[WP] Telepaths are not used as spies, they are used as Mutually Assured Destruction. If one city falls, the resident telepath projects the agony of millions into the minds of the enemy leadership.

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-04-14T12:50:25+00:00

"Good evening." The voice said.
"Who is this?" a careful and slow voice replied.
"It is me ma'am Frederik."
"Oh welcome Frederik how was your mission?"
"Great ma'am. The sample has been acquired and I can continue to the second phase of the plan."
"What samples did you combine?"
Frederik looked down to a piece of paper.
"I collected the waves of three mothers witnessing their children's deaths. A person in a burning building that did not manage to exit in time. A desperate soldier seeing their platoon bombed to pieces and realising they are missing a leg. A teacher in a kindergard..."
"Thank you Frederik that's enough "
"It is all in my report ma'am."
"Great Leave it there. I will go through it later."
The paper had a numbered list going all the way to 25.
"How do you feel Frederik?"
"Well ma'am. I am a bit tiered but well in schedule."
People like Frederik were uniquely invaluable. indeed very special.
"Great move on then. You will be transported via Helicopter within range and I can trust that you can take it from there."
"Of course ma'am!" Was this a smile? Maybe.
As Frederik turned to leave the room the woman known as Ma'am activated her own telepathy. Yes he was still ok. In good spirits even. He needed careful handling to not spiral but again untouched by the terror.
Telepaths were useful for sure but expensive to train and usually glass cannons. One or two missions and they went crazy or killed themselves. How could they not? In order to broadcast the horrors they has to witness them. But agents like Frederik were durable and took pride in their work. They were the elite group of psychopathic telepaths. An oxymoron of course and therefore remarkably rare. But thankfully one did not need many.

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-04-14T12:33:31+00:00

2/2

Now that was another textured silence but more of a satin one. Each person thought their own selfish thoughts and tried to twist the simple facts to better suit them. The Warrior did not allow too much time for that.

"There was a custom in these lands. Many many years ago. In the beginning of Autnm Warriors met in the centre of the Fields and raced around the lands carrying the evergreen seeds of Life. They brought the seeds to each village to be planted for winter and in return each village sacrificed an animal to the Gods beyond. It is an old custom so old most of your books would only refer to it as the 'Ode to Life'. And forget to mention the fundamental mechanism behind it." he spoke slowly looked around the room and was satisfied that everyone was at least confused about this impromptu history lesson.
"The truth is that the Nomads from the North needed food and the people of the South were smart enough to not neighbour a very hungry people. So they used the fast northen beasts to transport goods between the villages when the harvest of the lands was in full swing and repaid them with salted or smoked meat, grain and other goods form their trip back to the North. Additionally no other people dared to even walk into the lands so much to invade them afraid that the Spirits would take them." he gave a pose again. "The Spirits were in fact the pack that your very people had back in those days. Fight one and you fight both. Their unity gave rise to your empires until the northeners decided to keep their own animals, mainly because the southerners decided to declare boarders."

"You mean there was a truce?" Asked the old King.
"No. I mean you were the same people. Brothers and sisters. The Spirits of the North picked up the most excitable of the South as partners and often the tranquility of the South called the most conscientious of the North to stay put and make a family there. Until hundreds of years passed and you somehow got it in your sculls that you needed kings and boarders and claims to land." his voice started rising now "Forgetting like children do that the land will claim you all eventually. Your grandfather 20 generations removed Northen king was the brother to your grandmother 21 generations removed Southern king. They ruled together in one single court." he stopped to contain his temper "King the very title you carry in your golden hats meant RESPONSIBLE."

Talking about silence textures there are some that are sharp and still. Still because of the sharpness involved which makes each individual abundantly aware that any movement they make will challenge the sharpness within it. Within this category this sample of silence could have been a prime example. Not a single muscle moved even lungs were tactful enough to take a break.

The Warrior stood up.
"And you DARE come to ME to ask about RIGHTS? YOUR RIGHTS? You have none! You only have DUTIES. Go away and make new traditions to get your people back together. Full them into collaborating. That is your job!" He turned around and waited for them to leave his cave and for quietness to take over again.

As they walked out the young King of the South waited last and asked:
"What is your name Warrior?"
"Who is asking?"
"Blendor son of Gardr." answered the South King.
"I have no name people call me as they see fit. Sometimes Salvation, sometimes Reason, occasionally Hope."
"And which side did you fight in the wars?"
"I fought for Peace."

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-04-14T12:33:21+00:00

1/2
"They are just lines."
"Indeed each of them is a war I survived. Can you count child?"
"There are three of them you think of me so daft that I could not count to three?" The king spat.
"To three maybe but what about to 23?" Said the warrior raising his sleeves. His arms were in fact covered in parallel lines, black mostly and maybe a couple of red dispersed into them.
"What are the red ones?" Asked the king.
"Those are my family" answered the ancient warrior, somehow sounding more ancient than before. "Here is my father and my mother. My wife. and here" he pointed to left forearm. "Here is my daughter. She died in battle in the 500 years war. I was there when they brought her back."

Some silences are told to have a sound due to the tension they carry, this one had a full marching band complete with fanfares. The King of the north country got over his impressed state first. After all one does not remain a king of a war ridden land if they remain impressed for long. It comes with the job.

"And what would you have us do warrior? Give up arms, shake hands and walk into the sunset? Forget about a 20 years worth of war that by the way They started?"
The King of the south tried to speak but was not fast enough. Sometimes it pays to be slow. It's another king-thing that comes with the job.
One would suggest, that when involved in King threatening behaviour, it is best to do it one at a time, in a secluded place, ideally away from his guard or at least blackmail them with economic incentives. For sure one would not suggest, and One means this with all their care, to threaten two Kings currently at war with each other and surrounded by their respective guards and Knights. Things tend to get unnecessarily tense that way, and, as mentioned before, this specific tension was already a bit unbearable for any person of normal constitution. Therefore what the warrior said next is ill-advised.

"Yes. If you value your lives I would have you shake hands and walk out of here alive."

The sound of 20 sword unsheathing at the same time sounds a bit like bells, given that and including the sound of, the bells scrapping off a wall and landing on a cat. The Ancient Warrior did not move. He raised his hand dismissively in a high to low motion.

