, friends, my character, work, health, food, alone time, wants, preferences, needs etc. This process is an important one and should take some time. Be very deliberate about each area of your life. I found that taking a day or two to think about each one yielded the best responses.
Secondly, I used these values to generate a list of unshakeable boundaries that I will have moving forwards. For each value, I identified the boundaries I would need to maintain this value while being in a relationship with another person. To give you an example, one value I have is that time with my friends from high school is sacred to me. I set a goal of seeing them at a minimum twice a month - no matter what my relationship status might be. After it was all said and done, I had around forty boundaries that will serve as my terms and conditions for any relationship moving forward. While defining these boundaries was a good first step, boundaries are useless without accountability. This led me to the final step of my process.
Step Nine: Accountability
Boundaries and goal setting are great ways to practice an internal locus of control, but these will only work if you honor them. I see my therapist around once a month. I decided to make the beginning of every session about accountability. Each month I plan to fill out a relationship health worksheet and share that with my therapist. I also will share the progress I've made on my goals in the past month. The aim here is not to have someone else babysit your progress, but to be accountable to yourself. Again, the best thing you can do is to Show Up for Yourself!
So, this is where you’ll find me present day. I am still rebuilding after what felt like a relationship hurricane, but the good news is that you have an opportunity to rebuild your house to be stronger and more resilient than before. You’ll also have a good eye for spotting Cluster B narcissists and pwBPD by their tendencies towards idealization and manipulation.
Resources
The Nicola Method Inner Engineering Hardwiring Happiness Waking up from the trance of unworthiness - Tara Brach The Body Keeps the Score Future Self Journaling
Edit: Added more resources

Rough Night at the Running Bear Casino (PAGE 2 of 2)

