Podcasts about Shala

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 1, 2025

A Butterfly wants to kill the World?Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.Although Love is both fire and shadow, we often forget to take comfort from the coolness of the memories when the burning flames are absentThere were precisely two things, okay, four things, keeping me alive. The fourth thing would come to her later when her 'furious was replaced by her 'curious' ~ as in how I knew her inhuman lingo ~ which would lead to my legacy with Grandpa.The top three reasons -She had poked my chest. It was a challenge, calling for one of my guardians to come out and play. The avatar knew I was the chosen heir of the Goddess Ishara and my goddess had devoted a good deal of time and effort to my survival and continued service in her cause. If Ishara made an 'appearance', it would be enough reason to not eviscerate me for my foul treatment of her august personage.Nope. It seemed Ishara was busy at the moment.Still, she most likely knew SzelAnya had shown a keen interest in me in Romania, though I'd never told Selena, or any other member of the 9 Clans, the Dragon's Daughter had killed Ajax for me. Figuring out SzelAnya, a storm deity, had helped me and Aya escape from our kidnapping in the midst of a cyclone in the Pacific Ocean wasn't much of a reach.But no bolt of lightning coalesced from my chest to singe her finger. No clap of thunder. Not even a cloud with a hint of disfavor appeared above us.Her obsidian fingernail began penetrating my shirt, touched my skin, then drew my blood, and something 'twitched'.That would be Contestant Goddess #3. She wasn't actually hanging around me. She didn't have to. She'd left me a memento of our last shindig before we parted ways. That was the nightmare-inducing episode where she, the chthonic goddess Sarrat Irkalli, had compressed one man's body into a dagger and then proceeded to suck another's soul into it to use as a power source for an Airbus 350 (a commercial airliner, if you didn't know).I still had that snaggletooth-looking thing at my back. Well who the Hell was I going to leave it with? Honestly, the only people I felt could keep it safe I loved too much to curse with it. Anyway, the second her divine claw touched my blood, the long dormant weapon whispered to me in a somewhat bored, lofty feminine voice from beyond the grave,Do you want me to discorporate this pathetic has-been for you?Quick check. Only the avatar and I, and her priestess-savant heard that. Of course, in downtown, New York City, noon Sunday, how weird would such a declaration be? The avatar's eyebrow arched. Her big bat-ears (still looking human to the normal viewing public) flicked this way and that, figuring out precisely where the threat originated from. Slowly, her once poking hand began to slide across my chest, along my ribs and around my back.She touched the dagger. Nothing.Gingerly, she drew it forth. I'd had a makeshift sheath made. As the blade made its journey around me, she took a half-step back to better observe it."Please don't kill him!" Theddy squealed. "We haven't had sex yet!"Being 'who' and 'what' she was, the avatar did what came natural. Fortunately for Theddy, I'd become accustomed to working with psychopaths.She stabbed the dagger at Theddy. I clamped my hand down on her wrist. The claws of her left hand came down on my constraining wrist. My free hand came down on that hand, trying to pry it free. It was a hopeless struggle, except.Yes, my old friend 'except'. Except the avatar was holding the dagger. As powerful as Ītzpāpālōtl was, she wasn't pushing against me. She was pushing against Sarrat Irkalli.Ītzpāpālōtl was a living, breathing terror machine who killed and received sacrifices on a regular basis.Sarrat Irkalli hadn't been actively worshipped in 3,000 years.Uneven contest? Oh yeah.See, Ītzpāpālōtl had spent the past 500 years continuously fighting against the Weave to keep her fingers on this side of reality.Meanwhile, for the most part, Sarrat Irkalli had sat upon her throne in the Sumerian Underworld with hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of souls toiling under her watchful gaze for eternity. Sure, her version of Hell wasn't getting any fresh deposits, but she knew how to milk the system well.Even the bad karma for the dagger's creation wasn't hers. She'd stolen it from the foolish Gong Tau sorcerers who had meant to enslave my soul, aka one-third of the Baraqu-Alal-Cáel deal she'd worked out millennia ago. It was the Weave giving her a 'freebie' for playing by the rules, if you considered the Weave sentient.And now Ītzpāpālōtl was touching it. Whoops. It wasn't as if Ītzpāpālōtl was stupid. It isn't like there are tons of magic weapons running around, much less soul-munchers like the one I had. Rationally, who would give a novice like me, a weapon like this? I say again, 'whoops'.Once I'd figured this out, I couldn't stop being me."Theddy, do you like girls?""What?" she squeaked. Here was this psycho trying to drive a Smilodon incisor into her bosom and I was giving her a sex quiz.Ītzpāpālōtl was really starting to struggle now."I, ah, are you okay?" she continued."Oh, I'm dandy. I'm serious. You think this chick is hot? I mean, would you do her in a three-way?" I proposed casually."Timothy?" Sovann."Bro?" Timothy to me."It's all good. Sovann, you want to know what my life is like? This lady who came to discuss business with me today is an immortal mass murderer. You give the word, I'll let go and this knife is going to cut her up like a Ginsu blade on market day because just cutting her heart out isn't going to be enough. Worse. Eventually she'll get back up.""Timothy?" Sovann repeated, this time with more concern. He thought I was nuts. I released my left hand. The blade flipped up, twisting in the avatar's grasp. That was the point her minions figured out something was wrong."El Amado?" the priestess-savant called out softly. The three goons began reaching for 'things'."Call them off, or I open my other hand," I cautioned the avatar. She spared me a swift, hostile look. My fingers tingled."Esten quietos!" she snapped. They stopped."Cáel, bad day, or not. This isn't you. Stop it. The girl's in danger," Timothy spoke up. He didn't mean Theddy. He meant the avatar."I'm being a real asshole, aren't I?" I sighed."Pretty much. You never let the bitches get to you before. Girl pops an attitude, you smile and move on. Life is too short," he reminded me. Too true."I'm going to put my hand over the blade," I told Ītzpāpālōtl. "When I do, you can let go."She didn't say anything for several seconds, even after my left hand covered the semi-serrated edge."Why should I trust you?" she sizzled."Because 'me' letting anything bad happen to you would make me a total, judgmental jerk. I don't know you. Whatever you did before you showed up today shouldn't matter to me. I acted stupidly. I should have stopped you. I didn't. I didn't even warn you and I could have. I was angry, and not even at you. Just angry and I apologize. Now, let go.""Why?""Hi. I'm Cáel Nyilas. Can I have my knife back? Please?"Blink. She released it. For a millisecond, it wanted to do something else because bitches are bitches. It didn't, so my palm wasn't sliced open. My right hand took the hilt. I carefully put the blade away."Yes," Theddy gulped."Huh?" Sovann shook his head at the sudden evaporation of the life and death tension. Welcome to my life. Theddy meant 'yes' to the 'girl-girl-guy' thing I had proposed earlier. It pays to keep things prioritized."What is this movie you were talking about?" Ītzpāpālōtl asked. Had she forgiven me for anything which had transpired? Bwahahaha, no way. She was taking the initiative and going with Option 1 from my earlier insane diatribe."Wait!" Sovann nearly shouted. "You nearly, I don't know, threatened Cáel's life and tried to stab Theddy and now you think you can go with us to a movie?""I told you," Timothy put an arm around his shoulder, "life with Cáel is rarely dull.""I thought you meant he was fun to party with, or something like that," Sovann looked up at his lover. "I thought his uncle showing up, and trying to kill him and then being blown the fuck away by those women and federal agents, and that other girl who pointed a gun at us, is this the new normal?""I love you, Sovann," Timothy grew compassionate. "Cáel is my best friend. He'd never deliberately hurt either of us and normal friends are something he has in short supply. Today being a great case in point."Ten seconds passed."The title is 'As Above, So Below'," Sovann addressed the avatar, "and what do we call you?"Since 'if you are not a worshiper and addressing me, I normally am about to kill you' would sound really cool in Olmec-ic, but I might be asked to translate,"How about we go with 'Obsidian', please?" I pleaded with her.She knew I was currying favor now ~ and behaving like a weather vane caught in the wall of a tornado ~ she gave a gracious bow of her head."Obsidian will do for now. Is the Legend of the dagger 'business'?" Translation: it had better not be."No," I smiled. "It's pillow talk." Rancor, 'how presumptuous', followed by 'but that dagger ups the count to three Goddess interested in him', and next to recalling all the trivial babble about me being a sexual dynamo (I prayed my PR was that good) having some relevance. Her chimera emotions allowed me to get a few more crucial words out, because even women who aren't sleeping with me are jealous."Esta mujer fue la primera en ofrecer bienes funerarios tras la muerte dee mi padre," I reinserted Theddy back into my close company. For some reason, Obsidian considered me unreliable thus had to verify what I'd just said."Did you make funerary offering upon his father's passing?" she asked Theddy. Let's think about this. The wacko chick questioning Theddy had tried to stab a huge freaking blade into her not a minute ago. Fleeing in terror while screaming for the cops? Nope."Yes. I baked him some walnut and caramel chip cookies," she nodded. "It is a family recipe." Sovann looked over the three of us, then back to Timothy."I told you 'that's impressive cocking like I've never seen before'," he explained."She may remain," Obsidian 'permitted'. Theddy wrapped up my right arm with her left and gave it a squeeze. She wanted attention/explanation."Obsidian is a Master Vampire, Theddy," I leaned in and whispered. "Before she was turned, she was captured in a raid by the fey, mentally, spiritually and physically raped and made into their sex-slave. Part of her spirit never healed properly. While this imperfection allows her to walk around in daylight, her heart can never hold on to any emotion for long, so she is forced to forever seek passion, no matter how dangerous, from the world around her."Revealing secrets? Ha. I had noticed Theddy had every work done by Laurel K. Hamilton in her place, including the comic book series."You are not supposed to know, so act like I didn't tell you anything, okay?"'Okay,' she mouthed back at me. I could see it in her eyes. My chaotic life suddenly 'made sense' to her because a best-selling fiction author said so.Obsidian thought the movie was; hilarious. She couldn't stop snickering, giggling and poking at me as horrible shit happened to the various actors. She thought the plot was 'insightful' and wouldn't stop whispering to me throughout the entire thing. During the closing credits, I told her I'd get her the DVD for Christmas ~ she knew the concept behind digital technology, but didn't own any ~ she kissed me.The first kiss was fierce and joyous with the added benefit of her tongue doing things no normal tongue could do, it stretched. Not sure how I felt about that. The second kiss was more sultry, longer and came with some accompanying body action which, I'm no virgin. Not even close. She was on my left side, so when she twisted in her seat, her left leg insinuated itself between mine. Her left hand cupped my jaw and held my head in place as her lips played along mine.A dance of the scorpion perhaps? Tender at first, then suddenly stabbing, dominant and brutal. My lips and tongue battled back, using my superior Kiss-fu to nullify her natural strength and agility. She liked it. By her moaning, she liked it a lot. As the kiss progressed, more and more of her flowed from her seat into my seat, body facing me. Her body rose over mine, forcing my neck back to maintain contact."So, Dot Ishara is hovering around somewhere close, isn't she?" I murmured as our lips separated barely a centimeter apart. One chick kissing you to make another one jealous. It's happened to me plenty of times. Obsidian didn't give a damn about Theddy, or any other mortal woman in close proximity so,"Yes," she purred. "Do you mate with her?""A man does not brag of such things, but no, unless heavy petting counts?""What will she do to you when I steal your seed?"'When'? Why was I not surprised? Why was I not surprised another concussion was in my immediate future either? Was it possible I was, learning?"Chastise me for not fighting harder," I breathed across her lips, "and, in case you forgot, I'm on a date with the girl beside me.""Who I care nothing for," she sent a cruelly playful look Theddy's way. Wisely, the girl shivered."Who I am indebted to and how I honor my debts might matter to you," I hazarded. My words hurt Theddy's feelings. That was on purpose. Obsidian took pleasure in me hurting Theddy because she was basically a vicious monster."Yes?" I pressed her gently."Yes," Obsidian allowed, easing up slightly both romantically and physically."And Theddy, if you believe I'm with you solely because of some sense of obligation, you clearly haven't been listening to your recordings," I shot the human girl a wink."Oh.""Am I, or am I not, a sex-obsessed little monkey?" I teased her. Theddy giggled. I paid for my diversion with four obsidian claws to my ribs outside of Theddy's view. After all, it wasn't like Theddy could possibly compete with her for my attention. Considering Obsidian's legendary ability to rip open her opponent's ribcages and feast upon their hearts, I slipped my left hand, the one next to her between her legs and stroked her cotton-slacks covered cunt.Theddy hugged my right arm and put her head against my shoulder. Not to be outdone," Qu un centenar dee hombres se quemaron vivos como el sonido?" Obsidian inquired with sexually sadistic hunger. Ah, memories of burning 7P Commandos.Whoops. Theddy knew Spanish."No lo s . Ten an respiradores en," I replied casually. "Si lo desea, puedo describir lo que se siente al tirar de una flecha de guerra lanzar mi propio muslo.""Eep," slipped out of Theddy's lips."Why did you do that?" Obsidian looked over us both."Well, I was showing a little girl I believed in her,""And she shot you?" Theddy gulped."No. She hit the target I was standing next to. A co-worker mistook me for a cardboard cutout of a Jehovah's Witness and let fly. Seems she had issues with organized religion as well as a reaction to the oscillation effect of florescent lighting and ceiling fans.""But why did you pull the arrow out?" Theddy asked. "Couldn't you wait until you got to the hospital?""Mosquito," Obsidian menaced, insinuating Theddy was a pest."I wasn't thinking rationally at the moment, I work in an asylum, I had a hot date in a few hours, any of those three will do," I smiled at Theddy."Copil such as Cáel don't bother with petty human conventions," Obsidian turned my gaze back her way with her hand on my jaw. 'Copil's were 'god-touched' in her lingo."More than one girl?" Theddy mused."Four.""Okay," she sighed happily."Theddy, three under-age girls and the police office he was dating acting as their chaperone," Timothy intervened. "He hurried home so he could keep a promise to the children, not for sex." Bastard. He really was my best friend. He didn't mention my post-injury, pre-festivity sex with Odette giving me a few extra, urgently needed Brownie Points to suggest I might be a decent human being."You are a wonderful guy," Theddy ran a fingernail over my free hand. Clearly I was 'wonderful' enough to risk Obsidian's anger over. The screen went blank as the last credits scrolled away and the room was plunged into darkness. Five seconds later, the lights snapped on.Pain!"Fuck," I hissed. It wasn't any extra physical trauma causing me discomfort. No, a metaphysical dam had burst within and my stream of conscious thought had been turned into a white-water rapids. The competing cyclones of thoughts in my mind had stopped cooperating and my hypothalamus was letting me know I was in danger."Cáel", "Cáel", "Bro", and "Ishara" all came in rapid succession. I needed some space both tangible and social."I need to step outside," I eased Obsidian off me and stood up. My sense of my personal danger was ratcheting up. While I had been studying Obsidian, so I could screw her, I had discovered more and more Alal-badness.The light display had ignited a series of pressing implanted memories which had been clamoring for my attention. Things like not all 'divinities' were stewards of the Weave. Some even wanted its destruction, preferring risking all on a chaotic restructuring of reality over what existed now ~ things like Obsidian. They weren't attempting to do so because they thought they had no chance.But there was. A real serious chance to unravel reality existed; and it was staring her in the face. It wasn't 'me' as in 'I was the Anti-Christ'. But with the torrent of memories pouring forth, I knew where the peril lay and I was completely responsible for it. Hell, I was a prime ally of Armageddon and hadn't even known it.'Holy Shit!'I blinked. Timothy was shaking me. We were out in the lobby."Oh my God, Timothy," I nearly wept. "What am I going to do?""I have no idea what you are talking about. Is there someone you can talk to about this?" he suggested. Normal folks were around us. Obsidian was at my side. Sovann was behind Timothy with an arm around Theddy's shoulder."Theddy," I looked at her. "Can I catch up with you later? I just realized I've screwed up something fierce." I put my best 'really don't want to go but I gotta' face on. Her worried look brightened, she slipped around Timothy and gave me a tingling French kiss."I'll hold you to that, Cáel," she murmured when we parted."Timothy, go home, I got shit to deal with," I hoped my grin didn't become as feeble as I felt it to be."I," he started to say something. "Time not to ask questions?""Yeah.""Okay.""Wait." I pulled us to the side and went on to my toes, leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Tell Pamela 'he' sent Ajax to kill the Professor, his family and the sisters. They were the targets all along. It wasn't me, or the other women. Just in case,""Okay," Timothy patted my arm. It was cryptic. It was the best I could do. See, I wanted to cry so badly.{2:09 pm Sunday, September 7th ~ Last day}Where to begin:Every mythology across the globe has some creature, or creatures, which threatens Existence. Usually a God, or a Hero-God, slays the creature and everything is right with the world, except such a being, being older than Existence itself, can't really die, so they are carved up, buried ~ what have you.Illuyankamunus was one such manifestation of this underlying cancerous desire to destroy reality. He'd had a far more real child, SzelAnya, and she's never quite given up on her dad. Of far greater critical importance, she was 'part' of Illuyankamunus, somewhat in the way I was part of Alal and Baraqu. And yes, that meant all the offspring of Bolu, the guy I'd praised a few hours earlier, held the seeds of that malignant deity as well.And Alal knew it. He hadn't been killing off the descendants. He'd left that task up to a group far more capable of the task, the Egyptian Rite, who knew a fucking threat to existence when they saw it. Lest I forget, No secret society are the 'good guys'. Also lest I forget, I alone decided to go after the Arinniti sons to fulfill Vranus' quest. I had no divine mandate I was aware of nor any real world orders.Inadvertently, I had rounded up the last five mortal remains of Illuyankamunus in one place for convenient disposal in a remote Transylvanian town. The only problem was: if someone didn't get to them quickly, I was also about to whisk them into the loving (and heavy-armed) protective embrace of the Amazon Host, where the completion of centuries of culling would have suddenly become a cast-iron bitch instead of a simple disposal.Enter Ajax. Yeah, I bet the Egyptians were trying to figure out how I stopped him as well as Alal. I thought I was being clever by not telling most of the world. In fact, they most likely suspected; and the reality of SzelAnya watching over me was much more terrifying. Ishara had put a serious curse on the Amazons, yet her curse only affected her followers, the Amazons, who were fair game.SzelAnya had killed someone for me, and I hadn't been one of her followers. Thus I had committed a blasphemous act only a magician of some significant ability could have managed. I wasn't a sorcerer, but I had a cornucopia of mystic knowledge rolling around in my noggin. Trying to figure all this out was one of my major headaches.The others?I even suspected I knew who betrayed me ~ kinda. They didn't do it on purpose. At least I hope they didn't, because my odds-on favorite was my Mother by way of Captain Delilah Faircloth. Realistically, there was only one secret society who might help her against Grandpa and that was the Egyptian Rite, and they did send three people to Dad's funeral including two 'somebodies'. I'm an idiot.I'd chatted away in fluent New Kingdom Egyptian and it never occurred to me how odd it was for two of them to also be so fluent in it. Know it, sure, but as fluent as Kimberly had taught me to be? That should have been a Red Flag.The Earth & Sky had sent Iskender, who should have been the benchmark I judged the other delegations by, damn it.Three Condos? They'd killed my Dad and their guys had been flunkies.The 7 Pillars had been nobodies, which they'd proven by their inaction.Now I had to question why I had 3 actual 9-Clans assassins at my dad's funeral too. Holy Ishara, I wasn't nearly paranoid enough.Anyway, why would the Amazons be aiding and abetting the End of All Life on Earth? Normally, they wouldn't be, but 3000 years ago, the majority of Human life did a colossal dump on the Amazons. And when they needed help, they got it in the form of SzelAnya and her dual-sex followers. I seriously doubt they told the Amazons their purpose was to resurrect SzelAnya's daddy. I imagine the Amazons didn't pry too much either.It turned out almost to be okay. During the 2nd Betrayal, the Amazons betrayed SzelAnya and almost short-circuited her plans by exterminating her lineage.Except for the Arinniti elders and Bolu. Good old 'except'.I can imagine when the Egyptians heard about the 2nd Betrayal, they figured they were 'okay'. Those wacky Amazons had inadvertently done the world a favor. Except an act of maternal love kept a slender hope of Illuyankamunus' return alive. By the time the Egyptians realized they'd been prematurely hopeful, Bolu's descendants were all over the Balkans and hunting them down had proven difficult.But, it gets worse. Much worse.When those Gods shattered Illuyankamunus, they scattered him in the relative certainty no one would ever gather the parts back together.His flesh was scattered across the land, modern day Turkey, but encompassing everything from Pakistan to Italy and Egypt to Poland. The flesh became soil, then plants, the things that eat plants, then food for humans. Get the picture.Whoops. SzelAnya had been doing just that for centuries upon centuries every time she mated with a mortal of Illuyankamunus' line and had offspring, they accumulated his energy, which made hunting down the few remaining ones easier to find, since they were 'beacons of badness', except...There were two key pieces missing which SzelAnya could never get. After all, you would think burying them on the far side of the world would matter, right?The 'breath of Illuyankamunus' ~ his cosmic fire ~ they buried in a volcano in a distant land far across the Great Sea. His spirit 'body' they imprisoned in a great river, again, across the Great Sea.But wait, it gets worse.The being standing next to me knew precisely where the 'breath of Illuyankamunus' was. Seems Mesoamerica is laced with volcanos. They'd discovered 'the breath' long ago and used it as a weapon called Xiuhcoatl. Better yet, Alal suspected she and her buddies were more than happy to reunite it with the rest if they thought the Weave itself wouldn't annihilate them for daring to do so.In their current, weakened state they were vulnerable to such a karmic backlash. In theory, a reborn Illuyankamunus would have access to power beyond the bounds of the Weave, older and more terrifying. Still, without the mortal remains to anchor the energy, giving it to the spirit would be pointless.Alal knew where the spirit body was (in general), but that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was where it was,Of all the places the Arinniti sons could have fled to, they had to choose Brazil, the burial place of the restive spirit body of Illuyankamunus. Mother-fucker.And Ildiko 'Alkonyka' aka Dusk Lovasz had sworn she'd travel to Brazil to fulfill Bolu's side of the quest in the same way I was holding up Vranus' end. If I tried to stop her, SzelAnya would know something was up. Fuck.I was processing all of this when Obsidian violently yanked me out of the way. A cabby had swerved to avoid a flurry of trash and nearly run over us. It was the third near-concussive experience in the past five minutes she'd help me avoid while she had walked by my side. I'd been mumbling like a madman."That would be my Goddess wanting to talk with me," I looked her way."I know," she gave me a clever smile."She's really not going to like that," I shook my head."I know that too," she kept smiling. "Where is your mind?""Five lives away from making the world a safer place," I sighed."Safer for who?" she purred. Where were all the bimbos? Not only was it an insightful question, it cut straight to the heart of my dilemma.What decision could I make? If I elected to help my fellow Amazons, I risked screwing with the world. In truth, I was risking everything even if I did nothing. Well Dad was always clear that things didn't change by themselves. You needed to do something that would have an effect. So, 'What are you going to do?'More to the point, I wasn't Grandad. Killing the last five of the line of Illuyankamunus wasn't 'me', so it wasn't going to be something I'd worry about.SzelAnya wanted to bring back her Dad, I could understand that. I'd have to figure out a way for her to believe this world sticking around was more important. How? Well, I had a goddess-like creature right in front of me to probe for ideas."You are an immortal," Obsidian commented. She'd been weighing her opinion for some time. I could tell by the wonderment with which she gifted each word."What? No. I can die.""No. I don't think so. Your wounds. Normally the wounds I inflict flow freely for some time. Yours have already scabbed over," her eyes flickered to the various minor scars she'd imparted to me in the few hours we'd been together.Of course, her idea was insane, Oh God No! I was in Grandad's body. Well Duh! His body was supposed to be immortal."Are you sure?" I looked deep into her eyes."You are a young immortal, the youngest I've ever met, but you are an immortal," she seemed to be convincing herself as much as me.Stupid Assumption (on my part)! I wasn't in Alal's body. I was in Cáel's. Because the Cáel soul shard was young, Alal hadn't been able to find it because it had moved through Time, to me, sonofabitch! 'I' hadn't been around for him to find. No! I was making yet another damn assumption.What did I know? When Pamela found Baraqu, it had been in an object, not a person, though she had been short on details. When the Alal-shard went to the Land of the Endless Black Sands to bring Saku back, the Cáel-shard had been in reality, so it had been allowed to create a body, 'me'. Still, the curse Sarrat Irkalli placed on Baraqu was on Alal and myself as well, which meant I might just be immortal.My Alal-mind agreed with Obsidian's assessment. In his first years, his healing had been slow, still taking days for what took mortal people weeks. I'd stupidly attributed my swift recovery to Amazon medicines, ugh. Because I got wounded more than most Security Detail trainees while concurrently entertaining two and three sex partners."Can you talk with Dot Ishara?" I asked her."Yes, but why would I?""Sex?""We are going to have sex anyway," she smiled. I'd tricked her. Set her up with the right so I could now drop her with the left."I can bring the mbo tat back to life," I pledged. That was not what she was expecting at all. "If you bring the Xiuhcoatl, I can bring the flesh and we can unite the three." Mbo tat was the Tupi name for the legendary 'fiery serpent' of the Amazon Basin. In Portuguese, it had become Boi-tat , a will-o-wisp with a confused, Christianized mythology ~ a serpent dwelling in darkness, devouring the eyes of corpses, glowing in the forests at night."Where is the flesh?" she whispered."In his mortal children," I replied."Who?""You are a monster, Ītzpāpālōtl. I'm not going to tell you and you don't have the time to drag the information out of my mind before my allies drop on you like a nuclear detonation," I drew my body tightly to her."Why would the Amazons do this?""They are not. This is a deal between you and me," I kissed her lips. I pulled back. A few seconds later she kissed me back."Why?""My grandfather had my father murdered and I would avenge him. In the end, despite my father's Amazon heritage, my 'Sisters' will let his death go unavenged for the greater good of the Host. He was a man and they will never look beyond that ~ they will never value his life as they would that of a woman.""Your mother's father?""Yes. Cáel O'Shea of the Illuminati.""We are not at war with the Illuminati," she murmured. It was a casual observation, not a protest."You are at war with Cáel O'Shea.""He was slain.""He didn't stay dead.""You know much more than you are saying," she was finally catching on."Absolutely.""I need much more than a few names to convince my kin to help," she purred, a cocktail of sexual immersion and flesh-flaying pain."I don't work for you. You are agreeing to work for me," I was hard as iron in more than one way. Why? Boundaries. She lived in a world where only the fundamentals of reality constrained her. Having a human, no matter how polished my pedigree, or how much I might appear to be 'special', tell her 'you are not the boss' in a reasonable fashion was new and very unwelcome."What would make you think that?""My mentor taught me knowledge is a curse. It is our inability to forget, and I can see into your soul, Ītzpāpālōtl. You care not one wit for the life of an assassin. But the thought of the other 'Factors' of the 9 Clans treating you as an equal galls you almost as much as the crushing reality that you need them."You have lived 500 years in chains and I'm offering you a desperate grab at freedom," I added."Your brief glimpse of immortality gives you no insight into my existence," she bristled."Oh, how many have given up? How many have decided the fight was no longer worth it and faded from the Sunlight to make their final trip into the Underworld, never to return? Do you even visit them?" I spoke with a voice tinged with compassion and loss. I pulled upon the pitiless, blank memories of a childless Alal all those centuries and imprinted on them my own fears of fatherhood and failure."How do you know so much?" she let her fa ade crack, then blow away, in the hollowness of her own sorrow. How could I pity such a monster? I could because I was me and I wouldn't surrender that to the barbaric past and most likely horrific future. I pulled her close, resting my chin on the top of her head."You are not the first, wonderful, very bright woman who has stepped into my life, Obsidian," I whispered. "You are not even the first divinity. For all the millions of differences enforced by power and time, I think love, hate and the conflict between the two wear upon us all. If anything, you face an endless parade of hope and misery. Even if you chose to ignore it, you have seen it and perhaps it leaves its marks ~ water scarring the rocks of a riverbed."We paused. I was able to peripherally scan about and realize we'd made it to Central Park ~ the Ramble and off the beaten path."Your Goddess is a fool for not keeping you closer," she murmured."She does keep me close. You have been actively keeping me from her," I reminded my guest. "She also plays by the rules, so is of limited help in my plans for vengeance."Translation: I could enlist Ītzpāpālōtl's aid while still remaining loyal to my matron Goddess. Ishara could not provide what I needed and my Amazons wouldn't agree with my scheme, so I needed her. Three hours ago, she wouldn't have considered me a worthy supplicant, much less an allied equal, yet here she was conspiring with me to shake the foundations of Creation.Personally, I was thanking Mamitu, Destiny. Had I not been having my worst Sunday ever when we first crossed paths and then acted like a total cockhead, pissed her off and led her to holding Sarrat Irkalli's dagger, thus putting her life in my hands, and not had Timothy as a best friend, I wouldn't have taken her to the movie, and my mind wouldn't have wandered down those dark corridors of Alal's memories to piece things together.Whatever itinerary Obsidian had approached me with, my abrasive behavior had forced her to it cast aside. Dagger, movie, revelations, I was now so much more in her eyes than she had envisioned."Share my need and share with me an ounce of your sorrow," I murmured to her as I gently curled my fingers in her hair and directed her head up until she faced me."The dagger," she rumbled. While she was stroking my hard-on, I knew she was using it as a double meaning."I was pinned to an onyx sacrificial table," I began my tale. We worked off pants to mid-thigh then 'got busy'. Penetration was only going to be possible by turning her around. Ground-breaking was her ready acceptance of my instruction. I leaned against a tree, then pulled her onto my lap. She guided my phallus home.One locomotion and I sunk in deep. It was warm molasses until I hit and pressed against her cervix. For a second Obsidian trembled, then her muscles clamped down tightly, gripping my manhood firmly in a vise, keeping me still."Ah," I groaned. Obsidian had her neck twisted, so we were kissing with eye contact as I described my adventures with the Gong tau sorcerers. She shot me a quick twinkle of delight, a connection. She'd relayed physical pleasure in the way I was giving her cerebral gratification, aka hope.I rolled up her shirt, and gave both nipples a brutal tweak in response. She gasped. I was applying a little 'rough' with my tender intercourse. She rolled her tush against my groin, an invitation to double-down on my nipple-play. I kept my left hand working over each tit while working my fingernails down her abdomen. As I described the terror in old Tsu's face as he shouted out 'M iyǒu! (Mandarin for 'No!') as he recognized too late the curse he was invoking. She relished the visual of the Han necromancer's terror.'Me' smacking two fingers down on her clit earned me a squeal and a small gush of fluids on my nut-sack. Her look of astonishment was something I'd always cherish. Before me, sex was something she demanded from her followers/victims and definitely orchestrated. Her partners being fearful/worshipful must have limited their initiative."A-a-a-ah, we are being observed," she groaned, her lips less than an inch from mine. It took me a second."Which direction?" I kept pumping her, strumming her clit and treating her tit like taffy on a hot Coney Island summer afternoon. Her hooded eyes flickered to our right. I gave it ten seconds. I had to get Obsidian refocused on what I was going to do to her next, in case this was innocent voyeurism. Nope. It was Chaz.Why Chaz? See, I'm an idiot. My cryptic warning to Timothy for Pamela had been good for all of one minute. He'd called her and she'd gathered what she could and come looking for me.Why was she concerned? I was babbling to Timothy then wandering off with a 'beyond-freaky' chick I had just met named 'Obsidian' who came my way courtesy of another chick with the name of Estere.Let me see, Estere was Hashashin and for Timothy to describe someone in my life as 'beyond freaky' was bad news. Timothy was seriously worried about me and Timothy was an emotional rock ~ he didn't panic. Lest we forget, I was in a federal taskforce. A quick peek into New York traffic cameras revealed me and Obsidian wandering into Central Park from the south, so in the rescue party went, splitting up and Chaz 'lucked-out'.I still had two, no, three problems. I was really enjoying my sexual excursion with Obsidian and she was seeming to truly enjoy her experience with me. Oh, and Central Park is big, Pamela had been pressed for people, so she had pressed some unlikely participants into my rescue party."He's," smooch, "my brother, by adoption," I headed off the whole idea she'd been briefed on me already."Visual, Peacekeeper Six, OS2, L-11," Chaz muttered into his headset before taking up a casual stance on the path overlooking our trysting spot. Sex with an audience didn't bother her, so, we worked out as much action from twist, turns and two inches of in-and-out motions (she liked to keep our bodies tight) as we could. Obsidian was humming along in no time. Her vaginal walls were undulating, wearing away at my self-control.Panting, not from us,"Is he o, are they, who is she?" huffed and puffed a trio of voices from Chaz's locale. Oh. Pamela had recruited my 'Hounds'.I accidently (from a timing perspective) took that moment to grind my nails into her left nipple, pinched her clit and hammered her as hard as I could. Obsidian howled. Her vocalization exited the human realm in a cataclysmic manner.The noise scared avians a mile away into terrorized flight. Cats hissed, then raced for cover. Dogs tucked tail and ran. Streetlights a hundred yards away shattered in sprays of glass. Better yet, for the entertainment of my viewing public, she lashed out with her right hand at the closest Black Cherry sapling, exploding it into a mist of sap and pulverizing the bark and wood fiber into pulp.On the downside, her cervix gave my balls an ultimatum ~ release my seed at once, or she was going to twist off my head. My cock and balls have a long history of making decisions without me. I began lavishing her. Before I finally got the feeling I was out of the danger zone. She was back to rubbing against me and purring in blissful satisfaction."Onun g zleri," whispered Belgin, one of the Turks. 'Her eyes'?"Cáel, are you aware of the alternative nature of your liaison?" Chaz coolly cautioned me. Translation: 'mate, do you know you have your cock in a demon?'"Yeah," I coughed. I had a face full of her hair. I was working on some post-coital nuzzling along with slowly helping her get her pants back up."Ininzqueoccehpa," she hummed to me, ignoring our gathering. That was 'let's do this again'."Tehuatlcochitlehua," I replied with some fondness. She studied me for a second before deciding my term was one of endearment, thus 'you are what dreams are made of', not 'nightmares'.Obsidian had another issue to deal with. Timothy would call it a righteous cocking. Whatever it was, her hold on her human mein had slipped and her inhumanity was slipping through, mainly in her glass-like, black, multi-facetted eyes and her fingers which now ended in molten obsidian talons. On the subconscious level, her predatory nature was setting everyone close-by on edge. I could also make out the high pitched, ultrasonic pipping of her chiropteran cries ~ purpose unknown.Obsidian made her way off farther into the underbrush leaving me a few precious seconds to appreciate her retreating posterior while holstering my equipment. More people were arriving. I had one more thing to take care of before, oh look, Nikita had brought her Mom along, the NYPD Sergeant."Chaz, I need to have a quick chat with Dot before I can explain things. She's been waiting and that's unwise," I looked to the Brit. He nodded."Cáel? Mr. Nyilas? Prince?" all came my way. I relaxed as best I could. Chaz went to a body blow to stagger me, then an epic upper cut to send me to Lullaby Land.Dot & the DragonessDot and SzelAnya, in dragon form, were waiting as I tumbled forward. By the state of my haziness, I knew my unconsciousness wouldn't last long."You gave her your seed," came the accusation."Yes," I staggered, "and now you should be able to track her," I pointed out the bonus part of the arrangement. No comment."I've got to make this quick, SzelAnya, I've found your father, geographically speaking," I dropped the bomb."Don't," Dot Ishara commanded. After all, she and her divine cohorts had done the killing and corpse-dividing eons ago. Undoubtedly, they'd executed their own oaths to one another to 'never reveal what they had done' as well."Too late," I shook my head. SzelAnya's attention was magnetized. "I owe you and I'm paying my debts. I'm not blind to the dangers, believe me.""You have no idea what power you are invoking," Dot's undercurrent of displeasure was the worst I'd experienced."Wrong. I've got thousands of years of Alal boiling around in my head, Plus the rest of you betrayed her 2600 years ago. It doesn't mean I have to. And now, given the chance, I'm not. Even if you kill me, she's got enough toBack in the Ramble"Really expect me to believe," Nikita's mom was growling."Man down," I waved a weak arm skyward."Mr. Nyilas, what is going on here?" the Sergeant addressed me. I was reclining in a circle of my 'Hounds'; most were kneeling. Chaz was in a tiny bit of trouble for having clocked me."Umm, thanks for coming out and looking for me. I assure you, Mr. Tomorrow did what he did as a matter of his professional duties ~ intelligence gathering." As I struggled to stand, my ladies helped me. I saw Pamela with three Hounds coming up fast from one direction and Virginia with three more coming from the other. The gang was all here.The mutterings in non-English tongues suggested a bit of explaining was already going on."You've been bleeding," Nikita pointed out with an unspoken 'again'."This?" I pulled my shirt out and looked at the first bloodstain of my encounter. "This is the just the start of the bad news." I shed my windbreaker and then t-shirt.The professionals shouldered aside the others to take a closer look."All of these are from noon and less than an hour ago," I identified the damage. Sarge was skeptical. Chaz, Nikita and Virginia less so."They look older," the senior lawman noted."I've been curious about that," Chaz frowned."I've inherited my Grandfather's curse. My soul fragment was in the 'Here and Now' twenty-three years ago while his was, 'over there', so I was allowed to come into creation. According to my recently departed guest,""You are immortal," Virginia mumbled to finish the thought. Had the speaker not been a member of the FBI, who knows how the thought would have been received."From the memories I've been gifted with," I tapped the tiny divot on my forehead, "his healing abilities started out rather slowly too. I certainly don't want to test this theory, so no worries there," I scanned the group."How do you explain seeing your Grandfather in Hungary and again in Rome?" Virginia wondered."Again, that woman who just left," I got out."Was no woman," Nuray, another one of my Turkish Hounds interrupted. "Her eyes..." she tried to explain, "and look what she did to that tree," she pointed to the greatest piece of evidence of supernatural wrongdoing. The other two witnesses nodded."We all saw the same thing. Her eyes were, bottomless, definitely not human," Belgin affirmed. The veteran players looked to Chaz."She had a collapsed nose-bridge, lacked a blink response, her dental work was carnivorous and her tongue was extremely clipped and showed prehensile qualities," he reported calmly. Pause. Chaz was a freaking intelligence operative, after all."If her hands were a type of glove weaponry, I've never seen it s like before. While I know it is possible for a human to exert the force-pounds necessary to snap a two inch diameter tree trunk in one blow, it is a rare skill and requires intense discipline. This appeared to be done spontaneously, without preparation of any kind and as a reaction to other stimuli," he added."It was also your assessment he needed to be knocked unconscious?" Nikita's mom countered."Mr. Nyilas' psychological constructs are something the whole team has to work around. At times, he seeks 'insight' from his mind in a deliberately unconscious/non-sleep state," he replied."He claims to be talking with spirit powers. I know when he returns to consciousness, he delivers useful intelligence. I'm not a psychologist, psychiatrist, or psychic. I don't know why his mind functions that way. I do know results. And I know I work with people who would achieve those results by other means if it were at all possible. Since we haven't found another method, we accept that from tim

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Cáel Defeats The Illuminati: Part 14

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Play Episode Listen Later Mar 31, 2025

