Heat pump frozen normal

I just bought a laptop vostro 3520 yesterday. I feel like it is heating alot. Is it normal ?

I went and saw Little Big at the Wonder Ballroom around this time last year. The show started, like, an hour and a half late and it felt like air had never moved through that building in its life. It was as hot as Georgia in the middle of August. Im seeing Little Big again tomorrow and I'm worried about the heat. I get shows at smaller venues are always sweaty, but it was so much worse than I would have expected. I was wondering if that's normal for the Wonder Ballroom or if they started so late because the AC was broken.

She prefers to lay closest to me when I sit by her tank at night (right up against the glass) with her eyes closed. Is this normal? And there is a heating pad in that area beneath the tank. I’m very overprotective of her and I don’t know if something is wrong lol

Alright so this one was a little confusing for me. My water outlet cracked so I replaced with the aluminum one and then went and got the updated Dorman heater hose from AutoZone. Install went fine, but my cars battery was dead. Had it jumped let it idle for a little and then took it for a test drive and it overheated again. Reduced engine power etc..the whole 9.
I got it back to my parking spot and turned it off messed with the hose a little and moved the clamps tried to turn it over and the car was dead again. So I took out the battery brought it to AutoZone for them to test it and the battery was bad. Luckily, it was still under warranty so upgraded to a better battery for another $30 or so. Installed it and haven’t had any issues with over heating since.
For a preface I changed the water outlet because it was smoking out from it and leaking coolant. When I replaced it the old water outlet was cracked so it needed to be changed.
Guess my question is, why would a new battery stop it from overheating?
Only thing I could think of is the water pump and thermostat have some electrical components to it and it wasn’t getting enough power to read the coolant temps properly? I’m happy it’s fixed just confused tbh lol

On my throwaway. Not too long ago I got a call from my therapists office that my upcoming appointment was cancelled and that my therapist no longer worked there. They asked if I wanted to re-schedule with another therapist and I said no.
I didn't feel much in the moment and was just surprised, it's one thing I wanted to discuss with my therapist but never got the chance to. I'd been seeing her for a little less than a year. I initially went so I could go in person but that got too expensive. I was only seeing her about once a month because of money as well. We also didn't get to discuss much because normally I was much too tired to get up with enough time for me to go somewhere where I could talk about anything except work(my home has...nosy people.) So the home issues and financial issues didn't come up much. But the work ones did, I think they had to because I said everything really quickly- really easily when it came to work. It's my biggest stressor.
Despite me only really talking about work I still fit in some of my more personal issues that have been weighing on me for....forever. So I really trusted her. More than the other two therapists I had who were flops. I thought we were a good fit. Maybe when I told her I really appreciated her she didn't realize the significance a therapist like her played in my life since I only talk about work. I found her on linkedin, I COULD try to get therapy with her specifically through her new job but it feels like begging. I hate begging. Also she didn't tell me she was leaving or invite me to seek her out. Maybe she wants all new clients.
Work got tough again. I don't know if I'm lethargic because I just came from a long "vacation"(it was nice but I had some...negative feelings the majority of it. Fault of my own, no one who was with me.) Or that this huge project has stressed me to high heaven. Either way I can't get as much work done as I need to. It's not working. I can't do the unpaid overtime I need to because I keep procrastinating. And when I try to start it's like I'm frozen.So now I'm just wondering if I really needed those once a month meetings to vent or talk to my therapist. I need something. Caffeine isn't doing it anymore.
Right now I'm mainly upset because I can't do my work and my job is infinitely important to me. But I'm also upset because my therapist switched companies, and I don't feel right reaching out.

There is some back history I won't get into, but I have been in the process of evicting a tenant. She called The Board of Health after being served the summons and complaint and did not alert me. The Board of Health did an inspection while I was out of state on vacation. Another tenant alerted me that an inspector had visited the property. I called and left the individual a voicemail with no call back. The next day I emailed the admin assistant who sent me a PDF of the findings and order. The one biggest thing on the list was to remediate water penetration in the basement. Obviously, the tenant had provided a tour for the inspector. The house is 130 years old and basement water has always been there. I run a dehumidifier all the time. There are also sump pumps and a grey water drain. The order said that I needed to comply within 24 hours or face $500 a day in fines, until I am compliant. My question is whether other MA landlords run into similar situations, with the Board of Health, over large-scale projects being ordered in a day, which would normally take days and weeks to figure out, and if so how do they deal with it? I am asking for an extension and scrambling to show all the companies i am reaching out to for help, but not sure if we are going to get any leeway.

I stumbled across this:

• https://radiopaedia.org/articles/effect-of-insulin-on-fdg-pet-1?lang=us

And was fascinated. I remember being told the opposite around 2001 as a T1D w cancer at that time. (This is ancient news and not an advice post!) I had been told that the test was about radiotagged glucose uptake into tissues and insulin is a normal part of that process.
But the article says no pump for four hours. It feels like advice like this misunderstands pump therapy - the pump in the absence of eating delivers basal insulin requirements just like a healthy pancreas would. Seems like fasting for six hours makes more sense if you want to mimic a person without diabetes.
Q1: What am I not understanding about this test and advice?
Q2: what other radiology tests are affected by diabetes?

Škoda is quite a reputable brand with a pretty great history. Back home they are some of the most popular and quite reliable cars. Figured we would take advantage of the great prices and get one of their cars.
Sadly the experience has been nothing but miserable.
The car we purchased was a 2023 Kushaq.
Picked up the car on 11th May, (less than 1 month ago). Initially the car had massive vibration (from around 80kmph to 100kmph), which usually means a wheel alignment or balancing issue. Took it into the service centre, and the head service rep was quite arrogant and making it out as if he is doing me a favour by replacing the tires to fix the problem... This was <5 days after collecting the car, barely done 250km.
The car sat in the garage for 1 week. 1 week because they had to get the tires from Abu Dhabi...
We picked up the car. Thankfully the vibrations were fixed.
But then we had the car for over a week and now we started to notice issues:
Problem 1:
The reverse camera (which is mediocre at best) would randomly say "The rear view camera system is currently unavailable". You then have to put the gear in N and then back to R, and it works (even if the message is still on the screen and you haven't cleared it, which I found hilarious).
This would happen maybe 4/10 times.
Mind you there is no button to enable the rear camera, it only turns on when you put the car in R. Bit of a missed feature (Specific to this model).
Problem 2:
Driving the car on rumbles is like sitting in a bouncy castle at a 6 year old's birthday party. I never noticed how many rumbles there are in Dubai until now.
This makes the car quite unstable and unsafe because rumbles are on curved fly-overs, and you loose traction and control between rumbles. Not a fun experience
Problem 3: (the big one)
From the get go, the AC didn't feel quite as powerful, but the heat had still not gotten too bad. Plus the car was being driven to and from work, where it was parked in a shaded parking structure. So for that week it didn't feel quite as bad.
Unfortunately we took the car out on the weekend. And boy was it hot! If the car was parked in the sun, you would feel the wrath of hell when you get into the car (which is normal), but you were made to endure hell even after driving the car at highway speeds for over 40 minutes.
It was not a fun experience.
Sadly, such problems can happen with a new car. You might just get that 1 dud from the production line. Maybe it was our burden to bare so that others wouldn't have to. Thats all fine.
We contacted the service centre, and got the appointment 1 week later (so the car has been sitting in the parking for 1 week since it is un-drivable in this heat). The car has done < 1,600 km.
The problem arrises when you couple this with the pretty crappy service centre experience.
Firstly the service centre is in Deira. We live near Discovery Gardens... So thats quite a trek. Given their service contract of 15,000KM per year upto 3 years, we thought, once a year is not too bad. After that we can just find a more convenient garage, and who knows they might open the service centre in the newer part of town as per their plans (wasn't counting on this).
Secondly, the head service rep is quite arrogant. Maybe he is a word rhyming with bassist, who knows. But he would also talk to you in a patronising and condescending way as if it must be your fault and whatever he was doing was god's work and a huge favour for you. I have owned many cars, currently own 3 others in addition to this one, so I know enough.
Thirdly, we asked to be dropped to the metro so that we could take the journey back relaxed and without traffic. But they refused to even provide this simple gesture. Claiming the reason was because their driver was from Al Ain and doesn't know the roads.
Now, I don't know about you, but I always like my drivers to... you know... drive?
Ok, this is a bit of an extra step maybe we expect because we're a bit spoiled with good service in Dubai. Though it should be noted that other brands like: BMW, Honda, Toyota, Lexus, Jaguar, etc will drop you to the Metro (for free), at least in my experience.
Oh well, thats a lesson learned. And it answered a question I had a few months ago. Why don't we see too many Škodas on the road. Now we know why.
I'm sure there are many people who have had good experiences with Škoda, and I hope I am the outlier here, but yeah sad to see a company with almost 100 years making cars not knowing how to.
Would love to hear how other Škoda owner's experiences have been.
TL;DR
Škoda ownership experience marred with a bad car with multiple problems in less than 1 month of ownership, with an even worse experience with the service centre.

Hey guys,
I'm back with some of the best longform profiles I've found this week. You can also subscribe here if you want to get the weekly newsletter in your inbox. Any feedback or suggestions, please let me know!
***
🚔 The Border Patrol Is an Engine of Crisis—and Has Been Since the Beginning
Tim Murphy Mother Jones
The agency, and the landmark immigration-reform bill that nudged it into existence in May 1924, were backed by eugenicist politicians who feared a Great Replacement by “undesirable” immigrants. The story of the Border Patrol’s founding offers a lesson for the century that followed, and a rejoinder to the agency’s modern myth: Chaos is not just the absence of a border; it is also the consequence of trying to maintain one.
🍕 How Food Critic Keith Lee Went From MMA Fighter to TikTok Star
CT Jones Rolling Stone
His reviews have helped stop businesses from closing, jump-started their online presence, and, in one case, spun a city’s food scene into complete turmoil in less than two videos. Lee’s fans span from teenagers to their parents, uncles, and aunts, a generational divide that other influencers couldn’t even pay to win over. Lee has become the Everyman voice of food TikTok. He’s a bona fide star — just don’t let him hear you say it.
📝 “Curb Your Enthusiasm” Was Larry David’s Book of Manners (🔒 paywall link)
Wesley Morris The New York Times
Even people who don’t watch the show (and that’s most of the country) seem to know the gist, that Larry, as performed by Larry David, is a monstrously entitled crank, the Godzilla of western Los Angeles. But “Curb Your Enthusiasm” is about more than Larry’s probable narcissism. It’s a supreme comedy of manners. How, it asks, do we share a meal, a drive, a party, a meeting, a bathroom, an office pantry, a city — how do we courteously enforce norms and, with modesty, uphold standards?
📰 How to Publish a Magazine in a Maximum-Security Prison
John J. Lennon The New Yorker
I hate to look at it this way, but the fact is, if I had not gone to prison, I would have been dead a long, long time ago. I didn’t care what happened to me. I didn’t have the kind of knowledge and education I have today, where we can discuss this. Back then, I was angry. I just had emotions and feelings. They drive you. You’re too stupid to know anything else.
🧬 This Woman Will Decide Which Babies Are Born
Jason Kehe WIRED
There will still be disease and suffering. We are not that much of an optimistic fantasy. We are taking risk off of the table. For the whole category of cancer, for example, about 10 percent to 15 percent has a genetic component. So 90 percent of people will still get cancer. And the same with neurodevelopmental disorders and birth defects. It’s just going to make it so that more parents can feel more confident and have more information going into the most important decision of their life, which is to have a child.
🎬 Robert Downey Jr. Doesn’t See Things the Way You Do
Ryan D'Agostino Esquire
“It’s so funny, too, because you either constantly remind yourself when things aren’t going your way, or you’re constantly reminded externally when things are going your way,” he says, unwrapping a nugget of Nicorette. “Clearly, the latter is preferable.” He smiles, the bright, boyish smile—rubbery lips and eyes like a sad clown’s and not a care on God’s green earth—that has broken your heart or made you laugh in a thousand scenes.
🎨 It’s Not What the World Needs Right Now
Andrew Norman Wilson The Baffler
But Trump is in office, and my work is deemed less “urgent”—“irresponsible,” even. A curator who selected me for an Art Basel commission ghosts me. A gallerist who wants to work with me says she can’t add a white man to her roster. An esteemed curator from the Middle East tells me I should probably get a day job for a while because my career outlook in the art world is bleak. It becomes trendy to believe that images within contemporary art contexts can directly achieve the goals of political struggle.
🎤 Erick the Architect of Flatbush Zombies constructs his own sound
Brian Braiker Brooklyn Magazine
You either fuck with my music or you don’t. If you don’t, that’s cool with me. I wanted to make a project that I love. I’ve heard reviewers write, “This is like a mess.” I’m like, What are you listening to? If this is a mess, what the fuck is good in hip-hop music? How the hell is this a mess? Or, “This is awkward to listen to.” I’m being so honest. If my honesty makes you uncomfortable, then I’m not the artist for you.
🏀 Ladies and Gentlemen, Ian Eagle
Bryan Curtis The Ringer
To understand how Eagle calls a basketball game, you have to visit him and Jack and Monica in the swinging show-business past. You have to travel to Catskills resorts and $10-a-night hotels on the Las Vegas Strip, where you can hear the sting of the drummer in the house band. That’s where Ian Eagle, the no. 1 announcer, was created.
👔 How Marni Designer Francesco Risso Built the Ultimate Fashion Playground
Samuel Hine GQ
In a way, the cave also served as a metaphor for Risso’s own eight-year journey to becoming one of the most captivating and irreverent creative voices in fashion. Italian menswear is heavy with tradition, but since Risso joined Marni in 2016 he has built his own distinct—and highly unpredictable—universe. He has defied the commercial imperative of the modern luxury business, which increasingly dictates that the fantasy of fashion should take a backseat to the business of it.
🤖 OpenAI Made Sam Altman Famous. His Investments Made Him A Billionaire.(🔒 paywall link)
Alex Konrad, Phoebe Liu Forbes
A founder turned partner and president at Y Combinator who has invested out of a number of funds over his career, Altman maintains a maze of holdings that are not well understood. Forbes sifted through more than a dozen regulatory filings and spoke to more than a dozen people familiar with Altman’s investments to reach the most thorough estimate of his net worth so far: $1 billion, enough to make Altman a new billionaire.
🕵️‍♂️ The Family Who Vanished Into the Bush
Dan Kois Slate
Soon photos of the missing father and his three smiling children were in every newspaper and on every TV channel in New Zealand. Police and volunteer searchers fanned out over the area, knocking on doors. Helicopters, planes, and heat-detecting drones flew over the deep bush surrounding the beach. Rescue boats and jet skis buzzed through the roaring waves, looking for bodies. On days the sea was calm, swimmers from surf rescue teams explored caves along the shoreline.
🍾 How Jay-Z and the 40/40 Club Ruled NYC Nightlife (🔒 paywall link)
Abe Beame Rolling Stone
The allure of proximity to Carter and his circle was the main draw. Once you got through the heavy, fortress-like, wood-panel doors with silver baseball-bat handles off of 25th Street, you might see J. Cole performing on the stairs or Alonzo Mourning hanging out alongside Dame Dash, sharing plates from the menu of greasy, salty, beer-friendly sports-bar standards. Any random day over two decades, Carter and his friends might be in a visible roped-off area, or lingering somewhere in the far recesses of the club.
✈️ The Boeing Nosedive
Jeff Wise New York Magazine
Contemporary air travel is the safest mode of transport human beings have ever devised. That’s because when things go wrong, a robust procedure has been developed to learn from what happened and make changes to reduce the odds that they will happen again. Almost always, aviation accidents happen after a chain of mistakes, any one of which would have prevented the accident from occurring. The challenge for Boeing is to apply that analysis to its own slowly unfolding corporate disaster and find a way to fix its chain of management failures.
🔫 Confessions of a Moll: A Boston Gangster’s Long-Time Girlfriend Speaks
Dave Wedge Boston Magazine
To Grispi, though, Flemmi was something else entirely. She threw her arms around the gangster’s neck and planted a kiss on his lips. For the past nine years, she had been Flemmi’s moll, as gangsters’ girlfriends are known. Throughout the 1960s, a decade known in Boston for its deadly and terrifying gang wars, Grispi had an intimate view of a notorious criminal operating in the city’s underworld and his interactions with his mentors, who would also become his targets.
💸 How A Texas Oil Billionaire Hit A Gusher In Hotels (🔒 paywall link)
Christopher Helman Forbes
Deep in the early 1980s oil bust, the Rowlings and their Tana Oil & Gas couldn’t find any partners to back a particularly promising prospect in Live Oak County. With their lease set to expire, they bet it all on drilling one well. It was 100% risk but they found an oil field prolific enough to support 17 more wells. Only a few years later, in 1989, Texaco bought nearly all of Tana’s assets for $480 million worth of preferred stock paying 9%. “We got paid, and continued to get paid,” says Rowling, who was tasked with diversifying the fortune.
🧠 She had a severe brain injury—so her husband turned to an unprecedented therapy(🔒 paywall link)
Jonathan Moens National Geographic
Every day, for more than 550 days, David has been meticulously noting Sarah’s condition and the impact of treatments: stimulants, sleeping pills, ADHD medications, supplements, cognitive enhancers known as “nootropics," and techniques to arouse the brain, including transcranial direct-current stimulation. He’s also tried various recommended nutrients administered through a feeding tube: shots of espresso, scoops of matcha, mushroom-based powders, liquid turmeric, lemon juice, and Chinese acupuncture tea.
🏡 One Couple's Quest to Ditch Natural Gas
Tik Root WIRED
What unfolded was more than a year of cascading decisions and obstacles that strained our wallets and tested our notions of comfort and sacrifice. While the late nights buried to my knuckles in spreadsheets calculating the payback periods on heat pumps and solar panels were, dare I say, fun, my nerves began to fray when the solar company we wanted to hire abruptly went out of business. They nearly broke when I saw what all of this would cost, and they shattered when I thought we’d have to upgrade the electrical panel. My wife found her limit when we were forced to choose between cutting emissions or cutting trees.
🗑️ The Ex-N.Y.P.D. Official Trying to Tame New York’s Trash
Eric Lach The New Yorker
Tisch believes that she and her aides have developed a plan that will clean up New York City. It’s a program they refer to, grandly, as the Trash Revolution. Bags off the sidewalks. Clean highways. Citywide organic-waste pickup. Beefed-up enforcement of sanitary laws. Tisch has committed her department to implementing these changes, along with other improvements that have eluded previous sanitation commissioners.
🌵 One Man's Quest to Transform the West Texas Desert
Wes Ferguson Texas Highways
He grew up in the Fort Worth suburbs and still lives there with his wife, Neidy Overton, and their three kids. Entering middle age, he’d grown financially comfortable from his career as a software programmer and small-business owner, but he also felt burned out. Overton enjoyed watching online videos about permaculture, a farming movement that preaches harmony with nature. Like many urban dwellers, he fantasized of returning to the land, of building something with his own hands.
🎾 Zendaya Talks Challengers, Talks to Serena Williams, and Considers Her Future
Marley Marius Vogue
Zendaya wrestles with how to exist in public—what to share, what to show up to, how to avoid it all becoming too overwhelming. At one point none of it felt like a choice: “I think growing up, I always felt like when someone asks for a picture, I have to do it, all the time. You have to say yes, because you need to be grateful that you’re here,” she says. “And while I still feel that way, I also have learned that I can say no, and I can say kindly that I’m having a day off, or I’m just trying to be to myself today, and I don’t actually have to perform all the time.”
⚖️ How a Case Against Fox News Tore Apart a Media-Fighting Law Firm (🔒 paywall link)
David Enrich The New York Times
Litigation, however, tended to be a last resort. More frequently, Mr. Clare, Ms. Locke and their colleagues sought to derail or shape stories before publication. To do this, they cranked out warning letters to reporters, editors, publishers and their lawyers trying to poke holes in planned articles and accusing journalists of bias, unethical behavior and getting facts wrong. Citing the possibility of litigation, the letters often instructed news organizations to preserve all documents, notes and other materials associated with their reporting.
♟️ Chess Brat
Jen Wieczner New York Magazine
Long before the scandal, he was notorious for his volatile demeanor and widely disliked. He plays with the face of a bull preparing to charge: raw rage in his scowl, bug-eyed glare, nostrils flaring. Livestreams of his games often end with Niemann screaming and pounding his computer, making the speakers explode with feedback and the webcam tumble down in a blur of lights.
🤯 Inside the Savage, Surreal, Booming World of Professional Slap Fighting
Ander Monson Esquire
It’s the replay, caught with super-slo-mo cameras, that makes it exactly the kind of weird I like: We see the hand approaching the face and then the impact. BAM! Phillips’s face is briefly displaced off his skull, his neck skin stretching, his face in this moment deformed like a rubber mask—that’s how unlike a face it looks!—and then suddenly it snaps back on. And in that extended instant we see the light going out. His face is almost peaceful as he falls in the aftermath of such a sudden blast of pain. The clip ends and we don’t see what happens after.