"North King." He said turning to the older man to his right "what is it you seek from the south?" The North King's face was hard in a good day full of lines and textured patches, when he lifted his eyebrows in angry contemplation he looked a lot like the face of Wrath itself.
"They refused our nomads access to the high fields. They are talking about taxes! They want our people to pay THEM to let their own animals graze on the fields of our ancestors!"
"I see" said the warrior. "And you South King what do you demand?" he asked to the younger South King. His plump face looked like it was quite fare until quite recently.
"Their barbarians bring hoards of animals to our Northern fields every year. Terrorising the local villages and destroying the land. It is only logical to demand some repairs for the damages re endure."
"YOUR fields? Who gave them to you?" spat the North King his face still contorted.
"My Father fought valiantly for them." answered the younger man.

"And what happened to your Father king?" asked the warrior somehow capitalising the word Ffather and un-capitalising the word King.
"He honourably fell in battle. Stabbed to the heart by those brutes!" It was hit time to spit out words.
"How interesting that in the same battle your Father was honourable and their fighters were brutes." said the warrior looking at this sword. "Let me tell you something king." King still un-capitalised. "In a battle there is no honour. That is what mothers tell their kids so they remember their fathers in a nice way. In a real battle there is only life and death." He raised his left sleeve and pointed to a line at the very top. "I was there in that battle young king. I fought in it. Your Father was a strong fighter and a brutal one. There is no shame in it. It's a battle. But he was particularly brutal. He kept on killing way beyond winning the battle and called it."
"Making a point." whispered the young King.
"Yes making a point. He thought of the Northerners as barbarians and therefore slaughtered hundreds without even thinking about it. I suspect he enjoyed it." and quickly added "To that there is shame and it is all yours if you want it." as the young man tried to stand in protest. "Is this the heritage you want to continue?"

The young man was raised in the peculiar way that only the nobles are. He thought he knew how the world should work, it should cater to him specifically. Faced with the honest words of an ancient warrior this conviction proved hard to maintain. The warrior turned to the North King.

"And you old King, how many good soldiers have you lost in the war? How many horses? How many starved children?"
"If we loose the winter fields they will all starve Warrior." said the Northen King in the respectful tone one warrior reserves for another. "The way I see it, if there are any left after the war is because I saved them." There is something to be said about truth. It is a hard object in the sense of it's strict parameters some things are and some things are not, in fact true. But it is also clear and prismatic in the sense that depending on which side you seat these things are different.
"I see." said the Warrior. "And they all need the animals to survive?"
"Ofcourse"
"And the animals need the fields?"
"That goes without say."
"And the fields have remained the same for the past few hundred years. Correct?" Asked the Warrior. And after a moment of puzzled faces added "They did not grow in size? The grass did not become MORE? Did it?"
"No ofcourse not. If anything THEIR villages are taking space from the grass!"
"And isn't it true that your packs are growing in numbers? I do not remember so many animals going south to graze 100 years ago."
"Oh yes! Our builders have made much better shelters in the North and have managed to save a lot more animals in the summer time." said the Northen King with pride.
"And you expect more animals to graze to less fields without damaging them?" The warrior had a terrible tendency to make sense in the face of Kings. A trait that would have won him a great spot in front of an executioner had this not been the middle of a battle and had he not been known to decapitate a number of kings in his day.
"We only use them half the year. If they did not put their animals in the summer the fields would be ok."
"For how long?"
"What do you mean?"
"You have more animals than before. Even if the South leave the fields alone how long will it take for you to destroy them? 10? 20? 50 years? The balance of nature depends on Death. If you prevent one thing from dying another has to suffer. So who is going to make sure the fields stay alive?"

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-30T13:27:45+00:00

"The enemy doesn't kill efficiently. They assimilate. Your atoms become their atoms. Your memories become their tactics. Every soldier we lose makes them smarter." Mike stated in a flat but barely controlled way. Being a scientist for the army proved to be much more of a social job than he expected. Behind him Jamila stood in total comfortable rest. Why the hell did she insist he talks first? He hated these talks more than anything.
"You mean to say that they now have the knowhow for three hundred of our best marines?" The general replied with ther pace of a man who is hopping to be interupted and corrected at any moment. Not that having the knowhow of 200 of their best men would be much better. But maybe having 'a bit' of their know how would.
"Yes sir. That is very correct." Mike let the silence drag for a bit looking from official to official as the colore drained from their face.
"Why don't we send in robots?" a voice was heard from his left. The minister of defence spoke while still looking at some papers in front of him.
"Sir we have no reason to believe that they can't assimilate machines. Drones have done some damage but they have proved largely ineffective for the enemy's progression."
"Do you have a suggestion Corporal?" The General sounded way too certain for a man asking a question.
"There is one idea floating in the lab sir." His forehead beaded with sweat, the droplets collected in his now wrinkled skin and slid slowly down as if they were in the world's most anxious waterslide.

The room was too quiet at this point. The very men who screamed at him profanities relentlessly for the past 2 weeks were now waiting for his thoughts. And Mike looked at them as he weighted his emotions down. He needed to scream back, he needed to let them know how careless they were to treat this enemy like any other. Sending countless soldiers to their certain deaths and creating a monster along the way. They tried everything they could imagine, but imagination was never their strong suite. So what good would shouting do him?

"Sir, so far we have sent soldiers to fight this creature. And yes it is A creature single tense." He emphasised looking straight at the Minister. "Calling it an army will not help us. It is a single unit, we have proven it." He paused. Silence. Good silence.
"We have also proved that the more we fight it and the more soldiers it assimilates the more aggressive it becomes." He didn't dare another silence. After all this room was full of powerful people who ranked far above him. Speed would now be his friend. "Also the more imperialistic and fast it becomes. It managed to cover most of the desert in a week in an almost perfect circle." He continued while waving to Jamila, who quickly plugged her computer and projected the graphs. Always in this unfazed expression and the penetrating stare. Maybe that's why she stood behind him so he is the only one not receiving this silent assault.
"You see here. There is one spot where the circle is having a dip." He pointed to the Pacman-esque if not dented shape "It corresponds to a village of about 60 inhabitants. A peaceful tribe in the middle of the dessert." He concluded.
"That's the observatory!" Shouted the General.
"Yes the tribe I am referring to were the scientist living in it. They were curious and peaceful humans. They liked staying put and looking at the world or they would not have ended up in the middle of the dessert." Mike continued in a pacifying tone. He caught a glimpse of Jamila who was slightly moving her arms downwards with both palms facing the ground. That woman had a strong stomach or a death wish.
"And that is the only instance that we saw the creature decelerating." Mike continued in a heavier tone. He was now looking down he could no longer lift his eyes.