Guardian Goddess in Manhattan.Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels."Our Princess grew up around a woman whose keen intellect we rely on to protect us from unseen enemies," Saint Marie's voice became deeper and more threatening. "At the age of ten, she," Saint Marie looked my way as my hand shot up mimicking Aya's identical plea for attention."Yes Ishara?" Saint Marie chose to acknowledge me."She's nine.""Fine. At the age of nine, she earned an honorific, Mamētu me eda, which I didn't accomplish until my 19th year." 'Yes Ladies, I'm an epic bad-ass and I've been out-performed by a child'."She was kidnapped along with the Head of House Ishara. They tortured her by clipping off two of her digits, one at a time, then seared the damage with a blowtorch. She gave them nothing. At the end of the encounter, the two of them managed to defeat thirty Seven Pillar's commandos, over fifteen she disabled personally.""After killing nearly half as many enemies as the 35 I have personally dispatched in my entire career, she crossed a mile and a half of barren rock in the midst of a Category 4 Typhoon. Cáel Ishara only helped her half of the way because he was engaged with the last two members of the Seven Pillar's team.""I have utter confidence the madness here today, while assisted by House Epona and Ishara, was the brainchild of Krasimira. I say 'assisted' because Cáel Ishara spared Kwenhamai's life on the battlefield. Katrina Epona removed Kwenhamai from Romanian custody to keep her out of the hands of those who wished us harm. I was aware Kwenhamai was in New York, but not her precise location.""My read on the situation is this:"Aya of Kururiyahhssi was aware of Kwenhamai and Krasimira's plot to adopt her into the bloodline of the first Amazon.""She was not aware of Kwenhamai's plan to exit the Host in the manner she chose. I read the shock and pain in, Aya's face.""Our Princess has not given me a single order and I am the only voice here today that matters, I am the Golden Mare and the Council has consistently failed to agree on a Regency.""Krasimira, why have you done this?" Saint Marie abruptly asked for either a denial, or acquiescence of her perception of events."As directed by the Ancestors, the statute of a goddess of a First House was recast then returned to her perpetual spot. It brought new light to a dark, sacred and painful place. In that moment I realized that for the first time in nearly 3,200 years, the descendants of every Amazon gathered before the walls of Wilusa (Troy) had been reunited.""I was troubled. Was this a portent the augurs couldn't divine? In their council (the augurs) then came up with the words 'speak to our eldest'."Oh shit, the rest of the Council was racking their minds trying to figure who was the oldest surviving Amazon. I knew for a fact they were overlooking the two top candidates."I sought out the eldest Amazon alive. They claimed to not have the answer for my worries. She had far more numerous things weighing on her mind such as her intimate demise. Though I hated sharing the same air with her, I asked her to tell me her greatest regret.""I had given up on the Amazon Race until an Amazon reminded me, through martial effort, valiant spirit and a kind heart, I was wrong to abandon my faith with my people. Now I will die, unable to pass on my renewed hope because the one Amazon I would trust with my legacy is equally childless.""I asked her the name of this Amazon she felt was worthy of her legacy. Then I informed her she was wrong and the Amazon in question did indeed have a daughter. She asked to meet the daughter,""Last night I requested the presence of a female child residing with members of House Epona," the Keeper of Records looked up at the Golden Mare. "I provided neither the resident female (Caitlyn, Aya's Mother), or the House Head with an explanation."Female childSince my revival, Amazons were using 'female' child a lot more often. This meant, the motheer had never told her daughter farewell. The true fate of Aya of Epona would never officially be recorded. She has been born, but never recorded as an Amazon of her true House."The three of us met alone. The two embraced; birth mother and daughter. The eldest of us proclaimed she saw the light of Kururiyahhssi in her daughter's eyes. Words were exchanged. The child agreed to be adopted then departed. Further arrangements were made without the child's knowledge as we have recently observed.""I testify that there is only one Amazon alive today who knows what transpired and I will take those conversations to my grave. Does that suffice?" Krasimira finished. I was already regurgitating my mental quandary with my Isharans. Was Aya really a daughter of Kururiyahhssi?"I will leave it to the others to contemplate your, bizarre actions, Krasimira," Saint Marie frowned. "As for the rest of you, Aya has impressed me. If she has not impressed you, I do not care. I think she is definitely influenced by those two," Saint Marie motioned to Katrina and me. "It is a given since Katrina was of her blood and she has risked much in the presence of a man she calls 'Atta' and he calls 'Duma'.""Katrina is a cold, heartless snake and I am convinced she is one of the best 'First Bearer of the Sun Spear through the Halls of Night and Death' the Host been served by in a long, long time.” Saint Marie paused then looked at me while she said; “ Cáel is a fool who leads with his heart when he should let better women take charge. Fortunately for the rest of us, he is reliably successful despite his multitude of handicaps."Was I upset about being insulted? No. The truth hurts and a Man needs to learn to roll with the punches. Buffy I could deal with. Katrina most likely appreciated being associated with a dangerous reptile. Saint Marie hadn't forgotten Katrina threating Saint Marie's daughter that was for sure."I am considering much of what our Princess would like me/us to do, because it is based in keen insight and well-reasoned thought. She wishes to spare our sons so we will have more warriors in the fight. We have already added men to Havenstone and one to the Council, as was the Will of the Ancestors.""Let me see, she wishes a bodyguard of fourteen (2 First House and 1 from Africa, Asia, Europe and North & South America, the Amazon presence in Australia was minimal and I doubted they would bring someone up from Antarctica, plus the seven matching Runners) without removing permanent members of any House and allowing all Houses to have access to our future Queen. I approve. It is a fine idea and I wish I had thought of it.""Should we add Runners directly into the Royal House? She doesn't think so and I feel this decision shows a remarkably insightful into the long history of our People and protects the Council's sensitivity on such matters. I approve.""Placing our sons into the care of the Royal House? We need to free up as many sisters as possible. Men under the care of the Royal House will be tradesmen and help-mates. Not a single weapon will be in their hands. If none of you have realized herlike will take two decades to implement, it only increases my eagerness to see her become 'casted'."Aya's hand shot up again.Yes?""I would hope the Council, or the Regents, will consider a 'like' which is not mine. It is a man's and it should be of no surprise the idea is Cáel's.""If you feel it holds merit, Aya, tell us," Saint Marie deferred."The 9 Clans have shown some interest in a children exchange programs among our youth as it would provide new techniques we can add to our arsenal an a new avenue to experiment with new ideas. I find the idea to be promising as the Host takes part in affairs beyond our own immediate needs. It would also supply partners between families to be shared for a season or two."Translation: Amazon women could breed with men of allied Secret Societies to reduce our dependence on our own, much smaller, male population. In the short term, it would go a long way to rectifying the Host's child-bearing problems.The Council's quarrelsome behavior was biting them in the ass big time. Saint Marie was right, the only opinion that mattered was hers until the Council elected a Regency. Had we not been at war, the Council would have ruled, but we were, so we took orders from the Golden Mare. Even if the High Priestess had been alive, she would have deferred to our designated War Leader on most things."Cáel Ish, Cáel Wakko Ishara is a very dangerous and devious male, Aya. Be careful of any council he gives," Saint Marie's caution was more playful than menacing."I'll be okay," Aya peeped. "He doesn't have sex with any woman until she is eighteen." That wasn't what the Golden Mare was cautioning her about. We all knew it. Aya was working to defuse a sticky bit of mental juggling, listening to a man's advice."On that we can agree," Saint Marie conceded. "Back to what I would 'like' to say. The New Directive is being implemented. I feel it goes beyond the purview of my mandate. I will leave it for the Regency to deal with. Katrina and Tessa have already invested in the groundwork in this endeavor, so I will endorse it if that is the decision of the Regency.""I have zero desire to add a single Runner to the Security Detail. I will open up slots in the training program if that is what the Regency demands. Each House's policy for dealing with the First Directive is their business, not mine. If any of you wish to consider something the Princess considers to be important, so be it. The idea of 1,000 Isharans does not appeal to me. Look how much trouble their tiny numbers have already caused us and take heed."Buffy began growling, which amused/worried the Houses on either side of us. Unlike me, Buffy didn't 'roll with the blows' and considered all manner of insults to me, House Ishara and her Isharan sisters to be answerable with violence. I loved her so. There was also no way I'd let her go after Saint Marie. The Golden Mare would crush her; I had no doubt."The unwelcome blood feud: are both House Heads ignorant of my forbiddance of such things? Apparently so. Both defied me by tossing insults back and forth. Considering we are at war with two of the most powerful Secret factions, I am angered by both for their idiocy.""The solution the Princess likes is rather novel," Saint Marie was punishing both Messina and me with her low voice and fiery gaze. Krasimira coughed."Yes?" Saint Marie suspended her anger."The suggested resolution is not without precedence," Krasimira spoke with a scholarly detachment. "In our early days, the Host settled such disputes in Spring and Fall gatherings by contests of foot speed, hunting, horsewomanship, archery and wrestling. If we revive the tradition, the competing Houses could nominate one woman for each contest to settle the matter. Only the hand-to-hand match would risk either contestant's health.""I will consider it and render judgement before the Sun sets today," Saint Marie nodded. "The final like pleases me greatly. Dealing with the 52 of you is, Cáel?"I was on the spot. I couldn't let down my fan base of one, Aya. Perhaps it was five, Buffy (who would never admit it), Daphne (who liked me), Katrina (because she liked fucking with my head) and Desiree (who was less likely to admit she found me funny than Buffy).I felt I gave a decent effort."'A ginormous pain in my hemorrhoids?' the basic one.""'More painful than having my cornea scrapped with a spoon?' more gruesome.""'Enough to make me want to give Sakuniyas a surprise French kiss?' most likely to be fatal.""'Worse than waking up to discover I'm related to Cáel Wakko Ishara?' most horrifying, for both of us.""'Inspiring me to toss it all away and take up Professional Bikini Mud Wrestling?' a personal fantasy of mine.""Why do we put up with him again?" one House Head remarked."Because I am worried that one," motioning to Buffy, "will stab me in the elevator after a meeting.""My First, are you acting psychotic around the Council members?" I looked over my shoulder at Buffy."Wakko Ishara, it is not an act. I am psychotic," she responded deadpan."Are you still packing that thermite grenade?""No Wakko Ishara. Daphne stole it from me and hid it," was her quick delivery."I love working with you two," Daphne whispered."What is it with you, your unsubtle sexual innuendo and me in a bikini?" Saint Marie stared at me."I find the combination of brilliance and lethality sexy. Just ask Elsa," I grinned. Then I grimaced as Buffy stomped on my toes. The House Heads and Apprentices on either side of me noticed and clearly expected me to do something, like to show outrage (because she was my underling), or start crying (because I was a guy)."Prestige," Daphne hissed quietly. "Prestige." She was reminding Buffy that beating me up in public made the other Amazons think even less of me than they already did."I will go with (B), the cornea scrapping," Saint Marie gave me a nod."Damn it," I muttered. I also got my foot out of the way before someone did any more damage to my phalanges.'Best Daddy Ever,' Aya mouthed to me. Back to the main action."It is not my place to order the rest of you to elect Shawnee, Rhada and Buffy to be the Regency. I do admit I admire the mixture of candidates," Saint Marie declared. I shot Rhada a quick look. She seemed really, really enamored of the idea of being part of the Regency, thus staying in New York for the next decade, or so."Before the idea is rejected out of hand, I suggest we ask the three people our Princess would like to be part of the Regency if they would accept the nomination," the Golden Mare continued. "Shawnee Arinniti?""I bow to the logic and reason of the proposal," Shawnee replied."Rhada Meenakshi?""I wish to join my sisters in battle, yet I accept the reasoning behind the proposal," Rhada nodded. "If my Head of House agrees, I will stay and do my part for our People." What was she saying to me? 'You are going to whip me, beat me, torture me, humiliate me and push me to beyond the limits of any pain I have experienced until I pass out ~ repeatedly'."I despair of finding any other compromise," Mahdi frowned. "If my Apprentice understands the greater difficulty she will face gaining prestige among her House-mates, I will consent to this proposal." Essentially a 'yes'."Buffy Ishara?""I was really looking forward to ripping the spines out of still living foes, but I would be a fool to go against Aya of Kururiyahhssi's smarts. If Wakko Ishara wants to walk out of this room unassisted, he will see the wisdom of this decision as well," she gave me a shark's smile. Daphne had surpassed her limit and punched Buffy."Hell ya, I agree," I exclaimed. "Now I know there will be certain times of the day when she isn't stalking me.""I'll work more pain into our limited schedule," Buffy grumbled."Are we sure he is the House Head and she is the Apprentice?" Yet another House Head joined the 'shit on me' train.It was telling of our group dynamic how we accepted the Pyramid of Pain. The underlings dispensed advice and violence as they felt necessary without their 'superior' getting pissy about it. Buffy felt totally justified hitting me and accepted being hit by Daphne, who continued to act unimpeded as Buffy's rapid-fire translator."If I was House Head, I'd handcuff him to me," Buffy clarified for her."What she said," I pointed a thumb Buffy's way. I'd have used a finger, but she might have grabbed, twisted and made me scream in pain."Perhaps the Council can vote on this as their second order of business," Saint Marie cloaked her command as a suggestion."Cáel Wakko Ishara, can I ask you a personal question?" Kohar of Marda caught my attention."Shoot, wait, probably not the best terminology in this crowd. Ask away," I replied."Have you faced a House challenge yet?""Yes. Just last night in fact. We free-climbed the north-face of Havenstone. I beat the next closest contender by three floors. I also had Princess Aya on the roof dropping bricks on anyone who attempted to get past me.""That means he isn't going to answer you," Beyoncé interpreted for my audience."Can't you ever take these meetings seriously?" Febe Mielikki glowered."La, Febe, in the past few minutes I have watched the person I love most in the world get her life shat on," I shook my head."The only thing worse than seeing this happen to Aya is knowing this is her sole opportunity to not lose her soul, so I'm sucking up my heart's pain and putting forward a jester's persona so I don't put any more pressure on her than she's already been subjected to. Like me, she doesn't want the distinction of being a Person of Note.""Like me, she knows she must sacrifice her dreams for the sake of our People, the Amazon Host. Trust me, you would rather have 'me, the jester' than 'me, the Amazon' furious with the destiny that has foisted this pain on her'. Do any of you take responsibility for forcing the events of this morning?" I growled. If they wanted to see the other side of the Janus, so be it."Had you chosen a Regency in the fucking weeks you've been bickering, Kwenhamai could have been dealt with privately. The fate of the Royal House could have been put off a few years. Had you not all been so dead-set on being heroines of the Host, three of you would have sacrificed your bloodlust, your birthright and the future accolades you could recite on your final night (before taking themselves to the cliff), but none of you did.""Instead, you set the stage for dumping all of your indecisiveness on the slender shoulders of a nine year old girl most of you had written off as too fractured and frail to survive her 12th year only three months ago. So Febe how do you like the honest 'me'?" I finished off furiously.It was not lost on anyone in the chamber I was an Amazon raging against the cruelty of fate. Every other bitch in the room knew they had discarded my daughter's life as trivial and I was prepared to unleash violence on the next one to show an ounce of disrespect over Aya's surrendering of her destiny and my grief at failing to find a way to stop this from coming to pass. St Marie had just reminded them that I was 'reliably" successful despite my handicaps. Not an enemy anyone in the room wanted any part of. Saku would have been proud.A Note:I have been remiss in informing my readers of the names of the 53 Houses, even though I created it some time ago. I have made a few alterations to the original version as I've had to rethink certain parts of this tale, but here is the list I now use.List of Goddesses:The First Twenty Houses in no particular order :1) Ishara, Oaths, Medicine and War (to North America) (died out 450 CE; Reborn in 2014)2) (Deceased) Anat, Goddess of War, Fury and Blood Sacrifice (died out 6th cent. BCE) ~ possibly resurrected by Sakunyias3) Anahit, water, wisdom and war (to North America)4) Arinniti, Sun Goddess (to North America)5) Hanwasuit, Sovereign Goddess6) Illuyankamunus, Dragon God (to North America) (Special Case)7) Inara, the Hunter Goddess8) au ka, fertility, War, healing9) Kamrusepa, Healing medicine magic (to Africa)10) Lelwani, Goddess of the Underworld (to Africa)11) Hapantali, Pastoral Goddess.12) Hatepuna, Sea Goddess (to India)13) Hannahannah, Mother Goddess14) Moirai, Fate15) Selardi, Lunar Goddess (to Africa)16) Nammu, Primordial Sea, sailing, sailors (to India) (to Indonesia)17) Uttu, Goddess of plants (to Africa)18) Lahar, Cattle Goddess (to Africa)19) Ereshkigal, Queen of the underworld (to India)20) Istustaya and Papaya, Twin Goddesses of Destiny (to North America)Additional Houses, founded in Europe:(Code: Sc = Scythian; T = Thracian, P, Phrygian, C = Celtic, R = Roman, Sl = Slavic)21) (Sc) Marda, the One-Eyed Goddess/Vengeance {fantasy creation}22) (Sc) Farānak, A Scythian Goddess also known as the Lynx Goddess and the Silent Huntress (Dora)23) (Sc) Stolgos, Monstrous Slayer of Greeks (known to the Greeks as the Gorgon Stheno) {semi-historical}24) (T) Cotyttia, Thracian Goddess of Sex, War and Slaughter (to North America)25) (T) Bendis, Thracian Goddess of the Moon and Hunting.26) (T) Semele/Rajah, Thracian Goddess of the Earth and Birth (to India)27) (T) Hylonome, Centaur Goddess28) (P) Cybele, Phrygians Earth Goddess on Lion's throne (to the Amazon)29) (C) Andraste, War Goddess; also Goddess of the Moon and Divination; 'the Rabbit Goddess'30) (C) Epona, Horses (to North America)31) (C) Cyhiraeth, Goddess of springs whose war cry precedes death (to Africa)32) (C) Maeve, War Goddess, the Enslaver of Men33) (Deceased) (C) Nantosuelta, Earth, Fire and Fertility (died out 1st cent. BCE)34) (C) Artio, the Bear Goddess (to North America)35) (C) Nemain, Goddess of War and Panic36) (R) Minerva, Roman Goddess of War & Strategy37) (Deceased) (R) Diana, Hunting and Archery (died out in India 16th cent. CE)38) (Sl) iva, Love and Fertility49) (Sl) Morė, Goddess of harvest, witchcraft, winter and death (to North America)40) (Sl) Zorja, The twin Guardians (Evening/Morning Stars)41) (Sl) Oźwiena, fame and glory (died out in 1944)42) (Sl) Koliada, Sky Goddess and deity of sunrises/dawn (died out 17th cent CE)43) (F) Mielikki, Goddess of the Hunt44) (N) Ska i, giantess, Goddess of bow-hunting, skiing, winter, and mountainsAdditional Houses, founded in In dia:45) (I) Mookambika, Demon Slayers46) (I) Bhadra, Goddess of the Hunt (to Indonesia)47) (I) Meenakshi, The Liberator (Rhada and Madi's House)48) (I) Durga (Dark Mother) (to Indonesia)49) (I) Chandala Bhikshuki, Queen of Night, Death, Destruction and Rebirth50) (I) Jaya (Goddess of Victory)51) (I) Chelamma, the Scorpion Queen (died out 16th cent.)Additional Houses, founded in Africa:52) (A) Oshun, (Yoruba Goddess of Love, Sexuality, Beauty and Diplomacy; Lady of the Orisha ~ life spirits)53) (A) Yemonja, Mother of Rivers (to the Amazon)54) (A) Oba, Goddess of Betrayal and Exile55) (A) Ox ssi, Goddess of Hunting, Forests, Animals and Wealth56) (A) Jengu, Goddess of Jungles and Water SpiritsAdditional Houses: founded in North America(NT = Native Tribal)57) (NT) Uusheenhiton (noo'uusooo' heeninouhuusei hitoniho') (Arapaho), Storm Horse Sister {fantasy creation}58) (NT) Gahe, Apache (supernatural spirits who live in the mountains)Prospective House:59) New, (Hittite) SzelAnya, the Dragon's DaughterCurrent Number of Central Houses:12 in North America (9+Ishara from Europe and 2 native)10 in Africa (6 from Europe and 5 native)3 in Amazonia (1 from Africa and 2 from Europe)8 in India (3 from Europe and 7 native)3 in Indonesia (2 from India and 1 from Europe)17 in Europe6 Deceased{7:35 am Sunday, September 7th ~ Last day}Right where we left offMy rage over Aya wasn't called into question or challenged. Practicality had trumped tradition in the inevitable Amazon fashion. The only one elevated in anyone's eyes was Aya. Krasimira's apparent political adventurism was probably hard for the others to deal with. But in context, only Mahdi, Katrina and Saint Marie had seen her denounce Hayden, so this seemed a new side of Krasimira to most people in the room.Krasimira wasn't the spiritual authority, that was Hayden. She wasn't the Generalissimo, that was Saint Marie. Katrina and I were both appointed officials, we retained our House status. Saint Marie would die a member of House Inara and join her ancestors with pride. Her litany of accomplishments were well known to the Host.But Krasimira? She would die a member of House Cybele unheralded. The Keeper of Records recorded the feats of others, not their own. Nearly two generations ago, a young Krasimira had joined the Keeper's House as a guardian to an un-remembered (save by her) augur. The augur passed and she took up other duties within the house.When the old Keeper faced her final months, she elevated Krasimira to her spot. High Priestess Hayden had approved the choice without really knowing who Krasimira was. (No one outside the House of the Keeper had personal bonds with her anymore.) Seamlessly, she had sat in the old Keeper's seat and the Council kept chugging along.For the past eight years, she had sat quietly at Hayden's side and only speaking when addressed. Mostly, she did nothing overt. The actual note-taking was done by an underling. The Keeper took her own private notes squirreled away in her mind, to be written when she was by herself. Those notes would be handed over to her successor, for the Keepers' eyes and theirs alone.I don't think Krasimira knew me in particular when she dutifully followed Hayden into these chambers the day my death, or life in a cage, was bantered about. It was the day we first crossed paths. She would have known of Shawnee's request for the tooth of an Isharan, though she lacked the authority to ask why. (She wasn't a voting member of the Council.)But when Shawnee made her claim, Krasimira hadn't balked in her support, despite the oddity of Shawnee's declarations, I was indeed Ishara and my sisters could not dispose of me. The outrage of the others meant nothing to her. She pursued her obligations with true Amazon fearlessness both inside and outside of the Council.On the night of the 2nd Betrayal, a Keeper had sat there in silence as her fellow Amazons, the Ash Men, were sentenced to an unjust death. She'd had neither the numbers nor the authority to alter events, what else could she have done?So the Keepers kept track of the names of nineteen 'unaccounted for' Ash Men. For what purpose? An episode of Amazon history no one would ever want to revisit? Yet in my hour of need, coming back 2,600 years was the name 'Vranus of Ishara', sitting only a few keystrokes away. No one, save a few Arinniti diehards, wanted to know the truth of the Amazon Ash Men; and even they didn't want to remember us as individuals. To them, Vranus existed as a notation on the secret Charter of the Arinniti Sons.To Krasimira, Vranus had been a living, breathing warrior of the Host, not even dead, still mythically fighting the enemies of our race because his death had never been officially recorded. With my appearance, I stood in mute testimony to his death, and that of his sons and their sons for a damn long time.Still, I hated playing catch-up.With the Amazon custom of adoption, had no one asked if another possible Isharan heritage still persisted?I would bet they had. And I'd bet they had sought for that knowledge in the Rolls of the Host, always finding that pathway devoid of hope. But if the Keeper had known, why had she kept quiet?Pride, shame, Krasimira's words: we show anger when we should show humility. We are proud of our shame. We are arrogant of our weaknesses. We have heaped insult upon insult on our ancestors, yet are now aghast that they turn away from us, I had confused her soliloquy with that of an accusation, not the long held understanding of her office.Even staring extinction in face, the modern Host hadn't truly accepted the answer, the line of Vranus. Faced with the truth, the Amazons would have 'forgotten' the descendants of Vranus all those centuries ago in the same way they 'forgot' all the other Ash Men on the day I was brought into the Host.But the Keepers did something more than maintain the rolls and records of the Amazons, more than watch over the augurs and make sure their messages made it to the proper ears. They safeguarded the truth. No matter what the Council decided and the High Priestess commanded, the Keepers remained honest stewards of the real history of the Amazons.Why?The Amazons were terribly practical and the truth could run contrary to the needs of political reality. Honesty wasn't a highly stressed Amazon virtue, loyalty was. So was bravery. And thus generation after generation of Keepers had lied to the Council and the High Priestesses. Every time those august personages had committed something to 'the nothingness', the Keepers had defied them and not forgotten.The first heads of the first twenty houses had surrendered their names for the unity of their people, but the Keepers remembered. All twenty of those women had been of the Amazon tribe of the Pala people living on the southern coast of the Black Sea when the Trojan Wars began. Over time, their true blood descendants had founded new houses and been adopted into others.Aya was truly a daughter of Kururiyahhssi; I had no doubt of that anymore. Had she not shared the same blood as the first Amazon, Krasimira wouldn't have brought Aya and Kwen together. Resurrecting an ancient tradition in a complicated fallacious coup attempt wasn't in her; nor was such a maneuver even a necessity. The Host would elect a Regency eventually and Saint Marie was handling the war in a highly competent fashion.So Krasimira hadn't sought out the heirs of Vranus, yet when one appeared, she welcomed 'him'. And when she stepped into the President's office with Hayden while waiting for me to be brought upstairs to face judgement that night, I imagined sending Hayden to the cliffs was the farthest thing from her mind.The rest were playing politics, gender politics, and couldn't see the truth staring Krasimira in the face. The truth was a bitch and didn't play favorites, or worry about the sensibilities of others. Krasimira had seen her sisters refusing to acknowledge the ugly reality they had created for themselves.Krasimira wasn't an advocate for Ishara, that was my job, and my crappy performance was something between Dot and me. She wasn't an advocate for the males and the New Directive. That was what Katrina was for. No, like a hundred Keepers before her, Krasimira was the silent sentinel for the Truth and, the Truth didn't care about anything but the Truth."The assassin is indeed in this room. Its name is Amazon was a rather grand pronouncement from the Chief Librarian, wasn't it? Krasimira didn't chastise Hayden. That wasn't her place. Technically, neither was she disputing Hayden's ability to rule.This wasn't the climax of a dinner-theater 'Who Done It'. The crime before the High Priestess was High Treason and I was the pre-ordained guilty party. My 'ally', Katrina Epona, had not been an advocate for my defense. No. Again in my Hour of Need it was Krasimira.Lacking any true authority, she had defied her sisters and made her definitive statement. What truly transpired was Krasimira staring Hayden straight in the eyes and saying 'you cannot lie your way out of this one, High Priestess. We (as in all the Keepers past and present) will not let you'.Had she used those words, Saint Marie would have gotten around to asking what Krasimira meant. Krasimira would have rather died, because once those bitches discovered their nerdy sisters hadn't erased a damn thing in 3,000 years, they would insist they do so immediately. Krasimira wasn't about to do that. Thanks to the chaos surrounding Hayden's departure, no one had confronted her over her crucial action.To put it more precisely, the Golden Mare had been too busy and Mahdi had been wrapped up in Hayden's Decree and the resulting pressure on the Heads of House to pick the Regency. Katrina was probably a case of I'm not going to ask you so you don't have to lie to me. The only other living person in the room when Hayden's fate was sealed was me, and I'd had my hands full as well.I had to think about what I should and could do. I couldn't beat her up over Aya anymore than I could punish my Isharans for their misplaced arrogance. I decided to extend a 'thank you'; and not only for myself, but for every conceited bitch who had ever sat at this table, or all the other physical mediums the Council had used before this one.We held three votes: The Council couldn't collectively decide on how to implement Aya's other likes (1), so they agreed on her suggestion for a Regency instead (2). The final vote was to set a date for the next Council meeting (3). A date within 9 days of the Winter Solstice with the Regency to decide the precise date and give the House Heads two weeks warning.The last calamity at the meeting was initiated by a question of etiquette."How do we address the Princess at Council meetings?" the Head of House Hanwasuit inquired of Krasimira."There is no precedent for addressing the Iwaruwa alone. By our laws, she is not truly Dumalugal Aya either. She is Nasusara," Krasimira responded. Queen."She is a child," a third House Head declared, "not an Amazon.""No," Mahdi shook her head. "A, Aya is 'un-casted'. She bears an honorific presented to her by the leader of an established stronghold (Summer Camp) and confirmed by the Golden Mare minutes ago.""Congratulations my mamētu me eda," I winked to my past and present Princess, "you've just become a single-digit aged teenager.""Go Aya," Daphne and Buffy whispered behind me. Aya raised her hand, waiting for Saint Marie's recognition.However, Saint Marie moved steadily forward, declaring: "Until the Regency alters my decision, I decline assigning anyone to the Iwaruwa (heiress) whose sole purpose would be to stop her from sneaking off to endure her 12th Year Test. I judge it to be better we know where we placed her as opposed to failing to outsmart her as she needlessly proves to the Host she is, in fact, already an Amazon of the Host." Aya lowered her hand.Thus,'Yes, Aya is an Amazon of the Host' and 'Aya will take her 12th Year Test because she wants to take it, won't let us talk her out of taking it and the rest of us had better accept it'."So, she is our Queen then?"No one appeared to have an answer. Aya raised her hand once more."Yes?" the Golden Mare smiled down at her."Am I in charge?" Aya's other hand squeezed Saint Marie's as she spoke in a barely audible voice."Perhaps.""If I was in charge, I would like it if there was a law that declared the Queen of the Amazons would be officially represented by a Regency until she becomes casted, and antedate the law by one hour so this never, ever comes up again," Aya kept looking up at Saint Marie."Aya," Katrina exhaled.The council chamber was a mixture of awe, resentment and amusement. If Aya was Queen, she could make such a law. The Queen-ship was a Bronze Age autocratic institution designed to provide leadership to a 'state' in near-constant warfare with is neighbors.It was guided by oral traditions and military necessity, not written laws. As long as the queens provided successes on the battlefield and through diplomacy, she was deemed fit to rule. The traditional way of choosing a House Head was the same for the Royal House, the ruling Queen chose an heir.In the long list of Queens, less than half had been the 'eldest' child. No, those ancient War Leaders picked the bravest, smartest and most successful daughters to succeed them. Their wisdom in those selections showed in the fact the Amazons had held off a male-dominated world for over 600 years before fatally marching off to answer an ally's call to fight in the Trojan War."I advise against it," Saint Marie shook her head. "You are young. You are also the only Royal we have. Duty demands and sisters must always answer their sister's call."Translation: Aya was an adult now. It was similar to the first lesson Pamela gave me upon learning I was Ishara. We lived with bitches, it doesn't pay to play nice with bitches."Thank you," Aya nodded. She was 'thanking' Saint Marie for the lesson, no matter how hard it was to accept. Krasimira coughed."Now that the matter is settled," she spoke. The matter wasn't settled. Krasimira was steamrollering the discussion. "What do we call you?", to Aya."I, oh," in a very small voice. Aya's brow furrowed and her tiny nose wiggled. "I wish to be known by the legacy of my Anna (mother) and Atta (me, Cáel). I will be Assiyai hamai.""Love song?" Daphne murmured to Buffy."Assiyai hamai?" Krasimira asked for clarification. 'Love-song' was hardly the name of a 'fierce' Amazon Queen."The only other name I could come up with was Markappidusmene, which seemed less auspicious," she meeped. Markappidusmene meant 'Tiny Smile'."Perhaps Talliyahulla would be more auspicious?" Saint Marie nudged Aya. 'War Cry'."Oh no!" Aya balked. "That's your job.""What do you think your job is?" the Golden Mare questioned, suddenly realizing she'd made the mistake of making assumptions where Aya was concerned."To go to the cliffs with twice as many Amazon daughters, each equal to the likes of Saint Marie, Katrina, Oneida, Buffy, Elsa, Kohar and Tad fi as exist today. We must not 'survive', or simply replenish our numbers."We must become stronger because the World is a terribly messed up place," she raised her wounded hand and splayed her digits for the others to see the two she was missing, "and has become too small for us to seek safety in hidden freeholds any longer. If we cannot hide, we must rule openly. We are Amazons. Having no equals, we must rule alone. The only people we can trust, really trust, are the sisters at our sides."My job is to advance my People's cause with both compassion and cruelty and I will do so alone, because the Amazon Queen has no equals, only daughters."Not a sound. I could count out the individual fan blades recycling the air."Let our enemies tremble," Saint Marie nodded, repeating an earlier declaration."Assiyai hamai," Krasimira intoned, making Aya's royal name official before adding, "Assiyai hamai, you are mistaken about one thing. You are not alone. You have a mamētu me eda.""Oh," she perked up, shedding the gloom which surrounded her. She looked at me, our eyes met and we both grinned, then she giggled...and yet again, up her hand went."Yes?" Saint Marie looked upon Aya respectfully and then at me with much suspicion."Is the mamētu me eda of my mamētu me eda also my mamētu me eda?" Aya asked.Just like old times, only Katrina was ahead of the game. "Oh, by Epona," the Spy-mistress snorted."Cáel Wakko Ishara, who is your mamētu me eda, oh no," Saint Marie bristled."Ah, indeed," Krasimira nodded. "An unlooked for bonus.""Does someone care to enlighten the rest of us?" the head of House Nemain prodded."Oh!" That was Elsa."That's right!" Oneida, she was definitely a fan of me and my spasmodic lifestyle."Wakko Ishara's mamētu me eda, other mamētu me eda, is Temujin, Great Khan of the Reborn Mongol-Turkish Khanate and ally of the Host," Saint Marie let them know. "They are bonded by Cáel risking his own life to save Temujin's. It is actually a privately understood and publically declared fact.""In Temujin's words to the international press when our Cáel and our new Queen were kidnapped : I believe Cáel is still alive. If he wasn't, we would be seeing piles upon piles of dead enemy around him and his 'boon companion', clearly visible from orbit. Until they discover this carnal pit from Hell, I am sure they are both still alive," Oneida added. Rhada flashed ill-distilled hate her way."Shawnee, is your Apprentice's mind addled with the birthing hormones of their child?" Mahdi snipped. That was merely a cultural zing, not an attempt to expose my sinister erotic misdoings. Unfortunately, she was somewhat correct. Okay, she was totally correct."That was uncalled for," Shawnee graciously chided Mahdi, thus demonstrating her ignorance of the facts soon to be in evidence."Yes, I am carrying a child of Arinniti and Ishara," Oneida proclaimed loud and proud. "We share a Warrior's Love."I wasn't really sure how anyone else reacted to the news because House Ishara exploded into violence. That is the politic way of saying Daphne and Juanita were trying to stop Buffy from beating me to death. Here was yet another Ishara-baby and it wasn't gestating inside her. I was too stunned to defend myself.And the old refrain: 'and then it got worse'."Ta ah kattanda!" (IN HITTITE for 'you pig's ass'), Rhada howled. I missed her drawing her blade, vaulting to the top of the table and lunging at Oneida. Most of the Amazons in the room stood, yet held their ground.They weren't shocked into indecisiveness, only trying to understand the nature of the conflict before intervening. This was not the first 'your Amazon did something my Amazon found infuriating' public threat they had to have dealt with. Rhada was more volatile than the average woman of her breed and station, true, but a violent in-chamber assault?That wasn't the 'worse' though. Oneida drawing her blade in an open challenge to Rhada wasn't the worse either, nor was her shouting."He loves me! He merely saved you!"Saint Marie yelling 'Ishara! Ishara!' over and over again, demanding I put my house back in order wasn't the end of my woes, nope.Me being yanked free of my House fur-ball into the volcanic gaze of Elsa as she seethed, "Rhada?" Oh yeah, Elsa's people and Rhada's people had a bit of a blood feud going on, how could I have forgotten that?But wait!"Not Fabiola!" gasped Messina, bizarrely assuming I slept with, okay, not such a huge assumption."Gael?" voiced by the Head of House Bendis, followed by Gael's "I'm late.""Damn it!" I pulled away from Elsa (slightly)."No. She only lets me ejaculate on 'safe days'," to Messina, Fabiola's Mom."Oh, come on! We had sex one time!" to Gael of Bendis, and finally,"Stop it!" to Rhada and Oneida, (deep breathe). "Really?" with my most believable happy face plastered on. "This is great news!"No. No it wasn't, and I could read the ugly emotional undercurrents on the faces of everyone present, except Aya, who kept the faith."Ishara," Saint Marie rumbled. I held up one finger to forestall her wrath."Oneida, Rhada and I have already decided to name our daughter Parvati. My daughter by Tad fi, ordained by the Goddess to be the first born, will be named Shala while my first son will be called Harki heni (White Hair, I'd call him Raider when we were in the 'outside' world).""My daughter by Miyako Yuri will be named Suwais-urāni, Fushichou in her Mother's tongue, in honor of Sakuniyas. My, other relationships," I would have liked to say 'none of your business', except Amazon mothers, or not, those children would be of Ishara's blood and potentially their kin.

god love new york amazon death head canada world president trust father australia europe stories earth strategy man house mother healing men secret hell fall french pain truth war africa spring christianity fire beauty pride sex moon victory medicine movement north america dad mom night brazil birth north greek wealth fantasy generation horses dragon normal female sun witness wolf beyonce daughter animals manhattan casa hunt lion queens council narrative caribbean cult mississippi warrior records panic saga indonesia south america fate alliance sexuality eternal spies shoot heads egyptian fuck betrayal hunting heading honesty destruction congratulations duty prisoners eleven fury obsessive compulsive disorder bitch houses rivers rough rebirth exile goddess antarctica keeper fertility northern runner faced nah gulf blink nasty forty grandmothers apprentice grandpa rolls recall brotherhood illuminati hurry priests bro serpent libra latinos explicit bat pyramid ancestors diplomacy spinning tear boy scouts underworld slaughter new yorkers unable hindi jaguar technically lacking freaky reborn summer camp runners novels sl pretend romanian charter prestige sas ajax mam arial composition meno placing halls keepers winter solstice forests helvetica apache defeats raider bce breeding secret societies decree divination madi erotica goddesses archery black sea weave tax returns oaths typhoons south china sea janus ish resurrecting tad ox messina beowulf times new roman deceased regents bronze age clans high priestess regency fabiola practicality prc oba papaya amazonia tahoma mahdi pala trojan war 3f grendel apprentices hittite bendis seamlessly tricycle atta conga jungles parvati first house seven pillars black hand meit poster child black lotus oshun estere old time religion orisha olmec coils day rule saku my first blood sacrifice shala savants bizarrely inara bolu white hair arapaho mother goddess phrygian royal house cambodian americans epona temujin kazak febe miyako literotica sun goddess lahar dragon god house heads ereshkigal house head water spirits great khan chief librarian go to gal marda anahit moirai srr amazon queen enslaver roman goddess nammu fucktard timothy it

S8 E35: Keep the Change, Ya Filthy Fools

A Fool's Quest

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 28, 2025 47:39

The Fools confront Alayna and get some solid exposition. Then, they try to use Governor McAllister's connection to the Shala's Tower to gain access. After being turned away empty-handed, the Second Breakfast Club Decides to insist. Forcing their way into the Governor's mansion, the Fools find the Governor quite alone and the home quite perilous.Support us on Patreon at www.patreon.com/CreativeTypo and get additional content at www.afoolsquest.com Cast: Mike Cole = Uorag - Druid Furbolg Shifter. Tony Kinney = Eddie Falzone - Human Wizard. Jess Owen = Adira - Fire Genasi Barbarian. Jesse Wicks = Bill Quiverlance - Human Bard. Nico Rodriguez as your DM. If you would like to follow along with our map, you can find it on our social media pages: www.Facebook.com/afoolsquest / www.Instagram.com/afoolsquestpodcast Special thank you to our Patreon Executive Producers: Nick Mead and Patrick T ArsenaultDungeon World: https://dungeon-world.com/ Music: Music Provided in part by Midnight Syndicate. www.MidnightSyndicate.com Additional music provided by Algal the Bard. www.youtube.com/user/alvariu and Epidemic Sound

Palestrat në Shqipëri më të shtrenjtat në rajon. Klodiana Shala: Ka qira shumë të larta!/ Wake Up

Top Albania Radio

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 25, 2025 19:35

Çdo mëngjes zgjohuni me “Wake Up”, programi i njëkohshëm radio-televiziv i “Top Channel” e “Top Albania Radio”, në thelb ka përcjelljen e informacionit më të nevojshëm për mëngjesin. Në “Wake Up” gjeni leximin e gazetave, analiza të ndryshme, informacione utilitare, këmbimin valuator, parashikimin e motit, biseda me të ftuarit në studio për tema të aktualitetit, nga jeta e përditshme urbane e deri tek arti dhe spektakli si dhe personazhe interesantë. Zgjimi në “Wake Up” është ritmik dhe me buzëqeshje. Gjatë tri orëve të transmetimit, na shoqëron edhe muzika më e mirë, e huaj dhe shqiptare.

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Cáel Defeats The Illuminati: Part 8