Orginal Story by C.K. Walker
*Written By Ayden M.N. and u/Memisworld_23 *
SPOILERS FOR BORRASCA V
...
One hundred thirty two. That is the amount of people that were rescued that day on the mountain. I would be lying if I said it didn’t take me by surprise to hear the news about the stables let alone the number of people that were there. It makes me think back to when I was a kid and all the strange and tragic things that happened to me then. It's funny how time changes, how everything wilts away. How life goes on without a wait or stop. Sometimes you'll forget what lurked underneath, and when you do remember, it's already too late. I couldn't say my childhood wasn't bad but it's basically not as cheery as most kids have it.
My father was definitely sucked into his job as a lawyer, while my mom was bustling her back at an old diner, drinking her sorrows away. None had any time to spare for me, as a child. It made me a pretty independent child, and when my mother decided to give birth to Lucy, I became that mother figure that I never had. Aside from Lucy, I had nobody else to talk to. School in Drisking was okay, but I would be lying if I said it was a good experience. I was pretty much alone from childhood to teens. Most kids already had their own friends, their designated trio. I would always refer to it that way. It was by sheer luck that I really did find a friend. Someone who I could share my emo playlist alongside with and in return she taught me a lot about DnD.
However like if the world knew I was meant to be alone, she was taken away from me. I never knew what happened to her, but I beat myself about. If only I didn't moved from Drisking, maybe I could had found her sooner.
The one thing that has remained consistent is my ritualistic daily breakfasts at the diner. From the start of my freshmen year, I never missed a day of going to the diner. It was my way of getting my head together and preparing for the day ahead. Even into my adulthood, I never stopped going. Imagine my surprise when I saw a face that I’d honestly thought I would never see again. It didn’t click at first. I just felt like I knew it.
She was about 5’8” with asymmetrical short dirty blond hair. Her clothes were mainly black and I can just see something protruding from her around her waist. She had a plain black shirt tucked into her pants with a well-kept belt. She wore a Nobel 6 zip up jacket -Clearly a Halo fan- and a small d20 pin on it. Where this seems normal to the untrained eye, I can’t help but feel deja vu from looking at this woman. She seemed like this distant dream that is so fuzzy that it’s just familiar enough to almost recognize.
She walked into the diner and was given a table next to mine. I racked my brain trying to figure out who this was. I examined every part of her, again, and again, and again, just trying to make sense of who was sitting right there in front of me. She was so close, yet she was so distant from me.
“May I help you?” She sighs, putting her coffee down on the table in a way that I can only describe as a contained irritation. “Or are you just going to stare at me like I’m an exhibit?”
I wasn’t even conscious I was staring. She turns to me and it all clicks together. The d20, the jacket, and, my new discovery, looking at her closer and can see her, the freckle on her upper lip.
“Kat? Is that really you?” Stunned, I blurted out. I was adamant that that familiar woman had to be her. No one had that exact same freckle like her.
“That depends on who is asking.” She rolls her eyes taking another sip of her coffee.
She doesn’t recognize me? It makes since she didn’t. It’s been so long. Looking down at my empty plate, as I really wanted her to recognize me. Should I introduce myself? I thought, maybe I'll make her remember me.
“So you don't know me? I can give a hint, I'm sure it might give you an idea on who I am.” I nervously laughed, as I dug into my black leather purse.
Quickly, I pulled it out, plopping down a custom made d20 dice on the table. I remember painting my own dice black, since I was super obsessed with the color black as a teen.
“Wait,” Kat puts down her coffee again, this time with more of a clang. “What is that? Where did you get this?”
Placing the dice right next to my plate, I felt my throat lumping already.
“Remember on my 16th birthday, when it was only you and me. I remember we almost burned the house down because we had the dumb idea to bake a cake.”
“Pauly…?” A slow recognition comes across Kat’s face. Replaced soon by unadulterated joy. “Well, I’ll be damned!”
Tears started to well up my eyes, I was so ecstatic to finally see her eyes flashed with recognition. I slowly got up to my chair, every step I took felt like I was stepping in a pile of needles. Getting a great look on Kat, she looked different from the nerdy shy girl I knew. But, I didn’t care how different Kat looked, I was happy to see my old friend alive.
“I just don't know what to say. I thought I've lost you.” I whispered, my voice already trembling as I spoke.
“Oh,” Kat's voice cracks a bit too, pulling me into a hug. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
Kat seemed to be holding back tears. Just being with her now, I couldn’t even wrap my head around it. It seems so surreal. Even when I hugged her, it felt like it was a fabricated dream. But it wasn't, this was all flesh and blood.
“Just…how are you…I'm so sorry that I never found you. Everyone, even the cops told me that you were long gone. I had hoped you'd come back. Just didn't know it would take this long.” Wiping my tears with my sleeve, I hugged even tighter. She was much taller than me, so I couldn't really comprehend it.
“Hey, hey.” Kat chuckles a bit. Still holding back tears, I could tell. “It’s okay. You…There was no way you could have known. I have a lot of explaining to do, I’m sure but let’s forget about that for now.”
“Yeah…I'm just so happy to see you again.” I sat across from Kat's seat, picking up a napkin to wipe the rest of my tears. It rubbed off some of my mascara, making me think it was a horrible idea to try out some make up today. “So, um…what have you been doing over these years? I see you got a gun holster over there?”
“Well, I…” Kat cut herself off. “I was a SWAT operative. It’s, uh, a long story. How about you?”
“SWAT? No wonder you look so tough and badass!” I then continued enthusiastically. “Well, I'm actually a nurse practitioner. I'm very specialized in prenatal care. I know it's funny because I really didn't like babies back then.”
“Oh? That’s…nice.” Kat’s voice shudders. “And I wouldn’t call myself a badass for being SWAT. It…makes you question a lot of things about yourself for sure. It’s all in the interest of others though.”
My smile slowly fell, as I was scared if I might've made her upset. “I see, I understand. We both are doing jobs that help people, and probably had to endure some bad cases once in a while.”
“Did…did you ever find Kincade?”
Kincade. I haven't heard of that name since after moving Drisking.
I took a deep breath, as I responded. “I did manage to find Kincade after your disappearance. They never told me what happened, and I lost contact ever since. Last time I checked, Kincade moved to California.”
“Oh, thank god.” Kat sighs out of relief, as she takes a seat back down. “Knowing that girl, she’s living it up in LA. Well, I was actually in New York all this time. I thought it would be a good place to settle down. For what it was worth, the NYPD was good to me.”
“Oh I can tell she is. I followed her Instagram, and she's always posting pictures of parties and such.” I tucked a strand of hair in the back of my ear, while I pulled out my phone to show Kat Kincade’s page. “Even if they don't want to talk to me, I'm just super glad they're okay.”
I sometimes wonder why Kincade hasn't had contact with me yet, but deep inside I felt like they were somewhat upset with me. The strange thing was that once Kincade showed up, my mother just randomly disappeared. My father had always told me that she's just had it with us, and left to do her own life. However I never believed that story. Sure my mom was a raging drunk chain-smoker, but she always loved Lucy and I. Her just leaving out of the blue isn't in character, and I just know that something wrong might have occurred.
Kat inspects the page. I can tell it struck something in her. I knew from this point she was holding back a bit with her emotions but for some reason, this broke her. Suddenly I saw my childhood best friend break into a waterfall of sadness. She started to sob. As if she had a dam behind her eyes and they just burst.
“Kat.. Oh shit, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” I rushed towards Kat’s side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
It broke me to see Kat this way, yet I couldn’t help but wonder what made her let out her tears. My eyes suddenly landed at one of Kat’s wrist, a light brown scar was marred on her skin. It was half covered by her sleeve, its appearance was more like a stab wound than a slash. I could tell Kat noticed me staring at it, as she quickly covered it up. The sky was now in a vibrant orange and magenta hue, while the bright sun started to slowly settle down.
Kat finally regained her composure after a few minutes of apologizing profusely.
“I know.” Kat weakly pushes out from her lips through her tears. “I know you see them. I know I have a lot of explaining to do. I got that…from a mission that I’m not sure if you’re ready to hear.”
Leaning against her shoulder, I looked up at Kat with an understanding expression. “I think I’m ready to hear about this. Over these years, I wanted to know what happened in Drisking. I don’t want to stay ignorant anymore.”
“Let’s…” Kat wipes her eyes, only for more tears to take the others place. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private.”
∆∆∆
“As you enter into the Church of the Overthrown Gods.” Kat dramatically pauses. “You feel as if multiple eyes are watching you. As you look closer to the rotting wood altar, you see a tiny eye just peeking out…and then another…and then another…and then another… as they rise up from the altar you see they are on tendeles attached to a large spherical mass. You see 10 tenderals rise all with snake-like eyes darting around the room before meeting yours. As the large mass comes into view you see one large eye on it staring at you and an unnerving smile as it laughs intimidatingly at you. As you realize what is staring back at you is…a beholder…and that’s where we will leave off tonight’s session!”
Several protests fill the room. It wasn’t out of character for Kat to leave off on a cliffhanger, but this is what we have been waiting for since the end of 2008. And even a year later, Kat always leaves the carrot dangling over our heads.
“Hey,” Kat shrugs “I gotta keep you hooked or else our three month streak of all of you attending won’t keep going.”
“Oh, fuck you, Kat!” Kami rolls her eyes lightheartedly “We come back every week regardless.”
“Yeah, but it's more fun torturing you.” Kat giggled while combing through her long hair with her fingers.
Shaking my head, I took a sip on my already luke-warm Snapple, “Typical Kat. Why do you always gotta tease us like that? I was literally witnessing my character finally healing from a poison arrow and just to end at that. I totally can't wait till the next!”
“Thank you,” Kat nods before getting up and starting to pack up and the group follows suit. “I cannot wait for next session. It’s a big battle so I recommend you all start doing some research on Beholders to be ready, because this monster is really tough. Remember, we are starting the next session at level 12, and I’ll see you all soon!”
After about 10 minutes, the rest of the group left except for me. I like staying after sessions with Kat. I don’t understand why the other two people in the group don’t stay. It’s not even 9pm by the time we finished and they are already out the door.
It’s sophomore skip day tomorrow and I sure as hell know everyone will be participating so what’s the rush? Well, everyone except for Kat. From all the time I’ve known Kat up until this point, she never skipped a day or cut any corners when it came to her education. It was admirable but also frustrating. I cannot tell you how many plans I had to cancel because she wanted to study. I never understood why she was so serious about it. It’s like her life depended on her making good grades and being a shining student. I have to admit, I am jealous of her dedication to it.
I would typically leave her to her own devices when it came to school but just by looking at her, she looked like she deserved a break. With the exams and the constant verbal battles between her mother and her father, I can tell just by looking at her, the pressure is on her. I could say the same for my home situation, but I'm already used to it, that it is practically normal for me. Kat, on the other hand, really deserved a break, just this one time.
While I was playing with one of the d20 dice, gathering up courage, I asked, “Hey Kat? Whatcha going do tomorrow?”
“Oh, um.” Kat says not looking up from her notebook, making some notes for the next session. “Just going to school, I should be able to go to take our usual walks tomorrow after.”
A smile crept on my lips, as I definitely predicted Kat's answers. Sure, I did hear that the Sheriff in town was going to give tickets to those that didn't go to school, but I didn't really care about that. I just wanted to have a chill day with my friends. After all, I busted my ass to at least have passable grades.
“Hmm. Hey Kat, why don't we…you know,” I nudged her with my elbow. “Skip school tomorrow?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Kat sighs.
“I know, I know. But I just feel like these days have been for us but we just have fun tomorrow.” I could tell that I was losing Kat already, her mind dead set on going to school. I tucked a strand on my blue hair behind my ear, as I followed Kat. “Kat, please. Sometimes I worry about you because you're working yourself out. Just this once, and I'll promise I'll try to raise my Geometry class to a B!”
“I suppose…” Kat thinks for a second. “It wouldn’t hurt to skip one day.”
“Hell yeah!” I tackled Kat, as I tried to spin her around in happiness. “I promise that you'll have the best day. That jackass Sheriff won't ruin our day. I'll make sure of it!”
“Alright! Alright!” Kat giggles “Fine. Just calm down.”
I feel a sense of relief coming from Kat like I somehow unlocked one shackle that she bore on her ankles. There’s still plenty, and this one is certainly not the heaviest but the littlest weight off of her is enough for her to appreciate.
I let her go as I dashed towards my Jack Skeleton backpack, fetching out my half torn notepad. “ I scribbled some of the plans I have for tomorrow. I was thinking we could dine on Prescott Artisan Sandwiches, and then maybe hike the trail over west of Crystal Lake. What do you think?”
“Yeah!” Kat exclaims. “I heard there’s going to be a few people there tomorrow. Probably could use the social interaction, or attempt to at least.”
“We'll have the lake to ourselves,” I chuckled, placing my notepad back to my back. I really did need a new notepad, however I remember my family was very tight on money at the time. “Oh I almost forgot that Kincade might be joining us too.”
“Sounds good to me.” Kat smiles. “Honestly, that girl needs to be a bit more interactive if you ask me.” Kat chuckles. “As if I’m one to talk.”
“That's why I invited her too. I feel like you girls could get along.” I then jokingly added, “Maybe you can indoctrinate her into playing DnD with us, eh?”
“I’m sure I can.” Kat giggles. “Alright, so are you staying the night tonight? I think I can take the car tomorrow so you can stay if you like.”
“I'll stay, but I should pick up Lucy. My mom said she left her by the Landys,” I rubbed my neck in frustration as I continued. “I hate how my mom just randomly abandons Lucy to strangers. Does she know there's creeps?”
My mother always had done this multiple times, even when I was Lucy's age. A seven year old like Lucy shouldn't be in conditions like this, and I knew damn well that my father won't be available till 7AM. I thought about maybe walking up to the Landys house, maybe it was like 3 blocks or so.
“I think I'll walk to get Lucy. You wouldn't mind my little sis joining in our sleepover, right?”
“I mean, I don't have a big problem with it. Honestly, prefer it to just be you and me but I won’t be kicking and screaming if she is here.”
“That's true,” I nervously laughed, “Either way, Lucy is pretty much a sweet kid, and she will probably be distracted playing with her ballet Barbie dolls.”
Peeping through the windows, the sky was pitch black, almost like a void swallowing the whole town. I took a deep breath, before heading out of the door. Before stepping a foot outside of the wooden porch, I called out. “I'll be back, Kat. If I don't come back, the Skinned Men might’ve caught me!”
“Oh, don’t say that!” Kat calls at me as I walk away. She didn’t seem offended more lighthearted but there was a little seriousness there.
Kat always believed in the supernatural. While all of us grew up and just accepted it was just an urban legend that wasn’t real, Kat believed it. Kat even dedicated an entire essay on the history of the Skinned Man, and where the legend originated from. Needless to say, there wasn’t much to go off of and because Kat is very committed to things, she decided to embellish the details a bit and even I knew that a lot of that stuff was all pulled out of thin air and had no actual weight to it. They were just urban legends that little kids would scare others with. Along those tales were the Triple Tree.
Everyone would carve their names in the Triple Tree, serving like a talisman to these Skinned Men. If you didn’t, then I guess you were fucked. I never really carved my name, for some damn reason, my dad never let me. The moon shined brightly, casting light to these liminal streets. I was already used to walking at night, but for some odd reason, something was off. Crossing the right side of the neighborhood, I caught some headlights shining through the bushes. It looked like it belonged to an old police cruiser, and that alone made me start running. I was not a fan of the officers here, plus I was definitely violating a curfew.
“C’mon, Pauly,” I uttered under my breath, jumping through some fences.
I landed on the backside of the Landy’s house, my knees landing on top of the pavement. Hissing in pain, I slowly wobbled towards the front side of the house. It was stupid of me to think that I would magically land on my feet, but then again I had the shitiest luck. Quickly, I knocked on the door three times, after the fourth knock, the white adorned door swung open. In front of me was a cinnamon brown haired 14 year old boy, who had that bored expression that every teenager had. I recognized that boy as Parker Landy, the youngest of the Landy family.
“Uh, can I help you?” Parker wrinkled his nose, while he adjusted his glasses.
I furrowed my brows, “I’m here for my sister. For Lucy.”
“Oh, okay. Um, I guess you can come in.”
Parker reluctantly ushered me inside, as I wasted no time to search for Lucy. There, located in the dinning, Lucy was drawing while Mrs. Landy was brushing her dark little locks of hair. She was wearing a baby pink ballet uniform, the one that my dad bought her for her birthday. Ecstatic, Lucy jumped up from the chair and darted to my direction. We bid farewell to Mrs. Landy, heading out into the night. However, I caught a glimpse of her face morphing into a sorrowful look. ‘She must have been worried for us,’ I thought, mainly because it was just two girls heading out, embracing the unforgiving night.
“Pauly, where’s mommy?” Lucy’s wide eyes looked at me, grabbing my hand ever so tightly.
I sighed, thinking how to word out an appropriate response, “She’s just working a lot in the diner. So we can afford your ballet classes,” I had lied, flashing an assurring smile. I didn’t want Lucy to know the truth, she was an innocent kid after all.
Crossing up that same street again, I could sense that we were almost close to safety. Or so I thought. A slow rumbling sound of an engine followed behind. It was pitch dark outside, so I couldn’t really tell what color the vehicle was, but I did recognize it. What my eyes could grapple from what little information it had at the time, it was just that damn old police cruiser. Just as I was about to run with Lucy, the dark tinted windows rolled down, revealing an old familiar face.
“Ah little Miss Rhoades. What brings you here past curfew, hmm?” Ex Sheriff Clery asked, while flashing a very wide smile. I remember him being the Sheriff since the 1950s, not before being replaced by Robocop Walker.
Lucy bounced up and down, as she exclaimed “Me and Pauly are going home! Mommy and Daddy are still at work!”
Clery’s gaze looked back at me, his grin growing ever so slightly larger. “Oh really? It’s quite dark out here, you girls might need a lift.”
“No thank-” “Yes please!” Lucy quickly cut me off as she threw the car door open.
She quickly slithered herself in the backseat, while I was too stunned to comprehend. It left me no choice but to take this impromptu ride. Trembling, I sat next to Lucy, shutting the car door behind me. A loud click followed, as both doors were locked.
The whole ride I was scared shitless. I didn’t know why, but I guess I scared myself alot reading Missing Persons cases. I mean, I just entered a car with a person I barely knew. Yes, I know he’s a cop and his entire job is to keep us safe, but I couldn’t help but feel this sense of unease creeping into my conscious mind. It might be from the hundreds of “Stranger Danger” PSAs I’ve been fed all my young life. Lucy probably noticed how tense I looked, latching herself onto my arm.
“It's okay Pauly, the Skinned Men won't catch us anymore. We're safe here!” Lucy nuzzled on my arm, clearly obvious about the situation.
Sheriff Clery let out a chuckle, adding on “Little Lucy's right. No need to worry about those monsters when you're the old sheriff, eh?”
I nervously laughed along, just wishing that we’ll be at our destination already. That just put me even more on edge. I decided to dare a glance at the interior back mirror and I saw a pair of eyes seemingly staring at me and my sister with a look that just sent a chill down my spine. I tried to rationalize that maybe I’m just imagining things but the way he was staring at us was undeniably unsettling.
It was not after a minute later we arrived. The whole minute felt like hours, rightfully so I bolted out of the cruiser with Lucy in my arms. Before reaching the front door, the older man called out, “Be careful next time. You won’t know what’s lurking around these parts.”
After that the police cruiser drove off into the dark void of the unknown. That sentence alone carried an unsettling meaning, yet I could never pinpoint why. Objectively, it was quite normal. It was just a man showing a kind gesture but my gut was screaming not to trust this person. I tried to just brush it off as a misunderstanding but it was so strange I couldn’t.
∆∆∆
“So,” Kat began. “The place still has Prescott’s name written all over the place even after everything that happened?”
“I believe so,” I took a deep breath before continuing, “I really hope it’ll be over now. Sometimes, I wished I could live on with life. Like nothing happened, you know?”
The melody of the forest sung around us as we took in the fresh day’s air and the warm embrace of the midsummer’s sun. We’ve walked through this forest hundreds of times before but it’s like discovering uncharted territories every time we step foot in it. It feels different now. It seems bleaker than it was when we were children. Maybe it’s just an optical illusion or that every memory of my childhood feels like a dream.
“God,” Kat scoffs. “I’d scrub that name off the earth if I could.”
“I have to admit, everytime I see that name, something bad always happens. It's almost as if it was cursed.” My gaze shifted back to the abundance of trees, each of them being so eerily identical. “Thomas Prescott really did sell his soul, and everyone had to pay the price.”
“Don’t remind me.” Kat almost growls like a wolf to a degree that caught me off guard.
Shit, I definitely struck a nerve there. Why? Why did that set her off the way it did? I tried to change the subject into something else. I really didn’t want to upset Kat any further, I felt guilty just by saying that.
“It’s so silent here, I don’t know if I should be on edge or relaxed.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like that. I don’t know what came over me.”
Kat’s eyes dart around before she runs her fingers through her hair with a sigh. It didn’t occur to me until just now that she had been watching everywhere and everything all at once. Every little movement her eyes locked onto. Could be just a natural reaction. I’m sure her line of work requires her to be hyper-vigilant so maybe it carries into her normal day-to-day life.
“You don’t need to apologize, Kat. I was the one who was pushing too much.” The wind blew softly, remnants of leaves danced in the air. It reminded alot about how life is, always pushing you in unpredictable directions. “I was thinking after this, maybe we should help each other out. My therapist gave me the advice that some wounds can’t heal by themself.”
“I can help you. I don’t really need help myself. When I was on the field, I was given state mandated therapy. It was important to do so to not go actually insane from all the messed up things we see. Trust me, there’s a reason why a lot of us quit after a few years of service.”
“ I see,” I gave Kat a crooked smile, “You're resilient, that's what I admired about you.”
Even after all those years, Kat still had those strong traits of being smart and strong. I could help but feel proud of her, and I wished her the best. I got closer to Kat, as I leaned on one of the oak trees nearby.
With a playful tone, I asked. “So when are you gonna show me how to use one of those?” I pointed at her gun.
“You?” Kat laughs. “I thought you hated loud noises?”
I shrugged, raising one of my brows. “Still do. It's just in case anything goes south. Or maybe I wanna impress somebody.”
“I’ll teach you soon. No doubt about that. I don’t have any ear protection on me and this beauty can get pretty loud.”
As we took in the forest’s lush surroundings, I noticed something that I haven’t seen before despite being out here for god knows how many times. There was a perfectly healthy tree in front of us but it seemed as if the bark had been ripped and torn definitely unnaturally; it had to have been done by someone, not an animal.
Kat and I exchange confused looks as we walk closer to the tree. Then, it all came together. I didn’t want to think that someone would have done this again. Not after the original was burnt to the ground a long time back. On the tree there were signatures. It sent an ungodly chill through my whole body. I looked over to Kat to see her reaction and she looked like she was frozen in time. With a look of shock and fear instilled upon her very body.
“It can't be. There's a new one here, but how?” My mouth was agape as I reached to touch the bark of the tree. My fingers grazed against each little individual signature. Each of them being unique, much like their owners’ names.
I look back at Kat. I realized I was mistaken, or perhaps it just shifted. Her look, it wasn't out of fear, no, it was out of resentment and hate and a boiling rage that I could tell is about to spill through. I know that even if I were to manage to say anything in this situation, I couldn’t prevent it from all coming out. What could I say? This isn’t anything I’ve seen from Kat. She always had a way to relieve her own anger but this was an anger that even the cool-minded Kat could not keep under control. Like a wildfire that had found a negligent camper’s gasoline can.
“Kat–”
“They think they can control me even in death but they can’t.” Kat whispers to herself quickly. I barely had time to process before the wildfire finally found the gas. “THEY FUCKING CAN’T!”
Kat lifts her shirt slightly, revealing her concealed gun. A Pit Viper. She draws it at a speed I barely had time to comprehend as she switches off the safety and takes a stance.
“Wait! Kat!”
That was all I could get out before I was overtaken by an ear splitting explosion. I barely had time to register the second one before the third went off. It was the same for the fourth and the fifth. My ears rang the loudest they have ever in my life as the pain in my ears set in and the agony of my head throbbing so hard that I thought my brain would burst from it alone. The sounds echoed through the forest. All the birds and the bugs and creatures stopped in unison as if Kat slain them herself.
And then.
Silence.