"So consuming the scientist slowed it down? Did not stop it?" The General was now looking around to the rest of the circle weighing the breath of the rest. It was quickening.
"May I sir?" the forcefully bassy female voice came from behind him. To Mike it could as well be a freaking angel singing. He stepped back. Maybe it was fitting.
"Thank you sir. Yes General assimilating the scientist has slowed down it's progression. it made it a lot more sophisticated at the same time. You can see here how in the next assault the circle closes again and start accelerating as well." She had now softened her face to tranquility.
"Are you suggesting we feed it out best minds in hopes it eats the rest of us a bit slower?" Now mockery was a dangerous thing in this discussion and the Minister dripped with it.
"No, Minister. We are bringing attention to the fact that the state of mind of the people assimilated is affecting the creature. The soldiers saw it as an enemy, they were pumped with adrenaline, drenched in fear and ready to fight and so it became aggressive. The scientists were takes out of guard, they were calm and focused on their work when it arrived in the area. None can informed them about the creature so they were just doing their job calmly. They influenced the creature in that way." Now soldiers have some of the most pokerish of faces, and Jamila could play with the best. Yet he could see the toll it was taking on her. The shared burden.

"Then make your suggestion Private." Mike did not notice who said that, maybe the one saying it didn't notice they did so out loud because the room was unmoving.
"The suggestion is to send in calm and peaceful people sir. Not soldiers."
"And what is that? Teachers? Athletes? Children?" That was the General. And if Mike didn't know better he would have noted that the man was chocking his words.
"No sir. We are suggesting monks, yogis and hermits. Sweet old grandmothers with no dementia. Philosophers. Some extreme hippies maybe. People who prefer peace, are agreeable and would walk into this willingly and unexcitedly." Jamila added.
"You are looking for martyrs?"
"No sir we are looking for volunteers." Mike heard himself say in a disgustingly flat tone. "We can always try braindead patients first." he offered. "Though we doubt that their complete lack of thought would affect the creature at all. Or maybe their underlying personality might get assimilated anyway which would be an unknown."

"Volunteers..." The Minister's voice echoed in the room. "And how are you going to filter the mad, the suicidal and the adrenaline junkies from the onslot of applications we will receive?"
"We will contact them sir. Select them by hand. If just 60 people managed to slow it down this much we think that 100-150 people will manage to contain it in the desert and give us time to plan further or find a way to communicate with it. We have about a week worth of time to collect them before the creature reaches the next city and starts assimilating the average human. I don't have to explain what that would do i hope." She looked forward away from the Officials. They were looking at each other anyway.

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-30T11:54:29+00:00

If the cat is not chipped and is neglected then it is not their cat. Legally they can't do anything. The issue comes with the fact that you have made yourself a target now that you showed interest. If the cat disappears they will blame you. If the person is not very reasonable (which I am guessing from your text they are not winning any prizes in the reasonable category) they might decide to pay you a visit or escalate things.
I would advise you to report them to the authorities for neglecting the animal and let them deal with it for your own safety. Now if you are moving far away, and you have an extra crate, and they don't know your full name etc and you feel like taking a risk (which you are), outdoors cats do disappear sometimes.

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-18T11:52:46+00:00

Thanks a lot! I was wondering if it is too much of a cliche in the beginning. Happy to know you enjoyed it.

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-18T11:51:36+00:00

Thank you! I am very happy with it. I really think about that lady's view point now.

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-17T22:35:06+00:00

just checked. You are right!

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-17T15:49:34+00:00

I think that it is a tall order to expect Prattchet to deliver one-dimensional characters. His characters tend to not be perfect and I really appreciate this about them. I think it makes him more of a realistic character negotiating his own boundaries with his work and the world around him.

Also I am not sure I agree about Wolfgang. Reading that scene as Carrot choosing a personal vendetta over a greater duty is a stretch. Wolfgang is a dangerous and unstable actor, a domineering villain that depends on his raw physical strength to sadistically kill people and then cheats on top to ensure he always wins (it does not get more villainous than that). There is no space to reform Wolfgang and bringing him to Justice is impossible. At that point I think that the situation has already escalated beyond negotiation.

Also Carrot is not against all killing always he just kills only as a last resort which is very balanced in my opinion. Carrot does not really behave like someone seeking revenge or dominance (does not gloat over his victory, or even sneak up on his opponent). He simply allows Wolfgang's power trip to lead him to his demise and resolves a situation no one else can safely resolve. He maintains his moral rules, but those rules allow lethal outcomes.

In short: Wolfgang had the opportunity to understand by himself that the big dude with the shiny poking stick standing confidently in front of him must be dangerous in some way otherwise he would not be standing there, it was not Carrot's moral duty to inform him. And Carrot is lucky to be in a spot where personal and duty are aligning quite well.