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 25, 2025

Hell Rains Down.Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels. Would you choose ephemeral beauty, or rugged determination? Brief Segway :Senator Susan Collins of Maine, JIKIT's Congressional mentor, at our urging had proposed an amendment to the Taiwan Relations Act Affirmation and Naval Vessel Transfer Act of 2014 which would allow 'Turkey' to purchase six 'Oliver Perry class frigates for $10 million each. The same act already proposed four such vessels to be sold to Taiwan for the same amount as well as giving two to Thailand (and two to Mexico) free of charge.Things had immediately bogged down in the 113th US Congress. It was too easy for Democrats in both Houses to take the President's position that any additional weapons into the South China Sea area would further destabilize the region. The pro-PRC lobby was equally opposed to the bill. Under normal conditions, that would have been good enough to send the measure off to the procedural graveyard.Except in the current contrary nature of the US's chief legislative body, this meant Republicans found themselves drawn to the anything the White House opposed. They could claim they found the anti-Communist, anti-Islamic Extremists stance of the Khanate to be attractive to them though none of them felt the need to actually talk to anyone in the Khanate to find out what they were really all about.We were happy with that policy because true congressional oversight was the last thing we needed. They might start asking uncomfortable questions like...'Who gave you the authority to do any of the crap you pulled?'(No one. We lied like big dogs, purloined resources and cloaked ourselves in 'National Security'. Plus we let our elite personnel have a crack at doing what they had so dedicatedly trained to do, wreck things.)'Wasn't that, that, and that an act of war against the People's Republic of China?'('No comment'. If that didn't work, we would try 'they will never find out'.)'Why are 90% of all the names on these documents redacted? We are the freaking Congress! You work for us.'(Work for them? Not to our way of thinking. We earned our paychecks without any slavish devotion to corporate campaign contributions. We were working so that the lives of Americans and Brits abroad would be that much safer, the world more orderly and for the US and UK to have an ally they could really rely on. We couldn't tell them that. They'd throw us in jail. We'd redacted the records because the names were for people that did not officially exist, or existed in a capacity that didn't imply they were elite warriors, spies and assassins.)Besides,('Those are private citizens not in the employ of this group, or any other government agency we are aware of'.)'We don't care if they are private citizens. We want to know.'('You don't want to know' followed by some major gobbledygook with the term 'deniable assets' interspersed relatively often.)'What do you mean ~ you don't want to know? We asked you a question.'(We meant you people leak information like a sieve and the people we are protecting aren't going to be afraid of getting revealed. They are going to murder people to ensure they are not ~ basically you don't know what is going on and we don't want to tell you, for both our safety's sake.)So,('Trust us. There are factors we are taking into account that you are unaware of because you don't know what's going on'.)'Of course we don't know what's going on. That's why we are asking you.'('You really don't want to know.' We are your highly trained and underpaid experts on this, we aren't raging assholes and we are telling you that bad shit will happen if you force this, thus 'you really don't want to know'.)'What do you mean ~ you really don't want to know?? Yes, we do. We are warning you,'(Okay. Execute Plan B. 'Excuse us for a moment, {create a plausible lie.}'.){Pregnant pause,}Congressman-type: 'It is rather odd that they all had to go into another room to take that phone call.'{Minutes pass}'Go see what is taking them so long.''What do you mean they are all gone? Find them!''What do you mean they seem have left the building? Find them!''Who do I call about this? The FBI, Homeland Security, or the CIA?And finally,'What do you mean they appear to have fled the country? Find them, damn it!'(Hey, I worked with some real shady characters.)Then would come the international manhunts, the flight to avoid prosecution and then resurrecting my life under a different ID in another country which hopefully had a dim view of handing me over to the FBI, or the Navy SEALs.Now back to our regularly scheduled diversion :'It has to do with giving something to the Khanate if you expect them to do anything for you.'Tony: 'You can't appreciate how that is going to look. Besides, that is a political decision, way above your pay-grade.'(Not a good time to remind him that he didn't pay me.)'What precisely do you want us to do? Please be specific.'Tony: 'How is the Khanate going to react to an intervention on the part of the United States?''They will ignore you.'Tony: 'What if the President makes public statement.''What is he going to say?'Tony: 'That the US is dedicated to a peaceful resolution of the unrest in Thailand.''They won't care. They truly believe that actions speak louder than words. If Thailand requested our intervention, or was a client state,'Tony: 'A what?''Client state, a country beholding to the US, or UK for their external security.'Tony: 'I know what client state is. That is 20th Century Imperialist thinking. No one does stuff like that anymore. Besides, the UN is responsible for the external security of its member states, which Thailand is.''The Khanate doesn't see it that way. We won't let them into the UN, so they see no reason to play by the UN's rules. The President can evoke the UN Charter all he wants. Unless he makes UN acceptance dependent on their cooperation, they will see no reason to cooperate.'Tony: 'That's not going to happen.''What part of that won't happen?'Tony: 'The President is not going on international television and endorsing the Khanate as a prospective UN member. What happens if we imply through back channels that the President will support such an action at a later date?''You want us to lie to them? Do you have any idea how badly that will compromise our working relationship with the Khanate?'Tony: 'We will deal with that later. Would they accept such a bargain?''So you are going to lie to them, Mr. Blinken, they will never forgive this act of treachery.'Tony: 'No, you are going to lie to them.'Addison: 'I will resign. I suspect that the rest of the team will quit as well.'Tony: 'What is wrong with your team, Ms. Stuart (Addison)? Can't anyone over there do their damn jobs?''We are doing our damn jobs, Mr. Blinken. We are telling you this is a diplomatically fatal move that will not only reduce this taskforce to uselessness, it will have long term consequences for all future Khanate-American relations.'Tony: 'That is a ridiculous assessment.''That is our experienced assessment. They believe treachery is only forgiven by death. They do believe in loyalty and keeping one's word. In our country, perjury is an unfortunate side effect of the judicial progress. To the Great Khan, it is reason enough to cut your head off.'Tony: 'Fine. I am ordering you to open back-channel talks with the Khanate concerning their admittance to the UN contingent on them taking a reasonable course of action.''Even if we were to do such a moronic thing, the Great Khan will ask Cáel directly to verify this. It is that important to him and his state.'Tony: 'Okay.''Perhaps you could suggest to me what form of coercion I should employ to make Cáel to commit such a blasphemous act?'Tony: 'Tell him to do it. That is what we pay him for.''Mr. Blinken, Mr. Nyilas is an unpaid consultant. At the job he is on sabbatical from, he makes more money than I do. He has an Irish diplomatic passport, been nominated to be the Prince of Albania, Georgia and Armenia, been proclaimed a warrior-prince of Transylvania and is a hero in both Hungary and Romania. He has no brothers, or sisters. His parents are both dead. His only surviving kin are people he is not particularly close to. Since economic and social blackmail are off the table, I am asking you if you are ordering me to use enhanced interrogation techniques to exacting his cooperation in this foolhardy endeavor.'Tony: 'You mean torture him?''I would never go on the record using that word. I don't advise you to use it either.'Tony: 'What kind of people are you?''The kind you engage to take on a mission of this delicate nature. You honestly don't want to know what we've done in the name of our constituent national bodies. You employ us so that you don't have to know. As you said, we 'get it done'. Until now, you have never asked us 'how' we got things done. You wanted the intelligence so we got it for you.'Tony: 'No member of this administration ever asked you to violate US, or International Law.''Which is precisely why the government employs me, so that you can keep your hands clean while mine are steeped in blood. Nothing our team has done will ever blow back on you, so don't worry about that. Why don't we get back to our current dilemma?'(I think until that moment Tony had convinced himself that Addison was another civil servant drone and people like her only existed in the 'black bag' fantasies of conspiracy theorists, hackneyed movie scripts and questionable 'true' spy novels. People like Addison and Lady Fathom weren't standard issue intelligence officers by any stretch of the imagination. They were almost unique in that they did what they did for the very beliefs they had sworn an oath to uphold, to serve their countries.There were no personal vendettas going on. No slush funds were vanishing into Cayman Island accounts. Neither had a God Complex. There was no desire for personal power, career advancement, or fame. I was beginning to think that was why Temujin used them, and me, because we could be counted on to do the right thing when required and only when required. Addison and Fathom had damned themselves forever because someone had to pay the price and get the job done. I imagined they really felt blessed for the opportunity. I worked with maniacs.)Tony: 'Thailand, yes. What if we put troops on the ground in Thailand?''How many?'Tony hummed and hawed so we had to guess.'A Marine Expeditionary Unit? If that is all, they better have an exit plan. Sir, if you want to impress the Khanate with the White House's resolve, you need to start landing troops from the Rapid Deployment Force starting tomorrow. Base aircraft out of Thai air bases. Threaten to ram any Indian Naval vessels that get in your way.'Tony: 'Is that what it would take?'('Yes. It would take the US to growing some balls, damn it!' was not the diplomatic reply though it desperately needed to be said. Hey, I could be a bit of a jingoist when I feel the lives of my loved ones are in danger.)'That is our current assessment of the situation. The Khanate has no reason to take any American threat of force seriously. They won't see anything short of a full-court press as nothing more than posturing for the home audience and what allies we have left.'Tony: 'What does that mean?''It means you are taking the cooperation of Taiwan and Philippines for granted. Our people tell us they see American influence in the region waning and we have been letting the Chinese push them around. Now the Khanate appears and knocks the Chinese back three decades on the World Stage. The Khanate is trying to create a ring of allies around the PRC and a few of them are curious why the US is dragging its heel about such a critical regional issue.'Tony: 'You don't dictate US foreign policy.'(No, we simply enacted foreign policy without your knowledge.)There were probably a large number of Special Forces operators who would be shaking their heads in bewilderment when they found out the US was trying to face down the Khanate over, of all places, Thailand. Hadn't they just busted their humps trying to make the Great Khan see their nations (the US and UK) as potential worthy allies?Working with the Khanate had been 'interesting'. If you asked them for anything, they got it for you, danger and consequences be damned. They'd try anything for the men they considered 'brothers in the struggle'. If you were pinned down by fire from a hillside and asked for fire support, they would napalm the whole damn mountain if that was what it took. The man/woman on the other end of that radio cared for your life, not the human rights of the scumbag shooting at you, or any of the people they might be hiding behind.You also know if they couldn't get it done, it was only because the resources didn't exist. The Khanate Special Forces hadn't acted like co-belligerents, or allies. They treated you like their own kin. They would and had died to make sure some of them got home to their families. If ordered to, they would definitely take the fight to the Khanate. I believed many of them would be asking what had it all been for.'We wouldn't dream of it,' Addison lied.'Good. You have your marching orders. Now get to it,' and Tony hung up on us. Everyone in the room was looking around. What exactly were our marching orders? Had I'd missed that part of our conversation?"Well," Fathom sighed, "there is only one thing we can do." I seriously prayed she would ask me to lie to Temujin."Understood," Mehmet nodded. "Somehow we get the Khanate to launch their offensive into Thailand in three days.""Can they do that?" I blurted out."They do it, or everyone in this room is in a shitload of trouble when they get around to it next week," Addison grinned. "The Khanate high command isn't going to back down just because we ask them to. I wouldn't if I were them.""What happens if they can't make the three day window?" I asked."Then you call up your blood-brother and ask him to fuck over his nation to save us from lengthy prison sentences, or outright assassination," Fathom smirked."If he says 'no'," I looked into her eyes."That's the real tragedy in all this, he won't," she gave me a comforting look. "He isn't going to leave you hanging in the wind. He'll call off his attack dogs because he isn't the kind of man to fuck you over because it is politically expedient. I'm staking all our lives on that. I always have."The Black Lotus? We'd explain to them the ugly reality that neither of us could afford to be painted into a corner over this Thailand issue. We were doing our best, but our political masters were dead set on making a colossal error and we had to follow through with those directives. The Khanate would do everything in their extensive power to support the Black Lotus and if they could invade in three days with some nebulous chance at success, they would go.The Black Lotus, the entire 9 Clans knew JIKIT had no power except what we finagled from the US and the UK. We had borrowed their resources to accomplish what we'd done. The Black Lotus had profited from some of those operations and both the Khanate and JIKIT would owe them big, but we were good for it. That truism was why they worked with us.My personal problem was that I knew the Great Khan would not forgive, or forget this interference by the US. It wasn't in his nature. Worse, the politicians and bureaucrats in Washington would see this as a victory and an expression that the US remained the globe's premier super power. Too few would remember the price of this sense of superiority would be born on the back of Thailand's masses. The revolution would fail after a short, brutal civil war. The tyrant would remain in power and the voice of the Thai people would be stilled.The end result of that late night phone call? We weren't told.What follows is pure conjecture on my part, fueled by intelligence information provided by other JIKIT resources and knowledge about how much the political landscape of Southeast Asia had been transformed by the PCR being driven back to their own coastline, leaving a power vacuum India, Vietnam and the Khanate were eager to fill.The Republic of China/Taiwan --'Aren't you the same people who said only a week ago that sending more weapons into the region would only escalate tensions? And now you want to use our airbases against our latest ally in the region? Do you understand how much internal political turmoil this will cause? Half of us are jumping for joy that someone big and fierce embraces our independence. The other half think it is time to retake China.Yes, we mean the territory currently under the oppressive yoke of the People's Republic of China. Yes, the China the Khanate just kicked the crap out of. The nation that might not be able to protect say, Zhusanjiao. That would be the Pearl River Delta to you Westerners, that huge area on the mainland adjacent to Hong Kong. Hainan is looking pretty ripe for conquest as well. That would be that big island off the coast of, yes, we have indeed suspected you could read a map.At the moment we are expecting the permission of the Khanate to use Woody Island as a forward staging area and logistic base to help us do just that. Take Hainan, yes, that large island currently, and temporarily, under the illegal occupation by those illegitimate bastards in Beijing.What do you mean 'don't declare war on them'? We've been at war with the People's Republic since 1945. No, we are pretty sure we would recall signing a Peace Treaty with them. No, we can't 'get over it' either. Why are you even asking us that? Don't you know our history?Anyway, if we help you, can we expect the same level of cooperation from you as we are getting from the Khanate? In case things go sour, Yes, a shooting war would qualify. See, your people at JIKIT have been helping the Khanate and us, your people, at JIKIT, we are pretty sure it is made up of Americans and British personnel. Why would we think that? Are you serious? Because that's what your governments told us, that's why. Besides, why are you asking us what your people have been doing? Don't they work for you?Speaking of the US government helping us out, what progress is there on the Taiwan Relations Act Affirmation and Naval Vessel Transfer Act of 2014 ? We sure could use those vessels. While we are at it, how about sharing some of the technology used in the F-35. We'll build our own, or a model vaguely similar to it. We value your friendship and know you will help us out in a pinch.Right?'The Philippines --'Sigh. If you really think this will help. By the way, aren't your fighters going to need some in-air refueling? What are you going to do if the Khanate engages them over Philippine airspace? What are you going to do if you get into a shooting war with the Khanate? Will you defend us from their ballistic missile threat? We have a long history as your allies, but the Khanate is totally ruthless, and they scare us. Can you hold our hand, say for the next twenty years?'(The Philippines rolls out their Wish List)Maybe you could give us some advanced fighters?We are a poor country and can't afford to buy any before 2018.We are not greedy, 72 F-16s will do and you are upgrading to the F-35 anyway so we know you have some lying around. Could you also help us with the maintenance cost? We are a poor country, but very large.Some of your decommissioned naval vessels would go a long way in showing us some love. One of those Tarawa-class amphibious assault ships would be really nice and you've got the USS Peleliu decommissioned and about to be scrapped. We have hundreds of islands in our Republic so moving stuff around is pretty tough. Can you help us out?If you could toss in the ship's complement of 20 AV-8B Harrier 2 and 12 V-22 Ospreys with a fifteen year maintenance package that would be even better!We are a poor country. We could never afford to buy any of that stuff.Maybe a frigate, or three? You have a dozen Oliver Hazard Perry-class frigates sitting around. We can finally retire some of our World War 2 relics and make one our new flagship.We know you aren't going to give us one of those powerful nuclear submarines, but maybe you could secure a few loans so we could buy some of those nifty German-made, diesel-powered Type 214's. We hear they are pretty cool, very silent and practically a steal at $330 million per boat! We love you guys! And, we are poor.Oh, and some helicopters!We were going to refurbish some Vietnam-era Iroquois, but since your Marine Corp is retiring the far superior Bell AH-1 SuperCobra, can we have a dozen of those instead?We were going to fix up some of our aging Sikorsky S-76s as air ambulances. Getting new ones would be far superior, don't you think?You also have those cool Blackhawks. You have so many. Could you spare us, say twenty? You're the best!And some guns. And artillery. And some APC's.Did we mention we are a poor country going through an expensive force modernization program?Got any amphibious vehicles lying around? We could use a few of more of those small unit riverine craft (SURC)'s we bought from you recently. They are excellent counter-insurgency tools. You want us doing well fighting the War on Terror, don't you?Did we mention that we are a poor country? And we love you guys!The Federation of Malaysia --We like this idea. Give us say a week to ten days and we can jump right in.You want to go in four days? With what precisely? Compared to the force projections you have been providing us, Who? JIKIT, of course. Who else would you send us to when we requested intelligence on Khanate activities from you? Did we believe them? Why wouldn't we? They are your people,When do you think Thailand will let us intervene? We've asked the Prime Minister if he needs our assistance and he politely declined. Apparently he thinks he's got things well in hand. He does retain command of over 200,000 troops and the opposition is much smaller. I hope you have better luck than we did in convincing him he's in serious trouble.Also, what do you plan to do about the Indian Navy's South China Sea taskforce? It is pretty big, not something we can tackle on our own.Yes, we kind of need to know what you are doing before we decide what we are doing. You do realize that the Gulf of Thailand is currently under the complete domination of the Indian/Khanate/Vietnamese Axis, right?48 combat aircraft? What gave you that idea? The Vietnamese have been refurbishing their Mig-21's like crazy, using Khanate stockpiles, plus there are nearly a 150 Su-22's. Sure, they are both older than manned flights to the Moon, but they can drop bombs, fire rockets and launch ground attack missiles with the best of them. They are still jet aircraft.Worried? You are aware that those antiquated pieces of crap can bomb the northern part of my country, aren't you? So 'yes', we are worried about those 300 flying deathtraps being more than a 'manageable' nuisance.What about our air force? I imagine it will be doing what we trained it to do, defend Federation air space because I doubt those relics will be coming at us unescorted. We can already tell you that the Mig-29's and Su-30's the Khanate and Vietnamese will be flying are excellent aircraft. We fly them too, just not as many.Of course you can base your F-22's out of Sultan Ismail Petra Airport as long as you supply the logistical support. How many? A lot? Could you please be more specific? Two squadrons? My, that's going to get pretty dicey. I believe you when you say the F-22 is a highly advanced stealthy fighter. I also believe that they are a lot less stealthy when they are sitting on the ground re-arming and refueling.Do we think they will really threaten us? They are threatening us, over our Spratly Island claims, are you sure you know what you are getting into? By the way, when this blows over, do you think you can pressure the Khanate into giving us their Spratly island airbase? It is rapidly approaching completion and is over 3000 meters long.How did they do that? They are dredging the ocean floor, it is a man-made island. Didn't your government protest the environmental damage they were causing?No, not the Khanate, the Chinese.Yes, the Khanate currently controls it. They stole it from the PRC hours before the ceasefire. So, can we have it?Yes, we know it belonged to the People's Republic, but it doesn't anymore. Besides, we both opposed it when the Chinese were dredging it up the island from the sea floor, so giving it to us isn't all that egregious, or unexpected, action. It would also go a long way in supporting our just and worthy claims to the Spratly Islands. We really don't want those greedy Chinese, yes, both the People's Republic and the 'Republic of', or, those incompetent Filipinos to steal them from us.Both of us knocking the Vietnamese back on their heels will be going a long way to getting those Communist knuckle draggers to back off as well. Hey, if they do get antsy, can we also take the Vietnamese base in the Spratly's? It isn't as big as the one the Khanate stole, but it is finished, and closer to us. We are sure that if we help you out, you will do the right thing when the time comes. Right?The President of the United States --'They want what? Have they lost their fucking minds?The Philippines is talking about a billion dollar aid package and guaranteed loans we doubt they can ever repay. We only want to use their air bases for a month, maybe two, not deflower their teenage daughters. It isn't as if we are really going to go to war with the Khanate over Thailand. Besides, the last time we 'got involved' like that, George Bush ran up a trillion dollar deficit, and his party was thrown out of office. Doesn't anyone care we are facing a difficult mid-term election in November?So, the Taiwanese think this is the appropriate moment to invade mainland China? And they want our help? Do they know how expensive that can get? Do they understand how much that will unbalance the already shake state of Asian affairs? It is another land war in Asia for the love of God!'And, the Malaysians are going to help us, but not actually help us and they want tens of billions square miles of ocean for the measly concessions they are making? What do they expect us to do with all the Filipinos, Chinese and Vietnamese who already live there?What do you mean none of those islands are actually inhabited? They are just military bases, some of them nothing more than rusting iron hulks on submerged reefs? OH, God damn it! Why don't we take the God damn Spratly Islands for ourselves if they are that fucking important? We have a Marine Corp. Aren't they good at taking islands? I read about it somewhere.No, I'm not changing the damn mission. I'm venting because the world seems to be inhabited with greedy assholes who can't appreciate peaceful discourse without trying to lift my wallet.Okay, okay, I've got this. We are going to form a new international commission to resolve this Spratly Island's nightmare. Have the French chair it. They love that kind of stuff. Makes sure the Germans are on the commission too. They need to look less like money-grubbing douchebags after that fiasco over the Greek economic collapse. Then invite Russia, India and Pakistan. That will pretty much guarantee nothing gets accomplished.That will allow us to keep our promises to those three leeches without having to deliver anything and, when it fails, it won't be seen as my fault. (Groan) What we really need is new videos of Khanate soldiers bayoneting babies, another ISIS atrocity, or more indisputable evidence the Russian Army's involvement in the Ukraine. The Great Khan really screwed us over Tibet (you know, by allowing them to become a free and democratic society), Putin is an evil cuck (who most likely laughs at me behind my back) and another round of Islamophobia-bashing to remind everyone how this is all Bush's fault.No wonder George spent so much time at Crawford Ranch. Navigating international relations is totally thankless and no matter how rosy we paint the latest economic numbers, someone still finds a way to make me look bad. Oh well, if this blows up in my face, I only have two more years in this shooting gallery. Maybe then I might change my mind and decided I really was born in Kenya, or Indonesia. I really wish Hawaii was an independent country. I'd like to retire there if there weren't so many of those damn contentious Americans.The US President wanted to run this operation on a shoestring, not engage in 'nation-building', much less backing an invasion of anybody. In fact, he was trying to stop an invasion.The Philippines was a poor country. So what? It wasn't his fault. He had poor people in the US too and they cast votes.Taiwan suddenly thought it could take on China? They were insane. Of course he would be ignoring a major stated political goal of the ROC for the past 65 years ~ reunification on their terms. Any high-level technological transfer wasn't going to happen because if the Republic ran off the reservation, the President would bloody well be sure no one could trace that decision back to anything he'd done.At least Malaysia was on board, sorta/kinda. They wouldn't actually be able to help until day ten, or fourteen and, unlike the Republic of China, they had a small air force that might not be able to protect forwardly deployed troops. If he ended getting of those National Guard yahoos killed his party would be murdered in November.For a split second, he wondered if he should attempt to make a personal call to the Great Khan, potentate to potentate, except he had this sinking feeling that a winning smile and a handshake would be worse than useless. The man would look him straight in his eyes and start making demands. He would demand action and when the Leader of the Free World prevaricated, he knew the Khanate would call his bluff.And they would fight. The alternative was a grand spectacle of public humiliation and that he could not accept. The US military machine would fight and they would win. They would win because he needed them to win, fast and clean and home for Christmas. Maybe he would authorize the mobilization of those California airmen. Just in case.In the end, Secretary Kerry gave POTUS what he asked for.The Philippines would let them use their country's bases for logistics and strategic assets (aka bombers).The ROC would extend their air umbrella out 200 km to the east, south and west, acting like a shield between the Khanate and US Pacific assets moving through the tight Formosan Straits.Malaysia gave them an airbase from which they could strike into Thailand, or Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos. The US Air Force would have the opportunity to be lethally effective.Had they known the sum total of the US commitment, they would have been appalled. The Khanate did not fuck around.One Carrier Strike Group,Forty (maybe sixty) Air Force fighters,Lumbering B-52's flying half way around the globe,Hadn't they been watching the dogfights over China for the past month? Maybe they would like to dive down and examine the wreckage of the PLAN carrier Liaoning and see just how it met its grisly fate?Apparently not.(I live, love and have loved)"What are you doing here?" she got the preliminary nonsense out of the way. With the way she was dressed, I was an expected visitor. She was expecting some make-up sex. I was thinking 'paying for my past mistakes' sex because I was already seeing way too many women who required me to do things outside the bedroom, non-sexual things. I had my dress jacket swung over my shoulder. It would only get in the way later."I brought you motorcycle over. You left it parked by my place," I kept any appearance of lust, or glee off my face."It is one o'clock in the morning," she glowered."I was called into work. I'm on call 24/7.""Let me guess, you can't talk about it.""You wouldn't believe me if I did, so suffice it to say I was doing things I didn't want to do instead of coming over here, waking you up from a sound sleep.""I wasn't asleep. I was angry," I pointed out."I apologize. Maybe I should have waited until morning." She didn't think I should have waited as long as I had. Keeping her waiting until morning would have left her volcanic."I wasn't asleep.""Your bike is in the parking lot across the street," I handed her the lot ticket."How did you find it?""There are only two places in my neighborhood that allows parking and the second one is poorly lit," I replied."And the attendant let you steal it?" she frowned."He knows me. I do a ton of business with him and it wasn't as if I was dressed like your average carjacker.""How did you start it?""Chaz showed me how to spoof the lock. He's got this spiffy lock-pick set on him.""That he carries with him for such contingencies?""Hey, he's the spycraft professional. I'm the amateur who tags along because karma is a bitch," I grinned."Did you ruin the ignition?""No. He's got this skeleton key thingy. I need to get me one of those," I added. See, I was drifting down the path to becoming a hardened criminal and she had to save me. Girls love saving bad boys from themselves. There is an entire literary genre devoted to the topic."Get in here," Anais barked. She emphasized that command by grabbing my tie and dragging me into her room. Now I could ogle her in her bra, panties and dress shirt left open. As I said moments ago, she was expecting me. Anais had thick, light-brown, just-past-the-shoulders hair with blonde highlights. Her dusky skin tone suggested some ancestral link to the South of France while her deep green eyes suggested Celtic ties.She was definitely someone I would describe as possessing an hourglass figure. She worked out just enough to stay fit, practiced judo (in and outside of the bedroom) and ate right. Her ass was the correct mix of firm and fleshy, her breasts were pleasant without too much bounce and she sported broad, but short, nipples that liked to get bitten.With her bare foot, she kicked the door shut, spun me around by my tie until I slammed, back first, into the wall in the short hallway that led to her bedroom."I repeat, what are you doing here?""I never actually apologized for how things ended up," I sodomized the truth. "Anais, I am truly sorry for how badly I fucked up our affair. I acted without a thought for the possible consequences, or thinking about how betrayed you would feel. Can you accept my apology?""You came here to have sex," she declared. She stepped up tightly against my body, her eyes boring into mine. I had around six inches on her so she had to tilt up her chin to do so."That too," I shrugged."I ought to throw you out the window," she growled. We were on the seventh floor. The window didn't open and the safety glass looked alright."I'll go then," I nodded. Now to make her beg for/demand sex."You are not going anywhere," she snarled. Then she kissed me, a tongue-grapple ensued and she finished things by biting my lower lip so much I tasted blood afterwards. I dropped my jacket. I was about to need both my hands."I think us having sex would be a mistake," I pushed her buttons. I wasn't some wimp acquiescing to her demands. I was a free-willed being; a strong man who needed to be wrestled down and forced to perform.She pulled me down into a second kiss. This was an 'I will leave you incapable of thinking about anything but me' kiss. Yes, I had names for kisses too. They were similar to naming the ingredients of a choice meal. I propelled her back until we slammed into the opposite wall. Anais was a tough chick and a bit of banging around was par for the course.I cupped each ass cheek and pulled her up. She responded by wrapping her legs around my hips. We were still kissing. Anais slipped her hands along my sides before linking them up at the small of my back. She pulled me hard against her while she ground her crotch against mine."Clothes," she rumbled from deep within. As in 'why was I still dressed?'"Been a while," I taunted her. Since she was glommed on to me, I used my freed up hands to rip off my tie."Yes. I bet it hasn't 'been a while' for you," she sizzled."Long as in 5:30 this morning," I teased back. At this point in the foreplay that revelation was akin to throwing gasoline on a fire. I was being an unrepentant dog and she was taking me to confessional, between her thighs."Bastard," she condemned me as well as the entire male side of the species."It doesn't mean I haven't missed you, this, us," I riposted. She retaliated by turning her humping motion into to more of a grind. Bad kitty. Bad kitty wanted to be spanked. Woot!"You are never going to change," she dug her fingernails into my flesh. I yanked my shirt off."If I hadn't changed, you wouldn't be here," I reminded her while nipping at her nose and lips."You are still an egocentric bastard," she growled."Hey, I always took care of your needs," I countered. I had. She knew I had and since she currently wanted me to take her to that higher erotic plane, she wasn't going to contest that fact. Instead, she began working her shirt off and in doing so, squishing her boobs against my chest.Holding her tight, my left hand under her right buttock and my right hand on her mid-back, pressing her torso into mine. We dance through two slow circles before crashing, side by side, on the bed. Anais rolled us over so that she was on top. I didn't let her get in a totally dominant pose, oh no. I had a kitty to take care off. I grabbed her firm ass and propelled her up until I was face first with her gusset.I might not remember to check my bank balance, or the atomic number of Technetium (I once had a girlfriend who would rate my performance on the periodic table in the midst of our fucking, I never made it higher than Copernicium before she passed out), but I can recall the precise taste, texture and topography of every cunt I've had face to face contact with. I knew right where to tongue-fuck Anais to twist her up inside.Control-orgasm, control-orgasm, Anais was pig-headed and wanted to keep dictating our reunion. She also wanted to return to the level of sexual bliss we had shared so often before. Her compromise was to hump my face; really grind it in. Black silk underwear is an excellent medium for transferring force and wetness between partners.She rubbed her love-nub against my upper lip/teeth while I did tongue-ups into her cunt. She was wetter than Bangladesh in the rainy season. That was an indicator of some serious masturbatory sessions stopping just short of orgasm before I arrived. I had some aching sensations to play with and I wasn't cruel. I maneuvered a hand between her thighs, underneath the band of her underwear and exposed her vaginal opening to my fingers and tongue while keeping that silky feel for her clitoris."Rurr," she began growling from the depths of her diaphragm. That was how she always was, thundering like a female grizzly bear in heat. It was an expression with deep subharmonic components that caused the heart to flutter and her flesh to shimmer with the vibrations mixed with her bodily sweat."Come on, Baby," I urged her on.That pissed her off. She was trying to hold off her orgasm for a few more seconds. My 'baby' crack shifted her resolve into anger allowing her climax to overwhelm her."Rah," she howled. It didn't sound like a female coming to fruition. It was more akin to the sound European soccer hooligans made when their team scored a goal. The muscles in Anais' thighs were strumming along like the cords of a piano, her belly was undulating in and out, and her head had rolled back so that she was screaming to the ceiling.The countdown was on. The people next door/across the hall/above or below us would be waking up, think that someone had unleashed a wild animal in the hotel, figure out they were not immediately on the menu, then call the front desk, stating their fears as justifiable fact. Anais and I had been down that road before.I gave Anais' flank a light smack to get her attention. Sure she looked back at me with simmering anger, yet she also knew the score. That had been round #1 in a nightlong bout of sexual conquest, rebellion and re-conquest. She drew her knees to her chest so she could pull off her damp panties in one swift motion. I worked off my shoes, pants, socks and underwear. While she soaked up my naked flesh (muscles, scars and all), she retrieved the phone from the side table and placed it beside her. She wouldn't want to break up our rhythm when the phone rang.No romantic small talk interrupted our shared lust. She wanted that cock and I wanted to give it to her. I moved between her inviting thighs while she examined me, her upper body uplifted by her arms resting on her elbows. Bite-kissing-biting resumed. I slowly pushed her head to the bed with the force of my kisses and strength of my upper body pushing down on her. Somewhere along the way, I slipped into her.Condom? Crap. I was slipping. I would have to pull out, because stopping to put a condom on would earn me some serious ferocity on her part. I plunged in. Anais placed her hands on my hips, claws beneath my kidneys, guiding my pace and power. I may have been on top, but she wasn't giving up on one ounce of control."Damn you," she hissed."Yes?" I leered."Fuck you.""I'm working on it. Is there anything," I teased."Bastard," she looked away, "You remember how I like it.""Whatever made you think I would forget?" I kept at it."Don't look so smug.""I'm working on it," I looked smug. Anais dug her fingernails in. I had to be punished, just ask her."When do you have to go back to work?" she huffed."Six a.m. When do you have to go back?""I have two days off.""Good to know," I stole a kiss from her lips painlessly. Good to know.(Painful dreams)I edged back into consciousness realizing that I was not alone. The muffled sense of my surroundings informed me that I wasn't really awake. She sat on my side of the bed, feet on the floor, side to me."Good evening, Dot," I yawned."Good morning, Cáel," the Goddess Ishara let her melodic voice float over me."Hold on," I interrupted her. I weaved as I leaned over, pawed at my pants (still trapped in the real world) and finally drew forth my offering."A fortune cookie," she chuckled. "I admire your dedication.""It is a simple enough request and I aim to please." I hesitated. "We don't have much time, do we?""You are dreaming, not concussed, so we will be alright if we tread carefully," she told me. "This time, I have no cryptic warnings, or specious pieces of information. I am giving you a gift. Take my hand."I did, not that I had much choice. We 'went', where to, I wasn't sure yet I suspected we were skirting the Weave itself where concepts like Time and Distance had little meaning.The Goddess released my hand and I stepped out of the fog brought about by the abrupt nature of our progress to see a woman sitting beside a pool, no, a sunken bath. She looked up at our approach. Oh shit, it was,"Cáel? You are Cáel, aren't you," she smiled. She stared at me with her blind eyes while waiting for my response with deaf ears."Yes, Tad fi, I'm Cáel. How did you know?""I bear our shared life inside me," she graced me with her serene presence."Ah, I was warned," I stopped myself. I was going to add 'this might happen'. That would be unfair as she appeared pleased with this alteration of her life path. "I was warned by the Goddess that she had something to show me. How are you feeling? Is there anything I can do for you?"She put her hand over her lower abdomen and rubbed the spot with her palm."Seeing you and giving you the news in person is enough," she glowed with happiness."Have you picked out a name yet?" seemed weak."I will leave that up to you.""Oh, come on," I relaxed slightly. "This is something we are doing together.""No, it is not, kind Cáel.""Just because she will most likely end up an Isharan doesn't,""No, Cáel. This birth will cost me my life. I am not destined to ever see my daughter draw her first breath," she confided in me."No!" I recoiled. "That's unfair." What else could I say? 'I take it back. I shouldn't have listened to my Goddess and screwed you out of what little life you had left.'"I am content with my fate, Cáel Nyilas Wakko Ishara. Our daughter will be the first female of the Isharan line in nearly 1600 years. Rejoice that we have been confronted by Destiny and triumphed. The light of the Peacemakers will shine once more among our sisters.""It is not worth the cost of your life," I responded bitterly. This was colossally unfair to all three of us."That you grieve for the short time I have left gives me strength, knowing our daughter will grow up with a strong, caring father. I,"I could sense Ishara close by my side."You must go, my Cáel. We will next see each other in the Halls of our Ancestors. Take our daughter and raise her well. I have faith in you," she sighed pleasantly, as if I had sheltered her from the rainstorm with my umbrella."We must go," Ishara whispered in my ear and then we left. I was back in the hotel room, looking down at the tears on my sleeping face and it hurt so much."You gave me that command knowing what it would cost her," I sounded so hollow, chin on my chest, eyes closed instead of looking at my feet."We are not an easy people to love, Cáel. We are harsh. Endless centuries of suffering, pain and mistrust have made us this way. Please understand that what you see as one life passing is really one life coming into being. It is a life Fate would have denied the line of Ishara. I took you to meet Tad fi because I wanted you to greet your daughter with understanding, not sorrow. I owed you.""Steal my anger why don't you?" I chuckled bitterly. "Can I even blame myself for this tragedy? It isn't like you made me do anything. I did it because I wanted to and never gave much thought to the frail health Tad fi was hanging on to. This is so wrong and I don't know what to do.""Wake up. Keep living. If this news turns your heart, or fills your mind with doubt, then both of us have failed you. Tad fi didn't have to tell you. I didn't have to bring you to her. I believed you were owed the chance to say good-bye.""I didn't say that," I exhaled sadly."You openly grieved and let her comfort you. That is more of a 'goodbye' than most people are able to convey. She knows your heart. You were honest in your sorrow. She saw that and that eased her suffering knowing that you are a person who is free with their heart. For a woman who expected nothing but wickedness from men for so long, that was the ultimate gift. You did help her. You truly did.""I," I woke up. Anais was looking down at me, concerned."You've been crying," she noted by touching my cheek with a finger then showing me the dampness."Do you believe a person's soul can fracture?" I murmured. That sort of talk was unlike the 'me' she once knew."Do you believe that another can help you put your soul back together if that happens?" I continued."You are not talking about us, are you?" she studied me."No. I'm thinking about being a parent, not just a father. Can I fuck that up as much as I've screwed up so many of the other women I've cared for, am I going to be worthy of being a Dad?""Oh, I don't know. You are not the man I knew two years ago. I think you have changed for the better. You are still far from perfect yet, you seem to be trying so much harder than previously.""You think I'm going to screw things up, don't you?""Yes. Yes, I do, but I also think you will only make the same mistake once. That is better than most men can hope for," she let her gaze soften."This is us breaking up,""Yes. I think if I stayed, you would break my heart; and I am starting to believe neither one of us wants that," she nodded. "One more time?""I'd love to," I smiled at her. I still hurt. I was using sex to bandage my pain. Anais knew that and was giving me this unlooked for piece of kindness. It was the best break up I'd ever had, or could ever hope for.{5:45 am, Saturday, August 30th ~ 9 Days to go}"You look like someone strangled your kitten," Pamela told me as I exited Anais' hotel room. She was leaning against the wall across the hall. I had the feeling she had been there a while. Of course I hadn't been allowed to wander off alone; most likely, Chaz had kept an eye on me until Pamela relieved him."I, I got Tadifi killed," I unloaded on her.Pamela immediately dropped her casual fa

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Let's Talk About Impostor Syndrome with Ashley Lyon

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Play Episode Listen Later Feb 15, 2025

Ashley Lyon joins Shala, Chris, and Damian for an entertaining yet insightful discussion about impostor syndrome, getting past being afraid of The Worst Thing Happening, and more. Resources: https://workplace.stackexchange.com/questions/129099/how-to-know-if-i-am-a-real-developer https://www.linkedin.com/in/ashleylyon1/

AWS re:Invent re:Cap with Andrew Brown

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Play Episode Listen Later Dec 17, 2024

Andrew Brown joins Shala, Chris, and Damian for a re:Invent re:cap of their favorite announcements, tips on how to attend re:Invent, and more. Resources: https://genai.cloudprojectbootcamp.com/ https://www.exampro.co/ https://x.com/andrewbrown https://www.linkedin.com/in/andrew-wc-brown/

Bitcoin for Families Virtual Holiday Summit and FUNdraiser for Toys for Tots

Big DREAM School - The Art, Science, and Soul of Rocking OUR World Doing Simple Things Each Day

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 8, 2024 123:31 Transcription Available

Empower your family with the gift of freedom tech with FUN this holiday season. ALL Donations Benefit Toys for Totshttps://djvalerieblove.com/donateLearn how Bitcoin can empower your modern family with fun and creative books, games, content, and courses. Grab some impactful holiday gifts that your family will LOVE!Are you looking for holiday gifts that will actually appreciate in value rather than getting used once and tossed away in the landfill? Give the gift of financial empowerment and FUN! Kid Inspired Gifts:Free Market Kids https://freemarketkids.comBitcoin Junior Club https://www.bitcoin4youth.com/SHAmory https://shamory.com/loveBTC Trading Cards https://btc-tc.com/LOVEBuy Bitcoin:River https://partner.river.com/LoveSwan https://swan.com/djvalerieHODL HODL https://hodlhodl.com/join/NMKLQStore Your Bitcoin Safely:Coldcard https://store.coinkite.com/promo/PEACETrezor https://affil.trezor.io/SHd9In this special episode of the Bitcoin for Families Virtual Summit, we bring together some of the most innovative minds in the Bitcoin education space to discuss how Bitcoin can be a powerful tool for families. We kick off with Daniel Prince and his daughter Lauren, who share their journey of integrating Bitcoin into their family life and the impact it has had on their homeschooling approach. They emphasize the importance of community and how attending Bitcoin conferences as a family has enriched their lives.Next, we hear from Scott and Tali Lindberg of Free Market Kids, who discuss their unique approach to teaching Bitcoin through games. They highlight the importance of meeting people where they are and using games as a bridge to understanding complex concepts like Bitcoin. Tali shares her insights on the challenges of introducing Bitcoin to older children and the importance of positive messaging.The conversation then shifts to the broader impact of Bitcoin education, with a focus on the importance of critical thinking and the role of parents as guides rather than heroes. The panelists share personal stories of how Bitcoin has transformed their family dynamics and the joy of seeing their children engage with the Bitcoin community.In the second half of the episode, we are joined by Sela from Bitcoin Junior Club, Scott Sibley from Shamory, and Tomer Strolight, author of "Satoshi Nakamoto and His Bitcoin Invention." Sela shares her experiences organizing the kids' zone at the Adopting Bitcoin conference in El Salvador, highlighting the importance of creating spaces for children to explore Bitcoin in a fun and engaging way.Scott discusses the evolution of Shamory and the joy of involving his children in the Bitcoin community, while Tomer talks about the inspiration behind his children's book and the importance of fostering creativity and belief in oneself. The episode wraps up with a discussion on the power of storytelling and the potential for Bitcoin to inspire future generations.

Exploring Bitcoin's Impact in El Salvador: A Journey with Kemal, Kiki, and Sela

Big DREAM School - The Art, Science, and Soul of Rocking OUR World Doing Simple Things Each Day

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 1, 2024 68:21 Transcription Available

We dive into the exciting world of Bitcoin adoption in El Salvador with three incredible guests: Kemal, Kiki, and Sela. They share their insights and experiences as they prepare for the upcoming Adopting Bitcoin conference on November 15th and 16th. The episode also highlights the various events and activities surrounding the Adopting Bitcoin conference, including workshops, panels, and the vibrant Bitcoin community in El Salvador. Our guests share their passion for Bitcoin and the positive changes it's bringing to individuals and communities, encouraging listeners to join the movement and experience the magic of Bitcoin firsthand.

245. JCS-Gäst: Patriot Shala - Il Secondo Ritorno

Podcast Juventus Club Svezia

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 30, 2024 55:52

Avsnitt 245 av Podcast Juventus Club Svezia med JCS-gästen Patriot Shala, som gör en andra återkomst efter att ha varit med i avsnitt 125 och 172. Vi snackade ned söndagens galna Derby d'Italia innan vi kom in på säsongsinledningen under vår nya tränare Thiago Mottas ledning. Hur spelarna har presterat hittills, skadesituationen, Cristiano Giuntolis arbete under sommaren och kommande vinter samt lite snack om kvällens match mot Parma tillika helgens match mot Udinese och nästa veckas CL-match mot Lille. Stöd gärna podden du med, bli patron: https://www.patreon.com/podcastjuventusclubsvezia Intro/Outro Podcast Juventus Club Svezia, skapad av: Roger Myrehag - Oboogie Music

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Terraform: Stand up test environments freaky fast!

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Play Episode Listen Later Sep 24, 2024

In this episode of the vBrownBag, Shala demonstrates how & why she uses Hashicorp Terraform (for her day job!) to stand up proof of concept tests on AWS far faster than what is possible in the console. 00:00 Intro 1:37 Shala walks us through her GitLab repo

Live From The Farm! (Shala Farms LLC) Good Morning!

Good Morning Aurora

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 12, 2024 36:30

Good morning and happy Thursday! Aurora's first morning news program is live at a new place today, Shala Farms LLC! This is an amazing farm in Oswego and we speak with Tammy & Ron, the family owners of the farm about their history and life here at Shala Farms. We see some cool farm animals as well so this is a really cool morning. Big "thank you" goes to our friend Tracy Hodges for making this meaningful day possible. Check out the full video here!

#GoodVibeTribe: FriYAY vibes

Adam and Allison Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later May 17, 2024 1:55

Shala, Christine, Terra and more shared their good vibes to help the Metro have a great weekend!

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#GoodVibeTribe: Tuesday vibes

Adam and Allison Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later May 7, 2024 2:27

Olivia, Jesse, Shala and more had some great vibes to make this Tuesday just a little better!

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Is Faith Helping Or Hindering Your Recovery (With Justin K Hughes) | Ep. 380

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Play Episode Listen Later Apr 5, 2024 45:42

Exploring the relationship between faith and recovery, especially when it comes to managing Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD), reveals a complex but fascinating landscape. It's like looking at two sides of the same coin, where faith can either be a source of immense support or a challenging factor in one's healing journey. On one hand, faith can act like a sturdy anchor or a comforting presence, offering hope and a sense of purpose that's invaluable for many people working through OCD. This aspect of faith is not just about religious practices; it's deeply personal, providing a framework that can help individuals make sense of their struggles and find a pathway towards recovery. The sense of community and belonging that often comes with faith can also play a crucial role in supporting someone through their healing process. However, it's not always straightforward. Faith can get tangled up with the symptoms of OCD, leading to situations where religious beliefs and practices become intertwined with the compulsions and obsessions that characterize the disorder. This is where faith can start to feel like a double-edged sword, especially in cases of scrupulosity, where religious or moral obligations become sources of intense anxiety and compulsion. The conversation around integrating faith into recovery is a delicate one. It emphasizes the need for a personalized approach, recognizing the unique ways in which faith intersects with an individual's experience of OCD. This might involve collaborating with religious leaders, incorporating spiritual practices into therapy, or navigating the complex ways in which faith influences both the symptoms of OCD and the recovery process. Moreover, this discussion sheds light on a broader conversation about the intersection of psychology and spirituality. It acknowledges the historical tensions between these areas, while also pointing towards a growing interest in understanding how they can complement each other in the context of mental health treatment. In essence, the relationship between faith and recovery from OCD highlights the importance of a compassionate and holistic approach. It's about finding ways to respect and integrate an individual's spiritual beliefs into their treatment, ensuring that the journey towards healing is as supportive and effective as possible. This balance is key to harnessing the positive aspects of faith, while also navigating its challenges with care and understanding. Justin K. Hughes, MA, LPC, owner of Dallas Counseling, PLLC, is a clinician and writer, passionate about helping those impacted by OCD and Anxiety Disorders. He serves on the IOCDF's OCD & Faith Task Force and is the Dallas Ambassador for OCD Texas. Working with a diversity of clients, he also is dual-trained in psychology and theology, regularly helping anyone to understand the interaction between faith and mental health. A sought-after writer and speaker, he is currently mid-way through writing his first workbook on evidence-based care of OCD for Christians. He is seeking a collaborative agent who will help secure the best publishing house to help those most in need. Check out www.justinkhughes.com to stay in the loop and get free guides & handouts! Kimberley: Welcome, everybody. Today, we're talking about faith and its place in recovery. Does faith help your recovery? Does it hinder your recovery? And all the things in between. Today, we have Justin Hughes. Justin is the owner of Dallas Counseling and is a clinician and writer. He's passionate about helping those who are impacted by OCD. He is the Dallas ambassador for OCD Texas and serves on the IOCDF's OCD and Faith Task Force, working with a diversity of clients. He's also dual-trained in psychology and theology, regularly helping anyone to understand the interaction between faith and OCD, most commonly Christians. But today, we're here to talk about faith in general. Welcome, Justin. Justin: Kimberley Jayne Quinlan, howdy. Kimberley: You said howdy just perfectly from your Texas state. Justin: Absolutely. Kimberley: Okay. This is a huge topic. And just for those who are listening, we tried to record this once before, we were just saying, but we had tech issues. And I'm so glad we did because I have thought about this so much since, and I feel like evolved a little since then too. So, we're here to talk about how to use faith in recovery and/or is it helpful for some people, and talk about the way that it is helpful and for some not. Can you share a little bit about your background on why this is an important topic for you? Justin: Absolutely. So, first of all, as a man of faith, I'm a Christian. I went to a Christian college, got my degree in Psychology, and very much desired to interweave studies between psychology and theology. So, I went to a seminary. A lot of people hear that, and they're like, “Did you become a priest?” No, it was a counseling program at a seminary, Dallas Theological Seminary. I came here and then found my wife, and I stayed in Dallas. And it's been important to me from a personal faith standpoint. And I love the faith integration in treatment and exploring that with clients. And of course -- or maybe I shouldn't say of course, but it's going to be a lot of Christians, but I work with a lot of different faith backgrounds. And there are some really important conversations happening in the broader world of treatment about faith integration and its place. And we're going to get into all those things and hopefully some of the history and psychology's relationship to faith, which has not been the greatest at different points. For me personally, faith isn't just an exercise. It's not something that I just add on to make my day better. In fact, a lot of times, faith requires me to do way more difficult things than I want to do, but it's a belief in the ultimate object of my faith in God and Christ as a Christian. I naturally come across a lot of people who not only identify that as important but find it as very essential to their treatment. And let's get into that, the folks that find it essential, the people who find it very much not, and the people who don't. But that's just a little bit about me and why I find this so important. Kimberley: Yeah. It's interesting because I was raised Episcopalian. I don't really practice a lot of that anymore for no reason except, I don't know, if I'm going to be really honest. Justin: So honest. I love that. Kimberley: Yeah, I've been thinking about it a lot because I had a positive experience. Sometimes I long for it, but for reasons I don't know. Again, I'm just still on that journey, figuring that piece out and exploring that. Where I see clients is usually on the end of their coming to me as a client, saying, “I'm a believer, but it's all gotten messed up and mushed up and intertwined.” And I'm my job. I think of my job as helping them untangle it. Justin: Yeah. Kimberley: Not by me giving my own personal opinion either, but just letting them untangle it. How might you see that? Are you seeing that also? And what is the process of that untangling, if we were to use that word? Justin: It's so broad and varied. So, I would imagine that just like with clients that I work with and folks that come to conferences and that I talk with, the listeners in your audience, hi listeners, are going to have a broad experience of views, and it's so functional. So, I want people to hear right away that I don't think that there's just a cookie-cutter approach. There can't be with this. And whether we're treating OCD, anxiety disorders, or depression, or eating disorders, or BFRVs, fill in the blank, there are obviously evidence-based treatments which are effective for most, but even those can't be a cookie cutter when it comes down to exactly what a person needs to do or what is required of them in recovery. So, yes, let me just state this upfront for the folks that might be unduly nervous at this point. First of all, the faith piece, religious piece, does not have to enter into treatments for a lot of people to get the job done. In fact, actually, for a lot of people, it was much more healing for them, including many of my clients. I have friends and family members that sometimes look at me as scant. So like, “Wait, you went to seminary, and sometimes you don't talk about God at all.” And it's like, “Yeah, sometimes we're just doing evidence-based treatment, and that is that.” And as an evidence-based practitioner, that's important to me. So, when people come in, I want to work with what their goals are, their values. And a lot of people have found themselves, for any number of reasons, stuck, maybe compulsions or obsessive thoughts or whatever, are stuck in all things belief, religion, or faith or whatever else. And sometimes actually, the most healing thing for them to do is sometimes get in, get out, do the job clinically, walk away, experience freedom, and then grow and develop personally. But then I've also discovered that there's this other side that some people do not find a breakthrough. Some people stay stuck. And maybe these are the people that hit the stats that we see in research of 20% or so just turn down things like ERP, (exposure and response prevention) with OCD when they're offered. And then another 20 to 30% drop out. And we have great studies that tell us that most people who stick with it get a lot of benefits, but there's all the other folks that didn't. And sometimes it's because people -- no offense, you all, but sometimes people just don't want to put in the work and discipline. However, we can't minimize it to that. Sometimes it's truly people that are willing to show up, and there's a complex layer of things. And the cookie-cutter approach is not going to work for them. Maybe they have the intersection of complex health issues, intersection of trauma, intersection of even just family of origin things where life is really difficult, or even just right now, a loneliness epidemic that's happening in the world. And by the way, I'm a huge believer in the evidence base. There's a lot in the evidence base that guides us. And as I'm talking today, I want to be really clear that when I work with folks, even when we get into the spiritual, I'm working with the evidence base. Yeah, there's things that there's no specific protocol for, but a lot of folks, I think, can hopefully be encouraged that there's a strong research base to the benefits and the use and the application and also the care of practicing various spiritual practices through treatments. So, to come back to the original question, it depends so much. It's like if somebody asked me a question like, “Hey, Justin. Okay, so as a therapist, do you think that --” and I get these questions all the time, “Is it okay for me to...? Like, I am afraid of this.” I got this question at one point. Somebody was curious if I thought it was okay for them to travel to another city. And it's like, it depends. It's almost always an “it depends.” So, that's where I'm going to leave it, that nice, squeaky place that we all just want a dang answer, but the reality is, it is going to massively depend on the person and where they are, and what their needs are. Kimberley: Yeah, I mean, and I'll speak to it too, sometimes I've seen a client. Let's give a few examples of a client with OCD. The OCD has attacked their faith and made it very superstitious or very fear-based instead of faith-based. And I think they come in with that, “Everything's so messy and it used to make so much sense, and now it doesn't.” For eating disorders, I've had a lot of clients who will have a faith component where there are certain religions that have ways in which you prepare foods and things, and then that has become very sticky and hard for them. The eating disorder gets involved with that as well. And let me think more just from a general standpoint, and I'll use me as an example, as just like a generally anxious person. I remember this really wonderful time, I'll tell you a funny story, when my daughter was like five, out of nowhere, she insisted that we go to every church. Like she wanted to go to a Christian and a Catholic and Jewish temple and Muslim and Buddhist. She wanted to try all of them, and we were like, “Great, let's go and do it.” And I could see how my anxious brain would go black and white on everything they said. So, if they said something really beautiful, my brain would get very perfectionistic about that and have a little tantrum. I think it would be like, “But I can't do it that perfect,” and I would get freaked out, but also be able to catch myself. So, I think that it's important to recognize how the disorder can get mixed up in that. Justin: Yeah, absolutely. Kimberley: Right? Let's now flip, unless you have something you want to add, to how has faith helped people in their recovery, and what does that look like for you as a clinician, for the client, for their journey? Justin: Yeah, absolutely. Well, on the clinical side of things, the starting place is always going to be the assessments and diagnosis and treatment plan. And then the ethics of it too is going to be working with the person where they are and their beliefs and not forcing anything, of course. And so folks are naturally -- I get it, I respect it. I would be nervous of somebody of a different belief background that's overt about things. Some people come in, they look at the wall, they see Dallas Theological Seminary, they've studied a few things in advance. So, yeah, the starting places, sitting down, honest, building rapport, trust, assessing, diagnosing. So, for the folks where the faith piece is significant, I'll put it into two categories. So, one is sometimes we have to talk about aspects of faith just from a pure assessment sample. So, a common example of that is scrupulosity in OCD. So, I have worked with even a person on the, believe it or not, Faith and OCD Task Force who is atheist. And so, why in the world do we need to talk about faith? Why is that person even on the Faith and OCD Task Force? Well, they're representing a diversity of views and opinions on the role of faith and OCD. Kimberley: Love it. Justin: And it's so interesting to look at it at a base level with something like OCD. But frankly, a lot of mental disorders or even just challenges in life, if clinicians, one, aren't asking questions about, hey, do you have any religious views, background, even just in your background? Do you have spiritual practices that are important to you? We're missing a massive component. And here's the research piece. We know from the research that, actually, a majority of people find things of faith or spirituality important, and secondarily, that a majority of people would like to be able to talk about those things in therapy. Straight-up research. So, a couple of articles that I wrote for the IOCDF on this reference this research. So, it is evidence-based to talk about this. And then when we get into these sticky areas of obsessions and anxiety disorders, of course, it's going to poke on philosophy, worldview, spirituality. And so, it could be even outside of scrupulosity, beliefs that at first it just looks like we need some good shame reduction exercises, self-compassion, and so forth, but we discover that, oh, the person struggling with contamination OCD has a lot of deeper beliefs that they think that somehow, they are flawed because they're struggling. They're not a good enough, fill in the blank, Christian. They're not good enough. Because if so, surely God would break through in a bigger way. If so... Wouldn't these promises that I'm told in scriptures actually become true? And the cool thing is, there's a richness in the theology that helps us understand the nuance there, and it's not that simple. But if we miss that component, and it's essential for treatment, it's not just like, “Oh, I feel bad about myself. And yeah, sometimes I'm critical with myself.” And if we don't go at that level of core fear, or core distress, or core belief, oftentimes we're missing really a central part of the treatment, which we talk about in any other domain. People just get nervous sometimes, thinking about spirituality. It's like politics and religion, right? Nobody talks about those things. Well, if we're having deeper conversations, we usually are. And as clinicians, those of you that are listening to the podcast as clinicians, you know that you have to work with people of different political leanings, people of different faith leanings, people who actually live in California versus [inaudible]. I love California. So, the first category is, if we're doing good clinical work, we're going to be asking questions because it matters to most people. If we don't, we're missing a huge piece. It doesn't mean you're a bad therapist, but hey, start asking some questions if you're not, at a minimum. But then there's the second piece that most people actually want to know, and most people have some aspects of practice or integration, or even the most religion church-averse type of person will have any number of things come up such as, “Yeah, I pray occasionally,” or “Yeah, I do this grounding exercise that puts me in touch with the universe or creation or whatever it is.” So, there's the second category of when it is important to a person because it's part of the bigger picture of growth, it's part of the bigger picture of breaking free from challenges that they have, and, frankly, finding meaning. And I'll just make one philosophical comment here, because I'm a total nerd. Psychology can never be a worldview. Psychology tells us what. Psychology is a subset of science. And by worldview, I mean a collective set of beliefs, guidance, direction about how life should be lived. We can only say, “Hey, when you do this, you tend to feel this way, or you tend to do these behaviors more or do these behaviors less.” At the end of the day, we have to make interpretations and judgments about right and wrong, how to live life, the best way to live life. These are in the realm of interpretation. So, surprise, surprise, we're in the realm of at least philosophy, but we very quickly get into theology. And so back to the piece that most people care about it, most people have some sort of spiritual practice that they'll resonate with and connect with. And then most people actually want to integrate a little bit into therapy. And then some people find that it is essential. They haven't been able to find any lasting freedom outside of going deeper into a bigger purpose, `bigger meaning. Kimberley: You said a couple of things that really rang true for me because I really want to highlight here, I'm on the walk here as well as a client. And I love having these conversations with clients, not about me, about them, but them when they don't have a spiritual practice, longing for one. I've had countless clients say, “I just wish I believed.” And I think what sometimes they're looking for is a motivator. I have some clients who have a deep faith, and their North Star is that religion. Their North Star is following the word of that religion or the outcome of it, whether it be to go to heaven or whatever, afterlife or whatever. They believe like that's the North Star. That's what determines every part of their treatment. Like, “Why are we doing this exposure today?” “Because this is my North Star. I know where I'm heading. I know what the goal is.” And then I have those clients who are like, “I need a North Star. I don't have one. I don't get the point.” And I think that is where faith is so beautiful in recovery. When I witness my clients who are going to do the scary thing, they don't want to do it, but they're so committed to this North Star, whatever it might be. And maybe there's a better language than a North Star, again, whatever that is for that person. Like, “I'm walking towards the light of whatever that religion is.” I feel, if I'm going to be honest, envious of that. And I totally get that some people do too. What would you say to a client who is longing for something like that? Maybe they have spiritual trauma in some respects or they've had bad experiences, or they're just unsure. What would you say to them? Justin: Yeah, that's really great. And first of all, I just want to really say that it takes a lot of vulnerability and strength to talk as you do. And one of the ways that I admire you, KQ, is through your ability to have these vulnerable conversations. So not just like the platform of expert, because at the end of the day, we're all just people and on a journey for sure. And so thanks for being honest with that. And I'm on a journey as well. And certainly, I realized jumping on podcasts, these things put us in the expert role and we speak at conferences and things like that. But I think that's a bit of the answer right there, is that being where we are to start with is so huge. And I mean, you're so good with the steps to take around acceptance and compassion. That's it. It's like fear presses towards a thousand different possibilities, and none of them come true exactly that way. And it can lead towards people missing a lot of personal growth stuff, spiritual growth stuff. And one of those things, I think, that we do is we sit with that. Clinically, I'm going to assess, ask a lot of questions, Socratic questions as a subset of the cognitive therapy side of doing that. Let me just come back to the simplicity. I think we get there. We sit in it for a second. And otherwise, we miss it. We're rushing to preconceived solutions or answers, but we're saying that we don't necessarily have an answer for that. So, what if we take some time to actually notice it and to be with that and to actually label it and be like, “I'm not sure. I'm yearning. I'm envious. I'm wanting something, but I don't know. So, put me in, coach.” I'll sit with people. That's really the first thing. Kimberley: Yeah. What I have practiced, and I've encouraged clients is also being curious, like trying things out if that lines up with their values, going to a service, reading a book, listening to a podcast, and just trying it on. For me, it's also interesting with clients, is if they're yearning for it, try it on and observe what shows up. Is it that black-and-white thinking or perfectionism? Is it your obsessions getting involved? Is it that it just doesn't feel good in your body? And so forth. Again, just be where you are and take it slow, I think. I have a few other areas I want you to look at in terms of giving me your professional thoughts. If somebody wants to incorporate faith into their treatment, what can that look like? Can it look like praying together? What does that look like? Justin: You're asking all the good questions. Yeah, absolutely. And also, one other thing to reference, I know you're friends with Shala Nicely and Jeff Bell. And so they wrote a book. And for those that are on that, I would say, more “I'm seeking journey,” it's When in Doubt, Make Belief: An OCD-Inspired Approach to Living with Uncertainty. And I love Shala and Jeff. They're so great, and they've been really pivotal people in my own life, not just as friends, but just as personal growth too. And so, that's an example specifically where Shala talks about the throes of her suffering. Is Fred in the Refrigerator? is her basically autobiography that goes into the clinical piece too, where at the end of the day, there was a bit of a pragmatic experience that she couldn't -- the universe being against her, she basically always had that view and she needed something that was different. And so she got there, I think. I hope I'm reflecting her sentence as well, but got there pragmatically. “The universe is friendly” is something that she said. Now, I just know that my Christian brothers and sisters, if they're listening to this, they're probably like, “What the heck is Justin talking about? The universe is friendly?” Because that's very, very different from the language that we've used, but it's just such a great example to me of just one step at a time, a person on the journey. They're looking at those things and assessing, okay, what is obsessive, what is compulsive, what is this thing that I can believe in and I ultimately do, but maybe I'm not. I don't want to or I'm not ready, or it doesn't make sense to me to make a jump into an organized religious plea for whatever else. And so, how does it look for clients? So in short, do I pray with clients? Yeah, absolutely. Do I open up the Bible? Yes, absolutely. Actually, it is a minority of sessions, which again, on my more conservative friends and family side of things are almost shocked and scratching their heads. Like, “You're a Christian, you do counseling, and you're not doing that.” We're a bunch of weirdos. We're in that realm of the inter-Christian circle in a good sense. We believe so deeply that God loves us and God has interceded and does intercede, and interacts with our present, not just a historical event here and there, and we're left on our own, the deistic watchmaker, to use a philosophical reference there. That because we believe that so strongly, we're not going to take no for an answer in the sense of the deeper growth and deeper faith. So, sometimes that backfires though, especially getting into the superstitious, like, “Well, God's got to be in everything, and I'm not feeling it,” as opposed to like, “Okay. Is it possible that I could just have a brain that gives me some pretty nasty thoughts sometimes and it doesn't necessarily reflect that I'm in a bad state, that I can be curious about what a person getting mangled by a car might look like mentally and then be terrified by that?” And then like, “Thanks, brain, for giving me the imagination. Glad I can think through accidents so I can maybe be a safer driver.” Yeah, absolutely. But I will say that's one of those sticky points a lot of times for Christians because we believe that thoughts matter and beliefs matter. And so there can be this overinterpretation of everything is always something really big and serious about my status and my heart, and something that's really big and serious about spiritual things or demonic stuff, or fill in the blank. So, the faith integration piece, I do carefully, but I'm not scared of it. I've done it so often. It's through a lot of assessments. It has to be from the standpoint of the client's wanting that. Usually, the client is asking me specifically, like, “Hey, would you pray at the end of the session?” Sure, absolutely, in most cases. And this, such a deep topic. I'm fully aware that there are those in the camp that view faith integration as completely antithetical to what needs to happen in treatments. And they argue their case, they're going to argue it really strongly, but the same exists on the other side as well. And I try and work in that realm of, okay, what's good for the clients? And are there some things that I don't do? Yeah, but I'm not really asked to do them. I've had a number of Muslim clients throughout the year. I don't join in with Ramadan with clients in various practices or fasting with a client, for example. That's not my faith practice there. But can I walk with the client who is trying to differentiate between the lines of fasting and I had water at this point, and the sun was going down and I thought. And other people were having water, but I'm getting stuck on assessing, like, was it too early, and did I actually violate my commitment, my vow? Did I violate what I was supposed to be doing? I can absolutely work with that person, and I need to. I can't really work with OCD or anxiety disorders if I wanted to turn that person away at the door and be like, “Oh, well, I'm not Muslim, so I'm sorry.” No, we're going to jump into it and be like, “Okay, so tell me about this thought and then this behavior that came up at this time, and you're noticing that that's a little different from your community, that other people are starting to drink water, eat food. And so, you mentioned that it was right at sunset, but what time was that?” “Well, actually, it was like 10:30 p.m. It's two hours dark.” It's like, “But I think I saw a glow in the distance.” And it's like, “Okay, now we're into a pretty classic OCD realm.” And so the simplest way that I can say that faith integration can be done in therapy is carefully, respectfully, with good assessments. Kimberley: Do you have them consult with their spiritual leader if you're stuck on that? And does that involve you speaking with them, them speaking with them, all three of you? What have you done? Justin: Yeah, absolutely. So, there is a collaboration that goes in a number of different ways. Most of the time, people can speak with their clergy member or faith leader pretty directly, pretty separately, and that is going to work just fine. I would say in most cases, people don't need to, especially if I'm working with OCD. A lot of folks usually have a pretty good general sense of, “Okay, I know what my faith community is going to say about this is X, but I'm scared because it feels like it's on shaky ground, I'm obsessing,” et cetera. So, the clarification with the clergy, for instance, or a leader is more from the standpoint of if there's not a defined value definition practice, and that does come up for sure. So, helping that person to even find who that might be, especially if they're not a part of that, and/or maybe a good article to read with some limits, like, okay, three articles max. Check out a more conservative view, a more liberal view, a more fill in the blank. And then my friend and colleague Alec Pollard up at St. Louis Behavioral Medicine Institute, he's been on scrupulosity panels with me. He uses this excellent form called the PISA, (Possibly Immoral or Sinful Act). And it's just a great several-question guide. That or any number of things can be taken to clergyperson, leader in Christian circles a lot of times, like a Bible study or community group. Maybe flesh those things out just a little bit, maybe once, maybe twice max. And so, back to how much others are integrated, yeah, it's a mix and match, anything, everything. For me, with direct conversations with clergy, it's actually because I'm pretty deep into this realm, I have pretty easy access to a lot of folks, so I don't really need to so much talk directly or get that person on a release. But a lot of people do, especially if they don't know that religious belief or faith traditions approach on certain topics. Kimberley: Yeah. It's so wonderful to talk about this with you. Justin: Thanks, Kimberley. Same here. Kimberley: Because I really do feel, I think post-COVID, there's more conversations with my clients about this. This could be totally just my clients, but I've noticed an increased longing, like you said, for that connection, the loneliness pandemic. Justin: Yeah, that's statistical. Kimberley: Such a need for connection, such a need for community, such a need for that, like what is your North Star? And it can be, even if we haven't really talked about depression, it can be a really big motivator when you're severely depressed, right? Justin: Absolutely. Kimberley: And this is where I'm very much like so curious and loving this conversation with my clients right now in terms of, where is it helpful? Where isn't it helpful? As you said, do you want to use this as a part of your practice here in treatment, in recovery? And what role does it play? I know I had mentioned to you, I'd even asked on Instagram and did a poll, and there were a lot of people saying, “It gave me a community. It immensely helps. It does keep me focused on the goal,” especially if it's done intentionally without letting fear take over. Is there anything you wanted to add to this conversation before we finish up? Justin: Yeah, I guess two things. So, one is you talked about that, and we talked about a couple of those responses before we jumped on to recording. So, in summary, the responses were all across the board, like, “Ooh.” Let me know if I'm summarizing this well, but, “I have to be really careful. That can be really compulsive or not so much. I don't like to do that. I don't think it's necessary.” And then like, yeah, absolutely. This is really integral and really important. Is that a fair summary? Kimberley: Very much. Yep. Justin: Okay. And so, I'm building this talk, Katie O'Dunne and Rabbi Noah Tile, ERP As a Spiritual Practice. We're giving here at the Faith and OCD Conference in April, if this is out by then. And in my section that I have, I'm covering the best practices of treatments, specifically ERP (exposure and response prevention) for OCD, and clinically, but then also from a faith standpoint, what do we consider with that? And there's this three-prong separation that I'm making. I'm not claiming a hold on the market with this, but I'm just observing. There's one category of a person who comes into therapy, and it's like, yeah, face stuff, whatever. It doesn't matter, or even almost antagonistic against it. Maybe they've been burnt, maybe they've been traumatized or abused with faith. Yeah, I get it. So, that first camp is there. But then there's also a second camp that people like to add on spiritual practices. They might mix and match, or they might follow a specific system, belief system. And whether it gets into mindfulness or meditation practices or fasting or any number of things, they find that there's a lot of benefit, but it's maybe not at the heart of it. And then there's this third prong of folks that it is part and parcel of everything they do. And I work with all three. They come up in different ways. And sometimes people cycle between those different ones as well in treatments in the process. Kimberley: I'm glad you said that. Justin: Yeah. And so, I just thought that was interesting when you pulled folks that had come up. Really, the second thing, and maybe this is at least my ending points unless we have anything else, you had mentioned to the audience that graciously, we had some tech issues. You all, it wasn't Kimberley's tech issues. It was Justin's tech issues. I spilled coffee on my computer like a week or two prior. It zapped. It's almost like you'd see in a movie, except it wasn't sparking. And I'm like, “Oh my goodness.” And it was in a client session. That was a whole funny story in of itself. And I'm like, “Oh my goodness.” It wasted my nice computer that I use for live streaming and all of that. And so I'm using my little budget computer at home. It's like, “Oh, hopefully it works.” And it just couldn't. It couldn't keep up with all the awesomeness that KQ's spitting out. And I shared with you, Kimberley, a little bit on the email, something deep really hit me after that. I felt a lot of shame when we tried back and forth for 30 minutes to do it, and my computer kept crashing, basically because it couldn't stand the bandwidth and whatever else was needed. And one might think it's just a technical thing, but I'd had some stuff happen earlier that week. I started to play in my church worship band, lead guitar, and there was something that I just wasn't able to break through, and I was just feeling ashamed of that. And it just really hit me. And one of my key domains that I am growing in is my own perfectionism, as a subset of my own anxiety, and perfectionism is all about shame. And I love performance, I love to perform well. I like to say, “Oh, it's seeking excellence, and it's seeking the best for other people's good.” But deep down inside, perfectionism is this shame piece that anything shy of perfect is not good enough, and it just hit me. I felt like trash after that happened. I felt embarrassed. And you were so gracious, “It's okay, we'll reschedule.” And so, I went for a walk, which I do. Clear my mind, get exercise. And I was just stuck on that. And one of the ways where my Christian walk really came in at that moment was, I started to do some cognitive restructuring. I started to -- for you all who don't know, it's looking at the bigger picture and being more realistic with negative thoughts. Like, “Ah, I can't believe this happened. I failed this,” as opposed to like, “Okay, we're rescheduling. It's all right. It actually gave us more time to think about it.” And I didn't know that then, but I could have said similar things. I was doing a bunch of clinical tools that are helpful, but frankly, it wasn't until I just tapped into the bigger purpose of, one, not controlling the universe. I don't keep this globe spinning. I barely keep my own life spinning. Two, God loves me. And three, it's okay. It's going to work that out. Four, maybe there's something bigger, deeper going on that I don't know. And I can't guarantee that it was for this reason. I'm not going to put that in God's mouth and say that, “Oh yeah, okay, well, He gave us a couple more weeks to prepare.” I don't know. I really don't know. But it helped me to tap into like, “Okay, it's all right. It's really all right.” And it took me about half a day, frankly. I'm slightly embarrassed to say, “No, I'm not embarrassed to say that as a clinician who works with this stuff. I have full days, I have full weeks. I have longer periods of time where I'm wrestling with this stuff.” And yeah, areas have grown. I've improved in my life for sure, but I'm just a hot mess some days. Kimberley: But that's nice to hear too, because I think, again, clients have said it looks so nice to be loved by God all the time. That must be so nice. But it's not nice. I hate that you went through that. But I think people also need to know that people of faith also have to walk through really tough days and that it isn't the cure-all, that faith isn't the cure-all for struggles either. I think that's helpful for people to know. Justin: Yeah, that's right. So, thank you for letting me share a little bit of that. And yeah, the personalized example of why, at least for me, faith is important. If folks come into my office and they say, “Nah, no thanks,” okay, I'm going to try lightly, carefully, or just avoid it altogether if that's what they want. But oftentimes it's really at the center of, okay, purpose, meaning, direction, guidance, and okay, you want to do that? I'll roll up my sleeves, and let's go. Kimberley: Yeah. See, I'm glad that it happened because you got to tell that beautiful story. And without that beautiful story, I would be less happy. So, thank you for sharing that and being so vulnerable. I think I shared with you in an email like I've had to get so good at letting people down that I get it. And I love that you have that statement, like God loves me. That is beautiful. That's like sun on your face right there. I love that you had that moment. Justin: Yeah, it comes up so much, so many times. In the Bible and even to -- like I wrote this article on Fear Not. So, the most common exhortation in all of the Christian Bible is fear not. So, one might think like, “Oh yeah, don't commit adultery,” or “Don't kill, don't murder,” or fill in the blank. Not even close. The most common exhortation in all of scriptures is actually fear not, and then love, various manifestations all throughout. I could go on, but I know we're out of time. Kimberley: Well, what I will say is tell people where they can hear about you and even access that if they're interested. I love to read that article. So, where will people hear about you and learn more about the work you do? Please tell us everything. Justin: Yeah, sure. And I'll include some stuff for your show notes that you can send to the things referenced. And then JustinKHughes (J-U-S-T-I-N-K-H-U-G-H-E-S) .com is my base of operations where the contact, my email practice information, my blog is on there. And you can subscribe to my newsletter totally free. Totally, totally free. And I do a bunch of eBooks as well on there that are free. JustinKHughes.com/GetUnstuck to join one of four of the newsletters. Other than that, that's where those announcements come out for different conferences. So, Faith and OCD, if this is out in time in April, but April every year, it's getting to be pretty big. We're getting hundreds of people attending. We're now in our fourth annual IOCDF (International OCD Foundation Conference), local conferences, various live streams. So, anyway, the website is that base, that hub, where you'll actually see any number of those different announcements. Thanks for asking. Kimberley: I'm going to make sure this is out before the conference. Can you tell people where they can go to hear about the conference? Justin: Yeah. So, IOCDF.org. And then I think it's /conferences, but you can also type into Google conferences and there's a series of all sorts of different conferences going on. And this is the one that's dedicated to OCD and faith concerns. And just when you think that it's just one specific belief system, then prepare to be surprised because we've done a lot of work to have a diverse group of folks, sharing and speaking and covering a lot of things, ranging from having faith-specific or non-faith nuns, support groups. So, there are literally support groups if you're an atheist and you have OCD, and that's actually an important part of where you are in your journey. But for Christians, for Muslims, for Jewish, et cetera, et cetera, we're trying to really have any number of backgrounds supported along with talks and in broad general things, but then we get more specific into, “Hey, here's for clinicians. Hey, here's for the tips on making for effective practices.” Kimberley: Yeah, amazing. And I'll actually be speaking on self-compassion there as well. So, I'm honored to be there. Thank you for being here, Justin. This was so wonderful. Justin: Yeah, this really was. Thank you.