My(27f) wife(26f) never lets me use her things.
For a little back story this has happened a lot in the past. It’s ranged from heating pads, to hair brushes, to phone chargers, her camera, her tablet, her scissors, a piano, the best kitchen knife etc. Every single time I calmly have a conversation with her about it, trying to understand. It always starts, settles, and ends the same way. This has been an ongoing issue.
It hurts me more and more every time. I’ve never not shared or offered my things to her. Before I got her a gaming laptop, I let her use mine daily. I would opt and play one of our consoles so she could play games on my laptop. If I see her phone is dying or she complains about it, I grab my charger and plug it in for her. I give my blankets to her when she is cold. She can use all of my bathroom items, my clothes, anything that is mine is also hers. So it’s really hard for me to understand her not letting me touch or use her things. I mean for fucks sake we are married and use our own blankets in bed.
The worst part is she never touches most of it. She’s never touched her piano in the 4 years I’ve known her. She’s never taken her camera out. She’s never turned on her tablet. The good kitchen knife is kept in a separate drawer and she never uses it. It’s just expensive stuff that nobody can use and collects dust.
Now to today. I have been taking online classes for coding, so obviously I very much need a laptop for it. For the classes alone, and for the coding. We have three laptops in our household. I have a big gaming laptop, it’s heavy and it feels like an ordeal to get it out and set up. She has a medium sized gaming laptop, and a MacBook. She hasn’t used the MacBook since she got the gaming laptop for her birthday.
I asked her if I could use her MacBook for my coding classes, because it’s easy to pull out and work with. Plus I’d get to practice with Linux. She told me flat out no and I asked her why. She instantaneously got upset and said that I have no right to touch her things, she doesn’t have to let me touch her things, and that she won’t let me touch her things. It went from 0-100 pretty quick.
Like I said before, I’d really like to understand her point of view more than just being told no. I tell her, “okay and that’s fine. But can I ask why? I’ve never broken something, I always ask before I use it, I’ve never lost anything, I don’t understand why you don’t share things with me.”
She got even more upset, and same as always just shot it down saying “I don’t have to share anything with you.”
After this being an on going issue I got upset myself and out of being hurt I said, “I just don’t get it. You act like a 10 year old who doesn’t want to share toys with their sister.”
She pretty much ended it there saying “you don’t get to use my stuff. I don’t have to let you use anything!” I just walked away tbh and have been doing my own thing since. I’m tired of everything being a fight so I pretty much avoid it now.
During one of our past disagreements about sharing I remember sarcastically saying “did you never learn to share as a kid?” And she said that she never had to. But I felt like it was a joke bc she’s normally super sweet and thoughtful. I mean that’s why I married her, she’s always a good person. Idk.
Other than that, I wish there were more to this or any kind of obvious reasoning. She grew up privileged. She has a sister. Historically between us, nothing has happened for this to be a thing. We aren’t super rich but we aren’t poor. We make enough that she is a stay at home wife. The sharing issue has been like this since we moved in together.
On one hand I want to stop being hurt over this and to just accept it, but on the other I can’t even touch her hair brush for fucks sake. Idk if I should let it go or keep trying to talk about why she feels this way.
So now im asking, AITA for being hurt that I’m not allowed to touch my wives things?