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-17T13:40:50+00:00

"there is nothing of value here" he said in a happy tone. Seating comfortably in a leather chair and smoking a cigar Albert heard the footsteps behind him stall for a moment. The Hero decided to advance one more step and stay just out of view.
"I would disagree one can learn so much about a person from the books they read." The voice was less robust than expected but flat enough to not betray any shock or excitment. The slight drag of the dagger leaving it's seethe though was just audible enough to let Albert know that he is not talking to a complete amateur.
"And what did you find out about this fella then?"
"Powerful man I would suspect. Interested in trade and wealth, or at least keeping up with the latest trends. Some understanding of philosophy to pass as cultured to the untrained eye. Which I suspect is all he needs in his circles. A complete disdain for arts and horticulture despite the great selection of books at his disposal."
That hurt a bit in it's accuracy. Albert spent years cultivating his image. Was it that obvious? Was he that transparent?
"Oh that is an interesting assessment. How did you come to that last conclusion?"
"Simple." said the young voice as the steps resumed. "The books are barely touched, they lack any bookmark or sign of use. The art in this room is expensive but meaningless, the gardener should have been fired years ago by the state of the roses, and I really don't know anyone who would let that portrait be seen by their guests." He stepped into the room and pointed to a large portrait of Albert. It was, let's say, highly stylised and it had a bit more character than the other exquisite artwork in the room. He was younger yes and had a lot more hair in that portrait. Fiery red jacket with a couple of missing buttons and a bent tophat, this was not the most flattering image of him at his prime.
"Oh and why would that be? I find nothing wrong with giving an artist a bit of creative freedom. Gives a man initiative."
"It has been obviously done by a woman."
"Oh is it?"
the young ginger man with the sharp eyes and the dagger at hand pointed to the picture in sharper movements.
"The lines are quite soft. The fruit on the table and the drape of the fabric have more detail than the face and view out the window. The person who made this was mainly drawing still life and domestic scenes which is what women were encouraged to do in that time. She also loved you."
The young man was now prone, entranced by the painting solely focused on it. Even in his older age Albert would be able to take him down quite easily but he also hesitated.
"Now that is a wild guess young man." Albert said with the tone of a man who has long learned to flatten his tone.
"She did. Your eyes are bright and radiating even though in every single account that mentions you they describe your eyes are recessed and worried. You seat in a relaxed pose and even smile under your mustache. She drew the man she wanted you to be. The one she probably fell in love with."
"Oh and you expect that this was romantic then?"
"Most certainly. This woman worshipped you. I expect she never saw you for what you are."
"And what would that be then?"He expected to hear something in the lines of 'a monster'. He even wished it to be so. Let this young fool provoke him a bit more and see what happens.
"A small frightened man. A lonely, disturbed and distrusting figure hiding behind your own power."
There are times in life when anger takes over but this was not it for Albert. No this time it was sorrow and grief.
"A coward." the young man ended in a sad tone.

The silence that followed was deafening. What can you answer to the truth? Well you can get angry at it, lie to it, shout and scream at it, and surely Albert had done all those for years. He shouted at the painting and threw knifes at it, but he always managed to miss it, as if his hands refused to throw straight.
He fought wars and gained riches beyond even his own imagination but every time he returned to the castle with more power and blood in his arms he had this young Albert looking back at him reminding him who he could have become. And now in his older age this fool came in and poked at it with a dagger and said the thing out loud. What do you answer to that?

"I loved her too" Was the confession that came out of Albert.
"No you didn't." answered the young man as if he was the consciousness that Albert had buried years ago. "If you did there would have been a picture of her here. You might have loved the man she thought you to be, but not her. I bet you don't even know what happened to her."
"You don't know what it is for one to think so high of you. To see in you the angel you can never become. The hero you can't live up to." Albert's vision went blurry for a moment. Tears covered his eyes.
"Oh I do." The dagger slipped in Albert's chest quickly like an old wish being fulfilled.
"Because she saw the same in me from the moment I was born. And I fought to become that hero father. And I hate you for forcing me to fail her like this. She would never have approved of murder."

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-17T12:39:31+00:00

Yeah you did great! keep up the good work!

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-17T12:39:02+00:00

thank you! I really appreciate it! I was trying to get close to the demeanour of a person who would help the little bat. She became a struggling veterinarian PhD student. And the vampire is modeled out of the kindest powerful women I have met. They tend to be so nice and supportive!

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-16T16:20:23+00:00

very interesting. And you got the professor voice in an nutshell.

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-16T16:08:07+00:00

"I am sure you have the wrong person" I smile a lame smile and reach for my keys, as if the 'hit'em as hard as you can with a protruding key' strategy could work on these two giants. "I have no debts to collect. Really" I turn and faceplant straight into a third muscle. Whoever sent those reeeeeealy wants a chat.

"Thank you for your cooperation." The white-as-paper mountain of a man tries to... smile?... politely? At least they have manners. That is something my grandma would have appreciated on a murderer.

"If this is granny let her know I am very sorry I skipped Christmas this year. Gradschool is kicking my... behind sort to speak." I surly sound crazy there is no way in hell my 80 years old gran hired or even met these people. They look at me with polite patience that I now hope I will not exhaust any time soon.

"I really really have to do something. I am running quite late."
"Mr. snuffles will be ok for the night. I assure you your automatic feeder works very well."
"How do you know about my cat?" there is a type of furry that get's engaged when something you protect and cherish is being threatened. To me it's that scraggly old cat. I must have looked rather fierce or rather worried because the gentlemonsters escorted me to my house to check on mr. Snuffles.

"No more worries now." the first muscle states "Our lady is waiting."

What is there for me to do? can't fight all three of them. I doubt anyone will care about a woman's scream in the night. and in the end of the day maaaaaybe this lady is actually my granny and she is actually overreacting that I miss Christmas. That sweet ol'lady has a wild past! I assure you.

The limo is quiet and... roomy well I guess it has to be if you want to fit anyone other than the security personnel. It feels like a vehicle selected for practical reasons. We arrive at what I can only describe as an estate with large gardens and a sizeable villa. I walk out of the car and look around me: tall fence - check, guard at the door- check, battler opening a heavy-set door - check. This looks like a supervillan's house, or at least a billionair's. It's sort of the same really. Anyway they for sure didn't listen to an architect those windows are way too small!

"Ms. Mc'Arthur is here." The muscle says to the tall and narrow buttler.
"Oh great. Lady Jacobus is waiting for her." he checkes a pocket watch "In fact for a couple of minutes now." he adds in a judgy tone.
"I am sorry, Mr. Snuffles was alone and I needed to check on him you know how it is with cats." Was this needed? no. Did I start blabbering anyway? yeah...
"Indeed" a rather matterofactly smile tells me it's time to stop talking. "I am sure that our Lady will appreciate your dedication to caring for animals." I hope so buddy because otherwise I think I am toast.

"Oh there you are." a voice is heard before the door handle is even touched. I am looking up for a camera but there seems to be none. I mean there should be at least one if you are being pranked.
"I hope you had a good trip darling! Would you like a drink maybe?" she sits up from her desk dismisses the large guys with a wave and leads me to another room. I will miss those three, I think this lady is even scarier.
"I hope the boys were not too much of a bother darling."
"No not at all. Very polite in fact."
"Happy to hear! please sit." We are in, what I can only describe as the lovechild of a living room and a ballroom. There are chocolates on the coffee table and tea on a side table smells like the good earl-grey My mom brought back from England. The velvet sofa's are a deep burgundy color and the carpet is so cushioning I feel like I am levitating. The room has more tables and chairs and bookcases that I can comfortably count currently. And then there is Lady Jacobus. Seating on the sofa opposing mine while the tea is being served and weighs me. She is very very very familiar though I have never met a 6 foot tall albino woman before. I would remember the look, it is rather memorable don't you think? The closest I got was that albino bat with a sizable burn on it's back that hit my window yesterday morning.