Just Mark 216 (Ubud, Bali Indonesia)

This American Irish Life

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 4, 2024 9:31

In the Shala gettin purified..

Unlocking Abundance: The Journey of Infinite Banking with Shala Lamboy

Wade Borth - Sage Wealth Strategy

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 19, 2024 40:59

In this episode, Wade welcomes his dear friend and fellow agent Shala Lamboy, to discuss the journey of infinite banking. Shala shares her early experiences with money, including insights gained from working with successful entrepreneurs and witnessing the wealthy's unique mindset towards finances. Together, they delve into the concept of infinite banking and how it offers a strategic approach to saving and wealth-building. Shala's personal anecdotes, including her family's intentional approach to travel, highlight the importance of aligning financial strategies with personal values. Join Wade and Shala as they explore the power of intentionality in achieving financial abundance. Episode Highlights 02:29 - Shala shares her passion and interest in money and how this has shaped her financial journey. 13:37 - Shala recounts her personal journey in applying the principles of infinite banking in her life, particularly with regard to finance availability for activities like traveling. 19:29 - The importance of engagement and education before undertaking any endeavor, financial or otherwise, is highlighted. 34:11 - Discussing the regret that many people have when they realize the potential of intentional saving and infinite banking. They encourage listeners to take action, get educated and start being intentional about their money. 38:38 - Her advice to listeners is to create a life they love and find out what's missing if their current life doesn't reflect that. She adds that learning the infinite banking process and being intentional about finances can aid in creating a life of abundance. Episode Resources Connect with Wade Borth https://www.sagewealthstrategy.com/ wade@sagewealthstrategy.com Connect with Shala Lamboy shalaree@factumfinancial.com

unlocking abundance infinite banking shala lamboy

Red Tsonia & the Jungle of Madness: Part 5

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 10, 2024

Praying for a warrior's death.A 5-part story By Blind_Justice & Loqui Sordida Ad Me. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.Debon, far to the north, was a land of harsh winters and mild summers, ice and snow yielding to fields of wildflower and rye. The dichotomous climate bred stout warriors who were quick to anger, but stalwart allies if you managed to befriend them. Their grudges were legendary, as were tales of their bravery.Joras moaned. All of this, Ambrose had taught him, along with a smattering of their language.The artist tapped his chest. It took him several tries until he managed to string coherent words together. “I am Joras. You are far from your shores, friend.”Aelric muttered something incoherent, then, louder: “You are, real?” On hands and knees, the stinking, blood-smeared man scrabbled closer, his almost-skeletal hand topped by cracked fingernails. He reached for Joras’ face. “You are real?”Joras stopped Aelric’s hand and clasped it with his own. “Yes. I am no ghost.” The limb seemed fragile, shaking in his loose grasp like a storm-tossed branch. “What are you doing here?”Aelric wheezed. It dawned on Joras that he had tried to laugh. "Dying.“Joras shook his head. "I mean, in this land. Why are you here?”Aelric groaned. His mouth moved, as if he was chewing on his words. Then he said. "Adventurer. Explorer.“"Did you come here alone?”Aelric shook his head. "Longship. My, longship. Storm blew us off-course. Reef damaged the ship. Needed repairs, so we-“ He coughed."You could land safely? Our ship was destroyed.”Aelric nodded. Behind the mask of grime and blood, Joras spotted a re-emerging intelligence in the other prisoner’s pale blue eyes. "While gathering material, met Unami.“ He hugged himself, his face distorted in a primeval mask of longing. "She saw our ship, wanted to leave island. Taught much about the jungle. One night, she came, my tent and, ” He sighed, then made a lewd gesture.“You love this Unami?”Another nod. "Very much. Kind, gentle. Wild!“ He gestured again, a lopsided smile on his face. "One day, Unami said, ‘need to go back to tribe’.” He sniffled. "Did not say why. When she went, I followed.“Joras began to understand. "You got caught?” He mimicked firing a blow dart.Aelric nodded.“They kept you here?”Another nod. "Elders came and asked questions. So many questions.“ Thick tears dribbled down his nose. "Questions and beatings. And suddenly, they did not come any more. They forgot about me.”“How long…” Joras began.Aelric shook his head. “Forgot to count,” he moaned. “My men never came. Told them to wait a month, then come looking every solstice. They never came.” A shuddering sob tore from his chest.“Perhaps they are wary of the jungle,” Joras said.Aelric didn’t listen. “They did not come!” he groaned, pounding the unyielding floor, tears and snot flying from his face as he cried, self-built bulwarks breaking in the presence of another living soul.The agony in Joras’ chest was a mere pinprick compared to the abyss Aelric wallowed in. The Debonite’s sobs and howls spoke of betrayal and loss, of the imminent spectre of death, icy claws reaching for Aelric’s soul, tied as it was to his feeble, broken frame.Joras cursed softly. His pack was still where he had dropped it, in the temple’s grand hall. He undid the tattered remains of his cloak and shuffled close to Aelric, pulling the weeping and shaking man into a gentle embrace, dabbing at his tear-streaked face. Like a drowning man, Aelric clung to his body as he wept.It took Aelric some time to find his composure. He used the sullied orange cloth to wipe snot off his nose. “They never came,” he whispered.“We will make it out of here,” Joras said with conviction.Aelric laughed. “You might. I won’t.”Joras shook his head. “You’ve survived this long. Hold out just a little longer. I have friends outside. They will come. Tsonia will come.”Aelric gazed at him. “They never come. And even if they did, I am already dead, Joras. I can feel the Reaper walking behind me. My body has suffered enough.”“Don’t you want to find your Unami?” Joras pleaded. “She has to be in the village somewhere!”“She probably does not even know I am here,” Aelric muttered. An idea lit up his face. “Now that you are here, please do me a favor.”“If I can,” Joras said, hugging the stinking man close.“Kill me.”As if slapped by a giant, Joras recoiled. “No!”Aelric’s hands dug into his shoulders like brittle claws. “Joras, I want a clean death. A warrior’s death. There is no honor in wasting away like this.”“Don’t talk like that!” Joras barked. “I have just killed one of the finest men I ever knew. I will not sully my conscience with another death, do you understand?” He shook the bleary-eyed prisoner. “You will hold out for a few more hours, then we will find your Unami and we all leave this thrice-cursed island together!”Death Inevitable had never known such sacrilege. The outsider claimed to be a god; perhaps he was. Death Inevitable knew the outsider could compel his people to obey. He recalled the orders and instructions now that the Sleeper had restored his memory of time lost to the outsider’s whims. He did not know how the outsider possessed such power, but he could not deny that he did. Perhaps the outsider was a god.But this was the Sleeper’s temple, and the Sleeper was a greater god than the outsider. The Sleeper had freed Death Inevitable from the outsider’s control, and Death Inevitable had repaid that miracle with this blasphemy. Death Inevitable had invited the outsider into this sanctum, because while the outsider still held his people in thrall, Death Inevitable did not see any other way.May the Sleeper forgive him.This sacred chamber was meant to be dark and quiet and still. But the outsider wanted light so that his bride could see, and music so that his bride could dance, and food so that his bride could feast. Never had so many crowded into this space, all at the outsider’s command and without question. Drummers played rhythms of revelry and celebration. The tribe’s most fertile women stood naked, bearing platters of fruit and roasted meats, or jars of fermented juice.The stone doors, normally sealed fast against the uninitiated, stood wide awaiting the arrival of their so-called god. In the dancing light of lamps and candles and braziers, shadows played along the ancient carvings on the wall, giving frowns and scowls of disapproval to the monstrous visages of the frieze. In the center of the floor a hasty altar of reeds and sinew had been erected, covered with the finest cloth the tribe could spin. Upon it sat a jug of blessed water and a dozen candles.And Death Inevitable was there too.A sudden commotion at the doors heralded the arrival of the outsider and his fire-haired bride, escorted by Serpent and followed by the two heaviest and clumsiest men of the tribe bearing long hunting spears. The outsider had decided they were intimidating.“You have done well, Skull-face,” the outsider said, looking around at the assemblage. “Your god is pleased.”Death Inevitable did not understand the words in the outsider’s language, but it was part of the outsider’s magic that all who saw his eyes understood his intent and desire innately. Thanks be to the Sleeper, Death Inevitable no longer felt compelled to act on those desires. He muttered a silent prayer that Serpent remained free as well.There was an almost imperceptible flinch in the bride. Death Inevitable recognized the sensation of waking from one of the outsider’s orders with no memory of what had transpired. The bride had his sympathy. The guards prodded her to walk forward.Serpent ushered the new arrivals to the center of the room and bid them kneel at the altar.“I do not kneel before anyone,” growled the outsider. “Others kneel before me. All of you, kneel before me.”The gathered host knelt, and Death Inevitable and Serpent knelt with them. Only the guards remained on their feet, spearpoints at the ready.“Now Tsonia, my dear, if I remove your bonds, will you behave?” the outsider asked his bride.“Of course, your grace,” the bride answered. This brought a smile to the outsider’s face.“You lie,” he said and the smile vanished. “Mere moments ago I compelled you for the truth. You told me then that you would punch me in the throat to silence my voice and then kill me slowly with my own blade, Of course you’ve already forgotten.”The bride struggled against the fetters that bound her wrists to her narrow waist and glared at the outsider. “If you must have my obedience in this travesty, why not just compel it from me?”“Because, my beloved.” The outsider took her chin in his hand and forced her to look into his eyes. “I want you to remember it. For all the days of your life, I want you to remember that you are mine completely, body, mind, and soul.”The bride relented. She closed her eyes and bowed her head.“Skull-face, Snake-face, let’s get on with it,” the outsider commanded, his mood brightening again. “Begin the ceremony. My marital bed awaits.”The elders stood and took their places at two of the three pillars. Condor’s pillar remained vacant, but the outsider did not seem to notice or care.Death Inevitable raised his arms in benediction, and in a strong voice called out “Let all those who here gathered bear witness to this,”“In real words, please,” sighed the outsider.Death Inevitable began again in the simple words shared by outsiders. “We see these two. Two flames become one flame. Two waters become one water. In the name of our god who is called Kelgore, these two become one. I have said this.”And with those final words, the couple were wed. Serpent turned and depressed the tongue of the effigy carved into the pillar at his back, and the outsider, his bride, and their altar tumbled into the darkness below.Down they fell with arms and legs flailing, reeds snapping, candles guttering as the mirror-smooth stone guided their twisted, careening path into the temple depths. Kelgore and Tsonia both were battered and winded by the time they finally came to rest in a warm chamber, the air heavy with an exotic fragrance.Tsonia found herself sprawled atop her new husband, the heat of his bare thigh between her legs. A desperate need had awakened, and even her revulsion for the man could not stop her hips from gyrating on their own, grinding her throbbing clitoris against his skin.“Is this what it is to be under your sway, Despoiler?” she asked. Her wrists still bound, she pushed her weight on her ample chest to find the leverage to satisfy her mad desire. “Do your women curse you and berate you even as they do your vile bidding?”“Enough, woman!" Kelgore protested, heaving Tsonia’s weight off of him and rising to his feet. "Can’t you see that we are betrayed?”Finding a single candle with its flame still asputter, Kelgore lit another and held it to the steeply pitched plane that dumped them so unceremoniously to the floor.“Skull-face!” he shouted up at the shadowed ceiling high above, “Can you hear me? Let us out of here now, Skull-face! Your god commands you!”Tsonia heard the odd timbre in Kelgore’s voice, knew he was exercising his foul power, and didn’t care. The heady perfume in her nose had her head swimming with lust. A lust that Kelgore seemed uninterested in satiating. She hiked her chainmail skirt to her waist and strained against her fibrous cuffs to stretch her fingers between her legs.“They can’t hear you, you great bombastic oaf!” she snarled. “We’ve fallen too far. Now open those robes and take me, dammit! If I can’t choke the life out of you, I’ll fuck you to death if I have to.”“Not now, damn you!" Kelgore snapped, panic rising in his voice. "Guards! Kill the shamans! Do you hear me? Kill the shamans and release me!”“Damn you, Kelgore!” Tsonia spat, rolling onto her stomach and tucking her knees beneath her to better reach her ravenous cunt. “Why do you compel such passion in me then? If you’re not going to fuck me, release me from this damned desire!”“This is not my doing!” Kelgore turned on Tsonia. “Whatever lascivious desire you, Oh, gods.”He dropped the candle and it rolled across the floor throwing flickering light into the darkness. Tsonia looked up and saw before her a mass of writhing, outstretched tendrils of flesh, as if dozens of great serpents had been flayed alive and bound at their tails. The thing was enormous, towering above them, half hidden in the shadows.“What hell released such a thing?” cried Kelgore, his terror all too clear.Tsonia’s mind reeled at the impossibility of what her eyes beheld. If the creature was one or a multitude together, she could not tell. The many arms wriggled and swayed in the most unnerving way as they drew nearer from every angle.The first foul tendril prodded Kelgore and he smacked it away, warning the alien monstrosity to stay back. A second tentacle began to curl around his arm. Tsonia saw him draw the knife at his belt and stab the horrid appendage.The grotesque abomination withdrew with a sudden spasm and a rapid clacking noise, as if pain was a concept it had rarely known. Seizing the moment of opportunity, Kelgore knelt by Tsonia’s side and sawed at her stout tethers with his blade.“We must escape, Tsonia!” he hissed. “We have to find a way out toge, Gchk!”Snapping the final fraying strands that bound her, Tsonia jabbed an elbow into Kelgore’s throat, silencing his infernal tongue for good.She disarmed him with a brutal twist of his wrist, letting his knife clatter to the stone floor. Even as her desire flowed down her thighs, Tsonia stood, took Kelgore by his broken throat, and stared into the abyss of his sable eyes.“I know you desire to live, Despoiler,” she fumed in a smoldering whisper. “I see it in your eyes as plainly as writing on a page. But I will not be compelled to save you.”Taking his belt in her other hand, Tsonia hefted the man who would be a god over her head and hurled him gasping and wheezing into the foul tangle of arms. Like a nest of vipers, they slithered over and around his arms and legs and body, tittering with squeals of expectation, tearing away his robes and raiment, holding him aloft even as he struggled and thrashed against their restraint.Kelgore’s legs were spread by the tendrils of flesh that bound him, allowing another tentacle to embed itself into his rectum, probing deeper as he tried to scream through a crushed larynx. Yet another of the fleshy things snaked into his open mouth and down his tortured throat.In the candle light, Tsonia saw the horror in his eyes, knew the terror he felt as his body was invaded and immobilized. She felt his helplessness, and in the warm air thick with alien fragrance, she masturbated furiously as he suffered.A bead of sweat fell from her forehead and Tsonia shed her short hauberk to free her swelling tits in the still and tepid air. It was madness, she knew, but some sorcery had unleashed within her a hunger that would not be denied. Her fingers worked with reckless frenzy between her weeping folds.The terror and pain in Kelgore’s demonic eyes redoubled, and Tsonia watched in growing horror as the villain’s chest and stomach began to convulse, sputter, and steam. Kelgore’s flesh melted away like fat dripping into a fire and his bones softened to putty as the tentacled beast ejaculated acid into his bowels. The doomed man screamed in ghastly silence as death took his body inch by horrible inch.With a shudder of divine ecstasy, Tsonia came as Kelgore’s face and skull dissolved away into a viscous treacle.Still her fingers worked fervently between her slick thighs and she unlaced the chainmail kilt that pinched her hips and waist. The tendrils of the fell creature continued to ooze its acid over what meat remained on Kelgore’s arms and legs, while other probosci slurped up the syrupy remains like a swarm of great insects. Despite her revulsion at the horror unfolding in front of her, her desperate lust remained unsated and she fought for her sanity with all her failing will.“Kelgore is dead!” Tsonia screamed up at the ceiling. "Skull-face? T'pek? Can anybody hear me?“In the dim candle’s light, she saw no way out of the chamber, but most of it was still hidden in shadow. Lighting another half dozen fallen candles cast more illumination on the grizzly feast, but did little to stretch the light beyond its original bounds.Dripping with arousal, Tsonia stood on wobbly legs, took up a candle, and followed the wall away from the great tentacled horror, hoping to find some exit while it ate.The copper haired vixen had gone no more than a dozen steps when she felt the touch of the alien being’s appendage on her back, caressing her spine and tracing down the curve of her ass with a gentle purr. The thing was warm and soft but firm, not the wormy sensation she dreaded, and it sent a shiver through her soul that poured from her reinvigorated loins.Tsonia dropped the candle and fell to her knees, sobbing with need as both hands cupped her swollen sex and ground against her yearning clit. The strange scent of the exotic fragrance grew more intense, and Tsonia found her need growing apace.Tendrils of the foul thing caressed her bare shoulders and thighs and she did not find it unpleasant. Indeed, she found herself taking one of the hot, sinuous organs in her hand and guiding it to her chest where it curled around her heavy breast in a way that made her moan with pleasure. It purred again, mimicking her in response."No, no, no, no, no…” Tsonia murmured in faint protest as a tentacle gently snaked around her throat and up to caress her cheek. Another probed into the gap between her feet and calves. She felt it moving through the cleft of her ass, against her wet and tumescent lips and curling up towards her belly.“Oh, gods, It’s going to eat me!” she gasped, as she rocked her hips back and forth over the meaty shaft between her knees, grinding her engorged clit against its heat. “And I’m going to let it…”Her body rebelled against reason and she leaned forward, exposing her ravenous nethers to the creature’s curling, slithering affection. With her own hand she guided a tendril to her waiting cunt and gasped with delight as it penetrated her.“Yes, yes! Fuck that cunt,” she moaned. “Fill me and make me cum before I die, please!”A trilling call answered her. The alien horror coiled a trio of tentacles around her thighs and ankles, spreading her wide, as a fourth pressed through her anus and probed her ass.Tsonia cried out in bliss at the way her body was stretched and filled. More and more tentacles found purchase, seizing her arms and spreading her wide, exposing all of her to the beast’s gentle exploration. The dexterous appendages fondled her hips and ribs, groped at her tits, caressed her face and shoulders.She was raised off the floor, suspended in the warm, fragrant air and despite being held so firmly in the weird thing’s clutches, Tsonia had never felt so free. No bed of feathers nor sheets of silk had ever left her so exposed to sensation from every angle. Every inch of her body tingled with the touch of this miraculous thing that would be her death.Tsonia wailed in orgasm again and her body shook and trembled as her brain tried to reconcile the terrifying euphoria that gripped her.“Again!” she cried out when her voice returned. She bucked her hips in desperation to push the remarkable tentacles deeper. “Don’t stop! Please, don’t stop! Kill me if you must. Consume me if you must. But by the gods, do not stop fucking me! I would die this death a thousand times!”She felt the weight of a soft appendage writhing its way up between her tits and Tsonia opened her mouth wide in invitation. The tendril accepted, filling her mouth, delving down her throat.Whether this creature was demon or angel or something else entirely, Tsonia could not guess, but it filled her and touched her in ways no lover ever had. Not even Q'alan, the great ram-headed demon, had known her so intimately.The phallic flesh that filled her expanded and contracted, it swelled and waned in delicious counterpoint to her own gasping breath and strangled cries of delirium. Deeper than any man, with a supple manipulation within her that was alien to anything mortal woman had ever known, the whorls of flesh aroused her desire to heights yet unreached. And still Tsonia craved more.The gentle purring intensified, lowering in pitch until it became an undulating thrum of a growl. It set her nerves aflame. Tsonia could feel the vibration of the humming flesh against her skin and deep within her body. The titillating and trembling sensation wracked her with mad convulsions the likes of which she’d never known. The orgasm ravished her to her soul as sanity fled and she tumbled into an impossible dream of infinite frenzied copulation.The horrid appearance of the tentacled thing, the fear of agonizing death, the shame of failure and loss, all of these were forgotten.In the void of her fervent mind, nothing at all existed beyond her body and the tumultuous chaos of carnal sensation that consumed her. There was no inch of her, no nerve of her body that did not spasm with ecstasy.Tsonia could not wish for the impossible euphoria to continue because she could not believe it would end, nor could she remember a time before. All of creation began with an eruption from the deepest, most intimate core of her being and expanded out in never ending waves to the tips of her fingers, the tips of her toes, the end of every glorious lock of hair.She became aware of her breathing first, deep, heaving gasps of air to fill her lungs. The gaping emptiness inside of her was next, and instinctively she rocked her hips to flex muscle and flesh back into a more comfortable shape. Then she realized she was laying on cold stone tiles, and pushed herself up to look around.The candles still burned. They were shorter than they had been, but she could not say by how much and she had no other way to judge how much time had passed. She was dripping with sweat, her hair hanging lank in wet tresses. Perhaps that was why she felt a growing chill in the room. The alien fragrance was fading as well, and the cold scent of volcanic stone filled each breath.Her strange and horrifying yet somehow exquisite lover was there, just at the edge of the candle light. The long tendrils that had given her such unknown pleasure were still now, wrapped tightly around each other in a great ball, thrice as tall as she.The whole, pale-skinned mass expanded and contracted in the slow and steady rhythm of slumber.“Well isn’t that just typical,” Tsonia groused, as she went in search of her clothes.The unfamiliar chamber was awash with chaos and confusion. Hunters demanded answers from the elders. The womenfolk worried about their whelps. None understood how they had come to this place, or even where this place was. T'pek shared in their confusion, but he knew that his fire-haired mate and the one she called Kelgore, were the keys to the mystery.Death Inevitable, grasping a ceremonial staff, rapped the wooden shaft on the tiles, once, twice, three times, the sharp cracks shocking all into silence.“All will be made clear,” the elder called out to the stilled crowd. “For now, know that you were sick, but the sickness has passed. Your friends and families outside are just as confused as you are. They too were sick, but their sickness has passed as well. I ask you all to go to them and spread that message to every ear. 'You were sick, but your sickness has passed.’ Calm their fears, restore order, and trust that all will be made clear very soon.”“Please,” he said, gesturing towards the great stone doors that stood open at the back of the room. “There is much work to be done. I beg of you, leave this place and have patience while we divine the whole story and all of the answers you seek.”The chamber was filled again with chatter, but a semblance of order fell over the throng and at last they began to filter out towards the temple above and the village beyond until only T'pek remained. He surveyed the strange chamber as if it were a hunting trail and the elders some particularly troublesome prey. (1)“There is nothing here for you, hunter,” Death Inevitable hissed. “Go back to the others. There is work to be done.”“I know of the outsider called Kelgore,” T'pek stated without preamble. “I know of the woman with hair the color of fire. She is my mate, and I will know what has happened to her.”“She shares the same fate the accursed, black-eyed outsider suffered,” Serpent whispered. “I’m sorry. You will not see her again. Now, go back to the others.”“What fate?” T'pek asked, his claws hissing from their sheaths. He found Serpent’s answer deliberately vague and dismissive. “There is more you are not telling me, but I will not be dismissed so easily.”Death Inevitable placed his paw on Serpent’s shoulder. “Brother. This might be an opportunity,” the elder clad in the golden skull mask whispered. “We have lost Condor after all.”“Ah,” Serpent hissed. “Your wisdom, as always, eclipses mine.” To T'pek, he said “There are secrets the elders must keep, hunter. To know those secrets is to know why they must be so. The fate of the outsiders is one such secret.”“Our brother Condor died while under the outsider’s spell,” Death Inevitable continued, laying a hand upon T'pek’s shoulder. “We find ourselves in need of another elder, and soon.”“You are eldest among the Hunters, are you not, T'pek?” Serpent asked. "Wisest and most skilled of your peers? You are certainly worthy of elevation.“"We offer you a great honor,” Death Inevitable said. “But know that it also is a great burden. Consider it carefully.”“You will never again leave the village to roam the hunting trail or the beaches,” Serpent added. “Your life, what remains of it, will be spent serving the tribe in ways they can never understand.”“Perhaps it is better to go back to the hunt in blissful ignorance,” Death Inevitable concluded. “You can rest assured that your mate’s sacrifice was for the good of the tribe.”The back and forth between the two elders seemed intentional to T'pek, as if they meant to muddle his thoughts and confuse his reason. But to what end, he did not know. Were they trying to convince him to accept their invitation or to reject it? Or perhaps neither, but only to test his resolve.“I will know Red Tsonia’s fate, regardless of consequence,” he growled. “If I must give up the hunt and take up the gilded mask of Condor to be satisfied, so be it, I accept, now tell me your secrets!”“Calm yourself, hunter,” Death Inevitable said, touching his neck. “The understanding you seek will be conveyed through the rituals of ascension.”“Begin the ritual and be quick about it then!” T'pek spat. His patience was wearing thin and he was beginning to suspect treachery.“Calm and patience will serve you well, T'pek,” Serpent soothed. “Prepare your mind for inconceivable knowledge beyond the world you know. The ritual begins.”Serpent locked gazes with Death Inevitable, and at his nod, a pale, writhing tendril appeared from behind each elder, as if they had squirmed out from under the feathered headdresses. T'pek recoiled at the serpentine things that slithered about the elder’s shoulders, his noble visage distorted in terror and disgust.“What vile abomination is this?” he roared. His hand flew to his hips, only to find no dagger there. Like all the others who had been under Kelgore’s spell, he had only his fur.“We are caretakers of the Sleeper, and guardians of the tribe,” Serpent said, his arm intertwined with the pale-skinned, wormy appendage. “We protect our people from the wrath of the Sleeper. In turn the Sleeper protects us from the magics of outsiders. To know the Sleeper is to know the truth.”“This, This 'Sleeper’ you call it, It has changed you?” T'pek’s voice was hoarse with revulsion.“It must be so,” Death Inevitable intoned. “A bargain was struck, centuries ago, when the Sleeper allowed our ancestors to harbor him in the temple. Through his touch he speaks to us, and we to him. Thus has it been for generations beyond count.”“And through his touch, the Sleeper threw off the outsider’s evil magics,” Serpent whispered. “Praise be to him, the ancient pact remains strong.”A grim realization dawned on T'pek’s face. “It’s too late to change my mind now, isn’t it?”“We cannot have these secrets known.” Death Inevitable said. “You would be sorely missed, T'pek.”“What choice do I have then? I will know Red Tsonia’s fate.” T'pek’s shoulders slumped in resignation and he bowed his head to the elders. “Perform your ritual. I am ready.”Tsonia had paced the whole of the Sleeper’s lair twice over. Most of her candles had burned away and yet she had not found a means to escape the chamber. The only obvious way out was the slope, but it offered almost no purchase to climb. She had tried. She dared not call for help. While she did not know what to call the sleeping abomination that had so aroused her desire, she knew better than to wake it. Who knew how it would react to being roused from its slumber by the kind of racket it would take to be heard in the temple high above?Once more Tsonia paced carefully along the walls. The candle’s tiny flame sputtered suddenly, buffeted by a barely perceptible wisp of air. Perhaps there was a hollow nearby, maybe even a way out.Careful, as not to douse her last flame, Tsonia scratched at the seams in the ancient stonework with her knife. It was a testament to the antediluvian workmanship that the Vizingian blade was too thick to even wedge into the fine crack.A low rumble, felt through the air and stone more than heard, caught her attention. If it was the volcano, the sleeping thing, or something else, she could not tell. Fetching the candle, Tsonia cast an anxious gaze about the chamber, only to find the sleeping thing still curled up and at peace. Another rumble came, this time much closer, with the sound of stone on stone.The wall before her suddenly ground ajar on a hidden mechanism, a narrow gap illuminated by flickering firelight. When the rumbling stopped, there was just space enough to squeeze through sideways and Tsonia did so without hesitation.She emerged in another stone chamber lit by two torches mounted in gilded sconces. Mountains of treasure had been carelessly piled up, gold and silver, gemstones and sculptures, enough to satisfy any mortal desire. The torchlight danced and gamboled across the glittering hoard like Tsonia’s own heart at the sight of such riches.Almost lost against the incomprehensible wealth stood a robed beastkin. He wore an elaborate golden mask in the shape of a great bird and his tall, broad-shouldered body was draped in richly embroidered fabrics. He took a step forward and Tsonia stifled a startled gasp when she realized he wasn’t merely another bauble in the vault.“Who are you?” she asked warily. The stranger appeared unarmed, nor did he seem be hostile. On the contrary, there was something oddly familiar about its posture.“I am Condor, an elder of the tribe,” the stranger said, the golden beak granting the words of the Trade Tongue a hollow, distant quality. He manipulated a heavy lever.Behind her, the opening she had passed through ground closed again. Tsonia eyed Condor curiously. “Do I know you?”Condor hesitated, then shook his head. “Our god sleeps because of you. You are honored by us. You are free.” Bowing stiffly, the elder indicated another narrow gateway. Fresh night air, along with the rhythm of distant drums, seeped into the chamber.“I had a friend.” Tsonia reminded Condor. “A hunter took him away. Where is he?”“I know where.” The elder removed a heavy torch from its sconce and headed for the exit. “Follow.”Tsonia cast a longing gaze at the mountains of treasure. One armful, maybe even one choice pick, would be equal to the riches the God-King had offered as bounty for Kelgore. Without any proof of the Despoiler’s demise, there was every chance Xhastria’s divine ruler would weasel out of the bargain and then all the effort, and Ambrose’s death, would have been for naught.Sighing, Tsonia hurried after Condor. Stealing from the tribe would likely cause more grief, and she’d had her fill for one day.Outside, Condor waited patiently. When she cleared the narrow passage, he gestured. Above her, she heard the grinding of heavy stone. Perched upon a ledge, she saw two more elders manipulating ancient engravings. The stones behind her rumbled shut, barring any way back to the unfathomable riches hidden beyond.The village was bustling with life and light as Condor led her through ancient streets. Hunters eyed her curiously, some leaned in to sniff her scent. The females openly stared at her curves or whispered, pointing at her hips and ass. Other beastkin offered bows of respect as Condor approached. He led her to the outskirts, where few fires burned and the hodgepodge of ancient stone and recent woodwork became more ramshackle and dilapidated.Condor stopped in front of a heavy, barred door. “Here,” he said.Tsonia tossed the heavy bar aside and pulled the door open. The stench from inside was horrible, speaking of death and sickness. From the blackness within, she heard a relieved gasp.“Tsonia!" The voice was thick with emotion, but unmistakably Joras. "Tsonia! You’ve come at last!” The artist erupted in brittle laughter. “I told you she would come! I never doubted.”Tsonia took the torch from Condor and entered the cell.Joras struggled to his feet, weighed down by what appeared to be the corpse of an emaciated Debonite hanging off his shoulder, hair and beard and clothing all yellowed with grime.“Aelric needs help,” the artist gasped. "Medicine and food and, gods willing, a bath!“Only then did Tsonia notice the Debonite’s shallow, ragged breathing. She hurried to Joras’ side and gently took Aelric from him. It seemed to her that the man weighed less than a child."Who is your friend, Joras?” she asked as she carried him from the cell.“He’s called Aelric, and he’s a Debon princeling, although I haven’t worked out from which family,” Joras said. “But he has a ship returning for him at the next solstice!” A melancholy smile settled on his face. “We may yet escape from this thrice-cursed land, after all.”The God-King’s palace sat in the middle of Xhastria, a many-spired monument built of green brick and gilded columns, adorned with gem-studded roofs. The iron pikes on its battlements were adorned with the rotting, sun-bleached heads of the God-King’s many enemies lending a sinister air to the otherwise ethereal architecture.Tsonia, carrying a wooden case under one arm, ascended the steep stairs leading to the heavily guarded front gate. Joras glanced nervously at the towering gate guards. The polished, featureless visors of their helmets hid their eyes and made for a complex perspective. He hoped they wouldn’t object to his hastily capturing their form in his new sketchbook.“I am Red Tsonia, bringing the head of Kelgore the Despoiler,” Tsonia said, when the guards moved to challenge her approach.“You are expected,” one of the guards rumbled. The gate ground ajar, opening the way into the God-King’s palace.They entered a massive hall, four times as tall as a man and held up by columns shaped to look like men and women, all richly ornamented, each doing their part to hold aloft the viridian firmament above their heads.A white-robed scribe came to meet them, his bald head glistening with sweat. “What in the Pits took you so long?” he hissed. “It was a simple enough bounty!”Tsonia glared at him with the weight of Ambrose’s loss on her soul.“Nothing is simple when demon-kissers are involved,” she spat. “We were nearly drowned in a witch-storm, marooned on a savage island, and left defenseless to face an egomaniac whose magics and cruelty may have someday rivaled your own king’s.”“Yes, yes,” the functionary placated her, “only please don’t say such things out loud. The walls have ears you know.”“Fetching the God-King’s new bauble has cost me dearly. I ought to ask for more coin.”“So, this is it?” the scribe asked, looking at the box. Tsonia opened the lid and a faint whiff of death escaped. The scribe hurriedly covered his nose with his sleeve. He coughed, then muttered. “Well done indeed. The God King shall be pleased.”“He better be,” Tsonia growled. “Lead on already.”As the scribe hurried away, Joras laid a hand on her arm. “It is not too late to turn back, Kaela,” he whispered.Tsonia stared at him, jaw set in defiance. “Joras, what difference is one skull to another?” she hissed. “I saw Kelgore die. I saw his remains consumed. There was nothing left of him to bring back!”“Still, do you think this the wise course of action?” He glanced from side to side nervously. “The God-King does not easily suffer trickery.”“There is no trickery,” Tsonia insisted. “Kelgore is dead. That is truth. The skull is merely a symbol of that truth. The God-King will understand.”Joras sighed and shook his head. “You are not taking this seriously enough.” He hurried after the scribe.Tsonia fell into step next to him as they breezed through titanic corridors and extravagant salons, past bejeweled courtiers casually tormenting naked slaves, past the God-Kings concubines offering their unearthly delights, across sun-flooded terraces awash with exotic plants and artificial waterfalls, until they finally reached the heart of the palace and the enormous throne room of the God-King.Garbed in a simple white robe, wearing an elaborate crown of woven gold, Xhastria’s divine ruler was impressive to behold. He towered over his courtiers as an adult towers over a child. His features were flawless, as if chiseled by an unrivaled sculptor. Bands of muscle rippled under ebony skin hinting at a prowess that waited to be unleashed. Emerald eyes burned with astute radiance, each glance delving into the onlooker’s soul.He sat upon a towering throne made from bones and skulls inlaid in gold. Hundreds of courtiers mingled around the many-tiered dais the throne stood upon, all waiting in eagerness to be recognized and granted a moment of his holy time.According to tavern gossip, the God-King’s might stretched far beyond the mortal realm. It was said that he knew about everything that transpired within the farthest reaches of his demesne and farther. Yet none had seen him anywhere but seated upon his throne, always holding court. Some speculated that the opulent orgies and grisly torture chambers sustained him with life extracted from donors, willing and unwilling alike. Others were convinced that the viridian court had taken on a life of its own, that the God-King himself was no more than a puppet of his courtiers or some hidden cabal of demon-kissers.Few were ever granted audience with the God-King, and those who were rarely divulged their conversations.The sea of courtiers parted. Jewels glinted from pierced nipples and beringed cocks in the golden light spilling from the domed ceiling above. Elaborate masks gleamed and garish robes rustled as the courtiers made room for Tsonia and Joras. Exotic scents tantalized their nostrils as they walked the carpeted approach to the throne.“The lair of the beastkin god smelled better than this,” Tsonia whispered. “I miss the stench of Xhastria’s streets already.”“Shh. No need to turn the court against us,” Joras hissed.“Red Tsonia." The voice was everywhere. It echoed from the green walls. It boomed from the domed ceiling. It was in the shafts of light burning on their backs. And it was in their heads."Your Holiness.” Tsonia took a knee and bent her head in a rare gesture of submission. Joras went to both knees, prostrating himself. He hoped his arms would hide his nervous glances.“At last you have returned. Is it done?”“Yes. Kelgore is dead. I bring you his skull as tribute.” She nudged the wooden case.“Open it.”Tsonia hesitated for just a moment, then she pulled the lid open. Inside, on a simple linen cushion, rested a skull, all of the flesh stripped away down to bare bone.A low, foreboding rumble echoed through the majestic throne room. A dark cloud seemed to pass the sun, for the golden rays subsided, leaving the throne room in dim twilight.“This is not Kelgore’s skull,” the God-King proclaimed. “I do not see his obsidian eyes.”There was a chorus of gasps as every courtier took a step back.“Kelgore is dead,” Tsonia said again, with all the conviction she could muster. “I saw him die.”The silence inside the throne room was deafening. Then, a soft rustle of cloth from the throne. The God-King had risen. Every courtier in the hall sank to their knees, holding their hands above their heads, to ward off some as-of-yet unseen calamity.“Red Tsonia, repeat what I said when first we met,” the God-King said in the patient tones a parent uses when admonishing an unruly child.“You said 'bring me the skull of Kelgore the Despoiler,’” Tsonia replied defiantly. “But his skull was destroyed after much hardship and loss of, ”“Silence!" The force of the God-King’s voice cracked a pillar. The bust of a golden woman tumbled to the floor, crushing a dozen courtiers beneath its weight. Even maimed and dying, they dared not to scream."My orders are precise, with no room for interpretation. Were it otherwise, my demesne would have fallen to enemies from within and without centuries ago.” He sat down again. “I know of your trials and tribulations. I know of your loss. I have seen the Despoiler die by your hand. And yet, despite your best efforts, you have failed in your given task.”Tsonia did not dare to speak, yet her brow was heavy with rage.The God-King went on. “Had you admitted your failure, I might have granted you a measure of recompense. You did see to the Despoiler’s end after all. Your deeds will grant welcome reprieve for my beleaguered fishermen and their families.”The God-King raised his hand and he shouted a single word no mortal tongue could pronounce. A mote of liquid fire flew from his palm, engulfing the wooden case and setting it ablaze. Tsonia gritted her teeth against the infernal heat but refused to move, her gaze locked with the inscrutable being on the dais.“You tried to deceive me, Red Tsonia. Such heresy is punished by death.” Again, the God-King’s palm erupted in fiery radiance. “But today you find me in a merciful mood. Your deeds saw the Despoiler brought low. Instead of death, there shall be exile. Leave the Green Cities by sundown and dare not return until you have done due penance. Now begone from my sight.”With this dismissal, the mass of courtiers swelled around them, obscuring the throne and the God-King from view. Tsonia came to her feet, gnashing her teeth.“That’s it? All the heartbreak, all the hardship for naught?” she yelled. Her voice was drowned out by the thundering clamor of the gossiping throng.Joras clawed into her arm. “Let’s go already,” he hissed, pulling her towards the exit. “Or do you want to risk outright execution? It was noon already when we arrived!”“You were not party to his judgment, Joras.” Tsonia said mildly, reaching for her purse. “Take what I have and make yourself a peaceful life.” She walked by his side, head bowed in defeat. “I’ve caused you more than enough grief. You deserve better than to walk the deserts with me.”“Deserts?" Joras laughed softly. "I’ve heard Debon is a beautiful place any time of year. Deep forests, snow-covered tundra, towering mountain peaks. Would that not make a suitable backdrop to paint my muse?” He gestured towards the exit. “If we hurry, we might even catch Aelric and ask for passage before he and his men get themselves killed in whatever watering hole they found.”Tsonia chuckled. They passed a gilded door frame. Wails of ecstatic anguish poured from it. “You’re more of a glutton for punishment than those deluded fools. But who would I be if I rebuked my beloved chronicler and artist?”“Much less well known,” Joras retorted. “Come, the sun sinks low. We should hurry.”In a forgotten vestibule under the beastkin’s temple, covered by dust and cobwebs, Shala seethed.The End

Developer Career Coaching & Level Up Projects with Bob Belderbos!