Hey all, it's June and I've started working a couple of shifts a week outside so it's clearly time for my seasonal heat rash. I'm pretty heavily tattooed and this is actually a thing that's pretty normal apparently.
This is my first season outside in the heat while on methotrexate and my skin is much worse than usual.
Methotrexate side effect or just bad luck? Anyone have similar experiences?

Seems like a round about way of moving fluid, but hear me out: I have a niche application in which I need to suppress bubble formation in a fluidic circuit, especially if the working fluid is heated.
I know I can just tweak the pressure regulators and adjust the net pressure across the circuit to move the fluid around, but I've got to send the fluid 'forwards and backwards' in the circuit and that's a lot of timing/controllers/sensors I really don't want to have to deal with.
In theory, could I just pressurize 'from both ends' such that the net pressure drop is zero (but otherwise the whole system is pressurized) and stick a peristaltic pump in-line to move the fluid in the forwards/backwards directions I want?

My beardie won't eat. I've had her for over a year and should have the proper lighting and uvb. I have a 10.0 t8 uvb bulb that stretches the length of her tank and 2 heat lamps that keep the tank at about 85-90 degrees during the day and a little cooler at night. She eats mainly dubias and collard greens but for the past week she refuses to eat. My mom got her to eat 9 roaches a few days ago but said she had to shake them and drop them onto the floor of her tank individually before she would eat. She had parasites before this that we were managing with medication but we've been unable to get a fresh enough fecal sample to the vet because of a combination of poor timing, our vet being 45 minutes away, and the vet's hours. The parasites had been under control but my suspicion is that they've ramped up again, however I'm unable to confirm because she poops when I'm at school in the morning and my mom will go clean it up. She's been otherwise normal, although a little lethargic since she stopped eating. I'm very worried as I haven't been able to get her to eat again for almost 5 days. I want to take her to the vet but my mom is unsure and wants to hold off. (I'm in high school so not much I can do) What should I try to get her to eat?