**** * ****
Hussein nudged his brother Iqbal and aimed his chin toward the bar. “Look, a fat, stupid American has finally managed some success.”
Iqbal smirked, “It is the only way the infidels can succeed. They have no education and no skills to do anything useful. They don’t even worship their own God anymore, only money and fame. They will soon learn better…”
The brothers were out enjoying a night of revelry, with a few more planned when they reached the city. The celebrations were a last reward before they fulfilled their mission and achieved True Paradise through martyrdom. Hussein was superstitious and hoped to find success at gambling before they took the great risk that if successful, would help to sustain their cause. They’d grown up in this land of debauchery and foolishness but had been taught from the first to honor their own Beliefs and culture above anything the Americans professed.
Hussein was on roll number five of what he intended to be a short run. He wished to win five times for the Five Pillars of Islam, the name of his cell in the latest great Jihad. He blew on the dice and tossed. The small cubes bounced against the back side of the pit and tumbled end over end as he watched breathlessly. “Another ten!” the barker called. And pushed the winnings toward Hussein. He placed a minimum bet and rolled once more. He had already left the table before the barker called, “Snakeyes! Next roller please.”
He held up his chips triumphantly, “Iqbal, more money from roll number five! I kept the bet in place for five rolls, I left only the minimum for the last roll, it is a Sign! We are fated to succeed. We will meet the others tomorrow, go over the plan, and then have a few last nights to revel in this world…”
Iqbal patted his brother on the shoulder, “There is something I would like more than winning chips. He nodded toward the bar and the attractive and sinuous young local who worked behind it, steadily polishing glasses.
Hussein watched for a moment, unsure whether his brother meant the alcoholic drinks that had been forbidden until now or the woman. Knowing Iqbal, he assumed both. “As you wish brother. Take your mortal enjoyments while you can. She looks a little sullen though, frown, lowered brows, I like the happy ones.”
Iqbal’s serpent-like smile widened, “She will look better when I have freed her from the miseries of the uncircumcised. She will enjoy a real man. Who knows? Maybe I will convert her so that we can meet again in Paradise.” With that, he surged away from his brother and slithered up to the bar opposite the young First Nations maid. “Good evening, I noticed that you do not have many customers at the bar. It seems odd that so beautiful a creature as yourself would not attract more company.”
The woman ignored him, intently focused on her task. He tried again, “Perhaps I must order a drink to remain at the bar? If so, a gin and tonic if you please.”
She continued to polish the glass. He leaned forward, “Did you hear me?” he inquired in an annoyed tone. “Perhaps you have no business because you are surly and unhelpful.”
She looked at him and delivered a smirk that appeared to be far more evil than anything he could ever hope to muster, despite his thin, reptilian lips and predatory mind, “We don’t want customers to linger at the bar, getting drunk and building from misery to anger over their losses. We want them playing… and losing.” She leaned toward him and glared into his own eyes that he normally considered flinty and daunting. “You know about losing, don’t you?”
Hussein noted that the large man at the end of the bar in the “Security” shirt had begun stumping toward them. “Iqbal, perhaps it is time to go look for other entertainment.”
Iqbal ignored him, he was trapped in the serpent’s gaze, like a mouse dropped into a snake’s tank to be devoured while its owner watched with perverse interest. Hussein reached for his brother to tug at his arm but never got the chance. The big security officer seized his hand, drew it to his too wide chest and turned. The weight of the man drew him away from his brother and caused him to spin around so that he ended up facing the goon with his brother beyond the man and in the clutches of the Serpent Woman. The ham-fisted gargantuan continued to twist the hand he gripped until the pressure caused Hussein sever pain. He grunted and bent into the angle of his wrist to relieve the distress. He found himself bent forward and looking up desperately toward the man’s face.
The security staffer smiled, his square, blunt teeth showing dark behind an almost lipless mouth. His wide back and chest, covered in body armor under his shirt made him appear like a monster-sized… Turtle. Hussein felt himself lifted and placed behind the bar. His brother soon slithered over the top and fell to the floor beside him, smiling beatifically. Hussein opened his mouth to scream for help, but a large, blunt fist crashed into the side of his head and he saw stars… seven of them, like the Holy... The fist descended once more, and he saw only darkness.
**** * ****
Fr. Danilo Bayani was immensely enjoying his latest trip to the continental USA. He had visited Hawaii many years ago, and New York City more recently, but this was his first tour of the grand landbound spaces that this country offered. He’d managed to roam so far from his origins in Manila. Now, in his twilight years, he longed to see what he could of God’s Green Earth. All on the payroll of The Vatican while they cleanse the records of those hateful… allegations. The bitter thoughts raced across his mind. Of course he was a sinner, he was only mortal. He’d been expiated of those sins and had paid an enormous price to continue serving in his capacity as a parish priest. He forced his mind to return to the moment and more enjoyable pursuits.
He noted the hirsute and similar appearing pair of men who had gone to the bar and wondered why the Security officer approached them, but his attention was called once more to the round of Texas Hold’em and his table mates. When he again had a moment to look, no one was at the bar, in front or behind… curious, he thought, but he quickly refocused his attention on the fascinating new game he was in the process of learning. He was familiar with Poker, so it wasn’t difficult to learn. He liked the high level of interaction that this version of the old game allowed. He’d done well, certainly gained enough to fund extracurricular activities during the rest of his current sabbatical.
He’d been disturbed by the overall atmosphere of this place when he’d arrived. He did not care for the numerous paintings and sculptures of Ancient Native Deities and Spirits. They seemed to be mostly images of the Dark Beings of various Tribal cultures. He loved to study diverse cultures, but this place was an amalgamation of cultures, built for mutual support by several Tribes in the region. Much of the artwork was schlocky and clearly intended to cater to the garish and sordid tastes of the vapid gambling set. Some part of him did not feel… welcome, as though he had intruded on some private Place, set aside for Other Gods.
He shook off the depressing musings… There are NO Other Gods, he reassured himself. He soon stepped away from the table to take care of personal needs and to decide what he should do with the rest of his night. Perhaps he would visit the White Dove Restaurant & Ballroom on the other side of the hotel lobby from the casino. It boasted a good reputation according to online reviews, even though it was a simple buffet style with a dance floor to one side. He liked the name, it was… peaceful he decided.
He soon had a selection of food piled onto a plate and was seated near the dance floor. The place was sparsely occupied, so his hopes of being able to watch dancers as he ate were dashed. Still, the food was good enough. A little bland, but that was necessary in a place that acted as a crossroads of cultures. There was a spice table at the end of the primary row of entrees. He’d helped himself, yet nothing seemed to attach to his taste buds. The combination of eating nearly alone, having no one with energy around him, and the tasteless food soon had him growing restless. He finished up his repast and left the table to go out to the final section of the complex he had not visited, the River Overlook.
As he passed the table nearest the entrance, he saw a stout man in a rumpled sport coat, who glared daggers at him, eyes focused on his crucifix, the only outward sign of his profession. The man appeared to be so hostile, that he paused for a moment to determine whether he’d done anything to offend the fellow. “Excuse me sir, have I offended you in some way?”
The man looked startled. He was apparently unused to being confronted about his demeanor or behavior. He scowled, “Don’t like that thing you have around your neck. You Catholics are all Hell-bound. No concept of righteousness. Not that you’d understand, you people don’t even read The Book. You listen to your priests and pope and disregard The Word. All the kneeling and ritual prayers in the world won’t save you in the end. Go back to your idols and beads and leave me alone to seek Heaven.”
Fr. Bayani was startled by the vehemence with which the man spoke. He hadn’t been attacked directly for his Faith in years. “Sir, I’m not sure what Religion you practice, but I am a man of God, a consecrated priest of the Holy Church. I assure you that I understand more than most, if not as much as I would like. I meant no harm and wish you a peaceful night.”