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 9, 2024 53:00

Bob Belderbos is a Software Developer, Python Coach, Mentor, Trainer, & Entrepreneur! In this Developer Career Coaching interview we talk about what developers should be learning when they are at the beginner, intermediate, and advanced levels. We also get into how to use AI to become a better programmer at all levels!! Chapters: 00:00 - Intro 02:00 - Who is Bob? 05:20 - Chris triggers Shala with C++ comments :-D 06:40 - Why did Bob get into coaching? 10:00 - What kind/type of students? 16:30 - Tutorial Paralysis & the real world is messy 20:30 - Beginner Advice 23:00 - What other skills does a beginner need to pick up? 27:00 - Intermediate Advice 35:00 - Keep a "Wins" file & overcoming Impostor Syndrome 37:00 - Advanced Advice 41:15 - How to best leverage AI 43:45 - Why soft skills are (still) so important 47:30 - Python book recommendations 50:30 - When do you know you've leveled up? Resources: https://pybites.circle.so/ https://codechalleng.es/ PDI Program: https://pybit.es/pybites-developer-init/ PDM Program: https://pybit.es/catalogue/the-pdm-program/ https://pybit.es/ https://form.jotform.com/233191638982062 https://github.com/PyBites-Open-Source https://www.beekeeperstudio.io/ What would you want to ask a Developer Career Coach? #developer #coaching #projects Intro music attribution: Artist - MaxKoMusic

Red Tsonia & the Jungle of Madness: Part 4

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 9, 2024

Weddings & DiplomacyA 5-part story By Blind_Justice & Loqui Sordida Ad Me. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.“Joras, are you alright?”“Yes, Yes, I think so,” the artist panted. “T'pek gave me a healing poultice, At least, I hope that’s what it was.” He scrabbled for the water skin on his back, only to find the leather vessel torn and almost empty. Desperately, he licked water droplets from his fingers.“A camp is close,” T'pek said. “Food and water are there. Can you walk?”Joras pulled apart his torn pant leg. It was blood-soaked, but the skin underneath was unbroken and whole. "By my brushes! It worked,“ the artist gasped. T'pek growled happily. "Ambrose, you should fill a ship’s hold with these things. You’d make a fortune if they didn’t taste like death itself,” he added in Thelyrian.He looked up at Tsonia kneeling over the sea captain and went pale. “Oh, dear…”Tsonia offered a horrible, bloody smile. “I had to go back for him. The old fool was debating fate with the gods and I couldn’t let him die just yet. I know how fond you are of him.”“Thank you,” Joras said, clasping her wrist. “Of all of us, he’s had it the worst. Losing his ship, his crew, having to watch a friend be torn to pieces by the living dead…”“I know. All because I asked for his help chasing Kelgore." Tsonia sighed. "Curse the gods for the choices we make, eh?” She wiped at the blood covering half her face, only managing to smear it.Joras came to his feet and took up the pack that Ambrose had carried. “I’m sure the idea of taking half of what the God-King offered us appealed to him at the time.”“It will be more than enough to buy him a new ship at least.” Tsonia hoisted Ambrose back onto her shoulders. She fell into step behind T'pek, Joras by her side. “Gods, I’d kill for a bath right about now.”From bundle slung over Joras’s shoulder, the dead witch’s voice rasped “Kelgore is close! His presence draws me like a lodestone.”“Yes, thank you,” Tsonia replied. “We have a guide now, your service is no longer required.”“Insolent whore!" Shala gnashed her teeth. "First you tempt my son into debauchery, and now you dismiss my counsel with such contempt. The fate spinner may have granted you beauty, but they sacrificed any shred of virtue.”Tsonia inhaled slowly, mustering her patience. “You should choose your words carefully, witch. Especially when a bottomless chasm is so close." She paused, letting her words sink in. "What makes you think I corrupted your whelp? From what I’ve heard, he was called ‘The Despoiler’ for good reason, long before I met him.”“Kelgore has always shared my ambition to dethrone the God-King!” Shala protested. “His carnal endeavors were little more than the spoils of the victor. It was only when he found your demon-tainted cunt that he got it into his head to breed an heir that might surpass him.”“Ha!” Tsonia barked. “No man’s seed has ever found purchase in my womb.” Over the years since her virgin defilement by Q'alan, there had been many, many men who had tried. “Kelgore yearns in vain.”“No mortal seed, perhaps,” Shala admonished. "But Kelgore’s blood flows just as black as yours. Don’t scorn the fate spinner’s patterns so casually, whore. They have a vicious sense of humor.“That gave Tsonia pause. She had never met another soul that had survived desecration by a demon the way she had. Was it possible that she might conceive a child with Kelgore? She really had no idea, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about this new possibility.T'pek stopped at the foot of a towering tree. "Here,” he said, pointing at the trunk. Deep hand holds had been carved into the bark.Tsonia craned her neck. Expertly hidden among the wide leaves of the jungle’s canopy was a large platform nestled in the branches. Gently, she let Ambrose slide from her shoulders. The captain groaned, slowly coming to his senses.“Good to see you return to us,” Tsonia said, helping Ambrose into a sitting position. “Are there other hunters up there, T'pek?”The beastkin shook his head. “They would have come already.” He cocked his head, ears perked high. “Drums from the village are quiet. That does not happen.” He looked at Tsonia. “I am worried.”“We will see,” Tsonia said. “Can your drum ask?”“Yes.” T'pek clambered up the trunk. Moments later, a quick beat echoed from above. The response was distant and sparse.“Oh grand, more drumming,” Ambrose muttered, reaching for the hand holds. With some effort, he pulled himself up the trunk and onto the platform. Joras followed, a bit hesitant.“This isn't a Xhastrian rooftop,” Tsonia said reassuringly. “You won’t fall and break your legs again.”“At least the ground ought to be softer than those thousand-year old cobblestones,” Joras muttered darkly, pulling himself up onto the platform. Tsonia followed suit.A wondrous sight awaited once she reached the top. There was a small hearth made from stacked rocks where the coals of a small fire still smoldered. Cozy-looking piles of fronds and furs looked enough to sleep half a dozen hunters. Large, leathery leaves had been cleverly stitched together and sealed with dark sap to form water bags. Sighing with contentment, Tsonia stripped off her blood-caked armor and uncorked one of these, splashing herself until the worst of the blood was washed away.While she bathed, Ambrose and Joras rekindled the fire and skewered meat to roast. They chatted softly with each other. Tsonia noticed the glances the graying captain shot her way. They seemed less accusatory than before, but still far from his usual friendly self. She sighed, feeling the weight of her decisions laid upon her soul. But there was nothing she could do now but push on and make sure they all made it back home safely.T'pek sat at the edge of the platform, dangling his feet and rapping his drum to as much avail as before. The responses that came back were sparse and scattered, a far cry from the all-encompassing rumble from days past.Tsonia stepped behind him, sinking her hands into his shoulder fur and kneading the taut muscles underneath. T'pek looked at her in surprise. A soft purr rumbled in his chest.“What do they say?” she softly asked.“Confusion,” T'pek admitted. “The village is quiet. It is as if no one is there to beat the drums.” He listened to an errant bout of rumbles. “That does not happen. The drums are sacred!”“Can we see your village from here?”“Yes,” T'pek nodded, putting aside his drum. He guided Tsonia back towards the great tree trunk where more hand holds led further up, far above the leafy jungle canopy. “From there,” he pointed upwards.His hand caressed down her spine, inflaming her barely controlled need again. She caught his wrist. “Don’t wake my hunger, hunter,” she purred. “We must see your village.” A soft whine escaped his chest. Tsonia sighed, slipping her hand under his loincloth. She found him hard and throbbing and squeezed fondly. “You will not sleep alone tonight,” she promised. "Wisdom first.“Panting happily, T'pek dashed up the tree. His sinuous tail caressed her bruised cheek as he went.Chuckling, Tsonia followed, albeit a bit more slowly. She heard Shala snarl something, probably another bout of insults but chose to ignore the foul-mouthed witch. This climb was longer than the first, ending at a much smaller platform, barely wide enough for both of them to stand together.Despite the thick clouds overhead and the deepening darkness of the night, the volcano was easy to see. The massive plume of smoke had gained a glowing red underbelly and the sharp slopes seemed much closer now. In the absence of constant drumming, every growl and rumble of the earth was clearly audible.T'pek pointed, a dark shade against the gloom. "The village is there. But, No light. No fire.”Tsonia’s gaze followed his extended arm. She saw nothing but an unbroken carpet of leaves and swaying trees. Shielding the last rays of sunset with her hand, her eyes dug into the darkness for sign of civilization. After a moment, something finally caught her eye, a flickering light much higher up than she expected, seemingly caught in a square recess.“What am I looking at?” she wondered. “I see light. Weak light, there.”T'pek leaned forwards, his dark eyes wide to catch every errant ray of light. "The temple. There is fire in the temple.“ He shook his head. "There should be fire in the village. Fire for light. Fire to cook. Fire to scare beasts away. But there is no fire.” He growled in annoyance.T'pek swung his body off the platform and clambered down the trunk. Tsonia had to hurry to catch up with him. She reached him as he was about to descend to the jungle floor below.“Stop!” she barked.T'pek froze, hand on the trunk. “There is danger. I must help!”“Yes,” Tsonia said, taking his hand off the wood. “But do not be fast. Be smart. This danger is new. This danger is Kelgore.”“What is Kelgore?” T'pek asked. His words were taut like a drawn bow. Tsonia could sense him aching for action.“Kelgore is a bad man,” Tsonia said. “He has strong magic. He can steal your, thoughts. Your will.”T'pek gazed at her, struggling to comprehend what Tsonia was saying. “My , will?”“His words, his eyes steal, you,” Tsonia said, struggling to put Kelgore’s horrible power into the simple terms of the Trade Tongue. “Magic makes you obey him.”“His magic steals the will of my tribe?” A dangerous growl came from the hunter’s throat.“We do not know. Maybe. We need to be smart. Clever, not angry,” Tsonia said, caressing T'pek’s back. “I am your mate. Let me help.”The beastkin exhaled, a long, shuddering sound of apprehension. “Yes,” he said. "Help. But how?“Tsonia offered a horrible, little smile. "We ask the dead witch.”Kelgore was beginning to have his doubts.It had not been hard to persuade the beastkin tribe to make him their ruler. He had only had to ask, first his captors to take him before their elders, and then the elders to revere him as a god. The fact that they shared no common language made no difference at all. Any who met Kelgore’s demon-blessed gaze understood his desires intuitively. Those who heard him speak were powerless to resist his will. These savages were no different than the milky men of the Green Cities or the fish-mongers of the Xhastrian coast.And so Kelgore ruled them. Without his mother’s constant nagging, he had been free to rule as he wished and to indulge his appetites without constraint.The women of the beastkin tribe, he found, were not unattractive. They curved in all the right places and the soft fur that covered their skin was actually quite nice to feel under his hands. The beastkin girl so enthusiastically riding his cock at the moment had pert little tits that trembled deliciously. The way her long, articulate tail thrashed when she came and the claws raking down his chest and back were unexpectedly arousing.With an agonized groan of release, Kelgore finally ejaculated deep in the beast-girl’s fertile quim. He felt a new shadow cross her psyche, a selfish little desire that she’d share with none of her kin. The girl hoped that she was conceiving a great chieftain, a ruler to succeed Kelgore someday and elevate her own status in the tribe.They had all had the same secret hope, and in hindsight, Kelgore thought it was probably a mistake to gather the entire tribe and turn them all to his debaucherous cause at once.As the beastkin girl dismounted his throne with a smile and a swish of her tail she was replaced almost immediately by his next suitor, this one older, her teats fuller and hips wider. She bathed his spent cock with a long, slippery tongue, coaxing him back to his full.In her mind, Kelgore saw all the secret tricks she knew for kindling a lover. He saw her secret fear that she was not as attractive as the younger females of the tribe, and her secret desire to bear the next great chief.He had lost count of the females he had serviced, each convinced by his will that by bearing Kelgore’s offspring their tribe would thrive and flourish, vanquishing all threats and rivals. The males too were turned to Kelgore’s cause and eagerly offered up their wives, mothers, and daughters. The cuckolded males brought him food and drink and attended his every need while he defiled their women in front of them. When he had no need of them, they gathered outside the temple, like dolls lined up on a shelf, waiting for the puppet master to resume his play.Only the elders had another part to play. Without females to bring him and as priests of the tribe’s old faith, they needed to be kept busy. From painful experience Kelgore knew that men and women of faith were notoriously hard to sway, so giving them tasks away from their former holy sites to take their minds elsewhere was the only prudent thing to do. He turned the elders, bird, serpent and skull, into watchmen. They were to patrol the village and warn him of any newcomers, announced or unannounced both. They complied, their minds buckling under the weight of their new responsibilities, leaving Kelgore to enjoy the tribe’s hospitality.After days of incessant revelry, the novelty however had long since worn off, and Kelgore discovered much to his dismay that once someone was turned to his cause, it was surprisingly difficult to turn them back. Thus far, he had never stayed in one place for long, raiding coastal villages for food and supplies and bodies, both to replenish combat losses and those to sate his appetite, and that of his men. He didn’t care if his charms wore off eventually or how long it took them to do so. Now he learned about the limits of his demonic gift.No matter how deeply penetrating his gaze, no matter how resonant the timbre of his voice, he could not staunch the beastkin’s desire to copulate with him for more than a few hours at a time. He could inspire new wishes and inclinations for a short time, but always that first yearning to breed a generation of his children returned.Perhaps that cause had been too grand in scale and scope. When Kelgore desired food they brought him food and when he desired sleep, they let him sleep. But after he’d eaten or slept, the tribe’s desire returned to milking his seed into the loins of their females. Perhaps after nine months or so, when the cause was fulfilled, his tribe would be ripe for new challenges.As the next female mounted Kelgore’s reinvigorated rod with a murmur of satisfied yearning, he realized that something was amiss. Distracted by the purring beastkin writhing on his lap, it took him some time to realize that the drums, thus far an ever-present rumbling background noise, had stopped. Kelgore had learned that various rhythms tracked and relayed different threats across the island. He could tell the difference between “strangers on the beach” and “strangers in the jungle” and “strangers sleeping”, but this silence was odd.A shadow fell over him. Kelgore raised his gaze. The sharp-beaked golden mask of the bird-faced elder loomed above him. His clawless front paw reverentially touched his shoulder, begging for his attention.The elder’s thoughts were a confused jumble, but something stirred within them, some other form mental connection, not unlike his own. Despite himself, Kelgore closed his hand around the elder’s, forcing his will through the hazy confusion. The elder carried a secret, something no one besides his peers was allowed to know. They guarded something, locked away in the catacombs beneath the temple. Something old, something horrible, so vile it could annihilate the whole tribe if it ever broke free from its shackles. Deals had been struck. The elders gave themselves willingly, becoming instruments of the Sleeper’s will and fulfilling its desire for nourishment and entertainment. Once sated, it would go back to sleep for years on end, leaving the tribe to flourish.Kelgore pushed the elder’s hand off his shoulder. “What is it?” he snarled. “I’m busy.” The female on his lap looked down at his imperious tone.“Strangers are in the village. One has fur the color of fire.”Suddenly wide awake and invigorated, Kelgore sat up. His true bride had finally arrived and it was time to greet her, make her his queen.Kelgore took the beastkin woman by her ass and shoved her off to the side of the padded breeding throne the savages had built for him. She stroked his shoulder and chest with an inquiring bark as Kelgore pushed himself to his feet. In her touch Kelgore felt her anticipation, saw her sprawled beneath him, saw her on her hands and knees before him, saw her spooned against him.“No,” Kelgore spat, knocking her hand away. His cold gaze pierced her wide, faithful eyes and she knew his desire even if his words meant nothing to her. “No, I don’t want you.”He threw his sturdy over-robe around his shoulders without bothering to dress more completely. As Kelgore hurried from the temple he had appropriated from the village elders, he left the beastkin whore curled up on the throne, sobbing while the elder watched, bereft of any emotion. The other females, gathered as they were in the great hall around the firepit, looked up as he strode past. Some purred in satisfaction, those he hadn’t fucked yet crawled on hands and knees to intercept him, their tails high in the air. The sounds they made were between playful coos and desperate howls. He didn’t care for any of them, now that demon-blooded, fire-haired Tsonia was close! He snapped an angry order, his loud voice enough for the horny ones to shirk away in confusion and the sated ones to raise their heads in puzzlement. Kelgore paid them no heed, eager to leave the gloom of his makeshift throne room.The entire village, what there was of it, spread out down the slope beneath his temple. The ruins of once elegant stone dwellings had been repurposed by clumsier hands with branches and bark and animal hides into crude hovels and halls. Surrounding the great hall the tribes’ males languished. Unneeded, unwanted, with no purpose save for waiting for their god’s next command. As he emerged, Kelgore’s worshippers turned to look up at him, their weapons, tools and drums forgotten besides them. They had been blessed by their new deity’s appearance. All they wanted was to serve.And serve they shall. He picked six of the strongest hunters. “You, come with me. Defend me with your lives, but do not hurt our guest.” The broad-shouldered beastkin growled in assent and grabbed their spears, coming lithely to their feet.The other beastkin slumped into listless heaps of fur as Kelgore swept down the steep steps leading into the village. With his guards in tow he strode along the main thoroughfare, an ancient road paved with cracked tiles. Past the abandoned huts he went, past the deserted tanning racks and smoke houses, past toppled weapons racks, scattered tools and forgotten toys, and then into the main square.Across the plaza Kelgore saw two men, men like him, hugging close to the broken masonry of ancient walls. There was caution in their eyes as they picked their way forward. They were strangers to him, and so Kelgore assumed they must be survivors from the vessel that had dogged him into Shala’s storm. One of the men, the younger, wore the tattered remains of a garish orange cloak.“Fur the color of fire,” Kelgore muttered to himself. He would have to have a chat with Bird-face, teach him proper use of the Trade Tongue. While he was disappointed that Tsonia had not yet come to him, he was glad to have the company of other men.Both men appeared haggard and unkempt, but their expressions brightened as soon as they caught sight of Kelgore and his retinue.“Praise the gods!” shouted the younger man.“Succor?” called the elder as both men hurried closer. "Succor, for two shipwrecked sailors?“Kelgore’s guards closed ranks around him and the men stopped dead, as if only just noticing the beasts at Kelgore’s command. The men looked past the guards with eyes full of hope and desperation."Stand down,” said Kelgore with a smile. “Can’t you oafs see that these good men are harmless? Welcome, gentlemen. Welcome to my kingdom, such as it is.”As his honor guard parted, the men looked at each other. Kelgore saw a strange pair of expressions cross their faces, and he could not fault their confusion. He was curious to see how the strangers would respond.“Your majesty!” replied the elder man at last, offering a low bow. “We are your humble servants.”“You may approach,” Kelgore gestured to the ground before him and both strangers rushed forward bowing and scraping. They knelt where he had indicated, their eyes cast down in deferential supplication. Kelgore could see now that they were bruised and bloodied. Their trek through the jungle must have been a difficult one. And yet these were civilized men who knew how to behave in the presence of a king.“Rise and come with me, my welcome guests,” Kelgore instructed with all the magnanimity his authority granted. “You will be fed and your wounds treated. My court has need of noble men such as yourselves. I have many questions, but they can wait until you are fed and rested.”Something was nagging at Kelgore as he led the pair back towards his temple. He realized that these men had probably been hunting him only a week ago, but that hardly mattered. If they opposed him, he would simply turn them to his cause. No, what troubled Kelgore was the thought that these two lowly sailors had made their way to him through the treacherous jungle faster than Tsonia had.Serpent waited. He had brought the outsider food and drink. He had brought fresh cloth to cleanse the outsider after he had lain with the women. But now the outsider had no task for him, so Serpent waited. He would wait until the outsider would have need of him again. Impassively he had watched as every last female, young or old, was herded into the temple. He watched as the hunters shuffled from the great hall like cattle, how they crumpled into motionless piles of fur and misery, having to listen to their wives, their daughters mew in heat as the outsider took them, one by one.He watched as Brother Condor entered the temple and talked to the outsider, causing him to stop the breeding rituals and storm from the great hall in sudden excitement. He had no idea why, but that was fine. He merely had to wait and receive his new orders.A sharp pain tore through his skull, covered by the heavy mask and ornate headdress. Moaning in agony, Serpent went to his knees. Around the temple, he heard two echoes of his own wail as his brothers suffered the same excruciating pain.Tears ran down his cheeks and dripped from his whiskers as titanic forces battled for dominance in his skull. He burned in a sudden fever, yet his teeth chattered as he shook with the chills. A fang clipped his tongue, drawing fresh, hot blood and another pained whimper. The pain was strongest at the base of his neck, as if a spear point was forced into his spine.And Serpent remembered, when he had been chosen, he went into a chamber below the great hall. The other two elders, Condor and Death Inevitable, were chanting. Thick smoke poured from a strange vessel, tearing up his eyes and insulting his sensitive nostrils with its cloying sweetness. Each breath he took caused him to relax more and more. Death Inevitable, his hand disappearing in the grotesque maw of a statue hewn from the wall, ordered him to step forward and kneel by the hatch in the floor. Awestruck by the great honor bestowed upon him, the most senior hunter of the tribe, he complied. The hatch ground open and more sweet-smelling vapors poured forth, blinding him completely. There was a sickening, slurping and smacking noise and something viscous slithered around his neck.The pain that followed was worse than anything he’d ever have to endure. His skin burned. His flesh dissolved. And something snaked under his skull. He howled and screamed, baring his fangs, trying to claw at the slithering intrusion, but the elders held him firmly to the ground. There was no escape, only merciful unconsciousness.When he awoke some time later, the village was celebrating the arrival of its newest elder. His head throbbed with unfamiliar palpitations. Gingerly, he touched his neck, sensing a small lump bulging from his spine. When his fingers brushed it, a soothing sensation oozed from it, assuring him everything would be all right. The Sleeper would see to that. The others had found him then and presented him with the golden mask of the fang-toothed Serpent. From now on, he was no longer a hunter. He had been chosen. The Sleeper had accepted him. He now was an elder, serving the village and its unseen master both until the day he died.Groaning, cursing his ancient bones, Serpent came to his feet. The Sleeper had freed him from the outsider’s spell. There was a strange movement on his back and gingerly, Serpent prodded for it. Something long and viscous dangled from the nape of his neck, streaked in blood and amniotic fluid. He gasped in terror as he beheld the Sleeper’s pale limb, sprouted from his own burst flesh.He tucked the offending appendage under his headdress and hurried through the temple, past the moaning females begging for their new god to return, to grace them with his seed. He growled in barely contained rage at this defilement of the tribe and hurried past, to where Condor was sprawled in a pool of blood in a dark corner, unheeded by anyone. His mask had fallen off his grayed face and his snout and forehead were a ghastly pulp. Ichor and brain matter ran down the wall from where he had shattered his own skull.“We will find a new elder,” Death Inevitable whispered behind him, the Sleeper’s limb grown from his neck gently touching Serpent’s shoulder. "But first, the Sleeper. Can’t you feel it?“Serpent nodded as shivers ran down his spine. The Sleeper was furious. First they had fed it an impure, hollowed shell of a woman. Then it had spent some of its precious power to free them from the outsider’s spell. It demanded praise. It demanded food. The Sleeper demanded a sacrifice.Serpent exchanged a long look with Death Inevitable. "Didn’t Condor, rest his soul, say there were strangers approaching?”“He did. We must bless Brother Condor with the funerary rites quickly, so that we can find these new outsiders.”Between the broken stone walls, Tsonia strolled openly, waiting to be challenged by a sentry. She had followed the path T'pek had indicated to the outskirts of the ancient ruins that his tribe called home. When no challenge came, she continued on towards the temple where he said the elders would gather.It was possible, she knew, that she was being watched. T'pek and his people were nearly invisible in the lush jungle foliage when they wanted to be. Much of the jungle had encroached on the overgrown stonework so there might have been eyes anywhere. If they were there, Tsonia could not see them. What she did see were abandoned tools and utensils, lying discarded as if their owners might return at any moment. As she made her way across the village square and deeper into the ruins, it felt more and more like walking through a town that had been hastily abandoned ahead of an invading army.She saw the antediluvian temple rising out of the green, towering above the village. It was just as T'pek had described it. It could be seen from anywhere in the village, she merely had to find her way through the disorganized warren of crumbling stone and twisted vines.Tsonia mounted a set of steps between a hut roofed with animal hides and another with browning palm fronds and emerged on a wider avenue than the path she had left. She stopped short, and very nearly retreated a step, for scattered before her were dozens upon dozens of the native beastkin. They made no effort to conceal themselves, lounging and slouching on the steps and rubble that surrounded the temple. Several of the men saw her, but none bothered to rise.She approached them cautiously, sword in hand, and yet still none seemed alarmed by her presence.“Who speaks the outsider tongue?” she called to the assembled throng. None answered. Tsonia picked her way among them and while some watched her pass and some even stared, they did not try to stop her. They seemed listless and enervated as if by hunger or thirst, yet there was food and water aplenty in the village.Another surprise awaited her when she saw a clear separation of the men and women of the tribe. The women were clustered closer around the temple wall, and unlike the men they seemed agitated and anxious.“Who speaks the outsider tongue?” she asked again, hoping to arouse a response.“I do.” said a clear, strong voice from above her. Tsonia looked up, as did every other face in the crowd.There at the entrance to the temple, stood her quarry, Kelgore, resplendent in multi-colored robes of leather and plumes. He was flanked by a pair of burly, green-furred beastkin guards wielding long boar-spears. Kelgore himself appeared unarmed.“But Thelyrian is so much more civilized, don’t you think?” he asked.“What have you done to them?” Tsonia demanded.“I merely asked them to wait on me. When I wish for anything at all, they fall all over themselves to provide. I’m their new god you see.”“When was the last time they ate?”A curious expression crossed Kelgore’s face. In another man, it might have been embarrassment at the oversight or perhaps even guilt. In Kelgore it seemed more like irritation.“You six there,” Kelgore gestured, looking down with glassy black eyes at a knot of the idle men, “Prepare food and drink. Feed everyone.” In his voice, Tsonia heard an odd resonance that sent a shiver up her spine. The six beastkin leapt to their feet and dashed off into the village towards the abandoned cookfires.“You see? They worship me. They live to serve.”“How very nice for you,” Tsonia said, starting slowly up the last flight of steps to the temple door, sword in hand.And suddenly she was back on the bottom step, her hands empty, the sword slung at her side. She had no memory of descending, nor of sheathing the sword. Tsonia bit back her anger.Kelgore smiled. “Tell me Red Tsonia, before I bid you welcome to my kingdom, have you come to kill me?”“Honestly, I expected to find that the natives had eaten you,” she lied. “I’m a little surprised to see you doing so well for yourself, and I’m starting to see why the God-King fears you so.”“Perhaps I could entice you to change sides?”“Perhaps you could.”“Then approach, Red Tsonia, and be welcomed.” Kelgore waved his guards back a step and extended a beckoning hand. “I shall have a feast prepared in your honor. But first come and meet my court. I have a, um, proposal that I think you’ll find rewarding.”Tsonia climbed the stairs and took the hand he offered. Kelgore led her into his throne room, his two guards never more than a short pounce behind him. The cool tile floors were covered with thick hides. The sunlight, through open gaps in the ancient ceiling scattered pools of light and shadow. In the center of the room sat a crude divan covered in supple leather and stains that appeared fresh.Joras and Ambrose were there, sitting on a pair of smaller settees, picking at platters of fruit held by naked beastkin girls. Joras sat up with a start.“Red Tsonia, we thought you drowned!” he cheered. Tsonia worried his enthusiasm was a bit forced, but Kelgore didn’t seem to notice. “How ever did you survive?”“Much the way you did, I suspect.” she answered putting a bit of cold distance in her voice. “It’s 'Joras’, right? And, 'Ambrose’ I believe?”Ambrose nodded. “Welcome to a very exclusive club of survivors, Tsonia,” he said without getting up. “I suspect you may come to enjoy being marooned here in Kelgore’s kingdom.”“Yes.” She cast an approving glance at Kelgore, taking his measure. “Yes, I suspect I may.”There was a commotion at the door and everyone turned to see two strapping beastkin carrying in a roughly crafted wooden settee, similar to the couches Joras and Ambrose enjoyed. Behind them, T'pek came, bearing a heavy roll of thick, wooly hides to drape as padding. Tsonia recognized the familiar scarring across his chest and spared him only the briefest glance.His hand was held with fingers crossed, the prearranged signal that all was in readiness.“Come, come! Over there,” Kelgore gestured to the natives, directing them to set the new furniture between Joras and Ambrose, giving Tsonia a position of importance between them. “Set that down and be quick about it.”Joras lounged with an arm stretched across the chair back. He too had his fingers crossed.Ambrose did not. A brief anxiety flashed up Tsonia’s spine. She risked a longer look and when she caught his eye with a questioning cock of her eyebrow, with a sigh of reluctance Ambrose crossed his fingers as wellShe had the signal ready on her lips. All she had to do was speak it.“Your majesty, I believe you said you had a, um, proposal for me?” She crossed in front of him with more sway in her hips than a ripe Debon maiden. She turned and perched herself on the edge of his throne drawing concerned scowls from his guards and a knowing smile from the King himself. “If you have something to say then, now is the time”On her word, T'pek unfurled the roll of hides with a snap sending the head of Shala tumbling across the floor to come to rest at the feet of her astonished son.“Kill her, you fool! It’s a trap!” screamed the witch’s severed head, just as Tsonia hoped she might.No matter how enchanted Kelgore’s guards, that sight could not fail to rattle them. It would give Joras and Ambrose the precious second they needed to aim the short reeds that the natives used as blowguns. Not much longer than a man’s hand, the weapons were easily concealed. T'pek had found a cache of them at the hunting camp, along with the darts and a clay jar of the sleeping poison. Joras and Ambrose had practiced with them for hours.Tsonia was already on the fly, launching herself off the divan sword in hand, trusting her companions to deal with the guards quickly and without bloodshed. One well-placed strike would take Kelgore’s head and end his tyrannical reign over these people.Kelgore ducked her blow, recovering from the shock of his mother’s appearance with more composure than Tsonia expected. Nonetheless, T'pek would be on him in an instant. Tsonia whirled on the would-be king to follow up her first attack and suddenly felt her feet fly out from under her.She hit the hide-carpeted stone floor hard. Instinctively she rolled away from a follow up attack by what she assumed must have been the long spear of one of the guards. Seizing that momentum, Tsonia sprang to her feet and saw Joras, T'pek, and Ambrose unmoved from their places, still and passive.She turned to see Kelgore’s still very much alert guards advancing on her, and Kelgore himself grinning as if he was particularly proud of himself. Raising her sword with a primal scream of fury, Tsonia charged.And she was on her knees, wrists bound behind her back, her neck tethered to her knees, and the points of two spears pressed to her shoulders. Tsonia clawed through her memory for some recollection of how she had been bested and she found nothing.“Really my dear, did you think that would work?” Kelgore asked. He lounged on his breeding throne with his mother settled comfortably by his side. The long spears of his guards held his betrothed prisoner, bent double on her knees before him. Her allies stood by, waiting for his instructions. They would stand there waiting until they starved to death if he so willed it.“You have never respected the power I procured for my son," gloated Shala. "And now you shall die for your arrogance.”“Don’t be hasty, mother,” Kelgore admonished. He had no intention of slaying his future bride, despite his mother’s opinions. “I think she may yet come around, if given a proper demonstration.”The vixen-warrior on the floor in front of him strained against her bonds with a scream, even as the spear points pierced her flesh, raising drops of black blood that trickled down her shoulders and fell hissing to the floor.“Their rope is really quite strong, isn’t it?” Kelgore asked, amused by her efforts. “It was your beastly lover there who trussed you up so securely.” Tsonia looked up and shot a glance at the scar-ridden beastman who stood nearby.“Oh, don’t feel betrayed. He really didn’t have any choice. In fact, I think that he is the one who should feel betrayed. Did you really promise to bear him pups? You must know that your demon-blessed womb will never bear mortal fruit.”“Then why do you seek to make my barren loins your own?” Tsonia hissed up at him. Her vibrant hair hung lank in her face as she strained against her bonds to meet his gaze. She really had learned nothing.“Enough of this!” insisted Shala. “Kill her now and be done with it! This boasting is beneath you. You should be ordering these savages to build you a boat, not wasting time fawning over this whore.”“Silence, mother!” he spat. He was proud of the kingdom he had built here, but nothing would be good enough for his mother until the God-King lay dead at his feet. She had no appreciation for the finer things in life that his demon-gifted powers could provide. She could make him so angry sometimes.Kelgore drew a knife from his belt, toyed with it for a moment while eyeing his mother’s head. She returned his glare, but said nothing. He took a moment to steady himself before looking at the younger of Tsonia’s allies and calling “Joras, come take this knife.”“What are you doing? Leave him alone!” snapped Tsonia, straining again at her bonds.“Yes, your loyal follower,” Kelgore observed. “Perhaps the only person you really care about. Your memory and his both tell me how much he means to you, and what destruction you might rain if not for his companionship.”“Kelgore, I swear to every god on either side of the veil,” Tsonia hissed at him through clenched teeth, “if you hurt him there is no hell with a pit deep enough to hide you from my wrath.” Her bonds groaned with the effort of containing her fury and the spear point dug deeper into her shoulders.“No, no, no. You’ve got it all wrong.” Kelgore waved away the absurd idea and stood from his throne, forcing Tsonia to struggle even harder to look at him. He turned to the young artist, knowing that if there was any leverage over Red Tsonia to be found, this man was the fulcrum.“Joras,” he said. "Kill Ambrose.“The young man in the horrid orange cloak turned on his lover, who stood motionless and indifferent. If there was fear in the older man’s soul, Kelgore could not yet see it in his eyes."No!” Tsonia screamed. "Joras! Stop! Joras, fight it! Fight him! Stop, Joras, please!“But there was no stopping a command once Kelgore had issued it with the full force of his will behind it. Indeed, Kelgore doubted even he could have stayed Joras’s hand now. The man moved with deliberate speed and with one strike, he stabbed Ambrose through the heart.The sea captain looked up with a gasp. Now Kelgore could see the shock and terror in his eyes. A tear rolled down Ambrose’s cheek as he took Joras’s face in his hands. If Ambrose spoke, he was too quiet for Kelgore to hear over Tsonia’s screams of protest. Ambrose pressed his forehead to Joras’s and caressed the scruff of his lover’s chin. Then he fell to his knees and died.Joras stood over Ambroses’s body for but a moment, the dagger held limp in his hand. Kelgore saw the familiar twitch as his puppet's will returned. Joras finally heard Tsonia screaming. He looked around trying to remember where he was. Then he looked down at the dagger in his bloody hand, and past it to the man lying in a spreading crimson pool at his feet.Joras dropped the blade and collapsed sobbing over Ambrose. Kelgore smiled at the agony in the man’s voice as he begged the still-warm corpse for forgiveness.The king knelt next to Tsonia to make it easier for his betrothed to hear his words. When she refused to meet his eye, he took her by the chin and turned her tear-streaked face towards his."You have my word, darling Tsonia,” he said. “I will never kill your friend. But if you continue to defy me, You will.”Tsonia clenched her eyes closed and jerked away from his touch.Kelgore would give his lesson a moment to sink in. He stood and turned to Tsonia’s beastly ex-lover. “You there,” he made a dismissive gesture towards Joras. “Take him away and lock him someplace secure.”The brute easily hefted Joras onto his shoulder and carried him out of the throne room, the howls of lamentation eventually fading in the distance. The king resumed his throne, beckoned a naked serving girl bearing a platter of fruit, and selected a morsel that looked tasty. He noted with a smile that his prisoners’ struggles had ceased.“Now then, Red Tsonia, or, may I call you Kaela?, my proposal,” he began. “You will bear me a host of children. With our demon-blessed powers combined, our offspring will grow to be the most powerful warriors this world has ever seen. They will be the officers who will lead an army of my loyal bastards against the so-called God-King of Xhastria.”Tsonia said nothing.“I’ll take your acceptance as granted. What do you think of that, mother?”“I think you waste decades on what should be a simple conquest," sneered Shala."There is no pleasing you, woman.” Kelgore’s brow furrowed and he wondered how long he could forestall his mother’s restoration ritual. If he could deny her pure blood tonight, she would have to begin the process all over from the beginning.He was contemplating excuses when there was a rush of movement in the far corner of the temple. Snake-face and Skull-face appeared from a darkened passageway that led deeper into the temple than Kelgore had cared to explore. Holy men were always so intractable in their routines. But no matter, he had need of them now.“There you are.” He stood to address the shamans as they hastily approached. “I have grand news. I am to be wed! My bride has arrived at last!” He gestured to Tsonia, bound at spear point on the floor. “Prepare a ceremony fit for your god.”The two elders stopped short. They turned and looked at each other, their expressions hidden behind those damned masks. Kelgore would have removed them, but a holy man in his raiment was so efficient at inspiring compliance from those Kelgore could not turn directly.“It, is good,” said Snake-face at last, using the pidgin Trade Tongue.“We have a, holy place below,” added Skull-face. "Very special. It is only best for our god’s wedding.“"That sounds perfect,” Kelgore agreed. “Find Bird-face and make the preparations. I wish to be married at once.”Snake-face hurried out of the temple, no doubt to fetch whatever sacred vestments he required and to arrange for the wedding feast. Skull-face turned back the way he had come to prepare their most sacred chapel until Kelgore called “Wait!”Skull-face turned around slowly.Kelgore picked up his mother’s head from his throne, strode purposely across the room and handed her to the shaman. “Find someplace secret and quiet to keep this,” Kelgore told him.“Kelgore?’ his mother barked. "What are you doing? Unhand me, you savage charlatan!”“Can’t have you spoiling my wedding night, mother. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”Kelgore bounced back onto his throne and selected another piece of fruit from the girl’s tray as the witch’s screams of invective faded into the darkness. He almost felt sorry for poor Skull-face having to endure her bile. But the savage couldn’t understand a word of it anyway, so it was alright.He looked down at Tsonia, still seething quietly on the floor in front of his throne. “Cheer up, my love!” he taunted her. “Today is the happiest day of your life!”Joras barely noticed where T'pek was carrying him. He didn’t really care either. The enormity of what he had done was threatening to swallow him like a gaping, black maelstrom.He had killed Ambrose.Somehow he had rammed a Vizingian dagger straight into his lover’s heart. And he did not remember doing it. But there was no mistaking the crimson pool surrounding the still body, the look of odd reverie on his bearded features.He had killed Ambrose.There had been long stretches of time when their paths had led them to wander or sail different parts of the world, but when they met, it always was a joyous occasion, much like returning to a safe harbor after a grueling storm. Ambrose was a fierce lover, a wise friend and sometimes even a devilish jester, one of the few people to rile up Tsonia without incurring her wrath. Ambrose was one of the few people to talk some sense into Tsonia when her mind was ablaze with tales of mad adventures, with visions of gold or glory too large even for her to take on, a welcome ally indeed.Now he was gone, struck down by Joras’ own hand.Hot tears spilled down his cheeks, blinding his vision. Suddenly, the world tilted around him and he crumpled to an uneven stone floor, sharp ridges and cracked tiles biting into his knees and ribs and elbows. Behind him, a heavy door banged shut. Joras did not care. If the gods were indeed just, he would die and be reunited with Ambrose.He raised his voice in lamentation for his friend, but only a choked sob escaped him.A horrid, wheezing cough answered him. Wherever he was, Joras was not alone. Mustering what little strength he had, the artist scrabbled into a sitting position, using his sleeve to dab at his swollen eyes and puffy nose. When his vision cleared, he found himself on the floor of a dilapidated room. The walls were at least twenty feet high and made from ancient stone. Parts of the ceiling had crumbled eons ago, leaving a gaping hole which someone had patched with a latticework of wooden beams and sharpened stakes jutting downwards. There was no furniture, just a stone plinth. A shaggy, disheveled bundle lay atop it. As he watched, a spindly, pale-skinned arm shot from the bundle, snatching one of the ever-present tiny rodents. The cough came again as the bundle struggled into a sitting position.Despite his own anguish, Joras gasped in horror. What he had taken for a bundle of skin and fur was a man like himself, emaciated and unkempt, with white-golden hair and a similar beard covering most of his chest. He wore a vest and kilt made from once white fur, now yellowed and ragged and large enough to fit a man twice the stranger’s size. An elaborate belt buckle made from gold and bronze, shaped like crossed axes, seemed utterly out of place in this dismal hell.A third time the stranger coughed, still clutching the squirming rodent. Ignoring Joras, the stranger raised the furry morsel to his mouth and bit into it until the rodent’s panicked squeals finally ended. He tore into the tiny animal, blood running down his beard until he discarded the shredded carcass. The stranger spat a clump of fur and coughed again.“Who, are you?” Joras asked, torn between pity and revulsion. The stranger seemed ill and close to death. The stench emanating from him was eye-watering.The stranger gulped and worked his mouth. Eventually, he spoke. It took Joras some time to recognize the strange vowels of Debon’s tongue. The stranger patted his chest, leaving ghastly fingerprints on his vest.“Aelric,” he muttered. “I am, Aelric.”To be continued in Part 5.By Blind_Justice & Loqui Sordida for Literotica.