Hugo Wright sat across from me, portions of roasted heart on the small airplane table in front of him. I watched him skewer one on the prongs of his fork, before popping it delicately into his mouth. He chewed for several seconds, savoring the flavor, before swallowing.
​
“You know, we live in exceedingly interesting times, Miss Snow.” He said. “When I told people I was gonna be a billionaire by the age of 21, they laughed? Said it would never happen, and they were right, I suppose. But I didn’t let that discourage me. I took that pain and I used it as fuel. I persevered. By 22, I owned my first private jet. By 23, I could’ve retired and been set for life and by 26? That was when I truly made it. That was when I finally crossed that threshold and it was… it was brilliant. People said it couldn’t be done. And to most of them, it couldn’t. But, I’ve learned that the laws of ordinary people simply don’t apply to me.”
​
He popped another morsel of heart into his mouth. As he spoke I took down notes on what he said, as was expected of me. Technically as an executive assistant, biographer wasn’t part of my job description, but according to Hugo, my job was whatever he said it was. So ‘Personal Biographer’ had become one of my duties.
​
“So many people settle for ordinary. That’s all they can strive for. But a select few of us were destined to be more. More than ordinary, hell, more than people.” He chuckled, as he took another bite of the heart.
​
“Well said, sir,” I replied quietly. He cracked a smug grin, and I caught his eyes lingering on my legs. He didn’t say anything out loud, but I could hear what he was thinking loud and clear.
“Speaking of being ‘more than people’, which one is that you’re eating?”
“I believe the Grimoire called him ‘Õudus.’ One of the Grovewalkers. They are sufficient for a quick pick me up. Helps to keep my game sharp in between the more high priority kills. Every little morsel helps.”
“Of course sir.” I said. Whatever ‘Õudus’ had been, it certainly didn’t look appetizing. Then again, none of the things I’d seen Hugo summon for his little side project had seemed particularly appetizing… or edible. But he slaughtered and devoured them all the same.
​
“When Godhood is within one's grasp, then the correct answer is to seize it for oneself,” Hugo said, as he finished the last few bites. “That’s the only path that matters. Apotheosis.”
“Of course, sir,” I said again, although I couldn’t help but wonder just how grim a world with a God like Hugo would be.
​
Before I’d started working for Hugo, I’d heard rumors online about what some people were calling ‘The God Rush.’ Crackpot theories about billionaires pouring money into investigating the supernatural, hunting obscure deities and devouring their hearts in some mad effort to become Gods themselves. I hadn’t believed them at first, chalking them down as nothing more than another wild conspiracy theory. They’re a dime a dozen on the internet, after all. But I guess every now and then, the crackpots get it right.
​
In the four months that I’d been in his employ, I’d watched him summon things that logically should not have existed, and I’d watched him slaughter them with power no human should’ve ever been able to use. If I hadn’t seen it all with my own eyes, I would’ve thought it was all madness. But no. I’d seen enough of his unholy power to know that it was all too real. I even carried the ritual dagger he used to butcher them in his briefcase, like any other piece of equipment. Like being his personal biographer, catering to his delusions of grandeur (which seemed to be becoming less and less like delusions every day) was just another part of my job.
​
It was those growing genuine perceptions of grandeur that had us flying out of New York on a Thursday night into Belgium. Part of my job was to keep an eye out for any rare artifacts that might aid his pursuit of apotheosis and it just so happened that a particularly rare one was up for auction. Several pages of a grimoire known as ‘Liber Shaal’. A tome reportedly authored by the Devil herself supposedly containing ancient spells that were not meant to be cast within our world, and more importantly, containing summoning instructions for ancient entities long since forgotten by time. To Hugo, it was an a’la carte menu of fresh entities to devour. New stepping stones on his path to Godhood. Getting those pages was essential, and so we would be attending the auction.
​
On the bright side - I’d never been to Europe before, so if nothing else this was bound to be exciting! And so long as I focused on that, and not the fact that I was helping a lunatic with a God complex get closer to their goal of Apotheosis, all would be well.
​
***
​
We landed in the late afternoon, before taking a car over to the site of the auction. In what I could only describe as a testament to the decadence of the attendees, it was due to be hosted in the top floor restaurant of one of Brussell’s most iconic landmarks. The Atomium.
​
I had seen pictures of the building before - strictly as a curiosity, but seeing it in person was an entirely different kind of experience.
​
The Atomium was a surreal looking building, designed as the centerpiece of 1958 Brussels World's Fair, as a monument to Belgium's engineering prowess at the time. It had been made to resemble an elementary iron crystal magnified 165 billion times. (Hugo made a point to explain all the trivia to me as we drove closer.) It consisted of nine massive steel spheres, connected by steel tubes. How the whole thing didn’t collapse under its own weight was a mystery to me. But it stood, taller than it had any right to be.
​
The car dropped us off at the gate, where a man in a suit was waiting for us.
“Mr. Wright,” He said warmly, giving Hugo a nod as we drove closer. “I’m Mr. Cassel. It’s a pleasure to have you here.”
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” Hugo said, as Mr. Cassel’s eyes shifted over toward me.
“My personal assistant, Miss Snow. She’ll be accompanying me, pay her no mind.” Hugo said coolly, answering his question before he asked it. Cassel gave a nod, and led us toward the building at the base of the lowest sphere.
​
While I imagine that normally, the Atomium might have been a hot tourist spot, at this late hour it was fully abandoned. It was almost a shame. If I’d had more time, I wouldn’t have minded stopping to browse the little exhibitions that dominated the first sphere, which seemed to function as one part art gallery and one part history museum. I wouldn’t have minded getting a chance to explore some of the other four accessible spheres, which according to the map I saw as we came in, hosted temporary exhibitions and special events.
​
Unfortunately - I never got that chance. We were here on business.
​
The Atomium’s restaurant was only accessible from the lowest sphere, via an elevator that ran straight from the lowest sphere, up to the top. I won’t lie - the elevator ride was a little harrowing. As we rode up through the cold steel structure, I could’ve easily fooled myself into thinking we were on our way up a mine shaft, as opposed to being on our way to an action for the obscenely rich. The only view from the elevator was the reinforced steel beams that kept the structure sturdy, although when the elevator doors finally opened, I was greeted with a sight more in line with what I’d been expecting of this place.
​
We stepped out of the elevator into an upscale restaurant area, with large windows showcasing the sprawling city and countryside around us. The tables and chairs had an almost futuristic aesthetic to them, and many of them were already occupied. The figures who had already arrived cast wary eyes toward Hugo and I as we joined them. He just glared back at them, his lips pulling back into a slight smirk.
​
“Evening,” He said, confident as ever.
“Was there anyone who didn’t hear about this auction?” A woman asked. She looked to be in her early thirties, and was dressed in an expensive snow white outfit that might not have looked out of place on a runway model. Her short blonde hair was delicately styled, and framed her face perfectly, and peeked out from beneath what I can only describe as a fashionable white bowler hat. I’d seen this woman’s face before, although only ever in a magazine.
​
Angela Champion… and yes, that was her real name. Champion was the current CEO of the Champion Fashion House, succeeding her father. She’d been a topic of discussion in recent months due to her attempts to start some sort of feud with the twin CEO’s of the Darling Fashion House, although said feud was fairly one sided, with the Darlings seemingly making a point to ignore her. Due to her larger than life online persona, people either saw her as the up and coming queen bee of the fashion world, or as a rich brat, chasing celebrity.
​
“What can I say? It’s a small world, Angie.” Hugo said wryly, sitting down at a table across from her.
“Clearly,” A man by the bar said. He was dressed relatively casually, in jeans and a t-shirt. I recognized him as well. Daniel Hernandez, although I knew very little about him, other than that his father owned a very large, very powerful food distribution company and had a net worth somewhere in the billions. “Guess you can’t have an auction without healthy competition, no?”
​
“I was led to believe that this was a private sale,” Another man said. He was somewhere in his thirties, with long, dirty blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. He wore aviator sunglasses despite it being nighttime.
“No such thing as a private sale, Georgie,” Hugo teased.
​
Georgie. That name made it all click. I had seen this man before, at a conference I’d accompanied Hugo to. This was George Barbier. The self proclaimed: ‘Final Boss of LinkedIn.’ Hugo had made me watch a few videos he’d made, talking about tips for entrepreneurs and wealth management. He’d supposedly made his fortune in luxury cars, although according to Hugo: “That cocksucker only makes money by making people think he’s some hotshot automotive executive.” so it was hard to say what the truth was.
​
“Clearly not,” Barbier scoffed.
“Don’t feel special. They told me something similar,” A second woman said. She sat by the bar, a few feet away from Daniel. I recognized her as well. Mary Williams. Like Angela Champion, I knew her by reputation. Williams sometimes featured in some podcasts I’d listened to, as one of, if not the wealthiest women in the world. She was the current CEO of one of the larger cosmetics companies. I’d heard her discuss her rise from poverty to wealth, pitching her life story as some sort of inspirational tale of overcoming great odds to attain limitless success, yet still remaining humble. Personally, I found her anecdotes a little tasteless. I’ve actually been homeless in the past. Williams described it all as an adventure she had overcome through the strength of her character and her own entrepreneurial ingenuity, rather than the miserable, nearly endless struggle that it was. It was condescending, to say the least. And despite her efforts to depict herself as some gifted heroine who’d risen above the rough hand life had dealt her, a lot of the controversy her company had come under for their laundry list of shady practices painted a different picture of the woman than her podcast interviews did.
​
Barbier huffed in agreement, before taking a sip of his drink.
“Oh come on. How many sellers have you met who wouldn’t be interested in driving up the price, a little.” Hugo teased. “Besides, your wallet can handle it, right?”
​
Barbier ignored him.
“A little underhanded, luring some of us here with a lie though, wasn’t it?” Angela asked. She glanced over at Cassel, who’d made his way toward the back of the restaurant.
“For the record, I wasn’t told about any other buyers either.”
“Well, I was.” Hugo said. “Had a feeling I might run into a few of you, too. Speaking of this lot, any idea what’s on the menu tonight?”
​
“Restaurant is closed.” A man sitting a short distance away said. His voice carried a very heavy German accent. While I knew most of the figures in this room, I didn’t know him. He was big in every sense of the word, looking almost as if he’d been poured into his plain brown suit. Every time he moved, I saw the fabric strain against his muscles. His jawline was chiseled, and his expression was stern. He had an undercut that looked like it’d been measured out with a ruler.
“Closed?” Hugo repeated.
​
The large man didn’t elaborate.
“Yeah. Would’ve ordered some goddamn h’orderves if it wasn’t,” Daniel replied.
“The bar’s still technically open,” Mary added.
“Technically…” Hugo repeated, before chuckling and standing up. “Well, how can I say no to that?”
He headed over behind the bar to fix himself a martini. He never asked me if I wanted anything, not that I was in the mood to drink.
​
I was surprised that no one in the room had commented about how odd all of this was. Lies told to get some of them there, an empty restaurant, an abandoned bar… most people probably would’ve had a few questions about that. But, out of the collection of LinkedIn’s finest in that room with me, not a single one of them thought to ask any of the questions anyone else probably would’ve asked. I suppose when your net worth is ten digits, critical thinking skills aren’t all that critical.
​
Mr. Cassel had disappeared somewhere near the back of the restaurant, and I glanced over to see him coming back toward us.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, ladies and gentlemen. But now that all of our guests have arrived, I don’t see much reason to delay tonight’s event.”
“About damn time,” Barbier huffed. “Let’s just get on with it. I’ll start my bidding at ten million.”
​
Cassel smiled, almost apologetically.
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Barbier.” He said. “Tonight’s auction will function a little differently than you may be used to, but I’ll permit our host to explain as much.”
“You are not the host?” The Large German Man asked.
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Koch. But she’ll be connecting with us very soon.”
The German - Koch, nodded solemnly.
“Connecting?” Angela asked, before noticing a TV screen above the bar flickering to life. Her eyes narrowed as the image of a woman appeared on it. She was middle aged, with long auburn hair and plastic horn rimmed glasses. She wore a crooked smile, as if she knew something that nobody else did.
​
“Good evening, everyone. So glad everyone could make out tonight! My name is Lauren Lapointe and I have the privilege of being your host this evening!”
The moment she said her name, I noticed Hugo’s eyes narrowing. He clearly recognized her. To be fair, so did I. Lauren Lapointe had become a controversial figure in recent months, due to the allegations that she’d been involved in some sort of ‘snuff film, bloodsport’ conspiracy, broadcasting such things for wealthy clients, amongst other illicit services. I’d heard about the case… and was sure I wasn’t the only one who had.
​
“What the hell is this?” Barbier demanded. “Where’s the goddamn book! Where’s the Liber Shaal!”
“Well, according to the old folklore, buried somewhere in the depths of Hell.” Lauren admitted. “Although I have to say, that book is one hell of a conversation starter. Seems like it’s brought you all together, hasn’t it?”
“You don’t even have the book?” Angela huffed, standing up. “Then what the hell are we even here for?”
“The fact that none of you have figured it out yet is a little sad.” Lauren replied. “Come now, don’t be coy. I think all of you know why you want that book. You’re all special! You’re all a cut above your everyday average Joe, aren’t you? You’re the ones worthy of becoming Gods… aren’t you?”
​
A pregnant silence settled over the room. On the screen, I saw Lauren’s lips curl into a knowing grin.
“Yes, I know all about that. I know all about you. Feeding on the hearts of ancient, powerful things, just to drag yourselves a little closer to their level, abandoning your limited humanity to ascend to the echelons you were meant for. I know. And I admire that! I’ve always been of the mind that if you have the stomach to lift yourself above the rest of the cattle, then you deserve a seat at the butcher's table. But what are butchers if not themselves meat?”
“W-what…?” Angela’s voice was small, and I heard a slight tremble in it. Although she was the only one who seemed remotely put off by what Lauren had just said.
​
The rest…
​
Barbier.
Mary.
Daniel.
Koch.
Hugo.
They all sat in rapt silence, and I could see the gears in their heads turning. Lauren had gotten their attention and she had just introduced a very specific thought into their heads. A thought I don’t think had occurred to any of them before.
​
“How much power have you all claimed during your pursuit of divinity? Which of you is truly the closest to calling themselves a God? It’s an interesting question, isn’t it? And once you start asking that, maybe you’ll start asking how similar you’ve become to the things you’ve been feeding on… and what might happen if you were to remove the competition, as it were?”
Angela stood up.
“What the fuck?!” She snapped. “We’re not… we’re not gonna fucking eat each other, you sick cunt!”
​
Although she was alone in her protest. The others remained silent. I glanced over at Hugo. He stared up at the screen. I could only see the back of his head, but somehow I knew what the expression on his face would be. Lauren’s grin grew wider. She knew what they were thinking. And she seemed all too thrilled at just how trivial it had been to plant that idea in their minds. Angela remained stock still, her breathing getting heavier as she read the room.
“No…” She stammered, “No… no… you can’t be… don’t you see how sick this is? Killing those things is different! They’re THINGS! We’re PEOPLE! FUCK, WE CAN’T JUST EAT EACH OTHER!”
​
“Are you still people?” Lauren replied. “People are… small, insignificant little animals. We all know this to be true. But you… you’re not small, you’re not insignificant. You’ve made sure of that personally, haven’t you? You stand above the very shadows that lurk in the darkness, who’ve inspired fear in the minds of primitive, lesser men, and each and every one of you had drawn those demons out of the darkness, and taken their lives as if they were nothing more than meat at an abattoir. People can’t do that. But Gods can.”
​
The room remained silent. Even Angela was left speechless for a moment.
​
Almost dutifully, I quietly opened Hugo’s briefcase. I knew what was coming.
“Food for thought,” Lauren crooned. “And whoever’s left… well… you’ll probably have a prize just as good as anything you’d get from that old book, wouldn’t you? Five of them, specifically.”
​
Those words were what did it.
​
Barbier attacked first… moving in a way no human should’ve ever been able to move. The space around him seemed to distort as he drew one of the nearby tables closer to him, allowing him to snatch a steak knife off of it. He seemed to phase through the bar as he lunged for Hugo, pinning him against the wall, as he tried to drive his knife into his stomach.
​
The moment the carnage broke out, I heard Lauren burst out into laughter. She watched the chaos unfold from wherever she was hiding, and she reveled in it. As Barbier went for Hugo, Mary tried to do the same to Daniel.
​
I saw a ritual dagger, similar to the one I’d seen Hugo use, manifest in her hand. Her eyes locked onto Daniel, who looked down at that dagger and froze. He hadn’t come expecting a fight, and confronted with the reality of what was about to happen, he’d quickly lost his nerve. Mary lunged for him, and Daniel scrambled out of the way, only narrowly avoiding getting his throat torn open by her. Mary lunged for him again, although she didn’t get very far. Koch seemed to materialize out of the air around her, catching her by the wrist. I saw a surge of panic in her eyes as he plucked her arm off of her body the same way one might pull a wing off of a fly. She screamed and Daniel took the opportunity to flee, as Koch set to work disassembling Mary Williams.
​
Disassembling.
That’s really the only word for it.
​
As she screamed, he simply… pulled her apart. Not in the way a human might come apart, though. No. Her body broke in a way that I could only describe as ‘wooden.’ As if she wasn’t made of flesh anymore, but of something else. Although I couldn’t tell if that was Koch’s power, or her own power that did that to her. He gripped her by the shoulders and cracked her like a nut… snapping her body with an audible POP, that did not provide any kind of merciful end to her shrieks of agony. Then, with an almost casual lack of reverence, he plucked her beating heart from the quivering gore in her chest and bit into it.
​
Mary’s screams reached a crescendo, as he let her drop to the ground, writhing in her death throes. I saw her skin grow paler. Her eyes seemed to roll back into her skull as the warped state of her body seemed to catch up to her, leaving her gasping and shuddering in her final few seconds of agonizing consciousness.
​
I imagine that death was a mercy for her. Angela stood, rooted to the spot, looking at the sudden carnage that had erupted. Koch glanced over at Barbier and Hugo, still grappling behind the bar. He looked at me, before deciding I was of no importance to him, then he looked over at Angela.
“No…” She rasped, tears streaming down her cheeks. “NO!”
​
I wouldn’t have pegged her as the sanest person in the room, but clearly she was. She scrambled back, heading for the elevator. Daniel was already there, desperately hammering on the button, although the elevator didn’t come. Angela wasn’t stupid enough to wait patiently by his side. She scanned the space around her, before noticing a fire exit on the far side of the restaurant.
​
Then, without a second thought she sprinted for it, racing for the exit. She didn’t even bother opening the door, phasing through it with some sort of unnatural power. Daniel watched her go, and noticing Koch getting closer, chose to follow her. He didn’t quite have the power to just phase through the door, so he had to open it the old fashioned way. He tore down the stairs, before disappearing into the Atomium and Koch followed him.
​
It was just myself, Barbier and Hugo now.
​
The two men had tumbled over the bar, and seemed to have suddenly remembered that they were both God Eaters who didn’t need to restrain themselves to a simple fist fight, although they also weren’t smart enough to do much more than fight like a couple of 14 year old boys after science class.
​
Gravity seemed to shift around them, as they shoved each other across the restaurant, knocking tables and cutlery aside. I calmly stood and stepped out of the way as they tore each other to pieces, hitting each other with the kind of force you see in the third act of a mediocre superhero movie.
​
The brutality between them was actually a little boring. I’d watched Hugo kill far more formidable creatures, and Barbier didn’t quite live up to some of them. If this was ‘The Final Boss of LinkedIn’, then LinkedIn was awfully pathetic.
​
With one grunt of exertion (that was probably unnecessary) Hugo seized Barbier by the throat and hurled him through one of the glass windows of the panoramic restaurant. His eyes shifted over to me.
“SNOW! MY DAGGER!”
​
I dutifully tossed it into his waiting hand, right as time began to flow backward around us. Hugo glanced back at the window, before the dagger in his hand sank into the skin of his palm, merging with his flesh and vanishing from sight. Barbier rose back through the window he’d been thrown through, as the glass mended behind him. He landed on his feet in front of the window, lips curled back in a snarl.
“Is that the best you’ve got, Wright?” He snapped. “You think you can become a GOD? YOU THINK YOU CAN BECOME ANYTHING?” He stormed toward Hugo, who lunged for him only to be knocked to the ground.
​
“You always liked to talk shit, didn’t you… but look at you now? LOOK AT YOU!”
​
I noticed some of the silverware scattered about the mess of a dining room began to glow with heat. They melted and their molten components slithered toward Barbier, pooling at his feet before rising into a spear, reforged for the sole purpose of killing Hugo. Strange runes were burned into its metallic surface, and Barbier studied them, before grabbing the spear and advancing on Hugo. Hugo tried to stand, but Barbier reached him first, grabbing him by the back of his suit jacket,
“You’re out of your fucking depth, next to me! Now be a good boy, and DI-”
​
In one swift movement, Hugo pressed his palm against Barbiers chest, and his voice died in his throat. His eyes went wide as he felt the ritual dagger Hugo had hidden in his palm tear through his heart.
“You’d be out of your depth in a parking lot puddle…” Hugo snarled, before plunging his hand into Barbier’s chest.
​
“W-wait…” Barbier rasped, although Hugo didn’t listen. He tore his heart free of his chest, and pushed the man to the ground, leaving him twitching and staring vacantly up at the ceiling. Hugo smirked, watching him for a moment, before biting into his heart like an apple.
​
“Mmm… not bad…” He mused, before he waved a hand, almost dismissively. The room shifted around us. That which was broken, returned to where it had been before, repaired once more. In a few moments, it was like there’d been no skirmish at all. Everything was as it was, and George Barbier’s corpse was crumbling to dust where it lay, leaving no trace of him behind.
“Best not to cause a scene,” Hugo said as he finished off the last few bites of Barbier’s heart. “Snow, come,” He said. “There’s still three more to deal with.”
​
“Yes, sir,” I said quietly and followed Hugo as he headed for the stairs, Angela, Daniel and Koch had disappeared down. I noticed that Hugo had paid no mind to Mr. Cassel… who had conveniently disappeared when the violence had broken out. In fact, there wasn’t a trace of Mr. Cassel left in that dining room, almost as if he’d never existed in the first place. Hugo didn’t seem to think about it, so neither did I.
​
Of the nine spheres of the Atomium, I knew that only six were accessible to the public. The lower 5 spheres contained the exhibitions and event halls, while the topmost sphere, where we presently were, was the panoramic restaurant. The three spheres below the restaurant were less stable, which is why they were closed off to the public and the stairway leading to them was certainly a lot less glamorous than the stairways and escalators I’d seen going between the other spheres. They hadn’t dressed it up as much.
​
Hugo led the way down the stairs, moving with the calm confidence of a man who knew he was in no real danger, as opposed to the caution of a man being hunted.
“Keep up, Snow,” He said as we descended into the main part of the sphere. The space around us was wide open and almost completely unoccupied, save for a few cabinets for storage. There was only one dull light in the ceiling that didn’t illuminate much, and cast deep shadows in every corner that seemed to watch us. There were two exits, each one leading down into one of the more accessible spheres.
​
Hugo studied each exit, staring down the differing sets of stairs and listening closely for any indicator on which his quarry might have taken. I remained dead silent, letting him hunt.
“Blood,” He mused. “Smells like Koch has been busy.”
​
He took a step toward one of the stairways, before freezing, almost as if he detected something I didn’t. I saw his eyes go wide for a moment, before the shadows suddenly moved, collapsing in on Hugo like a cascade of water. He spun around, raising an arm to shield his face as I saw a figure materialize out of the inky darkness, a runed dagger in her hand.
​
Angela Champion brought her dagger down on Hugo’s arm, cutting through flesh and bone as if it were butter. His severed hand, still clutching his own dagger, hit the ground with a thud, and Hugo let out a cry of surprise, but not pain before Angela seized him by his shirt and hurled him toward the center of the sphere. Hugo picked himself up quickly, rising to one knee and glaring at the woman across from him.
​
“Well, well… getting into the spirit of things after all, aren’t we Angie?” He hissed. She just stood defiantly between him and the stairs, or perhaps between him and his own severed hand.
“I’m not going to kill you, Hugo. Not unless I have to!” She warned.
“Then you’ll die here with the rest.” He replied, rising to his feet.
“Which’ll include you, if you keep going the way you’re going!” She snapped. “Pull your head out of your ass for five seconds and think about the bigger picture here! This Lapointe woman, she didn’t just bring us together, to have us duke it out for the hell of it! We’re here because she wants what we’ve got!”
​
Hugo grimaced.
“You think I haven’t figured that out?” He asked. “It doesn’t matter. She’s just some mortal, biting off more than she can ever hope to chew.”
“Maybe. But after going through all that trouble to track us down, and lure us here with the promise of the Liber Shaal, something she knew none of us could resist, can you really be so sure she’s just a mortal?”
“How many hearts have you eaten?” Hugo asked coyly, taking a step toward her. “How much power have you taken, Angela?”
​
She didn’t answer that question.
“I can sense that it isn’t much, you know, not compared to some of the others here. Barbier was almost on my level, and that last one… Koch. Oh he’s going to be interesting. But you? You’re weak. I can feel it. You know I’m familiar with the work of Lauren Lapointe. Not intimately. But I know those who are. Nasty piece of work, that one. But mortal. Weak. Insignificant. I know of Lauren Lapointe. And I know we’re not up against a worthy opponent, we’re up against ourselves and one stupid woman with delusions of grandeur. Maybe she’s had a taste of violence like this before, pitting other, small, miserable things against each other like a child putting insects in a box to watch them devour each other. Maybe that’s made her feel strong. But she is nothing compared to the likes of us. And you are nothing compared to the likes of me…”
​
With every step, he inched closer. Angela held her ground for a few moments, before finally taking a step back and as she did, Hugo’s dagger erupted through her chest. Her eyes widened for a split second, as the dagger twisted and writhed through her ribcage, finally bursting free of her and landing in Hugo’s remaining hand. Still, despite the state she was in, she stood, swaying on her feet before he lunged for her, grabbing her by the throat.
“For what it’s worth, you did well to cut off my hand. Shame you didn’t have the stomach to finish the job.”
“No…” Angela gasped, as Hugo forced her to the ground, and tore into her. Her white bowler hat rolled off of her head, and landed by my feet.
​
I could only watch impartially as he ripped her apart, and pulled her still beating heart from her chest. Angela stared at it with wide, tear filled eyes. She knew she was dying. And all she could do was mouth the words: “No… no… no…” over and over again before Hugo took a bite.
​
As he ate, I watched, pausing only to calmly walk over to the stairs to pick up his severed hand, as if it were something he’d dropped. When Hugo stood once more, I offered the hand to him.
“Thank you, Snow/” He crooned, casually popping it back into place, before wiping the blood off of his mouth.
“Of course, sir. Two more to go?”
“One, most likely,” He said. “Then we deal with Lapointe.”
​
I nodded, and let him lead the way. He paid Angela’s body little mind, leaving her in a growing pool of her own blood. I stared down at her remains, and looked into her lifeless eyes which stared up at the ceiling in horror. My eyes settled on the runed dagger she’d used to wound Hugo. It seems that in his fervor, he hadn’t thought to grab it. Fortunately, I was a good assistant and took care of that for him.
​
***
​
As we reached the bottom of the stairs, we were greeted by an almost predictable sight. The bloody remains of Daniel Hernandez lay scattered about on the ground, and sitting in front of them sat Koch.
​
He stared at Hugo, sizing him up before huffing.
“You’ve killed Angela?” He asked calmly.
“It wasn’t much of a chore,” Hugo replied. “And Daniel?”
Koch nodded.
“No chore,” He repeated.
“I thought not. Well, no point in standing on ceremony, is there? We’ve both got places to be, don’t we?”
​
Koch rose to his feet. He cracked his knuckles. I noticed a heavy iron hammer resting in his hands. An ancient weapon, decorated in runes of all sorts. It probably had a very interesting history to it, but he never explained any of that before swinging it at Hugo with all the grace of a raging bull.
​
The world around Hugo distorted, moving him out of the way of every swing. His body seemed to twist and duplicate, making him harder to track and harder to hit as he tried to find an angle of attack. Koch huffed in rage, before slamming his hammer into the ground.
​
A wave of pure energy tore through the room, knocking me off my feet, and sending Hugo crashing against a wall. Koch wasted no time in trying to crush his head into pulp, although Hugo simply dissolved through the wall to evade him, before manifesting behind him.
“A perfect challenge!” Hugo jeered. “But there’s only one throne, for one true God!”
​
A third arm, made of inky black energy manifested from Koch’s back, seizing Hugo by the throat.
“In this my friend… we are agreed.” Koch hissed. More arms grew from his back, seizing Hugo’s body and keeping him in place. He tried to phase through them, but somehow they still held him.
​
Koch’s body twisted and elongated, as his spine slowly adjusted itself so that he could face Hugo and raise his hammer over his head. Hugo stared up into his eyes, before opening his mouth and launching a beam of pure energy into Koch’s face. I heard Koch scream, as his skull shattered, smearing a shimmering dark liquid all over the ceiling.
​
Still… somehow I wasn’t sure if he was dead. His grip on Hugo was still strong, and no matter how hard Hugo fought, he didn’t seem to let go, not that Hugo seemed to want to get too far away from him. No, I watched as Hugo tried to push himself closer to Koch. I watched him drive his dagger into his chest, to try and pry out his beating heart.
​
More hands manifested from Koch to keep Hugo away, but he was so close. As Koch pulled him back from the gaping wound in his chest, Hugo’s limbs elongated as he reached for the mans beating heart to pry it free, and just as he triumphed and pulled it from his chest… I cut off Hugo’s hand again.
​
I saw his eyes widen with shock, but he didn’t utter a single word. As his hand and Koch’s heart fell, I snatched them both out of the air. My eyes burned into Hugo’s from behind my glasses, and I gave him a small, knowing smile before biting into the heart myself.
​
Koch’s entire body seized, but his grip on Hugo grew no weaker.
“Snow?” Hugo’s voice cracked, as the panic of realization set in.
​
I answered him… but not in my own voice. I spoke in the voice of Lauren Lapointe.
“I’ve always been of the mind that if you have the stomach to lift yourself above the rest of the cattle, then you deserve a seat at the butcher's table. But what are butchers if not themselves meat?”
​
My face shifted, revealing the visage I’d stolen. I imagined that the real Lauren wouldn’t have minded my borrowing it. She’d been the one who taught me the primal joys of bloodsport, after all, and I’m sure she would’ve loved watching a bunch of rich morons with delusions of grandeur butcher each other in the name of power.
​
Hugo on the other hand?
​
The look on his face was one of absolute horror as he quickly put the pieces together. He squirmed. He fought. He tried to get free. But I still had Angela’s knife in my hand, and he could do nothing to stop me from taking his other hand, disarming him in every sense of the word.
“No…” He cried, “No… Penelope… don’t! PENELOPE WAIT!”
Oh, first names now? He was desperate.
​
Not that it saved him.
​
And as he wriggled free of Koch’s dying grasp, he only found himself tumbling into mine, where his struggles could not save him as I cut into his chest, pulled out his panicked, beating heart… and took a bite.
​
***
​
There were no bodies left behind when I left the Atomium. No bloodstains or any trace of what had happened there. I saw to their disposal. I could feel the new power coursing through my veins… it was more than I’d ever felt before. It was strange. Exciting!
​
I’d thought the boost I’d gotten from the morsels I’d stolen from Hugo was intense, but this was on an entirely new level! Yet it wasn’t enough.
​
It would never be enough, not until I’d reached the top. If there even was a top.
​
I imagined I’d find out soon enough.