With that, he started to walk past the man, but the man rose from his table and pointed his finger, “Your pope is the Anti-Christ, and your Church is a place of Satan! Look to the Bible for your salvation before it’s too late.”
Fr. Bayani increased his pace and continued on his journey to the River Overlook. He would need the peace and tranquility that nature and the sound of flowing water would provide to settle his roiling mind.
**** * ****
Pastor Bill resumed his seat and shook his head, “Fool, doesn’t know that he’s risking his soul, courting Damnation.” He’d had a bad run at the tables over at the casino. His Denomination frowned on games of chance, but he had needed the money. One of his congregation had come up pregnant and they had to get it resolved before the three-month deadline for abortions. He knew that if his wife found out about Carmen, then she would divorce him. He was here to break every major rule that he professed to hold dear each week. His plan for quick money had failed, so he’d visited the bar. Now he hoped that eating would guide him back to sobriety. He had to think of another plan.
Seeing that… priest had annoyed him. Had he not been inebriated, he would never have said what he did, nor stared so rudely in the first place. Yet he wanted someone on whom to vent the anger he felt, that arose from fear and he’d always disliked the papists. If his wife divorced him, if the scandal involving the woman who cleaned the church all week and then occupied the back pew every Sunday ever broke; he would lose his ministry, his livelihood. His degree in Theology would be worthless. He might be able to get a job teaching, at some secular school, but most would not hire fervent Christians like himself.
He stared dejectedly at his plate of food that had contained more spice and flavors than he liked, a shadow passed in his periphery. It was low-slung and blurred just a bit as it loped along the wall. He thought he heard an odd laugh, somewhere between human and… canine? Maybe a little like a hyena might sound, or so he imagined. There was a manic quality to the laughter. A jest that was on him so that only the other Entity knew what it was. It was the wicked laughter of children at play, who’d decided to target a fat kid with glasses. A kid whose parents had been abusive addicts but who later “got right” through religious-based recovery programs. Their faith had led him to his own, but he’d never really lost those early traumas of being unaccepted by his peers and being beaten by people who later professed faith above all.
A mocking whine, definitely doggish, his now sobering consciousness informed him. Something was making fun of him, teasing him from the shadows. He looked around for staff members or other customers but found himself alone. The dining area and the dance floor were deserted. It was odd, there was almost always someone at the buffet service tables. He looked over to the kitchen doors in hopes that one of the employees would burst through with a fresh serving of chicken wings or whatever tray had been emptied. He saw dark figures move past the clouded round windows on the swinging doors and temporarily occlude the bright kitchen lights within, but they were indistinct blobs, and appeared to be focused on tasks of their own choosing rather than service of his needs.
He stood and realized that he was more intoxicated than he’d realized. He immediately resumed his seat and bent forward to regain his balance and bearings… and to swallow his rising gorge. When he sat up again, a dark, shaggy form perched in the chair across from him. The figure was no more than a silhouette, a raggedly hewn shadow. Yet there were eyes. Sinister golden gleams appeared and blinked at him. He heard a heavy, panting sort of breathing and a gust of foul-smelling carnivore breath assaulted his olfactory senses. “Who? Er, what are you doing at my table?” he asked in a mushy, confused manner. Still fighting off waves of nausea.
He could not see it very well in the poorly illuminated dining room, but his impression was that the... Being… smiled at him: a gaping, lolling smile, with a tongue dangling out to one side and sharp canines gleaming. “I thought I would check on you my righteous friend. You seem to be upset, unhappy. You nipped and barked at that other person who shares your Faith. I thought perhaps there was a deeper concern preying on your conscience?”
Pastor Bill had to force himself to think through what this… person? Had said to him. Likely some hippie-dippy weirdo. “That guy was a Catholic priest, we’re nowhere near the same Religion.”
Once more he heard the chortling laughter that was now very clear, “I’m sure you think it’s different. Those of his specific religion, came to these lands many years ago. They were the first of you Christians to arrive. The rest have been simple variations on a theme. The problems began, when your co-religionists assumed that only your God exists; that all of the local Gods and Spirits were instead Demons and Dark Powers. Instead of trying to show that yours is a better Way, you Christians insisted that yours is the only Way. You’ve forgotten that in Ancient Times, people held True to Deities who were attached to local communities or to the land and features around them; geographically and ethnically relevant. You have gone from subsuming and incorporating Older Gods as Angels and Saints, to Demonizing Them, and now in your hubris, to denying Them altogether.” He shook His head. “Too bad really, it creates an Adversarial relationship.” He chuckled at some joke that Pastor Bill was still too drunk to comprehend.
Pastor Bill had grown increasingly fearful as the Voice intoned Its Philosophies. He wanted to refute that Voice, to deny Its very Existence. Yet he feared Its Wrath more than anything he’d ever feared, even the Fires of Hell. Instead of making a stand and arguing his faith, he staggered to his feet and ran, stumbled, blindly toward the kitchen and the pale, ghostly figures within. Surely someone within would save him! The sardonic laughter chortled after him and chased him into the too bright lights, descending into the yips and howls of Coyote even as the doors swung shut behind him. He looked around at the glowing white figures who halted in their various progresses to stare at him. Their eyes! There were none, just empty sockets, faces slack, with gaping, lamprey maws. He heard a new sound as they swarmed him… his own forlorn screams of ultimate agony.
**** * ****
Fr. Bayani stood out on the River Overlook platform and enjoyed the solitude that had so recently left him restless. There were plenty of noises out across the flowing torrent: the water itself, as it passed over hidden objects, fish as they leapt from its embrace to kiss the night air, frogs and insects, and the warbling, mournful sounds of a loon, and the soft sigh of the wind as it passed through the verdant landscape. This is much more peaceful than the White Dove he thought. He had some trouble shaking off ruminations on the verbal assault from the strange, possibly drunken man in the restaurant. He decided that he would pray for the man, that he would one day soon find The True Faith. Sometimes that was all one could do for the short-sighted.
He heard a deep, coughing hiss out in the dark. He was startled but quickly realized that it was an American Alligator, cousin to creatures he had observed in many places around the planet. He was truly content, at one with Nature in all Her Glory… in all the natural splendor of Creation! he immediately corrected himself. A sound impinged on his senses as it slowly rose and obscured the others… it was a lapping sound at first, more like ocean waves on a beach than the banks of a river. Waves, at cross purposes to the flow of the river, slapped at the base of the platform. Soon they sounds evolved into splashes, as if something very large approached the River Overlook platform. He leaned over the rail to have a closer look. Perhaps it was a large water creature or a boat… maybe a ‘gator as the locals called the big reptiles.
He peered down at the dim rippling surface below. At first, he was unable to discern anything but small reflections on the water as it swirled and lapped; then from below the surface, he spotted an eye, a too large eye! It glowed from within with a sickly luminescence akin to that produced by deep growing fungi. As he stared in horror, he saw a mouth gape below the eye, and enormous frog-like opening with no teeth but serrated lips, like some monstrous catfish. As he stared, too much in shock to act, he suddenly felt his body wrapped in strong, leprous flesh and he quickly lost his ability to breathe. The last sight he saw before he plunged over the safety rail was the thin, grey, first light of dawn.
**** * ****
Chief Harry Whitehorse gazed around at his fellow chiefs and Shamans from various local Tribes, “So, are The Dark Ones satisfied once again? Have They sated their appetites on strangers so that our peoples will be safe for another year?”
Affirmative rumbles muttered around the conference room. Red Wolf, a Shaman, spoke from near the back row, “They are not only satisfied but Coyote assures us that the prey people will not be linked with our premises or business operations.”
Most of the fresh mutters sounded pleased, but old Harry had to ask, “Can we trust Him?”
Chortling laughter sounded throughout the conference room and ascended into thunderous yips and howls of hysterical glee.