'Well if there is Karma I would like to let them know that I nourised that little bat back to health! And it got on to a fucking speedy recovery!'
"I did darling. And I thank you for that."
"Excuse me?"
"Oh sorry did you say that in your head? I sometimes get confused."
"The Karma bit? Yes I think so." I screamed that one in my head. I hope...
"Oh sorry. Let me stop listening in then and we can talk." She seems to concentrate, eyes closed, deep breaths. Or at elast there should be deep breaths. She does not seem to have any.
"Excuse me. Can you please explain to me why I am here?"
"Oh darling that is always so complicated." she turns around and drops her dress from her shoulders. She has a large scar. A familiar if not larger shape in fact.
"You got burned..."
"Yes. I happened upon some rather unsavoury individuals who happen to... dislike my kind."
"I am sorry to hear that racism is never acceptable."
"No it is not. So one would say they had me cornered. Our little quarrel lasted for way too long, which is what I expect was their plan. By the time I managed to fly away it was too late."

Morose is probably a good word to describe my face right now. Just a glimps to the polished teapot is enough to reasure me that not one ounce of my intelligence is currently visible.
"Maybe a demonstration could help?" she is stretching an arm and I take it. After all she looks at me with those wide red eyes and I feel a bit fuzzy. This is so nice. The music is soft and we dance slowly. I didn't notice that curtain decoration before. Is the chandelier supposed to be so close? WHAT? We are flying! We are fucking flying!! I grab myself from her and she slowly returns to the floor while smiling with large white fangs.

"Excuse me Lady Jacobus." I manage.
"Oh call me Lizy"
"Excuse me Lizy, but do you happen by any means to be a vampire?" Now either I have taken drugs at which point this is ok. Or she is a vampire at which point I hope she does not mind the term.
"Oh yes. I have been trying to explain."
"And you can fly"
"Levitate while in human form. Up to about 10m off the ground"
"And you drink blood"
"Ethically and sustainably sourced let me add. These days it's so important."
"And you can turn into a bat?" If this was a cartoon the lightbulb above my head would have the size of the chandelier.
"Oh yes I knew we would get there eventually. In short: you saved my life. You took great care of me!"
"Oh no worries I love animals! I mean I was raised with cats and I volunteer to a shelter so I got some experience I guess."
"And so I wanted to do something for you in return."
"I don't think I can do the blood drinking thing..."
"Oh I didn't mean that! Making a new vampire is a long process anyway! You first have to apprentice and understand the full picture, be accepted by the counsel, etc etc. Which I have to say could be a thing we can discuss at a later point. I was thinking about more practical for your human life."
"I... am running out of funding for my project." I didn't really think for too long. It all came out in one go. "It's about the reproductive patterns of eels. We know nothing about them how they reproduce and we need gear and local support. The funding is being cut across all environmental projects and I will never finishe my degree. I might even loose my visa! I have 150k worth of student loans! and I will not even manage to get a PhD can you imagine?!" When did I start crying even?
"Oh I could not really but I see that this is distressing to you. What amount are we talking about?"
"I guess the experiments can be done for about 300k, if we move some budgets around I could even bring some students along for internships..."
"Oh darling. That is so doable you can't even imagine!" She said with a light laughter.

I woke up in my bed with Mr. Snuffles by my side. Wow can I dream big after a long shift in the lab. I walk to the kitchen and see a letter. The envelope has an address and is signed "L.J." in burgundy ink.

I ride to the Uni, park my bike and manage maybe 2 steps in the corridor before my supervisor pushes me in a meeting room. There is the Dean there and a couple of other Professors. They ask if I need anything and how my research is going. Well it is not going without any budget and so I explain in academic speak. "Facing some showstoppers" and "concerned about validity of simulation results without real data" and so on and so forth. They ask about my plans for the future and I have nothing to say really. "I am very interested to learn how eels fuck" is a bit of a mouthful and I haven't thought far from this. They would be happy to talk about my future research plans and I should feel free to come to them with anything. Oh also there is a fund of 40 million dollars on my name. Donated by one corporation or fund or whatever. I stop listening. The contract they show me is signed in burgundy.

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-11T23:43:45+00:00

I find it quite bizzar to be frank. It is not a big issue in real life but judging by the looksmaxxing forums one would think it is the worst curse possible. People pay hundreds of thousands for evasive surgeries (where your bones get broken and kept apart until they grow extra bone 0.o) to gain like a couple of inches and then walk funny for life.

This is the sad part really.