8000 8250 8500 8750 9000 9250 9500 9750 10000

Hugo Wright sat across from me, portions of roasted heart on the small airplane table in front of him. I watched him skewer one on the prongs of his fork, before popping it delicately into his mouth. He chewed for several seconds, savoring the flavor, before swallowing.
​
“You know, we live in exceedingly interesting times, Miss Snow.” He said. “When I told people I was gonna be a billionaire by the age of 21, they laughed? Said it would never happen, and they were right, I suppose. But I didn’t let that discourage me. I took that pain and I used it as fuel. I persevered. By 22, I owned my first private jet. By 23, I could’ve retired and been set for life and by 26? That was when I truly made it. That was when I finally crossed that threshold and it was… it was brilliant. People said it couldn’t be done. And to most of them, it couldn’t. But, I’ve learned that the laws of ordinary people simply don’t apply to me.”
​
He popped another morsel of heart into his mouth. As he spoke I took down notes on what he said, as was expected of me. Technically as an executive assistant, biographer wasn’t part of my job description, but according to Hugo, my job was whatever he said it was. So ‘Personal Biographer’ had become one of my duties.
​
“So many people settle for ordinary. That’s all they can strive for. But a select few of us were destined to be more. More than ordinary, hell, more than people.” He chuckled, as he took another bite of the heart.
​
“Well said, sir,” I replied quietly. He cracked a smug grin, and I caught his eyes lingering on my legs. He didn’t say anything out loud, but I could hear what he was thinking loud and clear.
“Speaking of being ‘more than people’, which one is that you’re eating?”
“I believe the Grimoire called him ‘Õudus.’ One of the Grovewalkers. They are sufficient for a quick pick me up. Helps to keep my game sharp in between the more high priority kills. Every little morsel helps.”
“Of course sir.” I said. Whatever ‘Õudus’ had been, it certainly didn’t look appetizing. Then again, none of the things I’d seen Hugo summon for his little side project had seemed particularly appetizing… or edible. But he slaughtered and devoured them all the same.
​
“When Godhood is within one's grasp, then the correct answer is to seize it for oneself,” Hugo said, as he finished the last few bites. “That’s the only path that matters. Apotheosis.”
“Of course, sir,” I said again, although I couldn’t help but wonder just how grim a world with a God like Hugo would be.
​
Before I’d started working for Hugo, I’d heard rumors online about what some people were calling ‘The God Rush.’ Crackpot theories about billionaires pouring money into investigating the supernatural, hunting obscure deities and devouring their hearts in some mad effort to become Gods themselves. I hadn’t believed them at first, chalking them down as nothing more than another wild conspiracy theory. They’re a dime a dozen on the internet, after all. But I guess every now and then, the crackpots get it right.
​
In the four months that I’d been in his employ, I’d watched him summon things that logically should not have existed, and I’d watched him slaughter them with power no human should’ve ever been able to use. If I hadn’t seen it all with my own eyes, I would’ve thought it was all madness. But no. I’d seen enough of his unholy power to know that it was all too real. I even carried the ritual dagger he used to butcher them in his briefcase, like any other piece of equipment. Like being his personal biographer, catering to his delusions of grandeur (which seemed to be becoming less and less like delusions every day) was just another part of my job.
​
It was those growing genuine perceptions of grandeur that had us flying out of New York on a Thursday night into Belgium. Part of my job was to keep an eye out for any rare artifacts that might aid his pursuit of apotheosis and it just so happened that a particularly rare one was up for auction. Several pages of a grimoire known as ‘Liber Shaal’. A tome reportedly authored by the Devil herself supposedly containing ancient spells that were not meant to be cast within our world, and more importantly, containing summoning instructions for ancient entities long since forgotten by time. To Hugo, it was an a’la carte menu of fresh entities to devour. New stepping stones on his path to Godhood. Getting those pages was essential, and so we would be attending the auction.
​
On the bright side - I’d never been to Europe before, so if nothing else this was bound to be exciting! And so long as I focused on that, and not the fact that I was helping a lunatic with a God complex get closer to their goal of Apotheosis, all would be well.
​
***
​
We landed in the late afternoon, before taking a car over to the site of the auction. In what I could only describe as a testament to the decadence of the attendees, it was due to be hosted in the top floor restaurant of one of Brussell’s most iconic landmarks. The Atomium.
​
I had seen pictures of the building before - strictly as a curiosity, but seeing it in person was an entirely different kind of experience.
​
The Atomium was a surreal looking building, designed as the centerpiece of 1958 Brussels World's Fair, as a monument to Belgium's engineering prowess at the time. It had been made to resemble an elementary iron crystal magnified 165 billion times. (Hugo made a point to explain all the trivia to me as we drove closer.) It consisted of nine massive steel spheres, connected by steel tubes. How the whole thing didn’t collapse under its own weight was a mystery to me. But it stood, taller than it had any right to be.
​
The car dropped us off at the gate, where a man in a suit was waiting for us.
“Mr. Wright,” He said warmly, giving Hugo a nod as we drove closer. “I’m Mr. Cassel. It’s a pleasure to have you here.”
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” Hugo said, as Mr. Cassel’s eyes shifted over toward me.
“My personal assistant, Miss Snow. She’ll be accompanying me, pay her no mind.” Hugo said coolly, answering his question before he asked it. Cassel gave a nod, and led us toward the building at the base of the lowest sphere.
​
While I imagine that normally, the Atomium might have been a hot tourist spot, at this late hour it was fully abandoned. It was almost a shame. If I’d had more time, I wouldn’t have minded stopping to browse the little exhibitions that dominated the first sphere, which seemed to function as one part art gallery and one part history museum. I wouldn’t have minded getting a chance to explore some of the other four accessible spheres, which according to the map I saw as we came in, hosted temporary exhibitions and special events.
​
Unfortunately - I never got that chance. We were here on business.
​
The Atomium’s restaurant was only accessible from the lowest sphere, via an elevator that ran straight from the lowest sphere, up to the top. I won’t lie - the elevator ride was a little harrowing. As we rode up through the cold steel structure, I could’ve easily fooled myself into thinking we were on our way up a mine shaft, as opposed to being on our way to an action for the obscenely rich. The only view from the elevator was the reinforced steel beams that kept the structure sturdy, although when the elevator doors finally opened, I was greeted with a sight more in line with what I’d been expecting of this place.
​
We stepped out of the elevator into an upscale restaurant area, with large windows showcasing the sprawling city and countryside around us. The tables and chairs had an almost futuristic aesthetic to them, and many of them were already occupied. The figures who had already arrived cast wary eyes toward Hugo and I as we joined them. He just glared back at them, his lips pulling back into a slight smirk.
​
“Evening,” He said, confident as ever.
“Was there anyone who didn’t hear about this auction?” A woman asked. She looked to be in her early thirties, and was dressed in an expensive snow white outfit that might not have looked out of place on a runway model. Her short blonde hair was delicately styled, and framed her face perfectly, and peeked out from beneath what I can only describe as a fashionable white bowler hat. I’d seen this woman’s face before, although only ever in a magazine.
​
Angela Champion… and yes, that was her real name. Champion was the current CEO of the Champion Fashion House, succeeding her father. She’d been a topic of discussion in recent months due to her attempts to start some sort of feud with the twin CEO’s of the Darling Fashion House, although said feud was fairly one sided, with the Darlings seemingly making a point to ignore her. Due to her larger than life online persona, people either saw her as the up and coming queen bee of the fashion world, or as a rich brat, chasing celebrity.
​
“What can I say? It’s a small world, Angie.” Hugo said wryly, sitting down at a table across from her.
“Clearly,” A man by the bar said. He was dressed relatively casually, in jeans and a t-shirt. I recognized him as well. Daniel Hernandez, although I knew very little about him, other than that his father owned a very large, very powerful food distribution company and had a net worth somewhere in the billions. “Guess you can’t have an auction without healthy competition, no?”
​
“I was led to believe that this was a private sale,” Another man said. He was somewhere in his thirties, with long, dirty blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. He wore aviator sunglasses despite it being nighttime.
“No such thing as a private sale, Georgie,” Hugo teased.
​
Georgie. That name made it all click. I had seen this man before, at a conference I’d accompanied Hugo to. This was George Barbier. The self proclaimed: ‘Final Boss of LinkedIn.’ Hugo had made me watch a few videos he’d made, talking about tips for entrepreneurs and wealth management. He’d supposedly made his fortune in luxury cars, although according to Hugo: “That cocksucker only makes money by making people think he’s some hotshot automotive executive.” so it was hard to say what the truth was.
​
“Clearly not,” Barbier scoffed.
“Don’t feel special. They told me something similar,” A second woman said. She sat by the bar, a few feet away from Daniel. I recognized her as well. Mary Williams. Like Angela Champion, I knew her by reputation. Williams sometimes featured in some podcasts I’d listened to, as one of, if not the wealthiest women in the world. She was the current CEO of one of the larger cosmetics companies. I’d heard her discuss her rise from poverty to wealth, pitching her life story as some sort of inspirational tale of overcoming great odds to attain limitless success, yet still remaining humble. Personally, I found her anecdotes a little tasteless. I’ve actually been homeless in the past. Williams described it all as an adventure she had overcome through the strength of her character and her own entrepreneurial ingenuity, rather than the miserable, nearly endless struggle that it was. It was condescending, to say the least. And despite her efforts to depict herself as some gifted heroine who’d risen above the rough hand life had dealt her, a lot of the controversy her company had come under for their laundry list of shady practices painted a different picture of the woman than her podcast interviews did.
​
Barbier huffed in agreement, before taking a sip of his drink.
“Oh come on. How many sellers have you met who wouldn’t be interested in driving up the price, a little.” Hugo teased. “Besides, your wallet can handle it, right?”
​
Barbier ignored him.
“A little underhanded, luring some of us here with a lie though, wasn’t it?” Angela asked. She glanced over at Cassel, who’d made his way toward the back of the restaurant.
“For the record, I wasn’t told about any other buyers either.”
“Well, I was.” Hugo said. “Had a feeling I might run into a few of you, too. Speaking of this lot, any idea what’s on the menu tonight?”
​
“Restaurant is closed.” A man sitting a short distance away said. His voice carried a very heavy German accent. While I knew most of the figures in this room, I didn’t know him. He was big in every sense of the word, looking almost as if he’d been poured into his plain brown suit. Every time he moved, I saw the fabric strain against his muscles. His jawline was chiseled, and his expression was stern. He had an undercut that looked like it’d been measured out with a ruler.
“Closed?” Hugo repeated.
​
The large man didn’t elaborate.
“Yeah. Would’ve ordered some goddamn h’orderves if it wasn’t,” Daniel replied.
“The bar’s still technically open,” Mary added.
“Technically…” Hugo repeated, before chuckling and standing up. “Well, how can I say no to that?”
He headed over behind the bar to fix himself a martini. He never asked me if I wanted anything, not that I was in the mood to drink.
​
I was surprised that no one in the room had commented about how odd all of this was. Lies told to get some of them there, an empty restaurant, an abandoned bar… most people probably would’ve had a few questions about that. But, out of the collection of LinkedIn’s finest in that room with me, not a single one of them thought to ask any of the questions anyone else probably would’ve asked. I suppose when your net worth is ten digits, critical thinking skills aren’t all that critical.
​
Mr. Cassel had disappeared somewhere near the back of the restaurant, and I glanced over to see him coming back toward us.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, ladies and gentlemen. But now that all of our guests have arrived, I don’t see much reason to delay tonight’s event.”
“About damn time,” Barbier huffed. “Let’s just get on with it. I’ll start my bidding at ten million.”
​
Cassel smiled, almost apologetically.
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Barbier.” He said. “Tonight’s auction will function a little differently than you may be used to, but I’ll permit our host to explain as much.”
“You are not the host?” The Large German Man asked.
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Koch. But she’ll be connecting with us very soon.”
The German - Koch, nodded solemnly.
“Connecting?” Angela asked, before noticing a TV screen above the bar flickering to life. Her eyes narrowed as the image of a woman appeared on it. She was middle aged, with long auburn hair and plastic horn rimmed glasses. She wore a crooked smile, as if she knew something that nobody else did.
​
“Good evening, everyone. So glad everyone could make out tonight! My name is Lauren Lapointe and I have the privilege of being your host this evening!”
The moment she said her name, I noticed Hugo’s eyes narrowing. He clearly recognized her. To be fair, so did I. Lauren Lapointe had become a controversial figure in recent months, due to the allegations that she’d been involved in some sort of ‘snuff film, bloodsport’ conspiracy, broadcasting such things for wealthy clients, amongst other illicit services. I’d heard about the case… and was sure I wasn’t the only one who had.
​
“What the hell is this?” Barbier demanded. “Where’s the goddamn book! Where’s the Liber Shaal!”
“Well, according to the old folklore, buried somewhere in the depths of Hell.” Lauren admitted. “Although I have to say, that book is one hell of a conversation starter. Seems like it’s brought you all together, hasn’t it?”
“You don’t even have the book?” Angela huffed, standing up. “Then what the hell are we even here for?”
“The fact that none of you have figured it out yet is a little sad.” Lauren replied. “Come now, don’t be coy. I think all of you know why you want that book. You’re all special! You’re all a cut above your everyday average Joe, aren’t you? You’re the ones worthy of becoming Gods… aren’t you?”
​
A pregnant silence settled over the room. On the screen, I saw Lauren’s lips curl into a knowing grin.
“Yes, I know all about that. I know all about you. Feeding on the hearts of ancient, powerful things, just to drag yourselves a little closer to their level, abandoning your limited humanity to ascend to the echelons you were meant for. I know. And I admire that! I’ve always been of the mind that if you have the stomach to lift yourself above the rest of the cattle, then you deserve a seat at the butcher's table. But what are butchers if not themselves meat?”
“W-what…?” Angela’s voice was small, and I heard a slight tremble in it. Although she was the only one who seemed remotely put off by what Lauren had just said.
​
The rest…
​
Barbier.
Mary.
Daniel.
Koch.
Hugo.
They all sat in rapt silence, and I could see the gears in their heads turning. Lauren had gotten their attention and she had just introduced a very specific thought into their heads. A thought I don’t think had occurred to any of them before.
​
“How much power have you all claimed during your pursuit of divinity? Which of you is truly the closest to calling themselves a God? It’s an interesting question, isn’t it? And once you start asking that, maybe you’ll start asking how similar you’ve become to the things you’ve been feeding on… and what might happen if you were to remove the competition, as it were?”
Angela stood up.
“What the fuck?!” She snapped. “We’re not… we’re not gonna fucking eat each other, you sick cunt!”
​
Although she was alone in her protest. The others remained silent. I glanced over at Hugo. He stared up at the screen. I could only see the back of his head, but somehow I knew what the expression on his face would be. Lauren’s grin grew wider. She knew what they were thinking. And she seemed all too thrilled at just how trivial it had been to plant that idea in their minds. Angela remained stock still, her breathing getting heavier as she read the room.
“No…” She stammered, “No… no… you can’t be… don’t you see how sick this is? Killing those things is different! They’re THINGS! We’re PEOPLE! FUCK, WE CAN’T JUST EAT EACH OTHER!”
​
“Are you still people?” Lauren replied. “People are… small, insignificant little animals. We all know this to be true. But you… you’re not small, you’re not insignificant. You’ve made sure of that personally, haven’t you? You stand above the very shadows that lurk in the darkness, who’ve inspired fear in the minds of primitive, lesser men, and each and every one of you had drawn those demons out of the darkness, and taken their lives as if they were nothing more than meat at an abattoir. People can’t do that. But Gods can.”
​