Made a checklist and need ideas on what I have missed

Got bored and made a country building checklist
General
Where is your country?
How big is your country?
What is the population of your country?
What is the landscrape of your country
Where does mostly the resident lives in? Which part of the country?
What are the main industries there?
Is it easy to travel around your country?
Political
Is your country, safe to travel?
What are your country's threats?
What is the political system in your country?
Who is in power at the moment?
How is your country dealing with the current financial crisis?
What are the leaders of your country is like?
Cities
Where is the capital of your country? Which city?
How would you describe the capital cities and any other main cities?
What special attractions can be found in each city?
Sports and Games
What is the most popular sport in your country?
Are there any sports or games unique to your country?
When is the best time to watch them?
How well your country do in international/interplanet competitions?
Are there any sports that foreign visitors practice in your country?
Is football or soccer popular in your country? If so, which are the best teams?
Weather
What is the weather like?
Is the weather very different in different parts of the country?
Can you describe the seasons?
What is the best time to visit?
Language
What languages are spoken in your country?
What language do you usually hear on the streets?
How many people speak English in your country?
Customs
Is there a particular national costume? Can you describe it?
Are there any special local dances? What are they like?
Are the people generally friendly?
What are some special customs or traditions in your country?
Do your country have an anthem?
Economic
What are the principal economic activites of your country?
What does it export?
History
What is the history of your country?
Did your country gain independence from another country?
Tourism
What are the most popular tourist destinations in your country? What makes them popular?
Are there any hotels in your country?
Are there many opportunities to explore the countryside?
Is it easy to find maps and routes?
Is there much interesting architecture in your country?
Are there many famous artists or authors based in your country?
Is there a wide range of shops in your country?
Is it safe to drink the water?
Animals
Is there a lot of wildlife?
Are there any deer, wild boar, wolves, bears etc?
Can you hunt them?
Are there any natural parks?
Is fishing popular?
Is there any bird species?
What are the most popular animals?
Other questions
What are the regular and severe weather?
Have there or is there an civil war(s)?
What has been major evironmental disasters
What are common allergies do residents have?
Do residents work all week? What is the normal schedule? The normal income?
What are the rules about magic? Is time travel allowed?
Is there space exploration?
What are the seasons? What are they like?
What are the results of breaking the laws?
What are funerals like?
What are major festivals? How are they celebrated?
What are things poisonous to residents?
What is the difference between poor, middle class and rich residents?
What are popular shops and restaurants
What utensils do people use to eat?
Are there street food sellers? Are they legal?
What makes certain areas dangerous?
What are common hobbies?
Are there theme parks? Casinos?
Is gambling legal?
What the normal smells in certain cities?
What are favourite perfumes and deodarants?
Is there tensions between different races?
What are common living arrangements?
How do they deal with old age?
Is there nursing homes?
Is there gyms?
What are favourite exercises?
What do they learn in school?
What are endangered resources?
What are popular landmarks?
What is the work ethic like?
What are common superstitions?
What are considered Controversial Topics?
How does election work? Is there magic influence? What are the political concerns?
How does the justice system work?
Is there conventions that go to your country? Tours?
What are the common scams to watch out for?
What type of pets do residents have? Are there pet shelters? Pet shops?
What type of wild animals and magical creatures are there?
Are there farmers and what type of livestock are there? What type of crops? What are primary crops?
What type of trees, flowers and magical flowers are there?
What are favourite snacks of residents?
How does the flora differ from region to region?
Do the plants have special or magical properties? Are there any dangerous plants?
What are diseases in this country and how do they affect residents and the country?
What type of chronic diseases are there? Does magic affect them?
How does each city choose to represent themselves? Flags? Certain coloured uniform?
What are dangerous weather conditions and how do they affect a day? How does the climate differ in the region?
What are the different languages and which are the main language? Are sign language used? What written languages are there?
How do residents greet each other?
What are considered social taboos?
What type of currency are there? Are interplanet/international currency accepted?
How many food does certain species need?
What are the common building materials?
What are the main technologies and how do residents use them? Are there forbidden technology? Are there certain groups that use certain technology?
What is the greatest knowledge? Is there libraries?
What are the main emergency services?
What are the military assistance and when do they come into the picture?
What are the rescue groups? Animals? Disaster?
Are there younglings scouts? Guides? What ages?
What are the races and species?
What are the international/ interplanet relations?
What are races and species conflicts?
What does the country have, that other countries don't have?
What goods are transported into which cities? How are they transported?
How does the country rely on certain trades?
What would happen if a countrywide blackout was to happen? Dangers? How does certain magic work?
What are the most dangerous technology level is?
What are the laws? What are unwritten rules? Are there specific laws for magic
Are there rural and farmland?
What are mineral resources?
What are natural resources?
What are the most expensive items?
What are the water and food resources? Poor areas? Dangerous areas?
Are there religions and churches?
What cults and sects are there?
How accessible are certain areas? Are there any that you can't accessible? What are the borders?
What weapons do law enforcements use?
What types of crimes are committed?
What are favourite events?
What are Rivals and enemies of your country? Allies?
How much of the world is farmland? Forest? Desert? Mountains? Plains?
What are the limits of magic and why are these limits?
Does any of the flora or fauna collected? Used in food? Spells?
What type of society classes are there?
What type of drugs are there? How are they accessed? What are the legal punishments?
What are the accessable healthcare? What quality of hospitals are there?
Can residents access medications easily? How many residents take vaccines? Are there anti-vaccines?
What are smaller emergency services? Rural?
Will emergency services go to the poor areas? Dangerous areas?
What are the special police? Is there a FBI type of police? CIA? NSA?
Create City maps
What are the architectual styles? Show drawings
What type of disabilities are there? Conditions? Illnesses? Does magic affect these?
What pandemics have there been?
How are disabilities treated?
How are mental illnesses treated?
How are Invisible Disabilities treated?
What disability services are there?
Are there magical conditions and illnesses?
What prisons and mental insituations are there?
What protests groups exist? Why do they protest against these? What laws do they break?
What are the main schools? Universities? Colleges? Daycares? Nurseries?
How are the educational system rated in compare to other countries?
Is it common for residents to have children? Are there limits?
What are the unwritten rules to raising children? How does magic affect this?
What happens if a child was to go missing? Abducted?
How are child abuse dealt with?
What if a resident was to go missing? Was abused? Killed?
What is considered Forbidden Romance?
How are LGBT+ treated? Are they taboo? Respected?
What specism/racism is there?
What are different species diets?
What holidays and traditions are there?
Are the residents track? If so how?
What type of transportation is there?
What type of communication services are you?
What are certain magical spell ingredients and artifacts?
How are research done? Health? Food? Magic?
How does the country handle item recalls?
What type of family units are there?
How are births handle? In a hospital?
What type of legal system is there?
Is alcohol legal?
What different type of uniforms are there? Jobs? Schools
What logos exist for the country? Sports groups?
What type of advertising is there? For TV? Streaming services? Internet?
Is there social media?
Are there preppers? What are they preparing for and what are the changes of it happening?
Where are the evacuation shelters?
What haunted and abandoned places are there?
What man made disasters has there been? Magical disasters? Mass attacks?
What has been the worse accidents?
What popular brands are there? Design brands for the following
Food (healthy, vegan, fast food, restaurants, chocolate etc.)
Drinks (coffee, teas, alcohol- beer, wine, spitzlers; soft drinks, juices, milk)
Clothing, fashion stores
Tv and media platforms (internet, mobile phones, tech, social media, streaming)
Drugs (Tobacco, medical use, medication, diet fads)
Furniture
Decor (for different rooms such as bedroom and bathroom. Kids rooms
Toys and things for children and Babies.
Kitchenware
Household items.
Cars
Airlines, car rentals, booking websites and agents
Trains, trams
Car pick up services, delivery services, post services
Shopping centres, groceries services
Banks, loans sharks
Scams like mlms
Charities
Sports teams and lines
Music lines
Social medias
Stationery items and shops
Arts n crafts shop
Publishing houses
Recording studios
Constructions
Law firms
Disability support and funding
Cinemas
Movie agencies
Theme parks
Festivals
Threatres
Subscriptions services
Gyms, weight loss services
Specific schools, private schools
High elite universities and colleges
Search engines
Mobile games, board games
Smart devices
Online shopping
Government
Celebrities
Activists
Watches
Investors, stock markets
Tv shows, current affairs type of shows

The lottery player in Cameroon

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DM not-so-subtly blames me for the material I've used for the character and "being overly active"