Red Tsonia & the Jungle of Madness: Part 3

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 8, 2024

A Bridge of AdversityA 5-part story By Blind_Justice & Loqui Sordida Ad Me. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.The sky was still dark when they dragged Unami from her hut. A plump midwife, purring quietly, carried her newborn, Kra'ar, away while the hunters herded her up the steep ascent to the ancient temple. Unami was too exhausted from giving birth, too tired to bite and claw, so she let them do as they pleased.Through the great hall they went, empty save for the fire pit in the center and the twisted columns trying to stem the weight of the temple’s crumbling roof, down into a chamber she had never seen before. A singular oil lamp provided scant illumination, barely enough to see the carvings adorning every inch of the walls. Gaping maws, unblinking eyes leveling accusing stares, and half-formed limbs danced along the frieze.She clutched her aching belly and lashed the hunters to either side of her with an imperious stare. “Kra'ar needs me,” she growled. “I must feed my son.”Stone doors on the opposite side of the room opened, the towering slates scratching along the floor with some reluctance. Three elders emerged, their grayed whiskers and blunt snouts hidden behind ornate golden masks, their heads bloated and deformed by feathered headdresses. Long, colorful robes had been wrought around their slumping shoulders and withered groins.“What do you want from me at this hour?” Unami barked, masking her fear with feigned rage. She bared her teeth, a challenge rising in her throat. Her growl echoed off the carved walls. Unami slapped the hunters’ claws away and stood alone, shaking like a defiant, storm-tossed reed.“Silence!” one of the elders barked. The mask he wore was the sharp-beaked Condor, keen eyes and mighty wings. “Do you not grasp the gravity of your situation, whelp?”“Who do you call a whelp, you decrepit fossil?” Unami snarled. “I have just delivered my firstborn! I have seen the jungle! I have-”“You have stolen our sacred treasure and given it to an outsider!” the second elder roared. His mask showed the Serpent, venomous fangs and crushing strength. “Once they realize what can be found here, they will come and demand more and more! First they will bring honeyed words and lies, then they will bring warriors and weapons!”“Ha!” Unami spat. “First they would have to cross the jungle. Don’t you teach that only the strong, only the hunters can brave the hostile wilderness? How many outsiders will perish on the journey? How many of them will be able to even lift a weapon if they even find us? How many will be able to stand against our fierce warriors?”“Insolent child,” the third elder hissed. He wore a skull, the guise of Death Inevitable. “Traditions and rules have a reason. Your reckless actions prove why not every member of the tribe can be a hunter. Strength has to be tempered by wisdom, fury tempered by mercy. Your brash disregard of the rules clearly shows you are nothing more than a foolish whelp still, unfit to walk among the adults!”“I have followed the rules. I came back to give the tribe another hunter. What else do you want from me?”“Kra'ar will be well-fed and taken care of,” Condor proclaimed. “But your penance has only just begun.”“Normally we would bind you in stones and drown you in the swamp, as befits a lowly thief,” Condor said.“But the volcano’s awakening has roused The Sleeper,” Serpent said. “Someone has to placate him. This is a task for a woman. You have been chosen as penance for your transgression.”“What? No. I will go into exile. I will return to Aelric! I want to see the frozen water come from the sky!” Unami howled.“I am afraid you won’t leave the temple, foolish, insolent child,” Death Inevitable whispered. “Giving birth to a hunter does not absolve your sins. It is your solemn duty to the tribe. But if you can placate The Sleeper, all will be forgiven.”“All will be forgiven,” the other two rumbled. Condor bowed his head and the hunters grasped her shivering arms.“Placate The Sleeper? I am no priestess!” Unami wailed. “What am I to do?”Death Inevitable crossed the chamber, reaching into the gaping maw of a hideous stone effigy. His paw depressed the sculpted tongue within and the floor opened before her like a ravenous maw.“Deliver her,” Serpent said, motioning for the pit. The air wafting from the orifice smelled wrong. Sweet and thick was the scent, causing her ravaged sex to weep in heat.The hunters first dragged, then shoved her forwards. Unami stumbled into the pit and fell. Like every member of the tribe she knew how to fall, even if her weakened body was slow and clumsy. Instead of breaking her legs, she curled up into a ball and dropped onto a slope of smooth stone. There were no holds, no purchase for her claws or scrabbling feet. Unami slid frantically into the lightless depths underneath the temple. Above her, the floor rumbled closed.The slope curled downward like the blasted serpent before delivering her into a lightless space that she judged huge by the sound of emptiness. The sweet stench was thicker here. Her teats ached and her sex seemed to overflow. Her breath threw shuddering echoes from the far walls.Blind like a newborn, Unami pawed on all fours, trying to earn a feel for this space. The floor was made from stone, large, regular tiles neatly fitted. The tip of her tail still touched the slope and there was no wall in easy reach. She took another step. Her paw landed on a bone. Unami gritted her teeth. She would not grant the elders the satisfaction of hearing her scream. She pulled the bone closer. It was long and stout. It would make a fine club.There was a soft noise ahead, a shy rustling.A grim smile stole onto Unami’s lips. If there were animals down here, they would probably be as blind as she was and easily hunted. At least she wouldn’t starve.“Come, come, little ratty,” Unami sang. “Mother has need of you.”The rustling came again, closer now. Using her sensitive ears, Unami aimed and swung the bone with murderous intent.There was swift movement, a powerful whiff of that sticky, sweet air. The cudgel hit the floor with crushing force and splintered into a thousand pieces like a hollowed twig.More rustling. Four, five sounds of movement at once. Unami bared her claws and teeth. How many rats were there?Something long and serpentine curled around her leg. It was soft and wet and moved with shocking speed, coiling around her calf and knee.Then came a jolt and she was unceremoniously dropped on her back. All Unami could do was to protect her head by twisting her spine and curling up as best she could. The impact cracked a few ribs and her elbows.Gasping in the thick, clingy vapors, she slapped at the soft, writhing tissue grasping her leg. Another tendril came, slick and wet and it curled around her other leg. With inexorable force, they pried her thighs apart. Shrieking, Unami clamped both hands over her gaping sex - to no avail. Another tendril came, binding her wrists and yanking her hands aside with contemptuous ease.She wasn’t sure if the fall had rocked her head or if she really heard it, but there was a low, growling noise. It grew louder and louder, mounting in front of her. She couldn’t see! She could only hear the noise, writhe as the tendrils slithered over her. No, not over, but into her! One, then two invaded her, probing at her ravaged insides.The gurgling stopped on a strange note. For one breathless moment Unami thought to hear a wordless question. The disgusting tendrils withdrew from her insides, leaving her spread open and shivering in the chamber’s rank air.Then the noise returned, loud and angry and so very close.A mighty weight settled onto her helpless body, covering her feet, legs, belly, chest and finally her snout. She sank her teeth into soft, warm tissue, tearing long, weeping gashes into malleable flesh. The noise changed as hitherto closed orifices gaped, adding a horrific wheezing to the cacophony.Unami added her own incoherent screams as acid poured from numerous maws, burning her limbs, dissolving her helpless body until nothing remained but a sweet-smelling puddle of goo.The Sleeper lapped at it, a satisfied purr echoing off the walls.Shala’s patience grew thin. What hope of finding Kelgore had she if these fools that carried her fell victim to some easily avoided calamity and left her stranded in this gods-forsaken wilderness?She had tumbled from the whore’s back as the claws of a dead man seized the crude pack full of carrion and tore it away. She could not see how her captors fared against the undead horde until the fop had knocked her aside to hastily gather the scattered meat and supplies.The buffoon’s man and the traitor both fell to the horde of corpses that had dragged themselves from the haunted swamp. Shala feared for a moment that all of her captors might perish and leave her stranded in the mud. But the whore fought bravely and well. With axe and sword she hacked a path through the grasping hands of the hungry dead. The fop followed in her wake and the buffoon held a lackluster rearguard.Almost as an afterthought, he reached down and plucked her out of the muck by her hair. The leather strap that secured her gag shifted, but only slightly.It would have been so easy to turn back the horde with just the right words of power and a bit of fire and flesh. But it would require hands that Shala did not yet have.She watched as the buffoon’s sword lodged in the ribs of a flanking corpse and the thing reached for him with rotting hands. She tried to scream in furious protest as the impudent fool swung her like a flail, slamming her skull against the head of the accursed ghoul. Through some intervention of the fate spinners, the impact knocked her gag askew.Working her tongue and jaw, Shala was finally able to spit out the shard of wood and let the leather strap fall away, just as the buffoon tucked her up under his arm.Shala nearly cried out at the insolence, but then she caught a tantalizing whiff of blood. There was a gash on the buffoon’s arm. The blood coagulated against her cheek, but her tongue could not reach. She was jostled in his grip as the buffoon ran limping after his companions, stumbling and fumbling blindly through the jungle boscage. Bit by bit she shifted until she could press her thin lips right to the wound, and taste the ferric tang on her tongue.“You can stop now,” Shala called out, once she had lapped her fill of the buffoon’s essence. “Do you hear me? You’ve fled beyond the reach of the dead.”“And why should we believe you?” asked the whore, panting. Before Shala could answer, the whore added “Joras, find another gag.”“Because if you die then I am abandoned out here. Do you think this is how I wish to end my existence? Lying in the muck, helpless as the scavengers pick at my flesh until nothing is left? My only chance at life is if you reunite me with my son. While you may well choose to slay me once my usefulness is done, I’ll take a slim chance over no chance at all, and help you where I can.”The fop scoffed. “And what help can a disembodied witch offer?”“While you dithered at a crossroads, I felt the jungle life fade away before the great predator that stalked you. And you ignored my warnings,” Shala spat.“I alone recognized the rancid scent of death tinged with the ozone of magic and knew the undead were nearby. But again you ignored me and two of your number paid for your negligence with their lives. How many more will die because a reckless whore refuses to heed my counsel?”“Your point is made,” the whore growled. “There is no need for more insults.”“Oh, do my words hurt your poor little pride? Perhaps you’d feel better if you were gagged and hauled around like chattel.” The whore glowered at her, but did not retort. “I have eyes to see and senses attuned to powers from beyond the veil. Give me a mouth to speak and heed my counsel and your chances of living to find Kelgore will improve! You’ve lost two pairs of eyes already. Are you so foolish as to throw away a third?”“I don’t trust it or its counsel,” the whore said. Being referred to so coarsely would have raised the bile in Shala’s throat, if she had bile, or more than an inch of throat. She let the insult pass.“Neither do I,” agreed the buffoon. “But I have known many men I did not trust, and I have never known it to be a lie when a man says ‘I want to live’.”“Our resources are few enough,” the fop agreed. “I don’t think we’d be any worse off if she betrays us.”“Fine,” agreed the whore through gritted teeth. “But if you lead us into danger, I shall smash you with a rock before I die. Understood?”“Agreed." Shala swallowed her pride."Unless our new advisor knows of a safer camp, I think we should get some rest,” the whore decided. “Joras, skin our dinner. Ambrose, see if you can spark a fire. I’ll gather you some wood. Shala…” she paused as if it pained her to speak the words. “You’re on watch.”In the distance, from every direction, the drums continued.In the chamber above The Sleeper’s lair, Condor sighed. “One malnourished whelp won’t do, you know?”Death Inevitable touched his golden forehead. “The Sleeper is mightily displeased indeed. Unami was but a morsel for it.”“At least his hunger will be sated for the moment,” Serpent muttered. “We might find a bit of respite tonight.”Together, the elders returned to the great hall. The rumble of the drums was loud and clear, reverberating from the walls.Condor cocked his head. “A hunting party returns. They have brought an outsider.”“Fortunate tidings indeed,” Serpent said, a smile in his voice. “The Sleeper might feast again shortly.”“Let us see what the hunters have brought then,” Death Inevitable purred. “Hopefully this new sacrifice will send The Sleeper back to sleep. I dread the day when the temple and the offerings can’t contain its might no longer. The Sleeper might devour reality itself.”“If it is an outsider woman, we should avail ourselves of her services before tossing her into the Pit,” Condor said. “To make sure The Sleeper will be properly serviced, of course.”Chuckling softly, the elders headed for the exit, eager to meet their next sacrifice.As dawn broke, they strode into the village. Hunters prepared for another expedition into the jungle, sharpening their spears or wrapping rations. Passing females, their young scurrying between their feet, offered bows of respect. The midwife clutched Unami’s newborn to her bosom, allowing the pale blond whelp to suck at her teat.“Let’s hope the outsider was strong,” Death Inevitable muttered. “His offspring looks disgusting, so pale.”“We will see in a few years’ time,” Serpent said. “Ah, there they are.” He gestured towards a tangle of tribesmen, clustered around the hunting party. Adults and whelps alike muttered among themselves.“As if they’ve seen an outsider for the first time,” Death Inevitable murmured. “How different can they be?”The knot of tribesmen split, allowing the elders their first glance at the outsider. He stood unbound, surrounded by three hunters who gazed upon him in open admiration. The fourth, a female, had her tail raised high, the scent of her cunt announcing to all downwind how desperate in need of a thorough railing she was. The outsider was odd. Too scrawny to be a warrior, he nonetheless bore himself with the stance of a chieftain. What little fur he wore on his head was long, slick and the color of night. But most odd were his eyes, featureless black orbs of night. He raised his voice, speaking the strange words of the outsiders. None understood the strange syllables he used, but all felt the power radiating through his voice. It commanded their full attention. Transfixed, the elders, the tribesmen, the women and whelps watched, their gazes fixed on the strange man. Each one of them he bathed in his obsidian gaze and one by one they became his unquestioning servants. Not even the Sleeper could help them now.“Stop it!” Ambrose screamed into the night. “Stop the fucking drumming all day and all fucking night. Just fucking stop it!”The distant drum beat continued unabated by the outburst. The sonorous rhythm had followed them from the beach, through the jungle, surrounding them, moving with them like the stench of a beggar. They had tried more than once to follow the sound and find one of the natives, but always the drum they approached fell silent and a distant drum joined the chorus.“What do you want?!” Ambrose continued, stalking from one edge of their campfire light to the other, yelling into the darkness at the top of his voice. “Do you want us to go? Do you want us to follow? We don’t know what the drums mean! We use words! Do you hear me? Words! Show yourselves and tell us what you want! Kill us or capture us if you must, but for the love of all that is holy, stop the gods-damned drumming!”His injured foot throbbed. His whole body ached. Nicks and cuts and lacerations bedeviled his face and arms after being thrashed through the underbrush by that slavering beast. The midges and mites of the swamp had fed on him mercilessly and if it hadn’t been for Tsonia and Joras, the shambling dead would have finished him, just as they had poor Montu and Sethos. Ambrose was a man of the sea. The perils of this mad and alien landscape perturbed his senses and flustered his wits.“It’s not even good drumming, damn it!” Ambrose saw Tsonia and Joras scowling in the firelight at his agitated pacing. He didn’t know if his ranting had awakened them, or if they like he had laid awake, unable to sleep with the constant racket. “A poxy toddler banging on his mother’s pot with a spoon can come up with a more inventive rhythm! But not you lot, no! Your primitive fucking brains can’t come up with anything more original than just bum bum bum over and over and over again and again and again!”He grabbed up a heavy stick from their dwindling pile of firewood and banged it back and forth in a forked tree trunk, bang, bang, bang, in time to the distant drums’ cadence.“You hear that? Huh? How do you like it? How about if I keep it up all fucking night so you can’t sleep?”“Peace, Ambrose,” Joras implored, rising to soothe his friend’s discomfiture. “This raving does no good and it wastes the vitality you’ll want for tomorrow.”“I don’t care!” Ambrose screamed, and continued to beat the tree trunk. “I don’t fucking care anymore. I want them to stop or to show themselves or to attack us or something! Anything! Anything but this infernal drumming! It makes me wish I had drowned, Joras! I would rather die with the sound of the sea in my ears than live another hour beset by this ceaseless racket.”“I know it’s trying,”“Trying!? It’s maddening! This whole damn place is maddening!” Ambrose’s arm gave out at last and he let fall the stave from his hand even as he collapsed to his knees with a sob of exasperation. “Why won’t you stop!?” he cried again into the darkness. "Why won’t you show yourselves!?“"You are loud,” grunted a coarse voice in the simple words of the Trade Tongue used among sailors. Into the firelight stepped a tall native, his mottled green fur broken in places by ancient scars. His hands, though tipped with razor sharp claws, were empty, and held out in a gesture of parley.Tsonia, lithe as a panther, came to her feet with blade in hand, ready to smite the intruder. The towering, beast-headed native dodged and came to face Tsonia, still empty-handed. A leather bandolier bisected his broad chest. Spears and a pack rested on his back while a woven cord around his waist was hung with pouches, a sling and dagger and a simple loincloth.“We will fight,” he growled. “First, I will make the drums quiet for your loud friend.”The fire-haired warrior stayed her blade, curious to see what the newcomer would do next. “Slow,” she told him, speaking the same pidgin trade language. “I am watching.”The native bared his fangs, his ears perking up. Tsonia wasn’t sure if he was threatening her or if that was the stranger’s idea of a grin. Slowly, he reached for the pack he had slung over his back and placed it on the ground in front of him.“Watch,” the stranger said, kneeling. He opened a flap and pulled a small drum from his pack, which he struck in a certain rhythm, bam, bam, rap. He repeated the cadence, then again. And around them, the drums echoed the new beat, and fell silent. In the distance, the sonorous rumble continued, but in their immediate vicinity, there was nothing but the wind rustling in the trees and the occasional chirp of surprised nighttime birds.“What did you, say?” Joras asked, intrigued. Next to him, Ambrose sighed. The exhausted sailor settled down with his back against a tree, and despite his curiosity his head fell onto his chest almost immediately.The native offered Joras the same strange visage, open jaws and hanging tongue. “I found what I want. I need quiet to, see, watch, find,” he seemed to be searching for a word.“Hunt?" Joras asked, backing away from the beastman."Yes. Hunt.” the stranger agreed. “They are quiet. They will listen.”“Hunt, eh?” Tsonia sneered. “Will you, make us sick with, small spears?” She held up a finger and thumb spaced about two inches apart to show how small the darts were. Tsonia also struggled to find appropriate words in a vocabulary meant for trade and barter, but she lowered neither her guard nor the sword.The stranger sank onto his haunches, his dark eyes reflecting the flickering flames of the campfire. “No small spears. I am proud. I do not hunt with small spears.”“Your people are not proud two yesterdays,” Tsonia growled. The Trade Tongue didn’t concern itself with such lofty concepts as the past or the future. It was a language for discussing the here and now. “They hunt me with small spears by the good water. They make me sick.”“My tribe who hunt are not smart two yesterdays. Many outsiders come to our beaches and cannot leave again over many moons. My tribe thinks you are weak and not smart, like the other outsiders.”So they were not the first sailors to be marooned on these shores, Tsonia realized. Clearly the native had learned the Trade Tongue from somewhere, so castaways must be fairly common. It did not bode well for them that none had ever returned to tell the story of this place.The stranger hissed several times in quick succession. Maybe a laugh?“You kill two of my tribe. They know they made a mistake so they choose to hunt easy outsiders.” His eyes roamed over Tsonia and she could hear his satisfied purr. “I hunt you.”Tsonia raised an eyebrow. “Me?”“Two of my tribe are dead. I want, the death price.”Tsonia sighed. He wanted revenge for the two natives she had killed. The stranger before her was no savage. He obviously had intelligence and honor, perhaps even wisdom. But she didn’t have the vocabulary to explain such a complex situation, much less negotiate a peaceful solution.“Joras, you’re better with words than I,” she said in their native Thelyrian. “Tell him I killed two of his kind while driven half mad by their poison in my veins. Ask him why he thinks he can beat me now when I have my wits fully about me.”There was a struggle over words as Joras and the stranger exchanged the terms they knew and agreed to what they meant. Tsonia was beginning to regret involving her friend in the conversation. As her patience grew thin, he seemed to be enjoying the give and take and the accomplishment of finally conveying the whole idea.Again, the stranger laughed. “I watch you yesterday and two yesterdays, fire-hair. I watch you fight. I watch you walk far. You are tired, so I offer a bargain.”“Kaela…” Joras implored in Thelyrian, his voice laden with dread. “Don’t do anything foolish, please.”“I haven’t agreed to anything just yet.” Tsonia snorted in exasperation. “Are you blaming me for our misery too?”“I would never-” Joras began.“Let him talk then,” Tsonia snapped. “And don’t call me Kaela in front of everyone!”The stranger placed his clawed hand upon his chest. “I am called T'pek.” His voice, although struggling with the Trade Tongue, had a formal, almost ritualistic tone about it.Tsonia bowed her head. “I am called Red Tsonia. What do you offer?”“I ask you to fight, Red Tsonia. You owe me two hunters.”“You-kill-me is not equal to two hunters. They will not live if I die,” Tsonia said. It was another hard concept to convey, but she’d be damned if she was going to let Joras spend all night trying to negotiate poetically. “I see, a fight for pride, is a waste. A waste for me. A waste for you.”T'pek bared his fangs again. “We will fight. If I win, you will be, my tribe.” T'pek immediately waved away that idea as if it wasn’t exactly what he meant to say. “Just my tribe,” he amended, thumping his own chest.“Mate?” offered Joras. It was a Vizangian word that had made it into the Trade Tongue and was used to refer to any woman a man had sex with, be she joined by holy ritual, or just a concubine, slave, or whore.“Yes!” T'pek agreed. "Mate. You will be my mate. We will make strong children. My tribe will get more than two hunters.“A laugh escaped Tsonia’s lips. "You are too proud, T'pek. You are too proud of your fighting skill and your fucking skill. What will I get if you lose?”“I do not insult you, but you are slow and loud. You walk like blind and deaf children. You see bad signs but you still go forward. You risk weak people.” T'pek nodded towards battered, blissfully snoring Ambrose. “I offer that I will lead you and be smart for you, And I will also give you children.” He caressed his loincloth.Tsonia laughed again, a full-bellied sound of unbridled mirth. “You are smart. If you lose, you still fuck me. Is that right?”“A good hunter is strong and smart,” T'pek said with that uncanny grin.“Your tribe, Where do they take 'easy’ outsiders?” Tsonia asked. “What do they do with him?”“My tribe take your outsiders to our village. The leaders decide outsiders’ fate.” T'pek shook his head.“How many outsiders go to your leaders?” Joras interjected. “What do they say to your leaders?”“Some want to trade. Some are held to work. Some breed. Some fight.”“The unlucky ones are tossed into the swamp,” Tsonia added darkly in Thelyrian. Her brow creased in thought. “If I win, you will lead us to your village. You will teach us about your tribe and the village.”“Yes." Said T'pek."If I lose, I will be your mate, right?”An eager nod set T'pek’s mane aflutter.“Will I stay here,” Tsonia indicated their campsite with a sweep of her hand, “until I make children?”“No,” T'pek said with emphasis. “You will be my mate in the village. My people will take care of you. I will protect you and love you.”“If I lose, will they stay here?” she asked, indicating Joras and Ambrose.“I will take them to the village,”“For our fate to be decided by some chieftain or shaman or council we have no knowledge of?” Joras interrupted in Thelyrian. He sought Tsonia’s gaze. A flicker of dread was clearly visible. “I have a bad feeling about this.”The fire-haired warrior rose to her feet and planted her sword into the ground. “We have a deal, T'pek. How will we settle our fight? I will not be your mate if I am dead. You will not lead us if you are dead.”“No,” T'pek agreed, undoing his cord and placing the dagger, sling and pouches atop his pack. “We will stop when one of us is not proud and says 'stop’. Your people will know the agreement.”“'Yield’ is the word you want,” Tsonia said, watching the beastman strip away his kit. “We will stop when you yield or I yield.”“Yield." T'pek nodded his agreement and unknotted his loincloth, letting his manhood hang free."I believe he means to distract me by waving his lance in my face,” Tsonia joked to Joras in Thelyrian.“Yes, well, it’s distracting me quite nicely,” he agreed.“You show weakness there,” Tsonia pointed to T'pek’s naked crotch. His face scrunched into a look that Tsonia interpreted as indignation and realized he had taken her warning as an insult to his masculinity. “No, no, no,” she waved in correction and sought a better word. “Soft? Um, bad fight place?”Comprehension dawned on T'pek’s face and he snorted. “I will have no burden. Nothing to grab. Children of my tribe learn to fight with nothing.” His grappling gesture put Tsonia in mind of the formalized wrestling that was taught in the Green Cities. "Only fur. Belts hold tools. Packs hold food and water. They are bad for fighting.“So these people fought their duels of honor naked. It wasn’t a totally foreign concept. There were stories of great heroes from ages past who also dueled in the nude. It certainly ensured that neither party carried any hidden weapons.Tsonia pulled off her tattered chain hauberk with a resigned sigh. "Why have clothes at all then?” she asked, gesturing to the discarded loincloth lying on the ground in the firelight.T'pek’s gaze roamed over her rosy skin like a lover’s caress. He barked with mirth. “Soft,” he said, gesturing to his groin. “Weak. Sharp plants and rocks and bugs are bad. But Red Tsonia is good. It is strong for Red Tsonia.”“You are too proud, T'pek,” she smirked.Tsonia’s chain skirt hit the ground with the soft rattling of metal on packed earth. She tossed her armor at Joras’ feet and began to circle the camp site, taking the muscular native’s measure as he fell into step opposite her. He was taller than her, with wider shoulders and longer arms. Some earlier fight had left his chest and shoulder marked with ghastly scars, the otherwise lustrous fur refused to fully grow back there. Her lips curled into a playful grin as her gaze wandered lower, over his fur-covered abdomen and towards his groin. The fur was almost black there, long and shaggy and nowhere enough to cover a prodigious member which proudly curved towards his navel. His oddly bent legs didn’t seem to hinder his movement one bit and his sinuously weaving tail allowed him to easily keep balance.“If you want the death price for your tribe, you will fight me,” Tsonia remarked. “If you just look at me and I just look at you, we will not fight all night.” A smile flickered across her lips. “Or would you like to just look at me?” She caressed one of her breasts.The next moment, T'pek was on her, effortlessly closing the distance in one ferocious leap. His bulk tore Tsonia off her feet and together they crashed to the ground. Strong hands closed around her arm, one above and below the elbow each and when the world stopped spinning, Tsonia was face down in the dirt, with T'pek’s clawed foot between her shoulder blades and her arm bent at a very uncomfortable angle.She had clearly underestimated her opponent’s speed and reach, but he didn’t know any of her true strength either. Tsonia bucked, hard, unbalancing T'pek. For a heartbeat, his grip on her arm waned and she rolled, tearing her arm free, not caring if his claws tore open her back or the arm creaked in its socket. The sharp jabs of pain, if anything, only fuelled her battle-lust.In the time it took T'pek to regain his balance, Tsonia came to her feet. She was upon him, a blur of fists and kicks as she employed every trick she had gleaned from the fist-fighters in the Xhastrian coliseums. T'pek blocked some of her blows, took others with merely a grunt of annoyance and countered others. If he pulled any punches, Tsonia didn’t notice.One blow hit her clavicle, cracking it with the sickening sound of bone on bone. T'pek grunted, shaking out his rattled fist. Tsonia dove in, landing a solid hit to his gut which sent T'pek stumbling backwards.“Lift me up higher,” she heard Shala jeer. “I can’t see a damn thing!”“Shush you,” Joras muttered. “Don’t make this any more awkward.”Shala’s gleeful cackling gave T'pek pause. His eyes widened in horror as he beheld the disembodied head, held aloft by a disgusted Joras. Tsonia pressed her advantage, following up her attack with a furious shoulder charge.T'pek’s tail slapped across her breasts, leaving a stinging line of fire across them. Tsonia, not even fazed by the attack, barreled into him with enough force to spill both of them to the ground again. She pinned T'pek’s arms to the ground with her knees, her forearm firmly lodged under his maw, pressing hard against his throat.“Yield,” Tsonia hissed, putting her weight onto her arm. T'pek’s maw hung open, his tongue lolling to one side, his eyes rolling madly in their sockets. Suddenly, there was a soft sensation writhing between her thighs, tickling her sex. Tsonia’s hand flashed downwards, closing around T'pek’s nimble tail. Her tight grip elicited a hoarse yelp from the prone beastkin. Too late she realized how much of an advantage she had squandered. T'pek growled, fighting against her weight into a sitting position. Tsonia evaded a vicious head-butt by rolling backwards.Gasping, she came to her feet. T'pek followed suit, albeit a bit slower.“You, are strong,” he gasped. “You are tired, from two yesterdays, but you are strong. How?”“It will take more than a primeval forest and some rotting dead to wear me down,” Tsonia snarled in Thelyrian, then added for T'pek “You are not weak, T'pek, but not strong like me. Do you yield?”“No,” the beastkin growled something else in his own language, shaking his head in defiance. “I will make you yield!” He raised his fists.“Many people try to make me yield,” she spat. “All have failed.”“I will be the first,” T'pek roared, pouncing again.This time, Tsonia was ready. As he came flying, jaws open, hands ready to grasp and wrestle, she intercepted him. One hand caught his wrist, just behind his splayed claw, the other dug into the thick fur by his loins. Her demonic blood roared as Tsonia redirected his momentum, sending T'pek crashing to the ground back first. Breath exploded from the stunned beastkin in a hollow bark. Tsonia didn’t wait for him to recover, instead she mounted his hips, trapping his throbbing lance between them and pinning his arms to the ground with brute strength.“Yield,” Tsonia gasped. His lance underneath her was already drenched and she had to force herself from grinding herself against its searing heat.“No,” T'pek growled, trying to raise his arms. He could have tried to uproot a tree with his gaze alone, the effect was much the same.“Yield, you oaf,” Tsonia snarled. In Thelyrian she added “I could break your bones like rotted driftwood if I so desired.”“I am proud. I will not,” T'pek gasped as Tsonia ground herself against him, a languid, lust-driven roll of her full hips.“But you are worthless to me as a cripple,” Tsonia purred, then in the simple Trade Tongue she said “If I yield and you yield, we both get what we really want.” She reached backwards, guiding his shaft. Her sex swallowed his tip eagerly. T'pek’s breath caught in his throat as she claimed the full length of his spear.Tsonia’s voracious appetite, never easy to sate, had grown tremendously during their weeks at sea without any privacy and no suitable lovers. She had pondered asking Ambrose for a rowing slave or three, but even she knew how much trouble that could cause in the volatile confines of a warship. Not even pleasuring herself was an option, not with dozens of eager men devouring her every move. Not that she minded an audience, but again, the discipline aboard and the hope of finding and apprehending Kelgore had been more important than her own pleasure. Now, with T'pek writhing under her, she could finally indulge! She pushed herself away from him, only to reclaim his monstrous pole in a slow, breath-stealing descent.T'pek’s growl was the only warning she got. Too late Tsonia realized that she had relinquished her death grip on his wrists, to play with her tits and finger her clit as she rode his massive shaft.“No!” the beastman snarled. His claws slid under her ass and he pushed her away.“No?” Tsonia gasped, coming to her knees.“My tribe do not fuck this way,” T'pek growled, towering over her, his glistening shaft pointing at her.Tsonia glared at him. “What-?” she began, but T'pek was on her again, forcing her onto hands and knees. Before Tsonia could even protest his rough handling, his teeth clamped onto her shoulder, his clawed hands carved furrows into her hips as he roughly adjusted her position.Tsonia relaxed, anticipating what would happen next. T'pek did not disappoint. His bulbous tip forced her rosy curtains apart and in one fell swoop, he buried his sword to the hilt in her, his hot breath and spittle pouring down her shoulder. Tsonia wailed as he pounded into her, but it was no cry of pain, the demonic cock of Q'alan had more than seasoned her nethers. If anything, T'pek’s proud lance was a potent reminder of what she had been missing ever since the God-King had tasked her with finding and killing Kelgore.“Yes,” Tsonia growled, pushing back her hips on his next thrust. T'pek grunted with the effort of keeping her pinned beneath him, his spear slashing deep into her hungry tunnel. His claws found her breast, roughly kneading her supple flesh. Another wail tore from her lips, once more she pushed back against him. Blissful release tore through her already and every thrust only heightened her delirious ecstasy.“More!” Tsonia howled, answering each of T'pek’s thrusts with a roll of her hips. His furry sack slapped against her with blistering abandon each time he bottomed out. Hot blood trickled down her shoulder, his teeth sunk deep into her flesh.Tsonia tossed back her head, jubilating at the pain, the pleasure tearing through her body. T'pek’s tail slapped her ass, the squirming appendage caressing the valley between her cheeks like a second phallus. His paw mauled her breasts, but she only spurred him on with wordless moans and grunts. Another climax tore through her.Tsonia reared up, heedless of T'pek’s considerable bulk, heedless of his teeth sunk into her shoulder. She needed all of his delicious cock, buried deep within her hungry cunt!T'pek suddenly opened his jaws, his shockingly large tongue lapping at the bloody gashes his teeth had dug. He whined in surprise as the black blood oozing from the wounds seared his tongue.Tsonia rode him like a woman possessed, driving herself onto his shaft for all she was worth. Their bodies made lewd, slapping and squishing sounds as they collided.Suddenly, T'pek slammed his hands upon her hips and pinned her in place, his breath coming in unnaturally quick gasps. And then he erupted, spewing burst after burst of hot, sticky seed into Tsonia, filling her up to bursting and then more, leaking from their union in thick rivulets, dripping down into the ravaged earth.For a moment, there was nothing but the sounds of rasping breath and the occasional drip of thick liquid spattering on the ground.Then Shala raised her voice. “I hope you had your fun, whore. Can we go find my son now?”Ambrose groaned as the light of the relentless morning sun attacked his eyes. He sat up and blinked, trying to dislodge the grit caking his eyelids. The drums, although not entirely gone, had at least quieted down and were more akin to the volcano’s distant rumblings than the oppressive, maddening drone which had almost broken him. Joras slept behind him, the artist’s arm a soothing weight on his waist. Ambrose pushed some of Joras’ locks from his angelic face and breathed a kiss of thanks onto his prickly cheek.“Good morning.” The voice was Shala’s, a mirthless, venomous rasp. Her head rested on a tree stump nearby. “Please don’t start another round of fornication. I was forced to behold entirely too much of it last night.” She made a disgusted sound. “Just look at them. Animals, truly." Her tongue came out, a shriveled lump of flesh, and pointed to the side.Ambrose gently moved Joras’ arm and gazed in the indicated direction. On the other side of the stump, curled into a tangle of limbs, were Tsonia and a monstrous being, naked both and obviously spent. The newcomer had a bestial snout resting on her shoulder, a powerful paw cupped her ample breast. Tsonia had a satisfied grin on her features and the stranger’s cock wedged between her ass cheeks."Can you believe it? They had me keep watch the entire time.” Shala gnashed her teeth. “Twice I had to endure their vulgar rutting. After that, hours of boredom. If I had my hands back I would throttle that whore!”The stranger raised his head, alert eyes meeting Ambrose’s. “Explain why the head talks,” he growled. “And why you keep such a thing.” He looked down to Tsonia’s shoulder. Faint bite marks marred her otherwise fair skin. “She tastes like poison and death,” the stranger said, his fur bristling. “Why?”“I have questions of my own,” Ambrose said, his hand inching towards his cane. He doubted he would be a match for the stranger’s prowess, but he felt better with a weapon at the ready. “Who are you? What do you want from us?”“I am T'pek, the hunter,” the stranger said. “I came to challenge fire-hair. Tsonia.”“And then the whore allowed the beast to breed her. Twice at least,” Shala added.“How did I miss that?” Ambrose asked.Stories about Tsonia’s amorous exploits were as numerous and outlandish as those of her prowess on the field of battle. He chuckled softly, knowing at least one of them to be true. It involved him, Tsonia and Joras after all.That particular tale ended with the fire-haired vixen spurned and furious after she caught Ambrose and Joras, naked, sweaty and curled around each other after an afternoon of lovemaking in a nameless pirate inn. She had been so obsessed with sating her own desires, so fixated on bedding Ambrose that she did not, for one moment, consider that Joras’ classical beauty and his youthful body were much more to his liking than Tsonia’s carelessly presented curves.T'pek rose, his muscular frame easily towering above sitting Ambrose. With enviable grace, the beastkin crossed the small clearing they had chosen as their camp site and dug into a pile of gear. Carrying a small bundle in his paw, he returned to the stump and knelt down next to Ambrose.The captain forced himself to look anywhere but the stranger’s groin. He had to admit, T'pek’s form, though alien to his sensibilities, exuded power and virility he would find utterly irresistible under other circumstances. After all, curiosity was a prized trait in any explorer.T'pek offered the bundle. It was wound in thick, crimson leaves, with pale yellow and white ribs. The smell emanating from it was at the same time mouth-watering and stomach-churning.“Do I want to eat that?” Ambrose asked, a tad suspiciously.“Yes. Eat. You are hurt. It will help.” T'pek nudged the bundle into his hand.“He might be lying,” Shala spat in Xhastrian. “You and Joras are of no concern to him. All he cares for is-”The hunter turned on his heels, claws out. A dangerous, low growl escaped T'pek’s throat. The undead witch closed her mouth, spearing the beastkin with baleful glares instead.“What does it say?” asked T'pek, circling Shala’s perch as if looking for just the right angle to punt her into the treetops.“Treachery and insults that will get her smashed with a rock and then burned to ash if she isn’t careful,” Ambrose chastised Shala. To T'pek he said “She says bad words about you. Bad words about Tsonia.”“The bad words it says have no use. Why keep it?” T'pek asked again.“Uh, magic. Strong magic,” Ambrose said. He was well acquainted with the words of trade on his tongue, but they were usually spoken across a table over tankards of wine, or between two ships lashed together in the open sea, or between merchant caravans meeting at a crossroads. Hearing the words, simple and ineloquent as they were, spoken by the beastial newcomer gave him a disquieting sensation along the length of his spine. “She promised to bring us home with magic. If we find the man she wants,” he continued, fighting to keep a straight face. The bundle’s scent was becoming utterly vile the longer he held it.“Do you trust it?”Ambrose sighed. “We have no ship. We cannot build one. We can wait many many tomorrows and moons for a ship to come. Or we can gamble.” He wasn’t certain how to express the concept of 'Hope’ in the simple Trade Tongue so in his own words, to settle his own mind, he added. “I’ll take a little hope over no hope at all.”“We gamble,” he concluded to T'pek.Gathering all his courage, he bit into the bundle. Rancid juices poured into his mouth. Strange clumps of an alien texture were borne on that vile torrent, their taste unfathomable. Coughing, he dropped the morsel, trying to wipe sticky remains from his lips. They burned as if touched by Thelyrian devil’s peppers.“Are you trying to kill me?” he snarled, raising his cane. T'pek shook his head and left him, sputtering and close to retching.Joras stirred next to him, no doubt roused by his violent hacking. Tsonia woke up too, disheveled but alert. Her gaze swept the campsite. When she spotted no immediate danger, she fussed about the stains and dirt caking her naked skin. Eventually, she sighed and stood.“I will bring water,” she said, grabbing the water skins. “Good water is not far.”“I will lead you,” T'pek offered. “The jungle is hungry in the morning.”“Not as hungry as his appetite for her cunt,” Shala muttered to their backs, already halfway across the clearing. Aloud she said: “If you wanted succor for your injuries, sailor, you had but to ask. I can easily restore your lost vigor.”“The price will be higher than you’d wish to pay, Ambrose,” Joras warned, then turned to the witch’s severed head. “Besides, don’t you need hands to work your magic?”“Small minds ask stupid questions,” Shala sighed dramatically. “Not every spell requires elaborate gesticulation. Sometimes a sip of blood and a few well-chosen words are all that is needed to weave the powers of the ether into a useful tapestry.”“Do you trust her?” Joras asked, the second time Ambrose had heard the question this morning.Ambrose gnashed his teeth. Sleeping on the forest floor had done little to dull the numerous aches he harbored. His sprained ankle was a dull throb even when sitting, but he knew it would flare into a beacon of agony after another day of walking for miles on end. Every nick and cut he had suffered stung from his own sweat, every insects’ bite itched worse than the caress of a jellyfish’s tendril.“I’m at my wit’s end, Joras!” he sobbed. “On the sea, there is a time to wait for the wind to shift and fill your sails, and there is a time to break out the oars and row. The wind is not shifting, Joras. Unless you want to drag or carry me to whatever fate awaits us, I’m going to die here in this jungle, unless I row.”He limped to the tree stump and picked up Shala’s head with both hands. Holding her up to his face, he stared into her undead eyes. “Speak, witch. What do you need me to do?”“Kiss me, oh captain of the seas,” Shala purred. “It will be over in no time.” The witch started to mutter, knotty words not meant for mortal tongues.“You have to be joking!” Joras gasped. “Put your lips to that, thing?”“Either that or dying on a nameless jungle path,” Ambrose said, gritting his teeth. He puckered his lips and pulled the witch’s head close. Shala, having finished her incantation, gazed at him with pursed lips, her wicked eyes wide with anticipation.“There’s a good boy,” the witch cooed. “Be strong. It will be over very soon.”Her clammy, withered lips touched his. Then came her tongue, probing into his mouth. He tried to clench his teeth against the intrusion, but the glutinous texture of the organ so repulsed his sensibilities that his jaw opened in revulsion instead. He very nearly dropped her then, but forced himself to endure the horror.The witch’s tongue delved impossibly deep, caressing his teeth, tracing unknown sigils on the roof of his mouth, coddling his own tongue. Ambrose had eaten raw fish tasting better than the curling flesh, but there was no escape from the loathsome kiss. He was transfixed by her undead eyes as her tongue explored his mouth, fouling it with her rotten taste.At last the organ withdrew and Ambrose began to relax- until her teeth gouged a bloody furrow into his lower lip. He dropped the head, but Shala did not fall. His lip, clamped tightly in her teeth, distended from the weight of Shala’s head hanging off of it. With pain lancing through his jaw Ambrose swatted at the witch, but every blow that landed only tore his flesh.Joars finally intervened with a cry of protest. Seizing the witch’s head, he supported its weight, alleviating the pull on Ambrose’s lip. He twisted Shala’s ear until she finally released her grip sputtering one last breathless word, her maw stained crimson with blood.Ambrose held his mouth, close to losing his stomach for the second time this cursed morning. As Joras asked after his state, Ambrose’s heartbeat throbbed through the deep gash in his lip and he itched to cave in that undead skull with his cane. A tingling, burning sensation started in his lips, then spread.“What manner of curse have you-” Ambrose spat, bloody spittle flying from his lips. But then he noticed it, the pain was receding! The mutilated lip was knitting itself closed! Like hundreds of stinging fire ants, the sensation traveled down his body, leaving nothing but the absence of pain behind. Even the ever-present throbbing in his ankle abated!“No curse.” Shala grinned up at him from Joras’ grip, her cheeks flushed with an infusion of life. “I have told you again and again, until we find my boy, I will do my best to help.”Ambrose mulled the words over in his mouth, but as a man of honor, he had no choice, even if it galled him. Taking a deep breath, he bowed.“Thank you, Shala.”The witch’s grin was loathsome. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”Suddenly a long, drawn wail echoed through the jungle.“That’s Tsonia!” Ambrose exclaimed, reaching for a sword. “She’s in trouble!” As if to answer him, a second wail followed.“No,” Joras sighed, setting Shala back down. “That is not the sound of Tsonia in distress I’m afraid.”“The whore is in heat, like a mongrel bitch” Shala spat dismissively.“She is having all the fun, is she?” Ambrose asked, placing an arm around Joras’ shoulders.The artist scowled. “Sometimes it is very difficult, being her chronicler.” He gently laid his head upon the taller man’s shoulder. “It may be a while before we get that water.”Ambrose chuckled. “I’d rather half a keg of Debon’s Winter Mead right about now.”He shifted his weight to embrace Joras. Had it been only a few days since they’d been swept upon these dreadful shores? Ambrose had almost forgotten how it felt to stand without favoring his bad foot.Joras looked up at him, a sly cock to his eyebrow. “Oh, you do remember our first night then?” he asked. “I thought all that mead had muddled your memory.”“I remember enough,” Ambrose affirmed, and then he kissed Joras in a way he’d not soon forget. Maybe, he thought, they’d make it out of this hellish jungle alive after all, if Tsonia’s recklessness didn’t kill them all.With Ambrose’s body mended and T'pek leading them, they traveled at a much faster clip. The soggy, swampy soil gave way to firmer ground, with the occasional rock formation jutting up between the trees. By midday, the jungle seemed much less dense and oppressive, with pools of golden sunlight cutting through wider gaps in the leafy canopy.Shortly before dusk, with thick clouds pooling overhead, they reached a wide, gaping chasm. Deep below was the glitter of a rock-strewn river, its rush and roar echoing off the sheer cliffs to either side.Ambrose peered over the edge, shuddering. “What are those dark shapes clinging to the walls?” He pointed.“Death on wings,” T'pek said. “They hunt fish below.”“I hear a 'but’ somewhere,” Joras quipped, then turned to T'pek. “How do we cross? Climb?”T'pek shoo