The room remained silent. Even Angela was left speechless for a moment.
​
Almost dutifully, I quietly opened Hugo’s briefcase. I knew what was coming.
“Food for thought,” Lauren crooned. “And whoever’s left… well… you’ll probably have a prize just as good as anything you’d get from that old book, wouldn’t you? Five of them, specifically.”
​
Those words were what did it.
​
Barbier attacked first… moving in a way no human should’ve ever been able to move. The space around him seemed to distort as he drew one of the nearby tables closer to him, allowing him to snatch a steak knife off of it. He seemed to phase through the bar as he lunged for Hugo, pinning him against the wall, as he tried to drive his knife into his stomach.
​
The moment the carnage broke out, I heard Lauren burst out into laughter. She watched the chaos unfold from wherever she was hiding, and she reveled in it. As Barbier went for Hugo, Mary tried to do the same to Daniel.
​
I saw a ritual dagger, similar to the one I’d seen Hugo use, manifest in her hand. Her eyes locked onto Daniel, who looked down at that dagger and froze. He hadn’t come expecting a fight, and confronted with the reality of what was about to happen, he’d quickly lost his nerve. Mary lunged for him, and Daniel scrambled out of the way, only narrowly avoiding getting his throat torn open by her. Mary lunged for him again, although she didn’t get very far. Koch seemed to materialize out of the air around her, catching her by the wrist. I saw a surge of panic in her eyes as he plucked her arm off of her body the same way one might pull a wing off of a fly. She screamed and Daniel took the opportunity to flee, as Koch set to work disassembling Mary Williams.
​
Disassembling.
That’s really the only word for it.
​
As she screamed, he simply… pulled her apart. Not in the way a human might come apart, though. No. Her body broke in a way that I could only describe as ‘wooden.’ As if she wasn’t made of flesh anymore, but of something else. Although I couldn’t tell if that was Koch’s power, or her own power that did that to her. He gripped her by the shoulders and cracked her like a nut… snapping her body with an audible POP, that did not provide any kind of merciful end to her shrieks of agony. Then, with an almost casual lack of reverence, he plucked her beating heart from the quivering gore in her chest and bit into it.
​
Mary’s screams reached a crescendo, as he let her drop to the ground, writhing in her death throes. I saw her skin grow paler. Her eyes seemed to roll back into her skull as the warped state of her body seemed to catch up to her, leaving her gasping and shuddering in her final few seconds of agonizing consciousness.
​
I imagine that death was a mercy for her. Angela stood, rooted to the spot, looking at the sudden carnage that had erupted. Koch glanced over at Barbier and Hugo, still grappling behind the bar. He looked at me, before deciding I was of no importance to him, then he looked over at Angela.
“No…” She rasped, tears streaming down her cheeks. “NO!”
​
I wouldn’t have pegged her as the sanest person in the room, but clearly she was. She scrambled back, heading for the elevator. Daniel was already there, desperately hammering on the button, although the elevator didn’t come. Angela wasn’t stupid enough to wait patiently by his side. She scanned the space around her, before noticing a fire exit on the far side of the restaurant.
​
Then, without a second thought she sprinted for it, racing for the exit. She didn’t even bother opening the door, phasing through it with some sort of unnatural power. Daniel watched her go, and noticing Koch getting closer, chose to follow her. He didn’t quite have the power to just phase through the door, so he had to open it the old fashioned way. He tore down the stairs, before disappearing into the Atomium and Koch followed him.
​
It was just myself, Barbier and Hugo now.
​
The two men had tumbled over the bar, and seemed to have suddenly remembered that they were both God Eaters who didn’t need to restrain themselves to a simple fist fight, although they also weren’t smart enough to do much more than fight like a couple of 14 year old boys after science class.
​
Gravity seemed to shift around them, as they shoved each other across the restaurant, knocking tables and cutlery aside. I calmly stood and stepped out of the way as they tore each other to pieces, hitting each other with the kind of force you see in the third act of a mediocre superhero movie.
​
The brutality between them was actually a little boring. I’d watched Hugo kill far more formidable creatures, and Barbier didn’t quite live up to some of them. If this was ‘The Final Boss of LinkedIn’, then LinkedIn was awfully pathetic.
​
With one grunt of exertion (that was probably unnecessary) Hugo seized Barbier by the throat and hurled him through one of the glass windows of the panoramic restaurant. His eyes shifted over to me.
“SNOW! MY DAGGER!”
​
I dutifully tossed it into his waiting hand, right as time began to flow backward around us. Hugo glanced back at the window, before the dagger in his hand sank into the skin of his palm, merging with his flesh and vanishing from sight. Barbier rose back through the window he’d been thrown through, as the glass mended behind him. He landed on his feet in front of the window, lips curled back in a snarl.
“Is that the best you’ve got, Wright?” He snapped. “You think you can become a GOD? YOU THINK YOU CAN BECOME ANYTHING?” He stormed toward Hugo, who lunged for him only to be knocked to the ground.
​
“You always liked to talk shit, didn’t you… but look at you now? LOOK AT YOU!”
​
I noticed some of the silverware scattered about the mess of a dining room began to glow with heat. They melted and their molten components slithered toward Barbier, pooling at his feet before rising into a spear, reforged for the sole purpose of killing Hugo. Strange runes were burned into its metallic surface, and Barbier studied them, before grabbing the spear and advancing on Hugo. Hugo tried to stand, but Barbier reached him first, grabbing him by the back of his suit jacket,
“You’re out of your fucking depth, next to me! Now be a good boy, and DI-”
​
In one swift movement, Hugo pressed his palm against Barbiers chest, and his voice died in his throat. His eyes went wide as he felt the ritual dagger Hugo had hidden in his palm tear through his heart.
“You’d be out of your depth in a parking lot puddle…” Hugo snarled, before plunging his hand into Barbier’s chest.
​
“W-wait…” Barbier rasped, although Hugo didn’t listen. He tore his heart free of his chest, and pushed the man to the ground, leaving him twitching and staring vacantly up at the ceiling. Hugo smirked, watching him for a moment, before biting into his heart like an apple.
​
“Mmm… not bad…” He mused, before he waved a hand, almost dismissively. The room shifted around us. That which was broken, returned to where it had been before, repaired once more. In a few moments, it was like there’d been no skirmish at all. Everything was as it was, and George Barbier’s corpse was crumbling to dust where it lay, leaving no trace of him behind.
“Best not to cause a scene,” Hugo said as he finished off the last few bites of Barbier’s heart. “Snow, come,” He said. “There’s still three more to deal with.”
​
“Yes, sir,” I said quietly and followed Hugo as he headed for the stairs, Angela, Daniel and Koch had disappeared down. I noticed that Hugo had paid no mind to Mr. Cassel… who had conveniently disappeared when the violence had broken out. In fact, there wasn’t a trace of Mr. Cassel left in that dining room, almost as if he’d never existed in the first place. Hugo didn’t seem to think about it, so neither did I.
​
Of the nine spheres of the Atomium, I knew that only six were accessible to the public. The lower 5 spheres contained the exhibitions and event halls, while the topmost sphere, where we presently were, was the panoramic restaurant. The three spheres below the restaurant were less stable, which is why they were closed off to the public and the stairway leading to them was certainly a lot less glamorous than the stairways and escalators I’d seen going between the other spheres. They hadn’t dressed it up as much.
​
Hugo led the way down the stairs, moving with the calm confidence of a man who knew he was in no real danger, as opposed to the caution of a man being hunted.
“Keep up, Snow,” He said as we descended into the main part of the sphere. The space around us was wide open and almost completely unoccupied, save for a few cabinets for storage. There was only one dull light in the ceiling that didn’t illuminate much, and cast deep shadows in every corner that seemed to watch us. There were two exits, each one leading down into one of the more accessible spheres.
​
Hugo studied each exit, staring down the differing sets of stairs and listening closely for any indicator on which his quarry might have taken. I remained dead silent, letting him hunt.
“Blood,” He mused. “Smells like Koch has been busy.”
​
He took a step toward one of the stairways, before freezing, almost as if he detected something I didn’t. I saw his eyes go wide for a moment, before the shadows suddenly moved, collapsing in on Hugo like a cascade of water. He spun around, raising an arm to shield his face as I saw a figure materialize out of the inky darkness, a runed dagger in her hand.
​
Angela Champion brought her dagger down on Hugo’s arm, cutting through flesh and bone as if it were butter. His severed hand, still clutching his own dagger, hit the ground with a thud, and Hugo let out a cry of surprise, but not pain before Angela seized him by his shirt and hurled him toward the center of the sphere. Hugo picked himself up quickly, rising to one knee and glaring at the woman across from him.
​
“Well, well… getting into the spirit of things after all, aren’t we Angie?” He hissed. She just stood defiantly between him and the stairs, or perhaps between him and his own severed hand.
“I’m not going to kill you, Hugo. Not unless I have to!” She warned.
“Then you’ll die here with the rest.” He replied, rising to his feet.
“Which’ll include you, if you keep going the way you’re going!” She snapped. “Pull your head out of your ass for five seconds and think about the bigger picture here! This Lapointe woman, she didn’t just bring us together, to have us duke it out for the hell of it! We’re here because she wants what we’ve got!”
​
Hugo grimaced.
“You think I haven’t figured that out?” He asked. “It doesn’t matter. She’s just some mortal, biting off more than she can ever hope to chew.”
“Maybe. But after going through all that trouble to track us down, and lure us here with the promise of the Liber Shaal, something she knew none of us could resist, can you really be so sure she’s just a mortal?”
“How many hearts have you eaten?” Hugo asked coyly, taking a step toward her. “How much power have you taken, Angela?”
​
She didn’t answer that question.
“I can sense that it isn’t much, you know, not compared to some of the others here. Barbier was almost on my level, and that last one… Koch. Oh he’s going to be interesting. But you? You’re weak. I can feel it. You know I’m familiar with the work of Lauren Lapointe. Not intimately. But I know those who are. Nasty piece of work, that one. But mortal. Weak. Insignificant. I know of Lauren Lapointe. And I know we’re not up against a worthy opponent, we’re up against ourselves and one stupid woman with delusions of grandeur. Maybe she’s had a taste of violence like this before, pitting other, small, miserable things against each other like a child putting insects in a box to watch them devour each other. Maybe that’s made her feel strong. But she is nothing compared to the likes of us. And you are nothing compared to the likes of me…”
​
With every step, he inched closer. Angela held her ground for a few moments, before finally taking a step back and as she did, Hugo’s dagger erupted through her chest. Her eyes widened for a split second, as the dagger twisted and writhed through her ribcage, finally bursting free of her and landing in Hugo’s remaining hand. Still, despite the state she was in, she stood, swaying on her feet before he lunged for her, grabbing her by the throat.
“For what it’s worth, you did well to cut off my hand. Shame you didn’t have the stomach to finish the job.”
“No…” Angela gasped, as Hugo forced her to the ground, and tore into her. Her white bowler hat rolled off of her head, and landed by my feet.
​
I could only watch impartially as he ripped her apart, and pulled her still beating heart from her chest. Angela stared at it with wide, tear filled eyes. She knew she was dying. And all she could do was mouth the words: “No… no… no…” over and over again before Hugo took a bite.
​
As he ate, I watched, pausing only to calmly walk over to the stairs to pick up his severed hand, as if it were something he’d dropped. When Hugo stood once more, I offered the hand to him.
“Thank you, Snow/” He crooned, casually popping it back into place, before wiping the blood off of his mouth.
“Of course, sir. Two more to go?”
“One, most likely,” He said. “Then we deal with Lapointe.”
​
I nodded, and let him lead the way. He paid Angela’s body little mind, leaving her in a growing pool of her own blood. I stared down at her remains, and looked into her lifeless eyes which stared up at the ceiling in horror. My eyes settled on the runed dagger she’d used to wound Hugo. It seems that in his fervor, he hadn’t thought to grab it. Fortunately, I was a good assistant and took care of that for him.
​
***
​
As we reached the bottom of the stairs, we were greeted by an almost predictable sight. The bloody remains of Daniel Hernandez lay scattered about on the ground, and sitting in front of them sat Koch.
​
He stared at Hugo, sizing him up before huffing.
“You’ve killed Angela?” He asked calmly.
“It wasn’t much of a chore,” Hugo replied. “And Daniel?”
Koch nodded.
“No chore,” He repeated.
“I thought not. Well, no point in standing on ceremony, is there? We’ve both got places to be, don’t we?”
​
Koch rose to his feet. He cracked his knuckles. I noticed a heavy iron hammer resting in his hands. An ancient weapon, decorated in runes of all sorts. It probably had a very interesting history to it, but he never explained any of that before swinging it at Hugo with all the grace of a raging bull.
​
The world around Hugo distorted, moving him out of the way of every swing. His body seemed to twist and duplicate, making him harder to track and harder to hit as he tried to find an angle of attack. Koch huffed in rage, before slamming his hammer into the ground.
​
A wave of pure energy tore through the room, knocking me off my feet, and sending Hugo crashing against a wall. Koch wasted no time in trying to crush his head into pulp, although Hugo simply dissolved through the wall to evade him, before manifesting behind him.
“A perfect challenge!” Hugo jeered. “But there’s only one throne, for one true God!”
​
A third arm, made of inky black energy manifested from Koch’s back, seizing Hugo by the throat.
“In this my friend… we are agreed.” Koch hissed. More arms grew from his back, seizing Hugo’s body and keeping him in place. He tried to phase through them, but somehow they still held him.
​
Koch’s body twisted and elongated, as his spine slowly adjusted itself so that he could face Hugo and raise his hammer over his head. Hugo stared up into his eyes, before opening his mouth and launching a beam of pure energy into Koch’s face. I heard Koch scream, as his skull shattered, smearing a shimmering dark liquid all over the ceiling.
​
Still… somehow I wasn’t sure if he was dead. His grip on Hugo was still strong, and no matter how hard Hugo fought, he didn’t seem to let go, not that Hugo seemed to want to get too far away from him. No, I watched as Hugo tried to push himself closer to Koch. I watched him drive his dagger into his chest, to try and pry out his beating heart.
​
More hands manifested from Koch to keep Hugo away, but he was so close. As Koch pulled him back from the gaping wound in his chest, Hugo’s limbs elongated as he reached for the mans beating heart to pry it free, and just as he triumphed and pulled it from his chest… I cut off Hugo’s hand again.
​
I saw his eyes widen with shock, but he didn’t utter a single word. As his hand and Koch’s heart fell, I snatched them both out of the air. My eyes burned into Hugo’s from behind my glasses, and I gave him a small, knowing smile before biting into the heart myself.
​
Koch’s entire body seized, but his grip on Hugo grew no weaker.
“Snow?” Hugo’s voice cracked, as the panic of realization set in.
​
I answered him… but not in my own voice. I spoke in the voice of Lauren Lapointe.
“I’ve always been of the mind that if you have the stomach to lift yourself above the rest of the cattle, then you deserve a seat at the butcher's table. But what are butchers if not themselves meat?”
​
My face shifted, revealing the visage I’d stolen. I imagined that the real Lauren wouldn’t have minded my borrowing it. She’d been the one who taught me the primal joys of bloodsport, after all, and I’m sure she would’ve loved watching a bunch of rich morons with delusions of grandeur butcher each other in the name of power.
​
Hugo on the other hand?
​
The look on his face was one of absolute horror as he quickly put the pieces together. He squirmed. He fought. He tried to get free. But I still had Angela’s knife in my hand, and he could do nothing to stop me from taking his other hand, disarming him in every sense of the word.
“No…” He cried, “No… Penelope… don’t! PENELOPE WAIT!”
Oh, first names now? He was desperate.
​
Not that it saved him.
​
And as he wriggled free of Koch’s dying grasp, he only found himself tumbling into mine, where his struggles could not save him as I cut into his chest, pulled out his panicked, beating heart… and took a bite.
​
***
​
There were no bodies left behind when I left the Atomium. No bloodstains or any trace of what had happened there. I saw to their disposal. I could feel the new power coursing through my veins… it was more than I’d ever felt before. It was strange. Exciting!
​
I’d thought the boost I’d gotten from the morsels I’d stolen from Hugo was intense, but this was on an entirely new level! Yet it wasn’t enough.
​
It would never be enough, not until I’d reached the top. If there even was a top.
​
I imagined I’d find out soon enough.