CritCrab's videos got me here, and praise be, I've found a place where I can share my story!
This has been on my mind for a while as one of the bad attempts to find a D&D group to play with online. I don't have much luck still and almost always either meet a group which embraces things that I consider personal red flags or exclaim "everyone needs their own group". Nevertheless, this one I thought I had to get off my chest.
I'm a player with great focus on doing RP - which I enjoy a lot due to my love for doing voices and creating characters with distinctive values and traits. I'm often loud, but not the "angry" loud - the "attempt to insert the joke" loud. Though I do my very best not to speak over others or drop hijinks out of place. When it comes to TTRPGs I'm on the instigating side (which is a sin, I know) but most people I played with for very short periods of time were too.... passive, I'd say?
Anyway, to the story...
Playing TTRPGs (mostly 5e, the only system I've ever played so far aside from Shadowrun) online these days mostly means using roll20. Which I did. Browsed through the LFG like crazy and managed to find a game that seemed interesting:A permanently nighttime (due to some magical issues of the world), snowy world with plenty of dwarves and creatures living in such frigid conditions. Sounds great - exploration in the snow and living through the blizzards is pretty cool as a constant natural hazard to deal with.Well, at least I thought so. That was on me - to expect that this would matter, because it never came up once.
The DM told me that this group has been playing for some time - 5 players, 1-2 of which joined half a year ago and the others played from the start, for a whole 1 year. Cool - people that already know each other and won't squabble. They know their pet peeves and won't start anything. Their only collective target could be me, and I'm a guy that goes with almost everything except the aforementioned "red flags".
The party was at level 8 at the time and consisted of:

A dragonborn cleric/sorcerer with the essential need to cause trouble wherever she goes, referring to it as "being the storm that will happen and nothing can stop it". On paper, that sounded fine to me, but when I heard from others that she was setting buildings ablaze, starting bar brawls for no reason whatsoever and had a very clear "Violence is always the first and best solution" personality trait, I started to doubt whether I'm playing with a Chaotic Neutral or with a Chaotic "Neutral" (the kind that is basically a murderhobo with no understanding of consequences).
An..... aasimar, I think (?) warlock who was famous for constantly lying to everyone and using Disguise Self to look like someone else completely. I wasn't there for a long time so I didn't actually get to know who he was, but he was an aasimar when I first met him. A very chill guy, though he hadn't made it in the two sessions I was last in.
A tiefling bard, probably the nicest person in the group. Her forte was talking to people whe the aforementioned warlock wasn't there and was keeping the spirits up.
A centaur ranger which I knew very little about and used mostly as a "social shield" (explanation later). What surprised me was that it was a melee, double-axe-wielding ranger. Great stuff.
A half-elf wizard which I also knew very little about, though he was constantly suspicious of my own character.
And lastly, myself: a homebrew race that I had asked DM to consider and (and this is important) approved with just the slightest bit of hesitation, but after reading through the features he approved of it. My character was basically a sentient meat slime (think Gibbering Mouther) with closed mouths and eyes all over their body that looked like a human. I picked the Path of the Beast Barbarian to fit with the aesthetic of a monster character that had instincts to attack anything that threatens them and asked the DM for some small changes that I thought would be organic in exchange for certain lack of features (most notably, lack of proficiency with any armor or weapons). The DM approved without even the slightest bit of tension. I thought "Sweet, I can finally play the character I've wanted for so long!" My joy didn't last.