Red Tsonia & the Jungle of Madness: Part 2

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 7, 2024

The red-haired bitch of vexing humiliation?A 5-part story By Blind_Justice & Loqui Sordida Ad Me. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.The quarry she had stalked for weeks over choppy seas aboard Ambrose’s crowded ship, had through uncanny skill or dumb luck once again eluded her. Even if Kelgore had been seized for food or sport by the beastly natives, Tsonia still needed proof of his death to claim the God-King’s bounty. She would be damned if she was going to be robbed of her prize.Besides, Kelgore owed her an explanation as to how she came to be kneeling before him, spattered with his essence and no recollection at all. If he still lived, she would wrest an answer from him, and woe unto him if the answer displeased her.Anger coiling in her innards like a steel-clad serpent, Tsonia dressed. She refilled the water gourd and a pair of skins her fallen foes had carried. She took their spears and a few other odds and ends that she thought might prove useful and bundled them together in one of their nets. After a moment’s hesitation, she added the witch head to the bundle she had made. Kelgore clearly ascribed it some perverse value to have carried it with him through the storm. It might prove a useful bargaining chip.With a final look around for any hidden threats, Tsonia turned her back on the spring and followed the trickling rivulet back towards the beach. Joras and Ambrose would be waiting, thirsting in misery for the water she had promised them.The sky had darkened to a velvety black. Unknown constellations sparkled amidst the remnants of stormy clouds. Ambrose found it hard to measure the flow of time. How long had it been since Tsonia left to fetch some water? One hour? Several? Maybe some days? Between ever-mounting thirst and the pain ravaging his body, staying awake proved to be difficult. The monotonous rumble of the drums didn’t help.He only realized that sleep had claimed him when the femur, the feeble weapon Tsonia had left him with, dropped from numb fingers and hit his aching foot, jolting him awake again. Groaning, Ambrose fumbled for the bone before checking the limp body of his companion. Joras had succumbed to exhaustion, slumped into a heap on the splintered bench he and Ambrose were sitting on. At least the artist’s breathing seemed even and his brow wasn’t ablaze with fever.Ambrose fought desperately to keep his eyes open, listening with focused intent for other survivors skulking among the debris. But there was nothing save for the unending rhythm of the drums. Slowly, inexorably, his head sank to his chest, the weapon drooped lower and lower and before he knew it, slumber had once again claimed him.A gentle hand on his shoulder shocked Ambrose awake. Acting on pure instinct, he raised the femur, only to be stopped by a second hand around his wrist.“Is this the way to greet me when I bring food and water?” The voice was feminine and laced with dry wit. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the murky gloom under the broken hull and he saw Tsonia’s face, a pale mask with twinkling eyes. Ambrose heaved a great sigh of relief, his voice hoarse with thirst.Tsonia pulled something from the ground and pressed it into Ambrose’s hand. The water skin was filled to the stopper and Ambrose greedily opened it, yearning for the feel of cool moisture on his parched lips and throat.“Drink slowly,” Tsonia advised him, sliding onto the bench next to Joras. “If you’re hungry, there are some strips of dried meat in there.” She nudged a rustling something with her foot.“What took you so long?” Ambrose rasped. "Feels like you were gone forever.“ He took a long, deliberately slow swig from the waterskin and sighed as the cool water poured down his throat.Tsonia cradled Joras’s head into the crook of her elbow and carefully whetted his lips with a thin rivulet of water. Groaning, the artist came to, sipping the life-giving liquid."I found a spring and Kelgore both,” she said, setting down the water skin and helping Joras sit upright. Once she was certain he could steady himself, Tsonia handed the skin off to him and busied herself with her bundle.“My apologies to your tailor, Joras,” Tsonia quipped as she ripped strips off the bottom of his salt-stained traveling cloak and knotted them around a spar of wood. A moment later, there was the sound of flint on steel and painfully bright sparks as Tsonia fought to light a makeshift torch. With an angry hiss, the wick of tattered rags sputtered to life“Did you slay him?” Joras muttered, his voice slowly regaining strength. His gaze wandered along her toned body. “There are new wounds.”“Nothing to worry about,” Tsonia said, waving his concern away with a dismissive slash of her hand. “Before I could seize Kelgore, some natives appeared and attacked us. Either he used the commotion to abscond or the natives have snatched him.”“You’re not planning on following him, are you?” Joras asked, his tone suggesting he already knew that Tsonia was planning exactly that.“Unless we want this whole endeavor to be for naught, we will have to follow him,” Tsonia said. “I know we’re short on men and weapons, but each hour we wait allows Kelgore to slip ever further from our grasp.”“And what if we find him? How do you plan to get us back to Xhastria?” Joras asked. “Be reasonable, Tsonia. Kelgore might be gone or dead already. We should focus our efforts on finding a way home.”Ambrose bent low over Tsonia’s bundle, rooting for the food she had offered. Sharp teeth clamped around his hand, nearly taking off two of his fingers and tearing open his skin. Blood flowed freely. Cursing, he yanked his hand back, staring in horror at a grinning head amidst the gathered trappings. Sharp teeth were still snapping, framed by bloodied lips. But worst of all were the eyes, bloodshot orbs glaring straight into his soul. Ambrose recoiled and grabbed his club.“What in the Burning Hells did you bring back, Tsonia?” Ambrose snapped, raising the weapon for a devastating blow. “Is that a woman’s severed head?”“Your flame-haired whore has no understanding of the things she is meddling with,” the witch head sputtered. “She loosed the storm that I contained. She has marooned you here in this waste.”“Did you both hear that?” Tsonia asked, her gaze going from Ambrose to Joras. Ambrose nodded in uneasy confirmation. “I was drugged by a native’s dart and thought the speaking head was but a waking nightmare.”“Who is, or was, she?" Joras asked. "And why bring it here?”“I am Shala, mother to the great Kelgore! Traveler beyond the Veil! Willing consort to demons! I have received the seed and the blessing of horrors beyond your compre,”Tsonia snatched up the head and crammed a scrap of driftwood in its mouth, interrupting its blasphemous tirade. “And she calls me ‘whore’?” the flame-haired warrior growled.“I thought I killed the witch aboard Kelgore’s ship,” Tsonia explained over Shala’s muffled grunts. “When I met Kelgore at the spring, he had her head with him. It must be very important for him to protect it through the storm and whatever else he encountered along these savage shores.”“You could have warned me,” Ambrose said, cradling his mauled hand against his chest. “It nearly cost me two fingers.”“I didn’t realize it was still dangerous,” Tsonia said. “I’m sorry.”She offered Ambrose a scrap of fabric as a makeshift bandage. The captain took it and wound it around his hand, trembling with his hastened heartbeat and pumping fresh crimson into the fabric.“And what do we do now?” Joras asked, suspiciously eyeing the disassembled bundle at their feet. “I don’t fancy a trek through hostile jungles with just a few water skins and barely any food. No paper, no paints or brushes. Not that you’d let me paint you once your hair starts to fade. I suppose all of your henna is at the bottom of the ocean. Not even a simple whittling blade to carve,”“And we have no idea where Kelgore might be,” Ambrose added, interrupting Joras’s rambling.There was a ghastly sound, halfway between retching and coughing. Shala’s head had managed to work the gag from its mouth. Her hoarse, cajoling voice offered: “I know where Kelgore is. He is as much a part of me as eyes or tongue. My spawn lives yet, and so long as he draws breath, I shall sense his presence.”“Why should we trust the word of a dead demon-kisser?" Ambrose asked, voice filled with malice. "We should roast you over a fire and send you to whatever hell will have you.”“Because that buxom barbarian brute of yours won’t let you leave this island until you find Kelgore,” Shala gloated. “I wish to be reunited with my son. We share a common goal, For now.”“It galls me that she has a point,” Ambrose confessed.“It’s just bargaining for its life. There is no truth to its words,” Tsonia spat.“Can you get them home, whore?” Shala challenged. “Do you have any notion in which direction Xhastria even lies?”Even Ambrose, with years of experience at navigation, had been flummoxed by the storm. They had been chasing Kelgore westward when last he had his bearings, so Xhastria probably lay somewhere to the east. It would be a toss of the dice to venture out on the open sea with so little certainty though.“No?” the witch continued. “Help me restore my body and with a simple spell I can conjure you home. To your very doorstep if you wish.” A peal of mad laughter burst from her bloodstained lips as the torch light danced across her twisted visage. “You don’t want to perish here on this pox-ridden island, now do you? Neither do I!”“We can restore your body?” Ambrose asked, his brow furrowing at the capacity of magic.“Yes! And it’s easier than you,” Shala’s strained voice was choked off again as Tsonia wedged the driftwood gag back in her disembodied jaw and then bound it there with a length of leather strap.“Don’t encourage its mad blathering,” she scolded. “First we find Kelgore, then we will find a way off this island, If it even is an island. If we must bargain with a demon-kisser, we do so as a last resort when all other options are exhausted. Agreed?”“Yes, of course,” Joras acceded. “We should just bury the horrible thing. We can come dig it up if we need it.”“No, better to keep her close,” Ambrose countered. “If we do need help, we may need it very quickly.” Despite his misgivings, Ambrose was keenly aware that the odds were against them and their options might be exhausted much sooner than anticipated.The gall of the red-haired bitch was a vexing humiliation, but one that Shala was prepared to suffer. Once she was reunited with Kelgore, her son would show Red Tsonia the true meaning of humiliation. Shala was patient. She could wait. And in the meantime she would watch and plot.She had spent the night with the taste of salt-wood on her tongue watching the fop in the orange cloak splint the ankle of the buffoon and then fashion him a crude crutch while the bitch stood watch. The fop was too much in thrall to the bitch to be of any use. The buffoon, however, had potential. Shala could see in him a resistance to the bitch’s authority and a desire for control. It was only his injured leg that kept him subservient to her.The buffoon could be useful.When the sun rose, her captors ate the scant food taken from the beast skin, and emptied their water skins. The bitch removed Shala’s gag, carefully avoiding her teeth. She needn’t have bothered though. While Shala did need blood to reform her body, it had to be pure blood, not the corrupted filth coursing through Red Tsonia’s veins. If she could taste pure blood for seven days in a row, well then things would be different.The bitch hoisted Shala by the hair and held her up to gaze at the jungle that grew up and away from the beach.“You say you can sense your whelp,” she said plainly. “So tell me, should we head towards the volcano or towards the flatlands?”“Oh now you want my mad blathering?” Shala scowled. “I thought I was not to be trusted.”“Consider this a test of your good will,” the bitch dared to challenge her. “If you don’t want to help us find Kelgore, I’ll just gag you again and,”“Towards the volcano,” Shala interjected. She was kept alive by the grace of her demonic masters and didn’t suffer from many ailments of the flesh, but the driftwood was still uncomfortable between her teeth.“You don’t actually trust her, do you?” asked the fop.“It doesn’t matter,” the bitch replied. “We were going that way regardless. The spring lies towards the volcano. We can refill our water and pick up Kelgore’s trail there.” With that, the wooden bit was roughly crammed in her mouth once more and secured there.Tsonia was clearly cunning, but ultimately the bitch would be no match for Shala’s guile. Shala was patient. She could wait.When the first rays of the rising sun turned the ocean into molten gold, Tsonia, Ambrose and Joras emerged from their flimsy shelter. The incessant drumming had gone all night making it difficult to snatch a few hours of fitful sleep. The drumming continued unabated as they ate a paltry breakfast, the remaining scraps from the captured rations had them feeling better equipped for the task at hand.The pain of Ambrose’s wounds ameliorated somewhat with rest and with the help of Joras’s crude cane, he managed to keep pace with the others along the stony swath between the tree line and the surf. At a thin brook that cut a narrow path to the sea, the flame-haired warrior turned, eagerly heading into the jungle which awakened to riotous life around them.Birds and monkeys screeched in the branches overhead and larger bodies rustled in the shoulder-high underbrush. Occasionally, there was a low growl close by which put Ambrose’s hairs on end but Tsonia didn’t seem perturbed by the ominous sounds around them. And of course there were the drums, still rumbling sonorous, foreboding, in the distance. He was certain their cadence had changed.Tsonia's palm against his chest stopped his musing and stride both.“What is it?” Ambrose whispered. Tsonia tapped her nose and took a deep breath.Ambrose sniffed. It took him a few tries, but then he noticed the tell-tale aroma of roasted meat.“Someone ahead?” he hissed.Tsonia nodded, dropping into a crouch. She readied one of her scavenged spears.“Maybe survivors,” Ambrose offered. “We should greet them accordingly.”“You do that,” Tsonia said. “I’ll make sure we don’t stumble into an ambush. The natives carried flint and steel.” She unslung the crude pack from her shoulder and, quiet like a shadow, she slithered into the foliage. Ambrose tossed the pack over his shoulder. The head within grunted in annoyance. Grasping his driftwood cane with his free hand and, with Joras just behind, he pushed forward.He entered a large glade shadowed by overhanging branches. The early morning light glinted off the surface of a serene pool. A crude campfire had been erected next to a sturdy sea chest, the jungle wood causing more smoke than actual fire. Nevertheless, some skewers had been prepared, chunks of meat roasting over the flames. Two figures scrambled to their feet as Ambrose and Joras broke their cover. Long, curved blades glinted in the sunlight. One of the men, long-haired and sporting a thick, pointy beard, suddenly cried out in joy.“Captain!”Ambrose recognized the caller as Montu, one of his veterans. The other, a long-limbed, bald Xhastrian with ritualistic scars running down his arms, shot his companion a worried look and fell into a combat stance, his blade ready to strike.A shadow emerged behind the Xhastrian. Sunlight broke on flaming hair as Tsonia snaked an arm around his neck, a muscular leg slid between his and with an almost playful tug, the fierce warrior plucked the gleaming sword from his grasp, gently dragging the unbalanced man to the grassy ground. He was too surprised to offer much of a struggle, especially when Tsonia caressed his naked chest with the blade she had just wrested from his fingers.“Who’s your friend, Montu?” Ambrose asked.“Captain, that’s Sethos,” Montu said, sword down and hand open in a placating gesture. “Please, don’t hurt him. He was one of Kelgore’s, but without him, the bottomless sea would have claimed me twice over.”“Why didn’t we see you before?” Joras asked suspiciously over the din of the distant drums. The artist walked around the campfire, stopping at the large trunk. He raised the lid and peered inside. Within he saw weapons, tools, ropes, nails and other useful things. “That’s a Quartermaster’s Chest, isn’t it?”“That chest carried us both through the storm and then nearly broke our bones when we got tossed onto the shore a ways over there,” Montu gestured towards the distant beach, then grimaced, massaging his ribs. “We cracked it open to see if there was anything edible inside. When we heard the drums, we thought we might be able to trade with the natives, so we dragged it with us along the beach looking for water and found this spring. Someone had already been here though, killing two…” His gaze darted towards the edge of the glade. Something, hidden by the thick undergrowth, chewed on bones.“Two what?" Joras asked."Two green-furred, creatures,” Sethos added. “Heads like beasts, claws like daggers, long tails. Someone stabbed them good.” He offered a grim smile. "Your handiwork, eh?“ His eyes sought Tsonia."They left me no choice,” Tsonia grumbled. “I suspect they are the natives whose drum we hear. They wore crude clothing and carried tools so they have some savage culture.”“They seem quite proud of their music, at least,” Joras mused, casting an annoyed look towards the unceasing drum beat. Ambrose frowned at the quip. The drums were becoming tiresome, and he wouldn’t mind a chance to stab the drummers himself.“Sethos and I were just discussing what to do next, Captain,” Montu said, breaking Ambrose’s reverie. “We have water, game, some tools and plenty of wood. We could start building a ship to get home. But maybe we should look for other survivors first.”“I’ve seen no signs of other survivors on the beach,” Ambrose said. “I doubt there are many of us or Kelgore’s men left.” He gazed at the towering trees surrounding the glade. “With only the five of us and the tools in the chest, building anything seaworthy would take months. And I’m not much of a shipwright.”“But what other choice do we have?” Sethos asked. “Who knows if other ships even pass by this forlorn shore?”“Kelgore survived,” Tsonia snarled, fingertips touching her own cheek and lips as if she was wiping away some horrid stain. “I saw him myself here at this spring last night. I’m here to pick up his trail and I won’t return to Xhastria without his head as a prize. If the natives have taken him, we’ll need to deal with them as well.”There was a muffled chuckling only Ambrose heard. He jostled the pack to shut up the insolent head of the undying witch. Shala seemed to disagree with Tsonia’s assessment and uttered another guttural noise.“Provided they are willing to listen. Or hand over Kelgore,” Ambrose said. “Don’t forget, they tried to kill you.”“I’m not forcing anyone to come along,” Tsonia said, not unkindly. “But there is safety in numbers. Your chance of survival would be better by my side.”Ambrose had seen Tsonia fight, both during the recent boarding action gone awry and when they first met all these years ago in a nameless pirate haven tucked away on a rocky island off the Xhastrian coast.He had been there on business, selling overpriced food and diluted beer to the locals and taking on new crew. She had strode into the dockside tavern, wearing only her tattered chain mail and a devilish grin drawing the eye of every man. What caught Ambrose’s eye though was the rakish young man in her wake, frantically scribbling on a pad propped on his forearm, trying to capture her stride, her pose and probably her curvy backside.When stools went flying and heads started rolling, Ambrose met Joras under a table, unwilling to waste his drink in the maelstrom of bodies. The seed for a long-lasting friendship, and so much more!, was planted as they both watched Tsonia fell men by the dozen in pursuit of one crooked merchant who owed her money.Ambrose’s gaze sought Joras’s. If the artist stayed, they would be on even terms with the sailors and the chance of betrayal would be much lower. Maybe they could even rekindle some of the magic they had shared after Tsonia had bought rounds for the bar and left them to their own devices for a night. But Joras once again had eyes only for his muse. Ambrose sighed.Joras was too fixated on capturing every move Tsonia made. He would follow her blindly into the blackest pits of Hell. Someone had to make sure he wouldn’t find a miserable end in her company. And if she was willing to blindly dive into the jungle, brave a tribe of murderous savages all in the name of claiming a bounty on a demon-kisser, she would need all the help she could get.“Is this true, Captain?" Asked Montu tossing a glance at Sethos. "Are we still hunting Kelgore?”“Tyrant’s Blade is but a shattered wreck on the beach,” Ambrose replied. “I am your captain no more. You are free to do as you wish, but I invite you to accompany us as a fellow brother of the sea. Together, we can brave whatever this unknown land may throw at us.”Montu offered a wide grin. “Then you’ll be happy to know that Sethos and I have become brothers as well.” He raised his hand, showing a fresh cut in his palm. “I trust Sethos with my life, cap-, Ambrose.”The Xhastrian did the same. “No man or beast can tear us apart now,” Sethos said. “Where my brother Montu goes, I go.”“Even if it puts you at odds with your former master, Kelgore?" Joras asked.Sethos spat on the ground and turned, showing ghastly burn marks on his back. "This is how he treats his soldiers when in a foul mood,” the sailor growled. “I served him loyally from the beginning, but when his eye fell on a whore I was with, this is what I got for not wanting to share. He tore a poker from a fireplace and used it on my back. Kelgore can rot in the Pits for all I care!”“Why did you sail with him, even after what he did?” Joras asked, pity and dread in equal measure in his voice.“The only other choice was to be left behind in the fishing village we’d just despoiled,” Sethos answered with neither pride nor contrition in his voice.“Kelgore will answer for his crimes,” Tsonia vowed, rifling through the chest and picking up an axe. Grim determination flared in her steely gaze. “Let us take only as many weapons and gear as we can easily carry and be off. The sooner we find him, the sooner justice can be done!”The prints of Kelgore’s sturdy boots had vanished at the spring, replaced by signs of dragging, and the clawed footprints of the natives. Tsonia concluded that Kelgore had been drugged and carried off. Sethos wasn’t much of a woodsman but he recognized the broken leaves and the scuffed earth when the signs were pointed out to him.The small group, now armed with swords, daggers, axes and a spade, left the glade behind, following what appeared to be a hunting trail. Branches had been carved away, foliage had been cleared and the occasional snare had been set.“How kind of the natives to provide for us,” the red-haired woman called Tsonia chuckled, pulling a small, furry carcass from one such snare. “We won’t go hungry tonight.” She tucked the carcass into her makeshift pack and tightened the vines holding their meager possessions together.Tsonia led the party in single file, followed by the well-dressed northerner and the injured Ambrose in the middle. Sethos, bringing up the rear behind Montu, wasn’t quite sure what to make of his new companions. Montu’s former captain was preoccupied by something, probably his injury. The northerner called Joras seemed too milky to be a mercenary, and yet Montu and Ambrose both seemed to defer to him.They followed a meandering trail through the claustrophobic jungle. The dense foliage pressed in on them from all sides, and seemed to swallow their words. It was hard to hear Montu even just in front of him, let alone any of the others further up the line. Despite the hum of insects, the caterwauling cries of birds and monkeys, and the ceaseless drumming that seemed to surround them, Sethos found the jungle eerily quiet and still. He was a sailor, and used to the open expanse of the sea and the chatter of other sailors.“So that’s the infamous 'Red Tsonia’, is it?” Sethos asked, just to hear something other than the drums. “I heard she stalked the Beast of Bral for three months across the Wastes of Cairn and carried its hide back to Baron Septimus as a wedding dowry, then refused to marry him.”Montu laughed. “We played that game the first two days she was aboard. Someone would repeat some outlandish tale they’d heard of Tsonia’s exploits, she’d claim it was all true, and then her man Joras would set the record straight.”There was no response from further up the line so Sethos let the conversation end there. The confined bowels of the jungle unnerved him. He was certain Montu and Ambrose had to feel the same.Ahead, Tsonia called a stop. The trail they had followed intersected another and they could find no track or sign that made for an obvious choice.“Do we ask Shala?” Ambrose suggested, and Sethos’s ears perked up“What do you know of Shala?” he asked. “Does she still live, as well as Kelgore?”“Live’ is perhaps too generous a term,” Joras answered. “But by some sorcery, she’s not exactly dead yet, either.”Tsonia rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she sighed. “I suppose the old witch’s opinion is marginally better than a coin toss.” She set the pack on the ground and to Sethos’s horror, pulled out a severed head by its hair. He recognized her visage immediately as her malevolent gaze fell on each member of the party. Shala growled, her anger obvious despite the piece of driftwood between her teeth.“You have something useful to say, perhaps?” Tsonia removed the wood.“Insolent whore!" Shala spat. "How dare you cram-”Snarling, Tsonia rammed the wood back between the head’s teeth. “Oh, not enjoying the company?” she snapped. "Too bad. We only have this one pack and you’re sharing with our dinner.“ Shala replied with another growl and a hate-filled glare before Tsonia tied the vines again and tossed the pack over her shoulder."It’s dangerous to keep that thing,” Sethos warned. “If you can’t burn it to ash, you should smash it to a pulp.”“It may yet prove useful,” argued Ambrose. “We may need her magic to get home.”“They hurt you, didn’t they?” Joras asked softly. “Kelgore and his witch, I mean.”Sethos stood silent for a moment. The men who sailed the sea had a code, and he was loath to speak ill of any man he’d sailed with. And sailing with Kelgore had been hugely profitable for a time. But he had seen things that haunted him. Things he hoped no man would ever see again. Sethos glanced at Montu. His blood brother nodded.“Kelgore can seize the minds of others,” Sethos murmured at last. “It’s those black eyes of his. When you look into those eyes, he steals your will and your memories both. He turns you to his cause whether you wish to do his bidding or not. I have seen Kelgore compel strong men to slice the throats of their own children, or to throw themselves into the sea and just let themselves drown rather than try to swim.”“And after, you have no memory of what you have done,” Tsonia added quietly.“Yes!” agreed Sethos, looking up with a start. “You’ve seen it! You’ve seen this power he wields.”“I’ve seen it,” she agreed, wiping her hand across her mouth. “Which is why he must die, But first we must find him. Very well, if we can see no reason to choose one path over another, then I suggest,”Sethos couldn’t say where the violent eruption of fur and foliage came from. Before he was even aware of it, the whole party was knocked asunder in a chaotic frenzy of violence. As a massive beast tore through their midst, he saw flashes of teeth as long as his cutlass, claws like knives, fur striped brown and white like the sun-dappled jungle floor. And then just as quickly it was gone.“Ambrose! It got Ambrose!” Montu shouted as he clambered to his feet. In a flash of fiery hair, Tsonia was already plunging headlong into the thicket.Sethos sprang up, drew his sword, and followed his blood brother in pursuit with the man Joras close behind carrying the pack. If Sethos had found the winding trail claustrophobic, this wild boscage was worse. Leaves and branches assailed him as he tore heedlessly through the dense undergrowth. Somewhere ahead, Ambrose screamed for help.Montu hacked away a branch and Sethos did likewise, just in time to see the mail-clad mercenary let fly her axe on the run. The spinning blade vanished into the brush, but a monstrous squeal of pain told them it had found its mark.“It bleeds now!” Tsonia called, without breaking her stride, and only a few yards later, Sethos saw the splatter of crimson against the leaves and the crooked path it wove through the jungle.The beast fled like a coursed hare, skirting this way and that, but Tsonia doggedly held its trail and the three men followed in her verdant wake. Suddenly the ground dropped away and Sethos found himself skidding and sliding down the embankment of a deep ravine in a cloud of dry forest litter. As he scrambled to arrest his perilous descent, he finally caught sight of their quarry ahead.Its long, sinuous body was like that of a great weasel or otter, but the fangs that grew from its jaw reminded Sethos more of the great bloated tusk-seals he had seen in the frozen north. It held Ambrose in its maw, secure behind those fearsome teeth. The man struggled still, but before Sethos could guess at Ambrose’s fate, the beast had scrambled away around a bend in the ravine.“It’s trapped itself!” shouted Tsonia. "Hurry! Before it finds purchase to climb out again!“Sethos found it easier to follow the rocky gorge at speed. In the dim depths, the brush was not so dense, and he frequently spotted their prey trying in vain to escape back to the jungle coverage above. But the chasm narrowed. Sethos caught glimpses of Ambrose tucking himself tightly around the great saber-toothed snout to avoid being battered against the steeply sloping walls.Cornered by the contracting ravine, the great beast made one last desperate attempt to climb to its freedom, claws scrabbling against the loose dirt and mulch, Tsonia’s axe still lodged in its flank. Failing, it floundered back to the bottom and turned on its pursuers, hissing.Ambrose pounded the brute’s snout with his fists, but the creature shook him violently until Ambrose was forced to relent. He seemed to almost slump in the beast’s jaws, as if his very strength drained away."Stand your ground here and don’t let it flee,” Tsonia warned. Montu and Sethos flanked the warrior, swords at the ready, penning the great creature in. “It will have to drop Ambrose if it wants to fight.”“Here,” offered Sethos, "Take my blade.“With his blade in hand, Tsonia charged the beast, dropping low at the last moment to avoid a swipe of its giant paw. It was evident to Sethos that she sought to attack the monster’s flank and avoid any strike that might injure Ambrose, but the beast was too nimble, its long body turning and shifting and always keeping its snarling gaze on its foe.A distraction was called for."Montu, my brother, stand ready if it should flee,” Sethos instructed as he knelt down to pick up a pair of good-sized stones from those scattered at his feet. “Joras, help me draw its attention, To the left, ready?”“Yes, I see,” Joras confirmed, laying aside his pack and spade and picking up a pair of stones as well.The pair let fly with their stones, pelting the great beast’s shoulder and ample side. It turned, growling at them, and with no hesitation, Tsonia seized her opening. The curved blade drew a gash along the creature’s right side. It was no killing blow, but Tsonia clearly had a more immediate goal. As Sethos and Joras rearmed themselves, Tsonia snatched the embedded axe from the creature’s hide, ripping it out with a gout of flesh and blood.The mighty beast screamed in agony, dropping Ambrose, and wheeled on its tormentor with ivory blades. As Sethos and Joras let fly a second volley, Tsonia hacked at its tusk with the axe and drew a slash across the giant weasel’s flaring snout.The creature recoiled in pain, and decided it had had enough.Charging like a coiled spring the creature burst past Montu, who set his blade and raked the beast’s long flank as it passed. Sethos and Joras could only press themselves flat against the walls of the canyon to avoid being smashed by the careening hulk as it fled.“I am beginning to hate this place,” Ambrose quipped as Joras helped him to his feet. He was shaken, battered and scratched, but not seriously harmed. Sethos supposed the giant saber-toothed weasel had meant to carry Ambrose back to feed to its young.“The trails are far behind us now,” Tsonia observed, “and I don’t like our chances of finding our way back. I suggest that if we cannot track Kelgore, we make for high ground and get the lay of the land. Perhaps we can spot something useful.”This course of action sounded reasonable. Sethos and Montu nodded their agreement.“That sounds like quite a climb,” Joras objected. “Perhaps we should call it a day and let Ambrose rest. We only have a few hours of daylight left to find shelter.”Reluctantly their fire-haired leader agreed. “Let’s at least find a way out of this ravine then. I don’t want to get caught in a flood if there’s rain.”Ambrose had managed to spark a fire while the others scavenged in the gloaming twilight. The worst of his wounds had been swaddled in bright orange bandages torn from Joras’s cloak. The crude lean-to that Montu and Sethos had built had kept most of the brief rain off of him, but he was still damp and sweaty and miserable. His tunic dried by the fire as he fed damp punk wood into the flames.In the distance, the drums continued, and not for the first time, Ambrose wished they would stop. He considered unbinding the old witch’s head, just to have a voice to listen to other than the incessant beat of the drums. He was sure that sound would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his days.Before Ambrose’s misery could drive him to foolishness, Montu emerged, hacking through the foliage with his sword.“Well done keeping this fire alight through the rain,” Montu called. “The smell of smoke led us right back to you.”“We’ll not go hungry tonight, at least,” called Sethos from behind Montu. He held up a pair of large birds by their feet.“I’m glad you’re back before dark,” Ambrose replied without standing. “Come and dry those wet clothes by the fire. I’m worried about what rot and disease might find us without good, healthy sea air.”“The humidity is bothersome, isn’t it?” agreed Montu, removing his tunic and spreading it out to dry in the fire’s smokey heat. Sethos crawled into the lean-to in search of a knife to butcher their meat. “The drums are bothersome, too,” he added.“Did you spot a drummer, like you hoped?”“No,” Montu shook his head. “No sign of man nor beast-man. The drums fell silent as we approached. They’re watching us, I think.”“Of course they’re watching us,” Ambrose snapped. "But why? That’s the question.“"Perhaps they fear this,” Sethos said, emerging from the lean-to with the witch’s severed head in his hands.“Put that back!" Ambrose growled. Shala’s eyes locked on his and he felt for a moment as if his very soul shriveled under her gaze. He turned away. "I don’t want to look at her.”“Then we should cast it into your fire and be rid of it,” Sethos argued.“She claims her magic can bring us home,” Ambrose objected.“And you believe her?” Montu asked, snatching the grotesque thing from Sethos, holding it at eye level and staring defiantly into Shala’s scowl.“I don’t know,” Ambrose answered, his eyes fixed on the throbbing heart of the campfire. “I don’t want to, but I fear there may be no alternative, I don’t want to die here, But I’m sure there would be a terrible price for her help.”“Let’s ask her then!” Montu proposed with a laugh. “Tell us old woman, what would it cost us for your magic to take us all home?” He began to unfasten the gag that held Shala in silence.“No, stop!” Sethos objected and reached to grab the witch’s head back from his blood-brother.Ambrose flinched at the sudden flurry of recklessness. Montu, balancing the head in one hand, tried to jerk it away with a good-natured laugh. For a moment they fumbled Shala’s severed head between them, and Ambrose pushed himself back away from their roughhousing, his injured hand throbbing with the memory of his own carelessness. It looked for a moment as if Montu would yield to his wiser brother, but then Sethos suddenly yanked his hand back, leaving Montu with the prize.“Shit! The bitch bit my finger!” he cried, shaking the pain from his injured hand. “She drew blood.”“Traitor! Deserter! Mutineer!” spat Shala, as Montu dropped her to the ground to save his own hands. "Addle-brained Turncoat! Pox-ridden bastard son of a drooling whore!“Sethos found the gag and pressed the wooden bit back between her teeth."Does it ever say anything useful, or just hurl insults?” Montu asked as he helped tightened the gag back in place.Ambrose thought about it. The witch had been more forthcoming after Tsonia had first recovered her. He wondered if perhaps her mind was beginning to rot. Of course, if he’d been bound up the way she had, he wouldn’t be in a very helpful mood either. He was still considering how to answer Montu’s question when his former shipmate looked up with a start.“Hullo!” called a familiar voice from out of the brush. “Ambrose?”“It’s Tsonia and Joras,” Montu hissed. “Put it back,” he urged Sethos, forcing the gagged witch into his blood-brother’s hands “Quick! Quick, put it back!”“Here,” called Ambrose as Sethos scurried inside. "This way.“"I wish you wouldn’t make such a racket,” Ambrose heard Tsonia admonish Joras as she hacked their way into the campsite.“I’m pretty sure everyone already knows right where we are,” Joras countered, gesturing to the ever-present drumming that surrounded them day and night. “Did you have any luck?”“Two fine birds for dinner,” replied Montu, standing up and drawing the eyes of the newcomers. Ambrose recognized the ploy and scooted over to block their view of Sethos and the lean-to. "How about you?“"Not so much I’m afraid,” Joras replied. "A pair of breadfruits and an armload of dry hanging deadwood for the fire.“"That’s alright then,” said Sethos, crawling back out of the lean-to with what Ambrose considered forced nonchalance. “We’ll eat well, dry our clothes and be on our way in the morning.”The next morning, the party left their camp site, bleary-eyed, short-tempered and hardly rested. At least they had a bellyful of food, to grant them energy for another sweat-drenched hike through tangled vines under the wide-brimmed, leafy canopy.Sethos slid down a tree. “The volcano is that way,” he said, pointing. “There is no sign of a trail through all this damned tree cover.”“It was much easier walking than having to hack our way through the undergrowth,” Ambrose complained, massaging his ankle.“Can you still walk?” Montu snapped. “Or should we carry you?”“I think I have a few more miles in me,” Ambrose said, pulling himself up to his full height again. “Let us find some fresh water and a more defensible position before we settle down for the night.”“I’ve seen a clearing not far from here,” Sethos said. “With any luck we might find a spring or a stream there.”Tsonia again took the lead and they set out, soon swallowed by the deep viridian shadows of the jungle. The men were growing testy. The maddening noise of wildlife and the rolling of the natives’ drums was even beginning to wear on her nerves. The air was hot and humid, almost as tiring as the act of marching through the gloom. The stench of rotting vegetation was all-encompassing.The ground, Tsonia noticed, thus far stable enough save for hidden vines and air roots poised to trip them up, became more and more soggy. Rivulets of water glinted, highlighted by the few errant shafts of late afternoon sun which managed to pierce the emerald canopy overhead.And then the endless gloom brightened as the jungle thinned ahead of them. The clearing was nigh!Tsonia stopped abruptly, causing Joras to nearly bump into her. The artist swayed to the side, a shocked yell tearing from his lips. Ahead, wound around a thick, spiked pole, someone had left a skeleton, its skull painted a ghastly red and the arms spread along a crossbeam.“What is this?” Joras gasped.“Seems to be some kind of totem,” Ambrose guessed, mopping thick beads of sweat off his forehead. “Maybe the natives use it to mark their territory?”“I wish they’d use signposts, like civilized people,” Joras muttered. "Gave me a righteous scare.“Tsonia crouched, her blade at hand, her eyes scouring the ground sucking at her feet. "No tracks. No sign of a worn path.”“Why put up this ghastly marker then?” Joras wondered.Ambrose examined the body. “What do the natives look like?” he wondered.“Large, monstrous. Heads which look more like animals than human,” Tsonia said. “Why do you ask?”“Don’t you see? There’s nothing monstrous about the skull. They must have found a human and put him here.”Tsonia traced her fingers over the skull, noticing the cracks and pits in the bone. “That’s too old and weather-beaten to be a fresh kill.”“So we’re not the first humans to maroon on these shores,” Joras said. “Maybe there is a settlement somewhere? And ships to take us back home?” His eyes gleamed with renewed hope, echoed by Montu and Sethos. The sailors slapped their shoulders in silent jubilation.“We need directions,” Tsonia admitted. “First we learn more about the lay of the land. Then we find the natives and Kelgore.”The warrior pushed past the grisly totem, resuming their trek. She had taken only a dozen steps when a guttural noise came from the pack.“Quiet you,” Tsonia snapped. The unliving witch inside answered with another growl. Whatever she wanted was turned into gibberish by the wood secured between her teeth.“Maybe we should find out what’s irking her,” Ambrose suggested.“I’ll not suffer more of her insults,” Tsonia growled. “I’ve had more than enough of that already.” She slapped the pack. “You only speak when spoken to, you hear?”A spiteful grunt was her answer. Satisfied with it, Tsonia headed towards the vestiges of daylight breaking through the gaps between the towering trees. Ambrose and Joras were right behind her.“Ishtar’s tits,” Tsonia cursed, stopping just shy of the last trees. “That’s not the kind of water we need.”Ambrose joined her, blinking at the radiance assaulting his eyes. The clearing was vast, and covered almost entirely in swampy, brackish water. Misshapen trees grew from tiny islands like mutilated appendages of a submerged giant. Like diaphanous clouds with vile intent, large swarms of bloodthirsty insects lazily drifted over the stagnant pool, their droning buzz heralding naught but agony should they find soft, exposed flesh. The first breeze they’d felt in hours greeted them, but it carried a hellish stench, like rank, rotting eggs.“Sulphur,” Joras said, indicating the distant volcano visible above the tree line at last. “The volcano’s influence must reach all the way here.”The pack groaned. There was the hair-raising sound of teeth scoring salt-encrusted wood.Tsonia grabbed the pack and held it at eye level, her gaze lancing into one of Shala’s eyes, barely visible behind a clump of rodent fur. “I’ve had it with your noises, woman,” she hissed. “One more gasp, growl or moan and I’ll toss you into the depths of the swamp. Do you understand?”A noise, almost a word, made it past the gag. Tsonia tossed the pack over her shoulder again. “Good.”She cast a long, troubled gaze around the swamp and tried to judge the distance to the volcano’s rising foothills on the far side. The plume of smoke rising into the evening sky seemed almost sinister in the fading light of dusk.“Crossing this pit will be slow and messy. Who knows what kind of beasts are lurking under the surface.” She scowled at a swarm of insects drifting close. “And I don’t fancy being bitten by those bloodsuckers. Even if it takes us longer, we should walk along the edge.”The sun had long ago fallen below the horizon and still they trudged along the edge of the swamp, looking for a spot of dry land to set up camp. They came across another totem, this one built from human bones as well and still, their purpose eluded them. Exhausted, tired and riddled with insect bites, they struggled on.Montu cast uneasy glances to the side, noting the strange lights flickering under the surface of the swamp and the thick fog obscuring their already limited vision.He had been born and raised in the Green Cities, surrounded by endless deserts. The jungle, the swamp, all teeming with murderous life, was utterly alien to him. He didn’t know if swamps were supposed to glow like that. He glanced towards his blood brother Sethos, but the Xhastrian seemed as uneasy as he was, grasping the heft of his axe with white-knuckled intensity. The captain, no, Ambrose!, cursed and stumbled, the treacherous ground grasping his already weakened leg. Joras easily caught and steadied him.“If we don’t find a safe place soon, this swamp will be my grave,” Ambrose grumbled.A hollow groan answered him, loud enough to be heard over the ever-rumbling drums. And then another. And a third.Montu raised his sword and cast his gaze about. The sounds had come from the swamp, but try as he might, he didn’t spot anything awry.Tsonia, blade in hand, whirled on her heel. “This is not the time for idle jests!” she snapped.There was a strange, sucking noise, of something being dragged across the muddy ground. Montu caught movement at the edge of his vision. There, cast in sharp relief against the sickening glow of the swamp, he saw an arm rise and fall, hand curled into a claw. The arm ended in a body crawling along the ground. Sightless, milky eyes rolled in a devastated skull, the jaw frantically snapping.Another shape shambled close, this one’s rotted limbs swaying in an unsteady gait. And there were yet more, rising from the swamp, dozens of unliving nightmares coming to haunt the living.“Away from the water,” Tsonia ordered. "Before they cut off every escape!“"If it’s not too late already,” Sethos growled, swinging his axe. “They’re everywhere!” The heavy blade split a skull like rotted kindling. Still, a clawed hand grazed the Xhastrian’s shoulder as the body crumpled, tearing a gash into his dark skin. Montu swung his sword as well, beheading the crawler at his feet. Ambrose, Tsonia and even Joras swung sword and axe and spade, trying to stem the tide of shambling bodies slowly, inexorably encircling them.A hand closed around Montu’s ankle, sharp, filthy claws digging into his skin. He stumbled backwards, escaping the second hand slicing downwards by sheer dumb luck. The headless body at his feet still writhed, still sought to tear him apart. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Montu bent low and tore the clammy hand from his leg. Sethos’ axe came down, shattering the undead thing’s spine. At last, the body stopped moving.“Thank you, brother,” Montu said.Sethos gasped in protest. Hot blood fountained, spattering across Montu’s face and chest. Another corpse grasped Sethos from behind, claws like iron vises around the Xhastrian’s arms, teeth tearing at soft tissue. The Xhastrian moaned and staggered, trying to dislodge the monster frantically gnawing at his throat. The axe fell from his fingers.Montu used the heavy pommel of his sword, slamming it into the stinking head until the thing stopped tearing at Sethos’s neck. His blood brother was alive, just, his breath a sick, wet gurgling.“No, don’t die,” Montu whispered.Sethos raised his hand, a flick of a gesture to the rear.Before Montu could turn, a heavy weight fell on him from behind, toppling him onto the gasping Sethos. Razor-like claws tore into Montu’s back, sharp teeth sunk into his calves and shoulders. More and more bodies piled onto him, robbing him of the air to scream for help.Whimpering helplessly, his face caked in his brother’s blood, Montu died, torn asunder by the ravenous horde.T'pek shook his head. The fools had left the trails and ignored the totems. Every whelp of the tribe knew to give the red bones a wide berth. The elders had the grisly warnings placed for a reason after all. The swamp was forbidden, the final resting place of all convicted criminals, be they tribesmen or outsiders. Only, ever since they had tossed that witch into it years ago, the corpses would not stay dead. His keen eyes easily pierced the gloom and his nostrils caught the rancid stench of the swamp-borne dead as they poured from the waters.He had seen the dead walk twice, once as a dare when he still was a stupid, reckless whelp and now for a second time, while watching these curious outsiders blunder through the Hunting Grounds. While the other members of his hunting party couldn’t wait to boast of their catch in front of the females and elders, T'pek knew that patience would bring much greater gain.And unlike his younger kin, he knew a few words of the outsider tongue, gleaned from the flamboyantly clad traders who had come to the village once and never left or those lost souls that had been picked off the beach over the years.He would challenge this fire-headed female in her own tongue. She would accept, and then she would yield to him once beaten. His pack mates had been younger and quicker, but T'pek was a shrewd old hunter, invisible unless he wanted to be seen and gifted with years of experience.There was a distinct stirring from his loins. That fire-headed female was strong and fierce. Other hunters would scoff at her lack of caution the mighty jungle demanded, but T'pek had seen her grow and adapt already. Not even her lack of fur dampened his lust for her. She would give birth to powerful whelps and he would make sure she would do so often. To make his heated wish come true, T'pek needed to throw the ravenous dead off her trail first.From his perch in a holy kalupa tree, he spotted one of the thick-skinned swamp dwellers, docile plant-eaters renowned for their tender meat and fierce tempers once angered. Their fragrant blood made for good bait and he knew they would run away from any danger.T'pek pulled a sharp-edged sling stone from his pouch, a serrated, triangular flint perfect for piercing thick hide and cracking skulls. He nestled the projectile into his sling and, easily balancing on the thick branch he’d been sitting on, let fly. The jagged missile hit the swamp-dweller’s arse, carving a deep gash into its hide. Braying madly, the ponderous beast thundered forwards, blood mingling with water.T'pek bared his teeth in a feral grin. He could see the dead horde falter, the stragglers swerving to track the fresh bait. More and more stumbled back into the swamp, eager to latch on to the fresh source of blood like the wicked snapperfish infesting the White River which had torn apart his first mate.If she was as strong as he hoped, the fire-headed female would now be able to make a clean break from the dead.He settled back on his haunches and resumed his vigil. The hunt was far from over.To be continued in Part 3.By Blind_Justice & Loqui Sordida for Literotica.

AWS Community Builder Shala Warner at re:Invent 2023!

amazon study deep dive cloud technical warner certification aws reinvent azure invent vmware virtualization study group shala virtualisation aws community builder

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 18, 2023 2:59

This year at AWS re:Invent we are going to interview conference attendees, AWS Heroes, and AWS employees. We're asking them what they are excited about at re:Invent and what they are working on! Join us to hear the answer to these questions from some of the top minds in the industry!!! Resources: https://www.linkedin.com/in/giftedlane/ https://twitter.com/GiftedLane https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC_qpgVCE35WQ1_ga9Gy1FSg Intro music attribution: Artist - MaxKoMusic