My Top 5 Seinfeld episodes interchange minus the Top 2 which will always be The Parking Garage and two part The Boyfriend. The heat seeker that flew up my Top 15 into the five is "The Serenity Now", and not for the normal reason of it featuring Jerry Stiller. It's all about Kramer building up his front porch area outside his apartment and the ensuing pranks by the fellow apartment kids. Still my favorite part is when Elaine comes to Jerry's door and when he answers there's Kramer in his chair holding a sparkler having a quick back and forth with Elaine then. He starts saying "come on back now ya....." Only to have Jerry slam the door on him causing the rear of the sentence to be muted. Idk why, but it makes me laugh harder than it should.
I just wanted to close this up and say just how much of a huge fan I've become of the show. I am 45 years old and never have watched a single episode until this past Xmas since I spend the holidays alone and I wanted to find a TV show to binge on and low and behold there it was. The show often voted as the undisputed greatest tv show of all time, Seinfeld. I must say this in closing, I am so glad I discovered it and binged it at my age now. I knew how I was as a teen and young adult, that I wouldn't have gotten into this show. So I just wanted to ask the rest of you fans in here if "The Serenity Now" episode ranks up on your favorites?
SERENITY NOW, INSANITY LATER ;)

2750 3000 3250 3500 3750 4000 4250 4500 4750 5000

My boyfriends brother is an hvac guy and he told him that it’s best not to get the mini split unit serviced annually because when they service it they let out Freon or something. I wasn’t listening to him but I’d like to get it serviced and he says no.
Thoughts?

TW: nursing, oversupply
TL;DR: lots of planning, careful packing, and increasing comfort with pumping in public made it possible to pump and maintain my supply while away from my baby for 8 days, and despite annoying Spanish policies I made it back home with all the milk!
I just got back from a work trip to Spain and wanted to share my experience in case it's helpful for anyone else. I planned for this EXTENSIVELY and, other than some stomach problems keeping me from partaking too much of the actual work-related events, it went well. First, some background - my baby had just turned 3mo. We mostly nurse but I had started pumping early on when he was in the NICU, and kept pumping so my husband could do a bottle at night and in the morning.
This trip was on my radar since before he was born, so I also purposefully cultivated somewhat of an oversupply with a goal of having 200oz frozen by the time I left, so he could continue to get breastmilk while I was gone. (He has a disease of the colon and it's particularly important that he have breastmilk; otherwise I would have been fine with him having partial or mostly formula). In the end, I was so fortunate (this time! I wasn't able to breastfeed my first at all!) and had about 400oz frozen when I left. 200oz seemed like a huge number when he was 1mo and I was pumping 5-10oz a day (and giving two bottles) but I did the math and knew it was possible even if I only had a few ounces leftover each day.
Once it looked like my stash would be okay, I started thinking about the logistics of pumping while traveling. Here's my packing list:

• pump bag - I tried a ton and bought this because it had 1) two compartments, 2) pocket for the Ceres Chill, 3) strap to go on a suitcase, and 4) enough other pockets. You can carry on a pump bag in addition to your personal item and carryon because it's medical equipment! I didn't get any pushback after saying it was a breastpump.
• Spectra (pump from my first baby; I checked this and left it plugged in in the hotel) + power cable
• Baby Buddha (pump from this baby; this went in my pump bag for travel and at the workshop) + power cable
• outlet adapters!
• a bunch of pump parts and bottles, including flange inserts! I use mostly Medela parts (+ some Lacteck flanges) because the LCs gave us so many in the NICU, and I have the tubing etc. to connect them to both the Spectra and the BB. I recommend having full sets for each pump if you have multiples so you don't have to move things around. You could make do with fewer parts but it means more washing obviously
• Ceres Chill - crucial for travel days. I had extra chillers because one they sent was slightly defective, so I used them as extra large bottles.
• little cooler bag (came with the pump bag) and reusable ice pack - I used these for the travel days because 1-1.5 days' worth of milk for me is more than fits in the Ceres Chill. I also brought some extra ziploc bags that I could fill with ice to make on-the-go ice packs
• wearable collection cups - I bought Legendairy cups used from this sub, and got Elvie Stride cups for free from Aeroflow as my replacement parts!!! I thought it was too good to be true but it totally worked. I pumped several times in public with them (+BB) and they were super useful.
• nursing cover - helpful for pumping in public or getting situated, especially with regular flanges and bottles
• maternity/nursing tops and bras - I wore a super roomy, long maternity top on travel days that made it super easy to hike up and pump. On work days, I wore either regular shirts I could pull up or one of my two nice nursing tops. I also brought several pumping bras.
• pump spray or nipple cream - wish I had brought two! Anything that you need everytime you pump, bring two - one for the hotel and one for one the go.
• manual pump heads - another reason I like the Medela parts is because it just takes a small piece of plastic to turn any set of pump parts into a manual pump! Gave me peace of mind
• milk storage bags and gallon ziploc bags- I estimated my total pumping output to be about 35oz, assuming baby eats 25 and I have about 10 leftover. I multiplied that by 8 days (although some would come home in the Ceres Chill) and figured I would need about 50 bags. Also bring Sharpies to label them, and gallon ziplocs to pack them in bricks!
• pump wipes - definitely important during travel days.
• collapsible dishwashing tub and travel bottle washing set - TOTALLY worth it given how many dishes I had to wash.
• tupperware/wetbags/ziploc bags - for fridge hack or otherwise keeping things clean
• snacks and water bottle - for travel days and MOTN pumps!
• printed copy of the TSA guidelines - no one ever gave me shit but I was ready
• cooler backpack - MilkStork doesn't ship to/from Spain so I was responsible for getting my milk back home.
• "contingency items" - things I hoped to not need but wanted just in case: sunflower lecithin pills, cold compress (just fill with ice), travel massager, extra tubing/duckbills/membranes, etc.

I had to buy several things for this trip (dishwashing stuff, pump bag, cooler backpack) but will use most of it when I start working in the office soon.
In addition to the packing, I was planning. I contacted the workshop organizers and asked for a place to pump, and asked both them and the hotel about the availability of a fridge/freezer. Also, once we got the schedule, I put it into my calendar and scheduled 8ppd. I DID NOT FOLLOW THIS SCHEDULE but it was an important exercise, I think. The travel day was INSANE and if I hadn't had a plan there's no way I would have pumped as much as I did. I scheduled 8ppd with a goal of doing 7, and assuming that, based on the magic number chart, 6 or even 5 would be okay for me.
I also requested permission from my employer to fly business class because I needed to pump, and they agreed. This was so helpful, honestly - gave me access to really nice lounges during the layovers (more below) and I felt totally comfortable pumping in my little pod on the long flight. Plus, as a mother to a 3mo I was not interested in sacrificing sleep while traveling for work!
Okay now here's what this looked like, especially on the travel days:

• 7am: last nursing session, then head to the airport. I hadn't planned to pump until the first layover, but my flight was delayed two hours (UGH! I could have nursed again!) so I pumped at my home airport. They had a nice nursing mother's room - even with a sterilizer, although I didn't have time to use it.
• 1pm: land in Chicago, head to United Polaris lounge. I grabbed food, then sat in a little cubicle thing, stuck the Elvie Strides in my bra, and ate and pumped. No one looked at me twice. Afterwards, I washed in the bathrooms, which even had very hot water!
• 5pm: land in Dulles, head to United Polaris lounge. I looked for a private place to sit again, but no luck. But I found a "wellness room", which had a sink, changing table, and comfy chair. I grabbed food and brought it in, and then sat down to pump. This got uncomfortable because the attendant started knocking on the door after 10 min or so because apparently a family with a baby wanted to use it. I kept yelling back "I'm pumping, I'm using a breast pump, I'm pumping breastmilk" but I think his first language wasn't English and he didn't understand. He kept saying the room wasn't for sleeping . . . Anyway I finally opened the door to show him the bottles dangling off my boobs and he backed off, embarrassed. I wish they had had more than one room! Was able to wash parts again!
• I'll also note here that I refilled the Ceres Chill inner chiller with ice here; it had all melted. I guess it makes sense that 12oz of ice can't cool 24oz of body-temperature milk! Fortunately it's easy to refill.
• 8pm: on the international flight, as food service is starting, I put on the nursing cover and pumped. Wiped parts out.
• 6 hours later (8am local time): pumped again after waking up, same as before. Again refilled the Ceres Chill ice.
• 9:30am: meant to pump in the airport lounge before going through customs but I forgot. Kind of panicked, but I just called the taxi and pumped in the back seat with the Elvie cups. The driver didn't notice until we stopped and he heard the noise and asked what it was. When I said it was a breast pump he just smiled and we moved on. After he dropped me off, I found a cafe and sat at a table outside to remove them, store the milk, clean, etc. The waiter brought me ice for my little cooler bag since the icepack was pretty depleted.
• 2pm: at the train station before catching a train. Bought a sandwich at a cafe there and pumped with the Elvie Stride cups. Again, not a single comment or strange look.
• 7pm: at the hotel, pumped and did ALLLLLL the dishes! Set things up to have a pumping station at the hotel and a mobile one in my pump bag.

During the workshop, I froze bags in the conference center freezer and had staff freeze some in the hotel. The hotel was definitely not as good; they put them in there themselves and they were not at all flat.
this is how the milk was frozen at the hotel . . .
The trip home was a bit easier in some ways and a bit more complicated in others, because I had to do it in two parts. I packed my cooler backpack full of all the frozen milk.

• 9am: last pump before the trip.
• 3pm: pumped on the train. This felt like a big step forwards, honestly, because I was sitting right next to a woman and our seats faced a couple across the table. But I put my nursing cover on and slipped my Elvie cups in and it wasn't nearly as weird as I thought.
• 6pm: pumped again with the Elvies on the train
• 8:30pm: pumped in my Airbnb and did dishes. I put all frozen milk back in the freezer, plus the bags of the milk I had pumped during the day, my ice pack, 8oz of water in each of the Ceres inner chillers.
• 12:30pm: pumped before going to bed and froze one more bag. Washed dishes and slept.
• 7:30am: packed my cooler bag and then pumped right before leaving the Airbnb
• 8am: checked in at the airport. Spain is not very progressive in this respect, and since I was traveling without a baby, I had to check my frozen milk. I packed the cooler bag in a suitcase, surrounded by some clothes and a plastic bag to hopefully avoid even minimal leaks.
• 9:45am: pumped in the airport lounge. I'm definitely getting more comfortable in public! Even used the regular flanges and bottles. On the way back, I decided to use each set twice, within 4ish hours, to avoid having to clean parts. After this pump, I bagged up the parts and stuck them in my suitcase.
• 12:30pm: pumped on the plane, then slept
• 5pm: pumped on the plane with the same parts. After this pump, I realized the Ceres Chill inner chamber was all liquid, so I switched it out with one of the other ones that I had frozen, which were still mostly ice, because they had been in a cooler and hadn't been cooling down warmed milk.
• 7:15pm: pumped on the plane before landing. Went through customs and picked up my checked bags, including the milk - about 12 hours after packing, the milk in the cooler bag was still 100% frozen. Now that I was in the US, I repacked to keep the cooler bag with me; US TSA regulations explicitly allow you to carry milk (frozen or fresh) even if you don't have a baby with you.
• two hours later (3:30pm local time): pumped in the lounge, using a nursing cover and the same regular flanges and bottles as last pump
• 6pm: pumped on the plane with the Elvie Stride cups. The man next to me must have noticed because later he referenced my baby when I hadn't mentioned it, but it was totally fine.
• 9pm: replaced the Ceres inner chiller again, then pumped with the Elvie Stride cups while walking to the gate. When I sat down to empty the milk, the woman next to me held up her pumping bag in solidarity! We chatted about how it was going - it was nice to have some camaraderie!
• 11pm: landed and took a Lyft home. I immediately emptied the cooler bag and put the milk in the freezer. Everything had thawed just a little bit, actually just enough to be able to reshape the very non-flat bags into a flat shape, so that actually worked out really well! I also emptied the Ceres Chill and inner chillers of today's milk into a pitcher; I bagged and froze that this morning.

all my milk finally frozen flat!
I seriously can't believe how well it all went. I pumped 50 times over nearly 8 days - in planes, trains, cars, while walking - and produced 265oz (over two gallons!), and all of the milk made it home! But basically I learned that EP requires so much mental and physical energy, and all of you who do it day in and day out are the real MVPs!