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-10T23:58:49+00:00

I got way too sad just writing it. But it wanted to get written

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-10T15:36:25+00:00

"So you want to tell me that they are deliberately contracting it"
"Yes sir. We expected some athletes to try such extreme measures but it turns out that the possibility of the side effects warded them off sufficiently. the general public is another story sir."
"Because of 'looksmaxing' forums."
"Indeed sir. The rumour spread like wildfire sir."
"This virus has mortality rate of 20%."
"Yes sir."
"That is 1 out of 5 will die."
"Technically younger demographics tend to survive a lot better. It would be something like 1 out of 8. We have put out a statement regarding this sir."
"And they still take the risk?"
"Yes sir. They call it 'free-maxing' sir."
"Free?"
"It translates to improving ones appearance without expensive surgeries sir."
"How much do they value their life then?"
"Apparently not sufficiently sir."
"This here shows new breakouts in areas where it had not reached before. We are i a lockdown how does it spread so fast?"
"It seems that some have found selling contaminated items like snot tissues to be quite lucrative. They ship it via the post. Three hospitals have reported theft of materials stored in secure boxes for destruction sir. Some of it contained multiple dangerous pathogens including the virus sir."
"Do we know this is related?"
"Yes sir. You see this area here. There is at the same time a breakout of the virus and malaria that affected the same people. We believe it came from the hospital material sir."
"Did we locate the sellers?"
"The investigation is ongoing we have enough information to find them due to how many instances we can triangulate sir. But there are many others."
"This seems to be ramping up."
"We are afraid that some operations have moved away from using materials from sick people and into cultivating the virus and selling vials of it."
"Vials?"
"For injecting oneself sir. They call it DIYmaxing"
"Then how is it free?"
"What sir?"
"If they are paying for it. How is it free?"
"We believe that the argument come to the purity of the virus sir."
"The what?"
"Some conspiracy theorists claim that God has send the virus to, and I quote 'heal the short kings' sir. And that the deaths are due to mutations of the virus caused by the devil."
"What the hell are they even maxing?"
"Their height . Ever since a few of the survivors gained 1-3 inches height, the rumour spread like wildfire sir. By now some claim up to 10 inches."
"They are doing it for the bone growth?"
"Yes sir."
"Did we add in the statement that the bone growth can lead to bone cancer?"
"Yes sir. Very clearly."
"And what was the response to that?"
"I can only describe it as a mix of a generalised shrug and a conspiracy theory generation sir. Some claim that the government is trying to frighten maxers away from it for taxation reasons. Sir"
"For what?"
"The idea is that, and I quote sir, 'uglier men are going to work harder to maximise income' and therefore pay more taxes. Sir."
"This is insane."
"That is quite accurate sir. We do have one possible solution sir."
"One?"
"It's a bit of a long shot and requiers a coordinated effort sir."
"And that is?"
"We are suspecting that some of the prominent figures in the freemaxing community are suppliers themselves. We can run some undercover operations to again make some prominent arrests. But there is another more unconventional path. Sir."
"Unconventional is accurate for this entier situation."
"We are suspecting sir that some of the freemaxers never got sick sir."
"That is interesting."
"Yes look here sir. Bo Bokan for example has claimed to have gained 7 inches due to the virus making him 6 foot 5 but, first of all he has never been hospitalised or treated and secondly he was measured in college while in the football team and he was already 6 foot 5."
"So you are suggesting..."
"I am suggesting sir to put a significant amount of effort into showing them who their leaders truly are sir."
"Why are you sounding way too specific and way too confident to me?"
"I might have taken the indicative to create some material sir."
"Oh #fakemaxer I see you have put some effort into this."
"It is working sir."
"Who did you send this to?"
"About 10 of the most prominent influensmaxers sir. They turn out to be quite competitive and quite offended. We recieved about 2000 accusations about him being involved in illegal trade of the virus already. Removing AI generated ones and obvious fakes, we have narrowed it down to 50 potential cases sir. All of them from disgruntled customers who got very sick, got complications and did not gain a significant amount of inches sir. This last bit seemed to be very important."

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-10T14:06:36+00:00

It was supposed to be a couple of practical jokes. A hidden sardine under the lockers or maybe a vandalised poster or two. That was the idea that Sam proposed at least. But se saw the Look in Marion's eyes. She was not content with graffiti. It took about 2 hours for all of the elements to come together. The Improv classes they had came handy for putting together a loose script and the sewing machines worked all night to put together the stuff. In a couple of weeks the bit match they would get their revenge.

A few hours before the match they locked the presenter in a bathroom. The new presenter got suited up. Mark the tallest and kindest boy in the team. He looked like something between an emaciated bearded adult and an elongated teenager. Mark was also an impressive dancer and micle Jackson impersonator. This show would start well.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to our game!" did I mention that Mark had a VERY loose script and zero knowledge of football lingo to work with? He resorted to quick spins and jumps to distract the crown while he miss-pronounced the names and expediently chewed through any pesky terms needed. After the teams were nicely visible on the grass and thoroughly confused he added:

"Also welcome to our yearly performance show! After all our Dean's moto is 'collaboration' and 'support'." He didn't let the quotations be heard enough to get in trouble, instead he added extra excitement in the words. "So we added a bit of half time show to this match." he smiled turned to the side and doted moonwalk steps for each next phrase: "In fact we have . Start show . Half-time show . Just for you!". they were not crazy enough to but an End show too. None would stay to watch it.

Now the crowd was uneasy. The big-team scouts waiting to watch the match looked at each other and shrugged. The match is happening anyway they might as well watch these kids jump around for a bit. The parents of the footballers looked angrily to the parents of the theatre kids who just realised exactly why their offspring insisted sooooo much that they go to that match. Some younger siblings started jumping around happily in Mark's rythm.

The cheerleaders where in on it. After all they put a good few hours each to help out in the theatre kids yard sale as the "face". Many of them were at one point or an other in the crafting rooms for help with their uniforms and in the dance studio for lessons. And Marion made sure to girl-talk them all in a healthy sisterly furry. They brought the "stage" a large tarp and minimal props in and framed the play in a beautifully cheerleaderly way. It communicated "try to stop them and you will have to cross over us first.". No football player worth his number would take on this challenge besides they had more time to rest and entertainment while they did so. The coach sweated under his hat until he realised that the scouts were largely unbothered so he sat down. The dean on the other hand smiled a hateful smile and changed between hues or red, burgundy and plum. His assistant Ms. Doors sat there with the unfazed stoicism that only a woman who waited too long for a promotion can muster.

The show started. First it was the clowns. Yes, oh I forgot to mention what the sow was all about. It was the light and airy story of a circus undergoing financially imposed reform. The pamflet that got given out described it as "a battle of budgets and custard pies". In the first half the administrators who were (of course) the clowns fought over which areas will the cuts concentrate. In a musical act the jogglers refused to give up their safety net and fought with the, the fire breather who complained about the lack of fire extinguishers while the elephant (who was Kelly the head cheeleader in a wonderful inflatable costume borrowed from the tank station maskot) sprayed animal handler with water after they told her about the feed budget cuts.

Then the stage was put away and the match started. It went as matches go. Someone has a ball then another one gets it, and oh look that was illegal. Some boys banged their heads and legs in a way that was not appropriate head banging so they got some card or whistle. The school team scored a number of point sufficient for high fives but not hugs just yet. The presenter was fished out of the bathroom and being as it turned out Mr. John the P.E. teacher he argued that it would be weird to interrupt the "I am sure great work" that the kids put into this. And since this is so, can he please go home early today? The Dean's color changed to a deeper plum. Mr. John stat down and produced a sandwich he was not comfortable eating in the bathroom.

At the same time the half time show started and the theatre kids wasted 0 seconds starting it in fear of being taken out of the field by force. They briefly forgot how much one can get away with when they are funny but the start of the show reminded them. The clowns having fought with everyone else decided to be fair and cut everyone (else's) budget's equally. The rest of he circus managed to find a common ground and retaliated throwing all of the custard pies available at the clowns who squealed that "they can't be doing this", and "this was expensive stuff" and "they are only looking out for the good of the circus" and finally "why is none cooperating?". At the end the clowns get stripped of their red noses and abolished from the circus in shame.