The very first session my character had felt a certain level of tension with the dragonborn cleric and the party in general. They were ascending the mountain my character used to live under and was ascending it to see the sights for once. Once ascended, their companion said "You've come here to be tested, so come at me!" Initiative was rolled, the fight has begun.
Fitting for a monster but after some hesitation (my character doesn't like to fight or kill unless enraged and it's an absolute must, which is ironic considering that they must consume freshly killed beings to stay sentient), I charged in as soon as I could. With claws and a grin wider than humanly possible, everyone noticed that I wasn't human.Although that didn't carry past the fight, which we had won somehow - we were only supposed to damage the guy enough, and that was understandable because he was Bahamut in human form. After being beaten, he has taken off, giving us the quest to kill one of his "misguided" evil offsprings.
After that came repercussions. The group noted that I'm strange and definitely not a human, and the dragonborn cleric retained a heavily suspicious attitude towards me for the entirety of the time I was there. To note, for the time I was with the party, I had done nothing to cease the dragonborn from following her antics except questioning her about why should she apply violence to everything, wrapped up in a simplified logic used by my character (my character saw the living beings as either "humans" or "monsters". Humans are kind, understanding and capable of abstaining from violence while monsters embrace violence, kill to consume or just for fun etc. I thought that would fit the recently created consciousness of a former monster). I know the logic was oversimplified and party members told me there were layers to it, but the fact stands - I've never done anything to impede their actions and instead volunteered to help wherever I could.
Next session we headed over to the dwarven town built inside a hollow mountain where they would "report". My character, living in a cave for their entire existence, started checking out what city has to offer - trying to grab food from the stalls but being shoo'd away without payment, asking about what everything is etc. That ceased after the dragonborn just vanished. Apparently, this was her thing - to walk off from the party to do something she wants (namely to start trouble) and for the rest of this session she was basically a spectator in Discord. I was also using the centaur as a "shield" to hide from prying eyes - my character was afraid of too many people. He didn't mind though.
We came into a hotel/casino to report on the matter to a gnome captain of the guard. After the party did (my character was too scared to talk to anyone or even lift their hood up), the half-elf wizard decided to ask the gnome about me. After taking a walk to the wrong room (he led us downstairs, to a literal sex dungeon), we went upstairs into actual rooms.
There, for some reason, our wizard decided to flat out tell the gnome what I was. The gnome jumped in place in panic, and that was the basic que for me to run. He attempted to stop me with spells, but, being a Barbarian with no armor on, I outran him (he was an Arcane Trickster Rogue so he was just a bit short on distance) and crawled on the bottom part of the pillars within the mountain which the city was built upon.After hiding for a while, the warlock has found me and convinced me through his familiar to come down and come quietly. I did, and we went back to the gnome to explain ourselves. After a poorly-placed lie by the warlock, the gnome effectively exiled the entire party from the city and left to gamble. Following a conversation between everyone present (and a couple of bottles of brandy), the warlock walked off to find the dragonborn and we decided to leave.
On the 3rd session, just as it started, the aasimar went missing and I was told that it's "just what he does" (he couldn't make it for personal reasons). So I decided to make amends for the accident I've inadvertently caused. As such, I went back to the casino, found a gnome and, with all possible might that my character could muster (they spoke in broken sentences, lacking articles, skipping and using small words only) groveled before him and asked for forgiveness. It worked and he said that this is the last time.
We needed to go to the coastal city to find a dagger that the party was tasked to obtain by the gnome, plus Bahamut's offspring lived somewhere close to it. So we needed to get on a caravan. After a short trip to the guild (where my character was just as curious about everything and everyone as previously), we managed to sign up to guard a caravan in exchange for a lift.
But just before we've set off, a deva descended upon the city's market and started yelling something among the lines of "if you don't forgive the adventurers you've exiled, doom will befall this city!" The party told me that it was definitely the aasimar doing his thing. I guessed that this was what he wanted his character to do while he was out, so he wouldn't know that we were already forgiven.
Still, we've set off, but somewhere along the way, in the sudden blizzard, we were ambushed by a Nuckelavee (a flayed horse with an upper body flailed human attached to the horse) and a bunch of Yeth Hounds. That said, they basically gave us a fright and nothing else. But they killed everyone in the caravan. So, after disposing of the bodies (my character wanted to chomp them down because "nobody will need corpses" and the ranger said I have a point, but the dragonborn refused to accept that. There was no fight, just two verbal attempts to convince her) on the pyre, we pressed on.
During that travel, we've met a Christmas (was a bit too late for that, but we had to skip a session due to holidays on 1st of January) troupe of..... I think it was fey.... that offered us shelter and food. After that, we've managed to stumble upon a "Stonehenge" with 2 gnolls chanting and chowing down on humanoid bones and corpses. I decided to sneak in there and got a pretty decent score to see that there was indeed only two on that hill and they're both occupied. After some arguing, we've decided to kill them next session.
Before that though, I had a discussion with the DM about my racial ability, which was to scream incoherently, basically casting Confusion in a small radius around me for 1 turn. This affected the party during the fight with Bahamut, and I was worried that friendly fire was an issue. So I proposed to the DM once again to find an alternative to that feature. He said that he'd be willing to listedn, so I presented one - a once-per-day melee attack that deals damage equal to d6 times my overall level. He argued that it was too strong at first and proposed it to be a half of my overall level, to which I responded that I deal that same damage with all attacks on my turn regardless (Path of the Beast Barbarians with claws get 3 attacks, plus my unarmed attack which was a d6 due to a racial feature), in addition to comparing a once-per-day attack with a fireball (which deals 8d6 in an area, can be used multiple times or upcast). Those arguments swayed him to agree. In exchange for that, I asked him that he would give me no magic items at all for some period of time, which was a pretty big deal - the party was kitted out with magical gear and I was running around naked, with only a torn cloak, bandages all over my body and a warm shirt I bought with money I've found on previous victims.
So when the fight started on the last session I was present for, I opened up with the newly invented Chomp ability. I rolled a crit on my attack and did 50+ damage to one of the gnolls. I was ecstatic and a bit afraid.... but from the noises I heard in my earbuds, I guessed that the party was mortified. "That's bullshit" I heard from the wizard. Me and DM explained that this is a once-per-day attack and it only dealt so much damage because it crit. Still, the wizard was having none of it and demanded me to hand over the stats for the attack, which I did. He remained mostly silent for the rest of the session.
Due to myself almost oneshotting one of the gnolls (the DM said I managed to chomp 25% of his head and brain with that attack) and the expert usage of illusion magic by our bard, we managed to kill Fang of Yeenoghu and Flind without taking damage. Afterwards, it was smooth sailing to the city. We did hear the wailing noises resembling child's cry in the woods, but we assumed that those were more Yeth Hounds and didn't tempt fate. We also did run into a ruined and frozen village, which we had assumed to be destroyed by the Bahamut's offsrping still flying in the distance, but that was just to show how much that thing needed to go.
In the city, our first priority was to tell everyone that the roads were crawling with evil fey, about the ruined village and the goat-headed flayed menace. For which we went to the local fort and had to wake up a guard on the wall (I climbed up the wall and threw a pebble at him) to let us in. The bard did the talking, got us the information where to get a possible ship to the island with the dagger and then it turned to a debate on what should we do next - to go after the dragon or after the dagger. I instantly said that I'm not going to cast a vote as my character more or less follows the party because they have nobody else to turn to and will go with whatever, and as a player I had no attachment to the dragon quest or the dagger yet. That remained undecided, as the dragonborn (whom we've left outside the city because she stayed there) has vanished after we came back for her. As always, wizard has contacted her to figure out where she went, but the typical "I'll find you guys later" answer has followed.
After a small (I thought it was cute-ish) encounter with me buying and trying out fish (also unsuccessfully trying to buy a whole-ass pickled shark), we've hit up a tavern. Wizard used Sending to tell the dragonborn where we would be and that ended the session.
After the session has ended, I apologized to everyone for bringing "testing" to the table and immediatelly agreed that the attack had to go. I contacted the DM about it and he said the same. I told him that I was willing to be penalized for inventing and trying such a feature, but no reply followed.
This was the last session I ever took part in. After a couple of days, the DM has left me a "parting message" saying that he shouldn't have let me design stuff for myself and outright saying that I went too far with the homebrew (mind you, he basically approved everything without the slightest bit of hesitation), that I didn't belong in the group and they all decided to they're better off without me. That was instantly followed up with a roll20 game kick and a discord server kick.
The story of that game came to an end for me, I felt sad for a while, but I've decided to recollect some factors that were happening during the game:

Despite the party having two face-type characters, they did very little talking outside of going forward with the designated quests. There also were huge pauses in-between people talking on what they were going to do, which I usually broke up with ".... shall we go?" There was no RP in-between characters unless I instigated said interaction by asking question in-character. Later on, I asked the DM and some players, but I got mixed messages - the DM said they were more talkative before and the players said they are just not the talkative type. All of them. That sounded like my very presence was getting on their nerves.
Members of the party with buffs targeted exclusively the members of the original party. Aid always came onto the original caster, dragonborn cleric (she was heavy on melee) and someone else. Never on myself, despite being a Barbarian with natural Barbarian armor and mostly relying on a giant hit point pool. Now I would understand if the one doing the buffing was the dragonborn - she distrusted me. But it was the bard - the person my character was incredibly trusting towards and she shared the sentiment.
The tendency to walk off and do their own thing seemed to be a norm among the party, and the cleric was constantly expected to get into trouble. I was questioning that IC as to why they wouldn't just let her stay in prison or be killed - she creates this trouble without anyone being involved and deserves to suffer the consequences. This question was never given an answer. Only the warlock once said "if she dies, we can resurrect her". To this day, I still don't understand why.
Not a single player has shown their dislike towards me or the character. I tried socializing with them for a bit (mostly the warlock, the dragonborn and the bard) and it went well. Though I've stopped sending them private messages after a while, there was absolutely nothing indicating that they disliked my presence and the DM said nothing about it, only after I asked him if I'm "hogging the spotlight" he responded with "a bit, but it's not an issue".

I understand that my.... performance as a player isn't exactly what one would call stellar. But this example more or less sums up my entire experience as a player in D&D so far. But all this time, I ask myself "is my luck really that terrible or am I a terrible player at the table?" Or why would a DM open an LFG thread for a game if the group's reaction to the "new guy/girl" is..... that. I don't want to call it ostracizing, but I get the feeling that this is what happened. Or I'm actually an awful player.
TL;DR:
Player joins the game, uses homebrewed assets which the DM approves, the party seemingly dislikes the new player and soon after DM kicks them for "going too far with the homebrew".

Moonhorrors Ep. 2: Teeth?

A creepyhorse story to make you laugh, make you cringe, and maybe keep you up at night.

Teeth?

By InfernoBot
I had just finished recording, and was carrying my dog in from the office, when my mom handed me an envelope. Once I had my sweet pupper nestled into a blanket, I joined her on the couch and slit open my mysterious delivery. Inside was no note, just a brochure to something called ‘Furnal Equinox’ and an accompanying plastic badge bearing the image of a anthropomorphic dog, (maybe it was a wolf), wearing a graduation cap and gown.
As my eyes scanned the glossy pages, my excitement grew; some lovely person had sent me a weekend pass to a furry convention! This was my big chance to make a video detailing my adventures through a mass gathering of one of the internet’s most maligned and misunderstood subcultures. Over the coming weeks, I studied the brochure, read up on the panelists online, noted every question about the furry fandom that popped into my head. My itinerary for the whole weekend was mapped out.
Super chats and KoFi tips managed to cover the cost of a bottom-barrel airline ticket, and I got a great deal on an Air B&B from a charming indigenous woman named Semide, whose sisters had enrolled in college and left their rooms vacant. She was even kind enough to include meals as part of the deal. The weekend of the con finally rolled around; I threw my things in a bag and I was off to Toronto.
Eighteen hours and three layovers later, I was sitting at my host’s kitchen table with a warm towel draped over the back of my neck, sipping a cup of coffee. It turned out Semide was a naturopathic healer and knew some kickin’ remedies for aches, pains and jet lag. I don’t put much stock in essential oils, but damn if I didn’t wake up feeling fresh and ready to face the day the next morning. The convention was being held on the waterfront about nine blocks from Semide’s place, not too bad for a walk, and I reckoned I could make the trek each day.
I left late in the morning, well after the con had opened. No sense waiting in line, I figured. It was three blocks from the Westin Harbor Castle, when I saw the first fursuit.
There was no explaining the rush of exhilaration I felt. This was real. This was happening. I was gradually being surrounded by dozens of people decked out in bright, elaborate costumes. Some that couldn’t afford full suits wore just heads and gloves, giving a ghoulish Frankenstein’s monster appearance to their character. Or the wolf-man caught mid transformation after being bitten by a neon fox in a rainbow pride shirt. The less daring, or particularly destitute, settled for headbands with animal ears and strap-on tails.
Waiting to cross the last street, I was elbow to elbow with a giant Sonic the Hedgehog and a seven-foot tall purple giraffe sporting a quadruple-XL adult diaper. Something told me before the weekend was over, that particular garment would get filled. Before I could contemplate the logistics further, the light changed and the extremely polite, if curiously dressed herd moved into the street and we sorted into a semblance of a line being steadily processed through the doors into the main convention hall. I was in.
The lead-up to the main event hadn’t prepared me for what lay inside. A teenage girl in a ‘volunteer’ shirt thrust an opaque plastic bag into my hands before Big The Cat shoved me aside and began professing his undying love for her beauty. I stumbled into the row of booths on the main floor, further progress blocked by an electric green armadillo strumming an acoustic guitar with a stuffed fish tucked in the strings.
This was it, I weaved my way between con-goers and took it all in. Clip-on LED cat ears. A custom-fit fang booth. Stacks of comics focused on humanoid animals. Racks upon racks of faux-leather collars and leashes. The waifu pillows. I pulled my phone from my pocket and approached the nearest open booth.
Time for an interview, I thought.
Eight hours, two energy drinks and a box of granola bars later, I was dead on my feet. There was no way of knowing how many people I’d talked to as the day progressed. Or just how strange my conversations had become. I think I spoke at length with Cool Cat about the merits of various vape pens, despite the fact I don’t smoke. But it hadn’t all been nonsense.
Before I had degenerated into a gibbering wreck, I had chanced to be standing beside a fountain near the food court and heard a familiar warbling voice behind me. To my great delight, when I turned around I found a young woman with jet black hair, a Hawaiian shirt and a black & yellow long-Furby draped over her shoulders; I instantly recognized her as Teya from Strange Aeons. After she’d finished speaking to her friend, I politely tapped her on the arm and introduced myself. She turned out to be super cool, excited to meet another YouTube creator, and talked to me for about ten minutes as her girlfriend went off to wait in line for the bathroom.
While most of our conversation centered around videos and our special boy Greg, my eyes kept getting drawn back to Thursday Plurbonym Boyporridge. His black and yellow checkered belly, his luxurious black fur, those piercing green eyes; it was all so captivating. I couldn’t quit looking at the charm necklace below his little yellow beak spelling out his name; Thursday. Eventually, I complimented her on her videos and her handsome long-son one last time and we parted ways. It had been a pleasant break, but even here, the persistent strains of Insane Clown Posse that permeated the space were grating on my nerves.
When the time had come for all the furry folk to close up shop and head home, I staggered out into the street with all the lingering con-goers. Despite the initial culture shock, most of the people I’d met had been great. I could stand here, elbow to elbow with ponies, foxskies, giant Pomeranians and adorable cat girl maids on the steps of Westin Harbor Castle, and just enjoy the last moments of the sun setting over Toronto. That is until the moment was shattered by an obnoxious voice that sounded more like it belonged outside a Patriots game accompanied by the echo of shattering beer bottles.
“Now that the party’s over, we can get down to the afterparty at my place; which of you bitches wants to come home with me?”
My head swiveled like a tank turret toward the source of the voice, my face bearing the expression which must have read did this motherfucker just?
A man-child wearing a My Little Pony t-shirt that had been stretched over his prodigious girth, a pair of denim jorts hanging past his knees and sweat-stained socks encased in mandles, slid his oily bulk up behind a group of teenage girls dressed as some kind of anime cat maids. He leaned his acne-studded face in close to them and said, “Since you’re dressed as maids, how about I take you home and make you change my cumm-y bedsheets after a night of passionate love-making.”