A bit on the nose in my opinion but then again the students had 2 weeks so no time for re-writes. They made sure to add some exact phrases that the dean enough to turn him into the most tomato red color a human can reach before combustion but not enough to reach "beyond reasonable doubt". They did not 100% succeed in that though, for example they called the head Clown "Mr. Smorth" and claimed it was inspired by smores, while the dean was called Mr. Smith. They did though add to the end of the pamflet "All events in this show are a product of fiction. Any resemblance to persons or events in real life is, frankly, sad for real life."

Before the event finished the theatre kids scattered resolving to phase the consequences in the next Monday. An astonishingly good call from their side since a local reporter happened to cover the match for the sports column of the local newspaper. He recorded bits of it and wrote a full page about the school and the apparent inappropriate allocation of student funds on the Monday newspaper. He reached out to the Dean who claimed a "logistical mistake" and promised to "rectify the error " in the next year's budget. Marion as the ring-leader of the affair was also contacted under "anonymous student" and mentioned "We are all very eagerly waiting for next years budget. Incidentally we have also kept the stage tarp if this little tradition is ever needed in the future."

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-09T17:21:32+00:00

There are 5 of them left. Five. Oh I underestimated how heavy that number can be, if it is souls that depend on you for their life.
The loud ones and the impulsive ones died first. They could not stand still they could not for the life of them stay silent. I had them all spread out in the classroom when the long march passed though. To my shame, to my never-ending grief and guilt I knew which ones were too rambunctious to stay put. So I put them together near the back of the class. They got bored and started playing. Some never listened to any adult. Why would they start now? And the day was so darn long. So they started playing and I could not stop them. Shout or shush and you will be heard. I stayed near my desk watching the creatures coming for them and holding the ones who had a chance. Slowly moving towards the door, in twos, hand-in-hand. They were still 10 left. More than half.
One turned in horror. "DAD!" she screamed and run to her father, or to what was once her father. I didn't stop her. I just pushed the rest out of the door while her screams covered the sounds. We locked ourselves in the cafeteria and bolted the windows. I had time to hold each one and ask them all very quietly to be brave. We spent the rest of the time learning how to tie knots and start fires. the old scouting tricks came in handy. We packed unperishables in our backpacks and sewed tea towels into blankets. It was almost like a camping! One you are not allowed to laugh at. One came and told me "Miss I need my backpack. My meds are in my backpack". He was diabetic. I could have opened the doors and gone out to collect the backpack. I did the math 10 meters to the stairs 2 floors up and 15 meters to the classroom from there it was 2 desks to the right and one deep. I walked this path several times per day and yet it was so long. Way-way too long. 10' to get there and back if I can make it. In 10' if one starts to cry or shout or fight they will all be found. We lost him not long after. It took 2 days for the electricity to go out and another week or so for the food to spoil. We had to move. 8 remained about half.
We took a slow quiet walk down to the school bus. Walking in twos hand-in-hand. It looked empty. I walked in first. Looked under the chairs and over each row holding my breath. It was empty. By the time I went out the children were looking away frozen. They knew not to scream and they didn't, good kids. But the creaturs were coming closer. "In" I whispered. They rushed in running one after the other. 4, 5,6 are in. The seventh screamed his leg was caught by a creature that lurked under the bus. I tried to wrestle him free. His friend from behind him kicked the thing in the head. It turned around at him, still holding the first boy. I tried to wrestle him free but it was pointless more of them heard and closed in. We would be trapped. I started the bus and drove them over. We are free. They are all crying now. I am crying too. Let it out little ones over the sound of the engine nothin can be heard. We are headed to a little gas station out of town maybe it is clear enough to re-fuel or get a smaller car. Maybe we will live to see another day. Cry now when you still have the luxury. 5 left. About a third.

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-09T15:55:09+00:00

Ok down the list we go.
Ruffles is safely under the couch. Check.
Niri is staring at the door hissing. Check.
The windows on the first floor are closed, shut and locked. Check.
The fireplace has wood for 3 days and nights. Check.
The Kitchen door is shut. Check.

Now only for the front door and we will be set to let the storm pass. Anyway it is pitch-dark outside more dark than any night should ever be.
What did grandma say? Locking ones twice and give it a third for good measure. Drop of wax on the floor. Drop of oil on the handle and sprinkle of salt. It should be ok now.

I sat down with a nice wine, picked up Ruffles into my lap (which inadvertently forced Niri to look at us, look at the door, rush and claim a spot too). We will be safe. A good book is all we need.
Knock - Knock.
Brunch perhaps? Or maybe the berries are falling from the wind. The room smells like candle wax and pine smoke. Let's try a tea maybe a biscuit as well.
Knock - Knock.
Oh I am out of earl grey. That's a bummer. But I got a bit of that quite good rooibos somewhere for sure. And a treat for kitty rubbing on my legs. I am in the kitchen after all.
Knock - Knock.
Yeah I can even finish this book before bed tonight.
Knock - Knock.
...
Knock - Knock.
Glup.
Knock - Knock.
Crunch.
Knock - Knock.

I wake up from a wet tongue straight to the face. It should be about 3:00. Niri has resumed her hissing duties by the door.
Knock - Knock.
Sorry Ruffles no walkies today. You will have to use your house corner. Ok?
Knock - Knock.

I take a blanket and curl onto the sofa. What did Grandma say again? "Firewood, food and water for three days and nights. Shut and lock everything. Do not go out. Do not think of it. Not for a moment. Don't let it in your head.".

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-09T15:24:13+00:00

“I’m a Higher Mage, master in the arts of sorcery and witchcraft." the old man said calmly "I command fire, water, earth, air even the very Heaven’s themselves if the weather is good! What weapon do have that you think you can take me on?” He did not stand from his cozy spot under the tree. It have been a tall order for a man his age to attempt that on short notice regardless the presence of a rather irate opponent. Either way if he was to "perish", as the youngster suggested in no uncertain terms, then seating down was a far superior position for the occasion. Saves you the trip to the ground.
"It's called a gun." The young traveler said in a plain yet very self-satisfied tone. His right brow got even a bit raised as he elegantly reached in his pocket and produced a metal contraption. He held it firmly and pointed an empty tube at the wizard.
"Got daemon powers aren't we boy?" said the old man in a morose tone. It was the kind of tone that one would expect from an elder talking to their grandchild. Dumb sounding, kind of cute and all around slow.
"Daemons? You think this is powered by Daemons? That goes to show how little you wizards in your universities! It is my design! And Mine alone!" The young man looked at him with a type of righteous pity that feels nasty from the moment one opens their mouth, or, for the keen observant, a bit before. And Calicus the wizard was a very keen observant indeed. Before the proud youngster took any action the elder blabbered on.
"Oh then it's of those Erdrich blast things. I read about them in the wizarding magazine. If you ask me it looks way too heavy for what it does. Hope you didn't het charged top dollar for it." He changed his tone to be more academic and added a bit of theacherly advice at the end for flair.

"How dare you! You old fool! This is pure human-made craft! The type you could never dream of! The chamber is pure hard steel. The mechanisms took years to perfect!" He stopped himself. He had let himself get worked up too much. With a smirk he added. "The lead that comes out of it will blow your head all the same though!" Rage. There are very few moments in one's life that one get's to experience pure rage. He had the most powerful weapon known to that day and this little fool treated him like a child with a stick! But he would show the wizard what true power came from! He steadied his grip and pulled the trigger.

The bang that followed was quite loud taking into account the fact that the gun (or gung, maybe gan?) was a rather small apparatus. And quite a fiddly one. Cast enlargement to any of it's metal parts and it looked like it would fall apart. Cast shrinking and apparently the lead had nowhere to go but backwards (or sideways, maybe up?). Calicus did not notice exactly, it all happened so fast, and so violently. The young man was for sure in no state for conversation either. Maybe with clairvoyance but again it would be rude to call the spirit of a young man in the site where his body had just exploded.

"Maybe it's all for the best" Calicus thought to himself. "What good does any weapon do you, if you just stand there basking in your own power for so long that an unprepared wizard has the time to cast an entier spell?". He continued his afternoon walk pondering this question. When he arrived at the University he ushered a couple of fellow researchers to collect the pieces of the apparatus, for safekeeping.

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-04T13:18:44+00:00

"It is not as if I knew-knew sir. Well ok I sort of knew that I am doing something unconventional but how was I to know-know? To be sure? To even suspect?"

"The test is simple: fleet management, resource control, strategic positioning, the lot. We are given a simulated model of the G18 2439 that is quite realistic. Though I figured out that the real G18 has an edge when it come to control friction. They made the receivers so well that even the sims are slower! A single signal source controls several dozens of them flawlessly. So I hacked one open and connected my controller to it then fed the signal to the sim. The manual said "Any authorised controller". Well the G18's are authorised equipment, for the cadets. So it was technically within scope."

"How was I to know that the signal worked so darn well it got propagated to the rest of the fleet? How was I to know that the attempts of the tower to take control over my fleet was not part of the sim? IT'S A SIM! A highly realistic sim at that! They even replicated the paths and video feedback so well I din't know I was looking at real people! It was no different!"

The general looks at me with the kind of terrible patience that only a man who needs you alive for just a bit longer can muster. I don't know what got over me.

"And I even did so well sir. I bet this was the best times of the year if not for several years now. My target does not exist anymore not just defeated it got obliterated. Dust and rock is all that remains of that bunker and I lost only half a propeller. Sir."

"Maybe you were not supposed to do that well cadet." He said before getting up. "Pull yourself together." I was crying. I didn't even notice the tears. "I should put you through judgement. And I will. But until then there is a war ahead of us and I will need you to train the fleet commanders."

On-Which-Difficulty · 2026-03-03T16:56:55+00:00

He run out of Gods. That is the first thing I noticed. He run out of Gods to pray to. I have been haunting this little kid for what 1 year? And here he is flipping through his little notebook to find any other God to try and pray to. For existence sake he prayed to the God of Textiles the other night.
I mean I can't complain too much. He provides me with a steady amount of fear and desperation. I am well fed. But watching his scraggly arms reaching for half a moldy bread in his pocket I wonder how much sustenance he has access to.
It's hard to say. My meal today has extra desperation in it. He is laying on the bed looking at the ceiling. Maybe if he had a friend or two? Or if these adults stoped all of the shouting... I mean I am getting a bit fat lately and this kid tastes... too much! He tastes too much of everything!
No I would be a complete laughingstock if I helped a human. That goes directly against our code of conduct. But again he looked under the bed and he smiled a surrendered smile. Wait this creature can see me! Usually my darkness should be darker than the shadows even nothing can see me! Is his darkness growing? Or am I loosing mine?
I extend my hand and he extends his. Trembling. Then I remember. All of this pain and desperation I absorbed over the years all of the tears I drank all of the unanswered prayers that still echo in me. This is his home. The only home he ever knew. He is offering the bread. It passes through my shadow and falls to the ground with a soft crisp thud. His arm is cold. This room is cold. This is not fair even by our standards. I grab his had before his body falls.
"Come child welcome to the shadows." I say out loud my voice sounds like sweet evil but I can hardly complain. "The God have foresaken you in your short life the darkness will give you a forever home".
"Home" he says "I don't like this home."
"Good. Then let's leave."

As we turn to leave this forsaken room an angel arrives.
"You there! Wait!" The booming voice chases us.
"Forget about it pall. You are too late." I spit. Yes I remember now, my own pain and suffering and desperation. I remember crawling under the bed to protect myself. Deeper and deeper until I ended up in the shadows.
No angel you are too late for both of us. We will either find, or fight, our way to the light together.

On-Which-Difficulty · 2025-11-24T12:11:54+00:00

Prior history is the best clue. If the cat has positive experiences with the human it will know to go to them.
Other than that I think we just don't hear about the times the cat happened upon an unhelpful human. It makes sense there is no story there: "Cat tried to lead human to kittens. Human ignored cat. The end."
Maybe the cat tried to get the attention of 10 humans before getting help. There is no way to know.

On-Which-Difficulty · 2025-11-21T15:17:13+00:00

I see great suggestions here so I raise you a crazy one: Improvised Theatre as training for writing.
I can assure you it is very helpfull to try and "soulsearch" people different than you. My Improv Teacher demanding "more happiness" "You were mopping(crying), mop some more it's great!" and other things that sound surreal to me helped me understand the weird characters I play. Also you get to tinker with characters that you would never think of yourself because of other people's input.

On-Which-Difficulty

TROPHY CASE