The overly-polite locals may have been in shock, but I knew a neckbeard when I saw one and knew immediately what to do.
“How ‘bout you back the fuck off bro, they’re kids.”
Maybe he wasn’t expecting resistance, but he seemed genuinely taken aback by someone speaking up. Once he got a look at me, he re-adjusted his fedora and stared me down. I admit, I might not look terribly intimidating; bulky, but not muscular, with my hair dyed bright teal and swept to one side. At least I had on a Pink Floyd t-shirt, that felt a little like a layer of protection against his fed-aura. He drew in a snot-choked breath and continued,
“As a hetero alpha-king, I can instantly recognize they’re dressed as the maids from Painappuru No Oshiri, they’re harem girls that’re totally thirsty for the main character. Each maid is eager to bend over and present their ripe ruby star-fruit to their master. They’re, like, practically advertising how much they want it in the ass.”
“Why don’t you leave them alone, fuckmuppet?” I retorted. “You look like you're forty and they’re a bunch of teen girls.”
He was not pleased with my argument. The group of cat-maidens had shaken off their surprise and closed ranks. But they weren’t ready when he lunged forward and grabbed at the petticoat of the red cat-maid on the outside, lifting her skirts up to expose the shorts underneath.
“It’s not even a chick, it’s a dude. Chill out.”
A glance at the cosplayer’s face revealed a mask of burning red embarrassment, fear and confusion. Their friends were moving to grab at the neckbeard’s hand, but I was quicker. I swatted his arm like I was chopping down the internet itself and pushed right up in his face. Practically nose-to-nose, I couldn’t avoid the stench of fermented funyuns rolling off his breath.
“Keep. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off of them.”
His chins quivered slightly.
“Oh, you wanna start something, Rainbow Brite? I bet you like it in the ass, prancy-boy.”
“For a supposedly straight guy, you sure are obsessed with getting your dick in a guy’s butt.”
The flab of his cheeks reddened to match his acne.
“You’re gonna regret that. I’m a man with a very particular set of skills…”
I cut him off; I didn’t have the patience for a real-life copy pasta.
“Is one of your skills getting punched by me? Cause if you keep talking, you’re going to be teaching a master class.”
I could feel that neckbeardy-bravado wavering. Perhaps he could sense the crowd around us had turned against him, moving to shield the cat-maids and staring daggers into his lumpy flesh. With one last snotty huff, he turned and stormed away; the sound of his mandles slapping on the concrete echoed off the face of the convention center.
A group of several of the more adulty-er people had ringed the victims and were doing their best to calm them down. I shuffled over and started to apologize for the beardo’s behavior, when the red cat-maid began thanking me profusely and asked for a hug. Apparently, this was not the first time their group had been approached at the convention. We stood around chatting for a while, and they promised to check Evangelion when they got home. Once the cat-maids were safely in their Lyft, I waved them goodbye and turned to make my journey home for the night.
I started back up the street I'd taken this morning, but as I approached the doorway to a grimey building, I became aware of a fully-suited Yogi Bear propositioning a man dressed like Linda-Carter-era Wonder Woman. I was pretty wiped out and didn’t have it in me to process an altercation like this if they noticed me and instead took an abrupt right turn down an alley, intending to zig-zag back to my Air B&B.
I was nearly out the other side when my ears picked up the slapping of mandles on pavement rushing up behind me. A searing pain burst into existence in my lower back, like someone put a cigarette out on my spine.
I went down, hard.
The Mylar swag bag I’d been swinging around all day splashed into a puddle off to one side. I was barely able to heave myself over onto my back to get a look at my attacker. It was him. The Neckbeard. He stood over me, grinning, his yellowed teeth visible in the night. The little black box in his hand flickered with a blue spark as he triggered the taser again.
“Heh heh. You like that, princess? I aimed a little high so I wouldn’t damage your sweet ass.”
“Fuck….you….” I gasped out through the pain. My muscles were cramping like someone had dug a burning fork into my lower back and twisted it up like a plate of spaghetti.
“Heh. You’re the one taking it in the ass, rainbow bitch.” He stepped over me, squatting like a linebacker, bringing the taser close to my face. “Maybe I’ll push this in your eyeball and see if I can make it boil.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of movement between his legs. Something thin and dark darted up from the shadows, toward his exposed back. He let out a cry of surprise, and shot upright, swinging his arms wildly behind him, grabbing at something. He hopped wildly from foot-to-foot across the alley, the tail hanging from the back of his pants swaying wildly with the movement. I thought it was weird I hadn’t noticed the tail before, especially with how long it was, practically sweeping the ground. The fuzzy black appendage was moving...wrong. It kept curling up and twisting out of his hands as he grasped at it, almost as if it were...alive.
“Oh Goddamnit!” He screamed. “What the fuck, dude?!”
He dropped the taser and got a grip on the tail with both hands, tugging on it. A ripping sound echoed through the alley as the seat of his pants tore out. The thing was, the tail wasn’t attached to his pants, it was going in through his pants, nestled between his prodigious posterior cheeks like one of those fetish plugs. As he violently jerked it side-to-side, it was ripping at the fabric of his trousers, the same went for his less-than-tidey whiteys.
“Get this fucking thing off of me!” He howled.
He grunted as the tail slipped his fingers and wriggled another foot inside him. Tears were welling up in his eyes and he collapsed back against a green dumpster. Like a man who had gambled on a street taco truck and lost, he bit his knuckle and gripped his abdomen through his stained t-shirt. It might have been a trick of the light, but I swear I could see his belly distend and squirm; the words ‘Friendship Is Magic’ bulging as something roiled under them.
His mandles dug into the alley grime as he feebly kicked his legs, and I could only watch in disgust as the rest of the fuzzy, black, thing slithered through his leather cheerio. It was incredible. I could actually see its progress as it wormed its way through his body. He blubbered something about God and Jesus as his hand clawed frantically at his own belly, before his voice abruptly went silent.
There was a long, drawn-out wheezing sound, like one of those novelty rubber chickens, as the bulk of the thing moved up his throat. I don’t know how his flesh distended and deformed without bursting, but it reached his mouth and his jaw opened wide. First one small black, fuzzy ear lined with black and yellow plaid popped up, then another, followed by the crown of this thing’s head, pushing his teeth outward like flower petals blooming.
It rose before me, straight up from his mouth, its black and yellow belly slick, but not stained by his juices. His dislodged teeth clung to its matted fur like an obscene necklace. It swayed slightly in the moonlight, a pair of luminous green eyes fixed on mine, and its beak opened. With the rising inflection of someone asking a question, it uttered one word:
Teeth?

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