When OCD and PTSD Collide (with Shala Nicely & Caitlin Pinciotti) | Ep. 362

Dave & Jenn in the Morning

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 17, 2023 42:52

Kimberley: Welcome, everybody. This is a very exciting episode. I know I'm going to learn so much. Today, we have Caitlin Pinciotti and Shala Nicely, and we're talking about when OCD and PTSD collide and intertwine and how that plays out. This is actually a topic I think we need to talk about more. Welcome, Caitlin, and welcome, Shala. Caitlin: Thank you. Shala: Thanks. Kimberley: Okay. Let's first do a little introduction. Caitlin, would you like to go first introducing yourself? Caitlin: Sure thing. I'm Caitlin Pinciotti. I'm a licensed clinical psychologist and an assistant professor in the Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences at Baylor College of Medicine. I also serve as a co-chair for the IOCDF Trauma and PTSD and OCD SIG. If people are interested in that special interest group as well, that's something that's available and up and running now. Most of my research specifically focuses on OCD, trauma, and PTSD, and particularly the overlap of these things. That's been sort of my focus for the last several years. I'm excited to be here and talk more about this topic. Kimberley: Thank you. You're doing amazing work. I've loved being a part of just watching all of this great research that you're doing. Shala, would you like to introduce yourself? Shala: Yes. I'm Shala Nicely. I am a licensed professional counselor, and I specialize in the treatment of OCD and related disorders. I am the author of Is Fred in the Refrigerator?: Taming OCD and Reclaiming My Life, which is my story, and then co-author with Jon Hershfield of Everyday Mindfulness for OCD: Tips, Tricks, and Skills for Living Joyfully. I also produce the Shoulders Back! newsletter. It has tips and resources for taming OCD. Kimberley: Shoulders Back! was actually the inspiration for this episode. Shala, you recently wrote an article about post-traumatic OCD or how PTSD and OCD collide. Can you tell us about your story, particularly going back to, I think you mentioned, May 2020, and what brought you to write that article? Shala: Sure, and thank you very much for having Caitlin and me on today because I really appreciate the opportunity to talk about this and to get more information out in the world about this intertwined combination of PTSD and OCD. In May of 2020, I moved to a new house, the house that I'm in now. Of course, we had just started the pandemic, and so everybody was working at home, including me. The house that I moved into was in a brand new neighborhood. While the houses on this side of me were completed, the houses behind me and on that side were not completed. I didn't think anything of that when I moved in. But what I moved into was a situation where I was in a construction zone all the time. I was working at home, so there was no escape from it. One day I was walking behind my house, where most of the houses were in the process of being built and there were no sidewalks. As I was walking down the street, I saw, down at the end of the street, a big forklift come down the street where I was walking with my two little dogs backwards at a really high rate of speed, and the forklift driver seemed to be looking that way, and he was going that way. It happened so fast because he was going so quickly that all of a sudden I realized he was going to hit us, my dogs and me, and there was no place for us to go because we were on the road because there was nowhere else for us to be. I screamed bloody murder, and he heard me. I mean, that's how loud I screamed, and he stopped. That was not all that pleasant. I was upset. He was not happy. But we moved on. But my brain didn't move on. After that incident, what I noticed was I was becoming really hypervigilant in my own house and finding the construction equipment. If I go outside, I tense up just knowing that construction equipment is there. Over time, my sleep started becoming disturbed. I started to have flashbacks and what I call flash-forwards, where I would think about all these horrible things that could happen to me that hadn't happened to me yet but could. I'd get lost in these violent fantasies of what might happen and what I need to do to prevent that. I realized that I seemed to be developing symptoms of PTSD. This is where being a therapist was actually quite helpful because I pulled the DSM open one night and I started going through symptoms of PTSD. I'm like, “Oh my gosh, I think I have PTSD.” I think what happened, because having a forklift driver almost hit you, doesn't seem like that could possibly cause PTSD. But if you look at my history, I think that created a link in my brain to an accident I was in when I was four where I did almost die, which is when my mom and I were standing on the side of a road, about to cross. We were going to go between two parked cars. My mom and I stepped between two parked cars, and there was a man driving down the road who was legally blind, and he mistook the line of parked cars where we were standing as moving traffic. He plowed into the end of all the parked cars, which of course made them accordion in, and my mom and I were in the middle of that. I was very seriously injured and probably almost died. My mom was, too. Several months in the hospital, all of that. Of course, at that point—that was 1975—there was no PTSD, because I think— Caitlin, you can correct me—it didn't become a diagnosis until 1980. I have had symptoms—small, low-level symptoms of PTSD probably on and off most of my life, but so low-level, not diagnosable, and not really causing any sort of problems. But I think what happened in my head was that when that forklift almost hit me, it made my brain think, “Oh my gosh, we're in that situation again,” because the forklift was huge. It was the same scale to me as an adult as that car that I was crushed between was when I was four. I think my brain just got confused. Because I was stuck with this construction equipment all day long and I didn't get any break from it, it just made my brain think more and more and more, “Boy, we are really in danger.” Our lives are basically threatened all the time. That began my journey of figuring out what was going on with me and then also trying to understand why my OCD seemed to be getting worse and jumping in to help because I seemed to get all these compulsions that were designed to keep me safe from this construction equipment. It created a process where I was trying to figure out, "What is this? I've got both PTSD now, I've got OCD flaring up, how do I deal with this? What do I do?" The reason why I wanted to write the article for Shoulders Back! and why I asked Caitlin to write it with me was because there just isn't a lot of information out there about this combination where people have PTSD or some sort of trauma, and then the OCD jumps in to help. Now you've got a combination of disorders where you've got trauma or PTSD and OCD, and they're merging together to try to protect you. That's what they think they're doing. They're trying to help you stay safe, but really, what they're doing is they're making your life smaller and smaller and smaller. I wanted to write this article for Shoulders Back! to let people know about my experience so that other people going through this aren't alone. I wanted to ask Caitlin to write it with me because I wanted an expert in this to talk about what it is, how we treat it, what hope do we have for people who are experiencing this going forward. THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN OCD AND PTSD (AND POST-TRAUMATIC OCD) Kimberley: Thank you for sharing that. I do encourage people; I'll link in the show notes if they want to go and read the article as well. Caitlin, from a clinical perspective, what was going on for Shala? Can you break down the differences between OCD and PTSD and what's happening to her? Caitlin: Sure. First, I want to start by thanking Shala again for sharing that story. I know you and I talked about this one-on-one, but I think really sharing personal stories like that obviously involves a lot of courage and vulnerability. It's just so helpful for people to hear examples and to really resonate with, “Wow, maybe I'm not so different or so alone. I thought I was the only one who had experiences like this.” I just want to publicly thank you again for writing that blog and being willing to share these really horrible experiences that you had. In terms of how we would look at this clinically, it's not uncommon for people to, like Shala described, experience trauma and have these low-level symptoms for a while that don't really emerge or don't really reach the threshold of being diagnosable. This can happen, for example, with veterans who return home from war, and it might not be until decades later that they have some sort of significant life event or change. Maybe they've retired, or they're experiencing more stress, or maybe, like Shala, they're experiencing another trauma, and it just brings everything up. This kind of delayed onset of PTSD is, for sure, not abnormal. In this case, it sounds like, just like Shala described, that her OCD really latched onto the trauma, that she had these experiences that reinforced each other. Right now, I've had two experiences where being around moving vehicles has been really dangerous for me. Just like you said, I think you did such a beautiful job of saying that the OCD and PTSD colluded in a way to keep you “safe.” That's the function of it. But of course, we know that those things go to the extreme and can make our lives very small and very distressing. What Shala described about using these compulsions to try to prevent future trauma is something that we see a lot in people who have comorbid OCD and PTSD. We're doing some research now on the different ways that OCD and trauma can intersect. And that's something that keeps coming up as people say, “I engaged in these compulsions as a way to try to prevent the trauma from happening to me again or happening to someone else. Or maybe my compulsions gave me a sense of control, predictability, or certainty about something related to the trauma.” This kind of presentation of OCD sort of functioning as protection against trauma or coping with past trauma as well is really common. STATISTICS OF OCD AND PTSD Kimberley: Would you share a little bit about the statistics between OCD and PTSD and the overlap? Caitlin: Absolutely. I'm excited to share this too, because so much of this work is so recent, and I'm hopeful that it's really going to transform the way that we see the relationships between OCD and PTSD. We know that around 60% of people who have comorbid OCD and PTSD tend to have an experience where PTSD comes first or at the same time, and the OCD comes later. This is sort of that post-traumatic OCD presentation that we're talking about and that Shala talked about in her article. For folks who have this presentation where the PTSD comes first and then the OCD comes along afterwards, unfortunately, we see that those folks tend to have more severe obsessions, more severe compulsions. They're more likely to struggle with suicidality or to have comorbid agoraphobia or panic disorders. Generally speaking, we see a more severe presentation when the OCD comes after the PTSD and trauma, which is likely indicative of what we're discussing, which is that when the OCD develops as a way to cope with trauma, it takes on a mind of its own and can be really severe because it's serving multiple functions in that way. What we've been finding in our recent research—and if folks want to participate, the study will still be active for the next month; we're going to end it at the end of the year, the OCD and Trauma Overlap Study—what we're finding is that of the folks who've participated in the study, 85% of them feel like there's some sort of overlap between their OCD and trauma. Of course, there are lots of different ways that OCD and trauma can overlap. I published a paper previously where we found that about 45% of people with severe OCD in a residential program felt that a traumatic or stressful event was the direct cause of their OCD on setting. But beyond that, we know that OCD and trauma can intersect in terms of the content of obsessions, the function of compulsions, as we've been talking about here, core fears. Some folks describe this, and Shala described this to this, like cyclical relationship where when one thing gets triggered, the other thing gets triggered too. This is really where a lot of the research is focusing on now, is how do these things intersect, how often do they intersect, and what does that really look like for people? Kimberley: Thanks. I found in my practice, for people who have had a traumatic event, as exactly what happened to Shala, and I actually would love for both of you maybe to give some other examples of how this looks for people and how it may be experienced, is let's say the person that was involved in the traumatic event or that place that the traumatic event was recent that recently was revisited just like Shala. Some of them go to doing safety behaviors around that person, place, or event, or they might just notice an uptick in their compulsions that may have completely nothing to do with that. Shala, can you explain a little bit about how you differentiated between what are PTSD symptoms versus OCD, or do you consider them very, very similar? Can you give some insight into that? SYMPTOMS OF OCD & PTSD Shala: Sure. I'll give some examples of the symptoms of OCD that developed after this PTSD developed, but it's all post-traumatic OCDs. I consider it to be different from PTSD, but it is merged with PTSD because it's only there because the PTSD is there. For instance, I developed a lot of checking behaviors around the doors to my house—staring, touching, not able to just look once before I go to bed, had to be positively sure the doors were locked, which, as somebody who does this for a living, who helps people stop doing these compulsions, created a decent amount of shame for me too, as I'm doing these compulsions and saying, “Why am I not taking my own advice here? Why am I getting stuck doing this?” But my OCD thought that the construction equipment was outside; we're inside. We need to make sure it stays outside. The only way we do that is to make sure the door stays locked, which is ridiculous. It's not as if a forklift is going to drive through my front door. As typical with OCD, the compulsions don't make a lot of sense, but there's a loose link there. Another compulsion that I realized after a time was probably linked with PTSD is my people-pleasing, which I've always struggled with. In fact, Kimberley, you and I have done another podcast about people-pleasing, something I've worked really hard on over the years, but it really accelerated after this. I eventually figured out that that was a compulsion to keep people liking me so that they wouldn't attack me. That can be an OCD compulsion all by itself, but it was functioning to help the PTSD. Those would be two examples of compulsions that could be OCD compulsions on their own, but they would not have been there had the PTSD not been there. Kimberley: Caitlin, do you want to add anything about that from symptoms or how it might look and be experienced? Caitlin: Sure, yeah. I think it's spot on that there's this element of separation that we can piece apart. This feels a little bit more like OCD; this feels a little bit more like PTSD, but ultimately they're the same thing, or it's the same behavior. In my work, I usually try to, where I can, piece things apart clinically so that we can figure out what we should do with this particular response that you're having. When it comes to differentiating compulsions, OCD compulsions and PTSD safety behaviors, we can look towards both the presentation of the behavior as well as the function of it. In terms of presentation, I mean, we all know what compulsions can look like. They can be very rigid. There can be a set of rules that they have to be completed with. They're often characterized by a lot of doubting, like in Shala's case, the checking that, “Well, okay, I checked, but I'm not actually sure, so let me check one more time.” Whereas in PTSD, although it's possible for that to happen, those safety behaviors, usually, it's a little bit easier to disengage from. Once I feel like I've established a sense of safety, then I feel like I can disengage from that. There doesn't tend to be kind of that like rigidity and a set of rules or magical thinking that comes along with an OCD compulsion. In terms of the function, and this is where it gets a little bit murky with post-traumatic OCD, broadly speaking, the function of PTSD safety behaviors is to try to prevent trauma from occurring again in the future. Whereas OCD compulsions, generally speaking, are a way to obtain certainty about something or prevent some sort of feared catastrophe related to someone's obsession. But of course, when the OCD is functioning along with the PTSD to cope with trauma, to prevent future trauma, that gets a little bit murkier. In my work, like I said, I try to piece apart, are there elements of this that we can try to resist from more of an ERP OCD standpoint? If there's a set of rules or a specific way that you're checking the door, maybe we can work on reducing some of that while still having that PTSD perspective of being a little bit more lenient about weaning off safety behaviors over time. TREATMENT FOR OCD AND PTSD Kimberley: It's a perfect segue into us talking about the treatment here. Caitlin, could you maybe share the treatment options for these conditions, specifically post-traumatic OCD, but maybe in general, all three? Caitlin: Absolutely. The APA, a few years back, reviewed all the available literature on PTSD treatments, and they created this hierarchy of the treatments that have the most evidence base and went down from there. From their review of all the research that's been done, there were four treatments that emerged as being the most effective for PTSD. That would be broadly cognitive behavioral therapy and cognitive therapy. But then there are two treatments that have been specifically created to target PTSD, and that would be prolonged exposure or PE, and cognitive processing therapy or CBT. These all fall under the umbrella of CBT treatments, but they're just a little bit more specific in their approach. And then, of course, we know of ACT and EMDR and these other treatments that folks use as well. Those fall in the second tier, where there's a lot of evidence that those work for folks as well, but that top tier has the most evidence. These treatments can be used in combination with OCD treatments like ERP. There are different ways that folks can combine them. They can do full protocols of both. They could borrow aspects of some treatments, or they could choose to focus really on if there's a very clear primary diagnosis to treat that one first before moving on to the secondary diagnosis. TREATMENT EXAMPLES FOR POST-TRAUMATIC OCD Kimberley: Amazing. Shala, if you're comfortable, can you give some examples of what treatment looked like for you and what that was like for you both having OCD and PTOCD? Shala: Yes, and I think to set the ground for why the combined treatment working on the PTSD and the OCD together can be so important, a couple of features of how all this was presenting for me was the shift in the focus of the uncertainty. With OCD, it's all about an intolerance of uncertainty and not knowing whether these what-ifs that OCD is getting stuck on are true or going to happen. But what I noticed when I developed PTSD and then the OCD came in to help was that the focus of the uncertainty shifted to it's not what if it's going to happen. The only what-if is when it was going to happen because something bad happening became a given. The uncertainty shifted to only when and where that bad thing was going to happen, which meant that I had lower insight. I've always had pretty good insight into my OCD, even before I got treatment. Many people with OCD too, we know what we're doing doesn't make any sense; we just can't stop doing it. With this combined presentation, there was a part of me that was saying, “Yeah, I really do need to be staring at the door. This is really important to make sure I keep that construction equipment out.” That lowered insight is a feature of this combined presentation that I think makes the type of treatment that we do more important, because we want to address both of the drivers, both the PTSD and the OCD. The treatment that I did was in a staged process. First, I had to find a treatment provider, and Caitlin has a wonderful list of evidence-based treatment providers who can provide treatment for both on her website, which is great. I found somebody actually who ended up being on Caitlin's list and worked with that person, and she wanted to start out doing prolonged exposure, which I pushed back on a little bit. Sometimes when you're a therapist and you're being the client, it's hard not to get in the other person's chair. But I pushed back on that because I said, “Well, I don't think I need to do prolonged exposure on the original accident,” because that's what she was suggesting we do, the accident when I was four. I said, “Because I wrote a book, Is Fred in the Refrigerator? and the very first chapter is the accident,” and I talked all about the accident. She explained, “That's a little bit different than the way we would do it in prolonged exposure.” What's telling, I think, is that when I worked on the audiobook version of Fred—I was doing the narration, I was in a studio, and I had an engineer and a director; they were on one side of the glass, I'm on the other side of the glass—I had a really hard time getting through that first chapter of the book because I kept breaking down. They'd have to stop everything, and I had to get myself together, and we had to start again, and that happened over and over and over again. Even though I had relived, so to speak, this story on paper, I guess that was the problem. I was still reliving it. That's probably the right word. Prolonged exposure is what I needed to do because I needed to be able to be in the presence of that story and have it be a story in the past and not something that I was experiencing right then. I started with prolonged exposure. After I did that, I moved on to cognitive processing therapy because I had a lot of distorted beliefs around life and the trauma that we call “stuck points” in cognitive processing therapy that I needed to work through. There were a good 20 or so stuck-point beliefs. “If I don't treat people perfectly nicely, they're going to attack me somehow.” Things that could be related directly to the compulsions, but also just things like, “The world is dangerous. If I'm not vigilant all the time, something bad is going to happen to me.” I had to work on reframing all of those because I was living my life based on those beliefs, which was keeping the trauma going. I recreated a new set of beliefs and then brought exposure in to work on doing exposures that helped me act as if those new beliefs were the right way to live. If my stuck point is I need to be hypervigilant because of the way something bad is going to happen to me, and I'm walking around like this, which was not an exaggeration of really how I was living my life when this was all happening—if I'm living like that, if I'm acting in a hypervigilant way, I am reinforcing these beliefs. I need to go do exposures where I can walk by a dump truck without all the hypervigilance to let all that tension go, walk by it, realize what I've learned, and walk by it again. It was a combination of all these and making sure that I was doing these exposures, both to stop the compulsions I was doing, like the door checking, but also to start living in a different way so that I wasn't in my approach to life, reinforcing the fact that my PTSD thought the world was dangerous. I also incorporated some DBT (dialectical behavior therapy) because what I found with this combination was I was experiencing a lot more intense emotions than I'd really ever experienced in having OCD by itself. With OCD, it was mostly just out-of-this-world anxiety, but with the combination of PTSD and OCD, there were a lot more emotional swings of all sorts of different kinds that I needed to learn and had to deal with. Part of that too was just learning how to be in the presence of these PTSD symptoms, which are very physiological. Not like OCD symptoms aren't, but they tend to be somewhat more extreme, almost panicky-like feelings. When you're in the flashbacks or flash forwards, you can feel dissociated, and you're numbing out and all of that. I'm learning to be in the presence of those symptoms without reacting negatively to them, because if I'm having some sort of feelings of hypervigilance that are coming because I'm near a piece of construction equipment and I haven't practiced my ERP (Expsoure & Response Prevention) for a while, if I react negatively and say, “Oh my gosh, I shouldn't be having these symptoms. I've done my therapy. I shouldn't be having these feelings right now,” it's just going to make it worse. Really, a lot of this work on the emotional side was learning how to just be with the feelings. If I have symptoms, because they happen every now and then—if I have symptoms, then I'm accepting them. I'm not making them worse by a negative reaction to the reaction my PTSD is having. That was a lot of the tail end of the work, was learning how to be okay with the fact that sometimes you're going to have some PTSD symptoms, and that's okay. But overreacting to them is going to make it worse. Kimberley: Thank you so much for sharing that. I just want to maybe clarify for those who are listening. You talked about CPT, you talked about DBT, and you also talked about prolonged exposure. In the prolonged exposure, you were exposing yourself to the dump truck? Is that correct? Shala: In the prolonged exposure, I was doing two different things. One is the story of the accident that I was in. Going back to that accident that I thought I had fully habituated to through writing my book and doing all that, I had to learn how to be in the presence of that story without reliving it while seeing it as something that happened to me, but it's not happening to me right now. That was the imaginal part of the prolonged exposure. This is where the overlap between the disorders and the treatment can get confusing of what is part of what. You can do the in vivo exposure part of prolonged exposure. Those can also look a lot like just ERP for OCD, where we're going and we're standing beside a dump truck and dropping the hypervigilant safety behaviors because we need to be able to do that to prove to our brain we can tolerate being in this environment. It isn't a dangerous environment to stand by a jump truck. It's not what happened when I was four. Those are the two parts that we're looking at there—the imaginal exposure, which is the story, and then we've got the in vivo exposures, which are going back and being in the presence of triggers, and also from an OCD perspective without compulsive safety behaviors. Kimberley: Amazing. What I would clarify, but please any of you jump in just for the listeners, if this is all new to you, what we're not saying is, let's say if there was someone who was abusive to you as a child, that you would then expose yourself to them for the sake of getting better from your PTSD. I think the decisions you made on what to expose yourself were done with a therapist, Shala? They helped you make those decisions based on what was helpful and effective for you? Do either of you want to speak to what we do and what we don't expose ourselves to in prolonged exposure? Caitlin: Yeah. I'm glad that you're clarifying that too, because this is a big part of PE that is actually a little bit different from ERP. When somebody has experienced trauma, when they have PTSD, their internal alarm system just goes haywire. Just like in Shala's example, anything that serves as a reminder or a trigger of the trauma, the brain just automatically interprets as this thing is dangerous; I have to get away from it. In PE, a lot of what we're doing is helping people to recalibrate that internal alarm system so that they can better learn or relearn safe versus actual threat. When you're developing a hierarchy with someone in PE, you might have very explicit conversations about how safe is this exposure really, because we never want to put someone in a situation where they would be unsafe, such as, like you described, interacting with an abuser. In ERP, we'd probably be less likely to go through the exposures and say, “This one's actually safe; I want you to do it,” because so much of the treatment is about tolerating uncertainty about feared outcomes. But in PE, we might have these explicit conversations. “Do other people you know do this activity or go to this place in town?” There are probably construction sites that wouldn't be safe for Shala to go to. They'd be objectively dangerous, and we'd never have her go and do things that would put her in harm's way. Kimberley: Thank you. I just wanted to clarify on that, particularly for folks who are hearing this for the first time. I'm so grateful that we're having this conversation again. I think it's going to be so eye-opening for people. Caitlin, can you share any final words for the listeners? What resources would you encourage them to listen to? Is there anything that you feel we missed in our conversation today for the listeners? Caitlin: I think, generally, I like to always leave on a note of hope. Again, I'm so grateful that Shala is here and gets to describe her experience with such vulnerability because it gives hope that you can hear about someone who was at their worst, and maybe things felt hopeless in that moment. But she was able to access the help that she needed and use the tools that she had from her own training too, which helped, and really move through this. There isn't sort of a final point where it's like, “Okay, cool, I'm done. The trauma is never going to bother me again.” But it doesn't have to have that grip on your life any longer, and you don't need to rely on OCD to keep you safe from trauma. There are treatments out there that work. Like it was mentioned, I have a directory of OCD and PTSD treatment providers available on my website, which is www.cmpinciotti.com that folks can access if they're looking for a therapist. If you're a therapist listening and you believe that you belong in this directory, there's a way to reach out to me through the website. I'd also say too that if folks are willing and interested, participating in the research that's happening right now really helps us to understand OCD and PTSD better so that we can better support people. If you're interested in participating in the OCD and trauma study that I mentioned, you can email me at OCDTraumaStudy@bcm.edu. I also have another study that's more recent that will help to answer the question of how many people with OCD have experienced trauma and what are those more commonly endorsed ways that people feel that OCD and trauma intersect for them. That one's ultra-brief. It's a 10-minute really quick survey, NationalOCDSurvey@bcm.edu and I'm happy to share that anonymous link with you as well/ Kimberley: Thank you. Thank you so much. Shala, can you share any final words about your experience or what you want the listeners to hear? Shala: One thing I'd like to share is a mistake that I made as part of my recovery that I would love for other people not to make. I'd like to talk a little bit about that, because I think it could be helpful. The mistake that I made in trying to be a good client, a good therapy client, is I was micro-monitoring my recovery. “How many PTSD symptoms am I having? Well, I'm still having symptoms.” I woke up in the middle of the night in a panic, or I had a bad dream, or I had a flash forward. “Why am I having this? I must not be doing things right.” And then I took it a step further and said, “It would be great if I could track the physiological markers of my PTSD so I can make sure I'm keeping them under control.” I got a piece of tracking technology that enabled me to track heart rate and heart rate variability and sleep and all this stuff. At first, it was okay, but then the technology that I was using changed their algorithm, and all of a sudden my stats weren't good anymore, and I started freaking out. “Oh my gosh, my sleep is bad. My atrophy is going down. This is bad. What am I doing?” I was trying with the best of intentions to quantify, make sure I'm doing things right, focus on recovery. But what I was doing was focusing on the remaining symptoms that were there, and I was making them worse. What I have learned is that eventually, things got so bad—in fact, with my sleep—that I got so frustrated with the tracking technology. I said, “I'm not wearing it anymore.” That's one of the things that helped me realize what I was doing. When I stopped tracking my sleep, when I let go of all of this and said, “You know what? I'm going to have symptoms,” things got better. I would encourage people not to overthink their recovery, not to be in their heads and wake up in the morning and ask, “How much PTSD am I having? How much OCD am I having? If I could just get rid of these last little symptoms, life would be great,” because that's just going to keep everything going. I'll say this year, two has been a challenging one for me. I've been involved in three car accidents this year; none of them my fault. One of my neighbors, whom I don't know, called the police on me, thinking I was breaking into my own house, which meant that a whole army of police officers ended up at my house at nine o'clock at night. That's four pretty hard trauma triggers for me in 2023. Those kinds of things are going to happen to all of us every now and then. I had a lot of symptoms. I had a lot of PTSD symptoms and a lot of OCD symptoms in the wake of those events, and that's okay. It's not that I want them to be there, but that's just my brain reacting. That's my brain trying to come to terms with what happened and how safe we are and trying to get back to a level playing field. I think it's really important for anybody else out there who's suffering from one or the other, or both of these disorders to recognize we're going to have symptoms sometimes. Just like with OCD, you're going to have symptoms sometimes. It's okay. It's the pushing away. It's the rejecting of the symptoms. It's the shaming yourself for having the symptoms that causes the symptoms to get worse. Really, there is an element of self-compassion for OCD here. I like having bracelets to remind me. This is the self-compassion bracelet that I've had for years that I wear. By the way, this is not the tracking technology. I'm not using tracking technology anymore. But remembering self-compassion and telling yourself, “I'm having symptoms right now, and this is really hard. I'm anxious; I feel a little bit hypervigilant, but this is part of recovery from PTOCD. Most people with PTOCD experience this at some point. So I'm going to give myself a break, give myself permission to feel what I'm feeling, recognize how much progress I've made, and, when I feel ready, do some of my therapy homework to help me move past this, but in a nonhypervigilant, nonmicro monitoring way.” As I have dropped down into acceptance of these symptoms, my symptoms have gotten a lot better. I think that's a really important takeaway. Yes, we want to work hard in our therapy, yes, we want to do the homework, but we also want to work on accepting because, in the acceptance, we learn that having these symptoms sometimes is just a part of life, and it's okay. I would echo what Caitlin said in that you can have a ton of hope if you have these disorders, in that we have good treatment. Sometimes it takes a little bit longer than working on either one or the other, but that makes sense because you're working on two. But we have good treatment, and you can get back to living a joyful life. Always have hope and don't give up, because sometimes it can be a long road, especially when you have a combined presentation. But you can tame both of these disorders and reclaim your life. Kimberle: You guys are so good. I'm so grateful we got to do this. I feel like it's such an important conversation, and both of you bring such wonderful expertise and lived experience. I'm so grateful. Thank you both for coming on and talking about this with me today. I'm so grateful. Shala: Thank you for having us. Caitlin: Yes, thank you. This was wonderful. Kimberley: Thank you so much, guys. RESOURCES: The two studies CAITLIN referenced are: OCD/Trauma Overlap Study: An anonymous online survey for any adult who has ever experienced trauma, and can be accessed at https://bcmpsych.sjc1.qualtrics.com/jfe/form/SV_0j4ULJv3DxUaKtE or by emailing OCDTraumaStudy@bcm.edu National OCD Survey: An anonymous 10-minute online survey for any U.S. adult who has ever had OCD, and can be accessed at https://bcmpsych.sjc1.qualtrics.com/jfe/form/SV_9LdbaR2yrj0oV7g or by emailing NationalOCDSurvey@bcm.edu

The Shala in Huntington 11/16/23

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 16, 2023 4:20 Transcription Available

The Shala in Huntington 11/16/23

huntington shala

A Conversation with Shala Graham

Be. Make. Do.

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 14, 2023 53:03

"I think that if we are aware. We'll save ourselves and our clients our audience a whole lot of heartache if we just know where our boundaries are." In this episode, Lisa sits down with photographer and entrepreneur, Shala Graham. They'll talk about vision, branding & how boundaries help you find (and keep) the audiences you want to serve.https://www.shalaphotography.com/https://www.callingqualified.org/The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry: https://johnmarkcomer.com/newFor more Be. Make. Do. follow now on Apple, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts. https://tr.ee/Oi5UdgE702

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#GoodVibeTribe: Monday vibes

Adam and Allison Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 6, 2023 2:31

Jerry, Shala and Don all joined the Monday morning good vibe tribe!

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Using ChatGPT to Earn $20K a Month!! with Shala Warner

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Play Episode Listen Later Oct 21, 2023 65:16

Want to learn how you can start Using ChatGPT to Earn? Shala Warner is co-host of vBrownBag & a DevOps engineer for WWT. In this episode she walks through her process of using ChatGPT as a "Content Coach" to help her create her social media content as GiftedLane! Resources: https://events.giftedlane.com/links https://www.twitch.tv/giftedlane https://chat.openai.com/ https://excalidraw.com/ https://www.mediakits.com/ #chatgpt #ai #content #coach Intro music attribution: Artist - MaxKoMusic

“Small Stretches, Big Miracles” by Shala W. Graham

Encouragement for Today Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 18, 2023 5:24

In today's episode, you'll hear a devotion written by Shala W. Graham based on Luke 6:10, which says, “And after looking around at them all he said to him, ‘Stretch out your hand.' And he did so, and his hand was restored” (ESV).We hope today's devotion reminds you that God is trustworthy and He wants to work in your life through your small steps of obedience. Related Resources: For more from Proverbs 31 Ministries, head to our website at proverbs31.org, where you can subscribe to Encouragement for Today Devotions in written format, delivered to your inbox each weekday.To give you the direction you need to take your first small step of obedience, download the free resource, “What If the Next Big Step God Wants You To Take Is Actually Small? A Guide to Stepping Out in Faith.”If these short devotions are helpful to you, we'd love to know! Please consider leaving a written review on Apple Podcasts.Click here to read the transcript for this episode.We want to hear how this podcast has impacted you! Share your story with us here.

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Ep #157 Shawn Hood of Colour Design

Crash Cast

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 26, 2023 148:54

No explaining needed here folks. One of my best buds and lead singer of Colour Design just hanging out and promoting a very important show One for Shala. Also See why I don't drink whiskey anymore . Have a good laugh with us get a shot ready and cheers to one of the best people we ever knew. Links down below for all the goods. If you want behind the scenes and episodes 2 days early sign up for our Patreon it helps support the show in many ways. As always thank you for listening. Patreon https://www.patreon.com/crashcast YouTube https://www.youtube.com/c/crashcast Instagram https://www.instagram.com/crashcastpod/ Facebook https://www.facebook.com/crashcastpod Twitter https://twitter.com/crashcastpod1 Colour Design https://www.instagram.com/colourdesign501/ https://www.facebook.com/colourdesignar #music #podcast #crashcast

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OCD Isn't What We Think It Is

Inside Mental Health: A Psych Central Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 10, 2023 25:41

We've all seen depictions of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) in pop culture: characters like Sheldon Cooper from “The Big Bang Theory” or Detective Adrian Monk from “Monk.” Their compulsions are portrayed as annoying, but ultimately it just makes people with OCD appear quirky. However, those depictions don't even scratch the surface of what OCD really is. Imagine being obsessed with images of violence or death or being worried that you might actually be a bad person and are doomed to hell. Often, there is nothing cute or quirky about OCD in the real world. Join us as Shala Nicely, a woman who lives with OCD, explains the truth about OCD and shares the challenges it has caused in her life. To learn more -- or read the transcript -- please visit the episode page. Our guest, Shala Nicely, LPC, is the author of Is Fred in the Refrigerator? Taming OCD and Reclaiming My Life and coauthor with Jon Hershfield, MFT of Everyday Mindfulness for OCD: Tips, Tricks & Skills for Living Joyfully. She is a counselor and cognitive behavioral therapist in metro Atlanta, specializing in the treatment of OCD & related disorders and anxiety disorders. Shala produces the Shoulders Back! Tips & Resources for Taming OCD newsletter and blogs for Psychology Today, offering an inside perspective on life with OCD. She is currently working on her third book, a murder mystery called In Neptune's Orbit, about the true price of secrets we keep from ourselves. Our host, Gabe Howard, is an award-winning writer and speaker who lives with bipolar disorder. He is the author of the popular book, "Mental Illness is an Asshole and other Observations," available from Amazon; signed copies are also available directly from the author. Gabe makes his home in the suburbs of Columbus, Ohio. He lives with his supportive wife, Kendall, and a Miniature Schnauzer dog that he never wanted, but now can't imagine life without. To book Gabe for your next event or learn more about him, please visit gabehoward.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Shala Larson Talks South Dakota's "Becoming An Outdoor Woman" Program

Gone Outdoors

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 3, 2023 10:01

As the R3 Coordinator for South Dakota, Shala Larson is tasked with in Recruit, Retain and Reactivate initiatives for the state's outdoors. She joined Scott and Kyle to share some insight into an upcoming "Becoming An Outdoor Woman" event that focuses on these goals.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

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ERP Scripting (with Shala Nicely) | Ep. 340

Your Saltwater Guide Fishing Show

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 9, 2023 37:29

Today we are talking all about ERP Scripting with Shala Nicely. Welcome back, everybody. We are on Week 2 of the Imaginals and Script Series. This week, we have the amazing Shala Nicely on the show. She's been on before. She's one of my closest friends and I'm so honored to have her on. For those of you who are listening to this and haven't listened to any of the previous episodes, I do encourage you to go back to last week's episode because that is where we introduce the incredible Krista Reed and she talks about how to use scripts and imaginals. I give a more detailed intro to what we're here talking about if this is new for you. This will be a little bit of a steep learning curve if you're new to exposure and response prevention. Let me just quickly explain. I myself, I'm an ERP-trained therapist, I am an OCD Specialist, and a part of the treatment of OCD and OCD-related disorders involve exposing yourself to your fear and then practicing response prevention, which is reducing any of the safety behaviors or compulsions you do in effort to reduce or remove whatever discomfort or uncertainty that you feel. Now, often when we go to expose ourselves to certain things, we can't because they're not something we can face on a daily basis or they're often very creative things in our mind. This is where imaginals and scripts can come in and can be incredibly helpful. If you want a more detailed understanding of the steps that we take regarding ERP, you can go to CBTSchool.com, which is where we have all our online courses. There is a course called ERP School that will really do a lot of the back work in you really understanding today's session. You don't have to have taken the course to get the benefits of today's session because a lot of you I know already have had ERP or are in ERP as we speak, or your clinicians learning about ERP and I love that you're here. Honestly, it brings me so much joy. But that is there for you if you're completely lost on what's going on today, and that will help fill you in on the gold standard treatment for OCD and the evidence-based treatment for OCD and OCD-related disorders. That being said, let's get on with the good stuff. We have the amazing Shala Nicely. I am so honored again to have you on. You are going to love how applicable and useful her skills and tools are. Let's just get straight over to Shala. Kimberley: Welcome, Shala. I am so happy to have you back. I know we have a pretty direct agenda today to talk about imaginals versus scripting in your way in which you do it. I'd love to hear a little bit about, first, do you call it imaginals or do you call it scripting? Can you give me an example or a definition of what you consider them to be? SHALA'S STORY OF ERP SCRIPTING Shala: Sure. Well, thank you very much for having me on. Love to be here as always. I'll go back to how I learned about exposure when I first became a therapist. I learned about exposure being two different things. It was either in vivo exposure, so in life. Meaning, you go out and do the thing that your OCD is afraid of that you want to do, or it was imaginals where you imagine doing the thing that you want to do that your OCD is afraid to do. Research shows us that the in vivo is more effective, but sometimes imaginals is necessary because you can't go do the thing for whatever reason. But I don't think about it like that anymore. That's how I learned it, but it's not how I practice it. To help describe what I do, I'll take you back to when I had untreated OCD or when I was just learning how to do ERP for myself because I think that would help it make sense what I do. When I was doing ERP, I would obviously go out and do all the things that I wanted to do and my OCD didn't want me to do. What I found was that I could do those things, but my OCD was still in my head, getting me to have a conversation about what we were doing in my mind. I might go pick up a discarded Coke can on the side of the road because it's “contaminated,” and I would then go either put it in the trash, which would be another exposure because that would be not recycling. There are layers of exposures here. But my OCD could be in my head going, “Well, I don't think that one is contaminated. It doesn't look all that contaminated because it's pretty clean and this looks like a clean area so I'm sure it's not contaminated. What do you think, Shala?” “Oh, I agree with you.” “Well, we threw it away, but I bet you, these people, they're going to get wherever we threw it. They're actually going to sort it out and it's going to get recycled anyway.” There was this carnival in my head of information about what was going on. I determined what I was doing because I was doing the exposure, but I wasn't really getting all that much better. I was getting somewhat better but not all that much better. What I realized I was doing is that I'm having these conversations in my head, which are compulsive. In my recovery journey, what I was doing was I was going to a lot of trainings, I was reading a ton of books, and I talk about this in Is Fred in the Refrigerator?, my memoir, because this was a pretty pivotal moment for me when I read Dr. Jonathan Grayson's book, Freedom from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I know you're having him on this series as well. I read his book and he talks so much in there about writing scripts to deal with the OCD—writing scripts about what might happen, the worst-case scenario, living with uncertainty, and all that kind of stuff. That really resonated with me and I thought, “Aha, this is what I need to be doing. I need to be doing ERP scripting instead of having that conversation in my head with the OCD. Because when I'm doing exposure and I'm having a conversation with OCD in my head, I'm doing exposure and partial response prevention. I am preventing the physical response, but I'm not at all preventing the mental response, and this was slowing down my recovery.” The way I like to think of imaginals—you think about imagine like imagination—is that the way I do imaginal exposures, which I just call ERP scripting, is that I'm dealing with OCD's imagination. People with OCD are exceptionally creative. If you're listening to this and you think, “Well, not me,” for proof, all you have to do is look at what your OCD comes up with and look how creative it is. You guys share the same brain, therefore, you are creative too. All that creativity. When you have untreated OCD, it goes into coming up with these monstrous scenarios of how you're harming others or harming yourself. You're not ever going to be able to handle this anxiety or uncertainty or icky feeling or whatever, and it builds these scary stories that get us stuck. WHAT IS ERP SCRIPTING? What I'm trying to do with imaginal exposure or scripting is I'm trying to deal with OCD's imagination because in the example I gave, I was picking up the Coke can and my OCD was using its imagination to try to reassure me all the ways this Coke can was going to be okay or all the ways this Coke can was going to eventually get recycled. I needed to deal with that. Really, the way I do ERP Scripting for myself and for my clients is I'm helping people deal with OCD's imagination in a non-compulsive way. For me, it is not a choice of in vivo or imaginal; it is in vivo with imaginal, almost always, because most people that I see anyway are doing what I did. They are doing physical compulsions or avoidance and they're up in their head having a conversation with their OCD about it. I'm almost always doing in vivo and imaginals together because I'm having people approach the thing that they want to do that OCD doesn't want them to do, and I'm having them do scripts. The Coke can may or may not be contaminated. The fact that it's sitting here and it looks pretty clean may or may not mean that it's got invisible germs on it. I don't know. The Coke can may or may not get recycled, it may or may not end up in recycling, but somehow contaminate the whole recycling thing that has to throw all that other recycling away because it touched it. I'm trying to use my imagination to make it even worse for the OCD so that we're really facing these fears. That's how I conceptualize imaginal exposure. It's not an AND/OR it's an AND for me. Some people don't need it and if they don't need it, fine. But I find it's very helpful to make sure that people are doing full response prevention in that they're permitting both the physical and the mental compulsive response. DOES EVERYONE NEED ERP SCRIPTING? Kimberley: Does everyone need ERP scripting? When you say some people don't need it, what would the presentation of those people be? Shala: That for whatever reason, they are good at not having the conversation with OCD in their heads. This is the minority of people anyway that I work with. Most people are pretty good at having compulsive conversations with OCD because the longer you have untreated OCD, the more you end up taking your physical compulsions and pulling them inward and making the mental compulsion so that you can survive. If you can't really do all that physical checking at your office because people are going to see you, you do mental checking. That's certainly what I did. People become good at doing this stuff in their head and it becomes second nature. It can be going on. I talk about this a lot in Fred, I could do compulsions while I was doing anything else because I could do them in my head. Most people are doing that and most people have been doing that for long enough by the time they see somebody like me that if I just say, “Well, stop doing that,” I mean I'm never going to see them again. They're not going to come back because they can't stop doing that. That's the whole reason they called me. I'm giving them something else to do instead. It's a competing response to the mental compulsions because they don't know how to stop that. They're not aware of what they're doing, they don't know how to stop the process, so I'm giving them something to do instead of that until they build the mental muscles to be able to recognize OCD trying to get them to have a conversation and just not answer that question in their head. But it takes a long time to develop that skill. It took me a long time anyway. Some people, for whatever reason though, are good at that. If they don't need to do the scripting, great. I think that's wonderful. They don't have to do it. The strongest response you can ever have to OCD is to ignore it completely, both physically and mentally. If you can truly ignore it in your head, you don't even need to do the scripting. It's a stronger response to just do what you want to do that upsets OCD and just go on with your day. HOW TO DO ERP SCRIPTING? Kimberley: Amazing. So How do you do ERP Scripting? If you're not one of those people and OCD loves to come up with creative ideas of all the things, what would be your approach? You talked about imaginals versus scripting. Can you play out and show us how you do it? Shala: I mean, I guess imaginals in the traditional way that it is defined versus scripting. The way I would do it is we would design the client and I would design whatever their first exposure is going to be. Let's say that it would be touching doorknobs. They're going to be in their location and I'm going to be in my location. They're going to be wherever we've decided they're going to touch the doorknobs. Maybe it's to the outside of their house, for instance. I'm there on video with them and we have them touch the doorknob. And then I asked them, “Well, what is OCD saying about that?” “Well, OCD says that I need to go wash my hands.” I will say, “Well, are you going to go do that?” “No.” I'm like, “Well, let's tell OCD that.” “Okay, OCD, I'm not going to wash my hands.” “Now what's OCD saying?” “Well, OCD is saying that I'm contaminated.” “Well, let's say I may or may not be contaminated.” So far, we've got, “I'm not washing my hands and I may or may not be contaminated.” Okay, now I'll ask them their anxiety level. When they say, “Gosh, I'm at a four,” I'll say, “Is that good?” They'll often say, “No, I wish it were zero.” I'll be like, “I'm sorry, what? What did you say? You want your anxiety to be zero? I must have misheard that. Is four good?” Finally, they understand, “Oh, well, four is not good because we could be higher.” “What would be better than four?” “Anything above a four.” I'm working with them on that. We might start to throw some things in the script. I want to be anxious because this is how I beat my OCD, so bring it on. I'll ask again, “What's your OCD saying?” “Well, it's saying that I'm going to get some terrible disease.” “Well, you may not get a terrible disease.” I'm questioning back and forth the client as we're working on this, until we've got enough of a dialogue about what's going on in their head that we can then create a script. A script might look something like, “Well, I may or may not be contaminated. I may or may not get a dread disease, but I'm not washing my hands and I'm going to do this because I want my life back. It makes me anxious and I may or may not get a dread disease.” And then we'll focus in on what's bothering OCD most. Maybe it's, at the beginning, the dread disease. “Well, I may or may not get a drug disease. I may or may not get a dread disease. I may or may not get a dread disease. I may or may not get a dread disease.” We might sing it, we say it over and over and over and over and over again, and look for what the reaction from the OCD is. If the OCD is still upset, then we still go after that. If it starts moving, “Well, what's OCD saying now?” “Well, OCD is saying now that if I get a dread disease, then I won't be able to do this thing that I have coming up that I really want to do.” “Well, okay, I may or may not get a dread disease and I may or may not miss this important event as a result.” We add that in. We do that and do that and do that and do that for whatever the period is that we've decided is going to be our exposure period. And then we stop and then we talk about it. What did we learn? What was that like and what did you learn? Really focusing on how we did more than we thought we could do. We withstood more anxiety than we thought we could withstand. What did we learn about what the OCD is doing? I'm not so concerned about what the anxiety is doing. I mean, I want it to go up. That's my concern. I'm not all that concerned about whether it comes down or not. I do want it to go up. We talk about what we learned about the anxiety that gosh, you can push it up enough and you can handle a lot more than you thought you did. That would be our exposure. And then we would plan homework and then they would do that daily, hopefully. I have forms on my website that people can then send me their daily experience doing these exposures and I send them feedback on it, and that's what we're working on. We're working on doing the thing that OCD doesn't want you to do that you want to do, and then working on getting better and better at addressing all of the mental gymnastics in your head. Now, if somebody touches the doorknob and they're like, “Okay, I can do this,” and then their anxiety comes up and comes back down and they can do it without saying anything, great, go touch doorknobs. You don't need to do scripting. Often, I don't know if somebody needs to do that until we start working on it. If they don't need to do the scripting, great. We don't do the scripting. Makes things easier. But often people do need to. That's generally how I do it. Obviously, lots of variations on that based on what the client is experiencing. Kimberley: This is all thing, you're not writing it down. Again, when you go back to our original training, for me, it was a worksheet and you print it out, you'd fill out the prompts. Are you doing any of this written or is this a counter to the mental compulsions in your head? Shala: None of this is written. The only time I would write it out is after that first session. When you're really anxious, your prefrontal cortex isn't working all that well, so you may have trouble remembering what we did, remembering the specific things that we said, or pulling it up for yourself. When you're doing your exposure, you're so anxious. I might type out some of what we said, the main things, send it to the clients, and have that. But really to me, scripting is an interactive exercise and I want my clients to be listening to what the OCD is saying for the sole purpose of knowing what we're going to say. Because when we start doing exposure, what we're often trying to do is keep pace with the OCD because it's got a little imagination engine running and it's going to go crazy with all the things that it's going to come up with. We're trying to stay on that level and make sure we're meeting all its imagination with our own imagination. As we get better and better at this, then I'm teaching people how to one-up the OCD and how to get better than the OCD as it goes along. But it's a dynamic process. I don't have people read scripts because the script that we wrote was for what was going on whenever we wrote the script. Different things might be going on this time. What we're trying to do is listen to the OCD in a different way. I don't want people listening to it in a compulsive way. I want people listening to it in a, “I've got to understand my foe here and what my foe is upset about so I can use it against it.” That's what we're doing. There might be key things, little pieces we write down, but I'm not having people write and read it over and over. Now, there's nothing wrong with that. It's just not what I do. Everybody has a different way to approach this. This is just my way. Kimberley: Right. I was thinking as you were talking, in ERP School, I talk about the game of one-up and I actually do that game with clients before I do any scripting or imaginals or exposures too. They tell me what their fear is, I try and make it worse. And then I ask them to make it even worse, then I make it even worse, because I'm trying to model to them like, we're going here. We're going to go all the way and even beyond. If we can get ahead of OCD and get even more creative, that's better. Let's play it back and forward. You talked about touching a doorknob and all of the catastrophic things that can happen there. What about if someone were to say their thoughts are about harming somebody and they have this feeling of like, I've been trained, society has trained me not to have thoughts about harming people or sexual thoughts and so forth? There's this societal OCD stigmatizing like we don't think those things. We should be practicing not thinking those things. What would you give as advice to somebody in that situation? Shala: I would talk a lot about the science about our thoughts, that the more that you try to push a thought away, the more it's going to be there. Because every time you push a thought away, your brain puts a post-it note on it that says, “Ooh, she pushed this thought away. This must be dangerous. Therefore, I need to bring it up again to make sure we solve it.” Because humans' competitive advantage—we don't have fur, we don't have fangs, we don't have claws, we don't run very fast—our competitive advantage is problem-solving. The way we stay alive is for cave people looking out onto savannah and we can see that there are berries here, there, and yawn. But that one berry patch over there, gosh, you saw something waving in the grass by it and you're like, “I'm going to notice that and I'm going to remember that because that was different, but I also don't want to go over there.” Your brain is going to remember that like, “Hmm, there was something about that berry patch over there. Grass waving could be a tiger. We need to remember that. Remember that thing, we're not going to go over there.” We're interacting with thoughts in that way because that's what kept us alive. When we get an intrusive thought nowadays and we go, “Ooh, that was a bad thought. I don't know. I should stay away from that,” our brain is like, “Oh, post a note on that one. That one is like the scary tiger thought. We're going to bring that up again just to make sure.” Every time we try to push a thought away, we're going to make it come back. We talk a lot about that. We talk a lot about society's norms are whatever they are, but a lot of society's norms are great in principle, not that awesome in practice. We don't have any control over what we think about. The TV is filled with sex and gore, and violence. Of course, you're thinking those things. You can't get away from those images. I think society has very paradoxically conflicting rules about this stuff. Don't think about it but also watch our TV show about it. I would talk about that to try to help people recognize that these standards and rules that we put on ourselves as humans are often unrealistic and shame-inducing and to help people recognize that everybody has these thoughts. We have 40, 60, 80,000 thoughts a day. I got that number at some conference somewhere years ago. We don't have control over those. I would really help them understand the process of what's going on in their brain to destigmatize it by helping them understand really thoughts are chemical, neuronal, whatever impulses in our brain. We don't have a lot of control over that and we need to deal with them in a way that our brain understands and recognizes. We need to have those thoughts be present and have a different reaction to those thoughts so your brain eventually takes the post-it note off of them and just lets them cycle through like all the other thoughts because it recognizes it's not dangerous. HOW FAR CAN YOU GO IN ER SCRIPTING? Kimberley: Right. I agree. But how far can you go in ERP Scripting? Let's push a little harder then. This just happened recently actually. I was doing a session with a client and he was having some sexual pedophilia OCD obsessions playing up, “I'll do this to this person,” as you were doing like I may or may not statements and so forth. And then we played with the idea of doing one up. I actually went to use some very graphic words and his face dropped. It wasn't a drop of shock in terms of like, “Oh my gosh, Kimberley used that naughty word.” It was more of like, “Oh, you are in my brain, you know what I'm thinking.” And then I had to slow down and ask him, “Are there any thoughts you actually aren't admitting to having?” Because I could see he was going at 80% of where OCD took him, but he was really holding back with the really graphic, very sexual words—words that societally we may actually encourage our children and our men and women not to say. Do you encourage them to be using the graphic language that their OCD is coming up with? Shala: Absolutely. I'm personally a big swearer. That's another thing I talk about in-- Kimberley: Potty mouth. Shala: I'll ask clients, “What's your favorite swear word? Let's throw swear words in here.” I want to use the language that their OCD is using. If I can tell that's the language their OCD is using, well, let's use that language. Let's not be afraid of it. The other thing I do before I start ERP with anyone is I go through what I consider the three risks of ERP so they understand that what happens during our experience together is normal. I explain that it's likely we're going to make their anxiety worse in the weeks following exposure because we're taking away the compulsions bit by bit, and the compulsions are artificially holding back the anxiety. I explained that their OCD is not going to roll over because they're doing ERP therapy now. Nobody's OCD is going to go, “Oh gosh, Shala is in ERP. I think I'll just leave her alone now.” No, the OCD is going to ratchet it up. You're not doing what you're supposed to do, you're not doing your compulsions, so let's make things scarier. Let's make things more compelling. Let me be louder. Your OCD can get quite a bit worse once you start doing ERP because it's trying to get you back in line. When somebody is in an exposure session and their OCD is actually going places, they never even expected them to go, and I'll say that's what we're talking about, “That's just the OCD getting worse, that's what we wanted. This is what we knew was going to happen.” We're going to use that against the OCD to help normalize it. Then I also explain to people that people with OCD don't like negative emotions more than your average bear, and we tend to press all the negative emotions down under the anxiety. When you start letting the anxiety out and not doing compulsions, then you can also get a lot more emotions than you're used to experiencing so that people recognize if they cry during the exposures, if it's a lot scarier than they thought, if they have regret or guilt or other feelings, that's just a normal part of it. I explain all that. When things inevitably go places where the client isn't anticipating they're going to go like in a first exposure, then they feel this is just part of the process. I think it makes it so that it's easier to go those graphic places because you're like, “Yeah, we expected OCD to go the graphic place because it's mad at you.” Kimberley: It normalizes it, doesn't it? Shala: Yeah. Then we go to the graphic place too. I tell clients that specifically because this is a game and I really want them to understand this is what your opponent is likely to do so that they feel empowered so we can go there too and trying some to take the shame out of it. When you said the graphic word and your client had a look on their face and it was because how did you even know that was in my head, because you were validating that it's okay to have this thought because you knew it was going to be there. I think that's a really important part of exposure too. HOW LONG DO YOU USE ERP SCRIPTING FOR? Kimberley: So, how long do you do ERP Scripting for? Let's say they're doing this in your session or they're at home doing their assigned homework. Let's say they do it for a certain amount of time and then they have to get back to work or they're going to do something. But those voices, the OCD comes back with a vengeance. What would you have them do after that period of time? Would they continue with this action or is there a transition action or activity you would have them do? Shala: That's a great question. It depends a lot on really the stage of therapy that somebody is in and what is available to them based on what they're going to be doing. Oftentimes, what I will ask people to do is to try to do the exposure for long enough that you've done enough response prevention that you can then leave the exposure environment and not be up in your head compulsively ruminating. Because if you were doing exposure for 20 minutes, you've done a great job, but then you leave that exposure and you are at a high enough anxiety level where it feels compelling. Now you have to fix the problem in your head even though you just did this great exposure. Then we're just going to undo the work you just did. I try to help people plan as much as they can to not get themselves in a situation where they're going to end up compulsively ruminating or doing other compulsions after they finish. But obviously, we can't be perfect. Life happens. I think some of the ways you can deal with that, if you know it's going to happen, sometimes they'll ask people to make recordings on their phone and they just put in their earpieces or their earbuds or whatever and they can just listen to a script while they're doing whatever they're doing. Nobody has to know what they're doing because so many people walk around with EarPods in their ears all the time anyway. That's one way to deal with it. Another way to deal with it is to try to do the murmuring out in your head as best as you can. That's really hard because they're likely to just get mixed up with compulsive thoughts. You can try to focus your attention as much as you possibly can on what you're doing. That's going to be the strongest response. It's hard for people though when they get started to do that. But if you can do that, I think that's fine, and I think just being compassionate with yourself. “Okay, so I am now sitting here doing some rituals in my head. I'm doing the best I can.” If you're not in a situation where you can fully implement response prevention in your head because you're in a meeting and you got to do other stuff and you've got this compulsive stuff running in the background, just do the best you can. And then when you're at a place where you can do some scripting, some more exposure to get yourself back on top of the OCD, then do that. But be really compassionate. I try to stress this to all my clients. We are not trying to do ERP perfectly because if you try to do it perfectly, you're doing ERP in an OCD way, which isn't going to work. Just be kind to yourself and recognize this is hard and nobody is going to do it perfectly. If you end up in a situation where you end up doing some compulsions afterwards, well, that's good information for us. We'll try to do it differently or better next time, but don't beat yourself up. Kimberley: It's funny you brought that up because I was just about to ask you that question. Often clients will do their scripting or their imaginal and then they have an obsession, “What if I keep doing compulsions and it's not good to do compulsions?” Would you do scripting for that? Shala: Oh yeah. I may or may not do more compulsions than I used to be doing. I may or may not get really worse doing this. I may or may not have double the OCD that I had when I started seeing trauma. This may or may not become so bad that they have to create a hospital just to help me all by myself. We try to just create stuff to deal with that. But also, I'm injecting one up in the OCD, I'm injecting some humor, how outlandish can we make these things? I try to have “fun” with it. Now I say “fun” in quotes because I know it's not necessarily fun when you're trying to do this, but we're trying to make this content that OCD is turning into a scary story. We're trying to make it into a weapon to use against the OCD and to make this into a game as much as we can. Kimberley: I love it. I'm so grateful for you coming on. Is there anything that you want the listeners to know as a final piece for this work that you're doing? Shala: Sure. I think that there are so many different ways to do exposure therapy. This is the way that I do it. It's not the only way, it's not necessarily the right way; it's just the way I do it and it's changed over the years. If we were to record this podcast in five years or 10 years, I probably will be doing something slightly different. If your therapist is doing something differently or you're doing something differently, it's totally fine. I think that finding ERP in a way that works for you, like finding how it works for you and what works best for you is the most important thing. It's not going to be the same for everybody. Everybody has a slightly different approach and that's okay. One thing that people with OCD can get stuck on, and I know this because I have OCD too, is we can be black and white and say there's one right way. Well, she does it this way and he does it that way and this is wrong and this is right. No, if you're doing ERP, there are all sorts of ways to do it, so don't let your OCD get into the, “Well, I don't think you're doing this right because you're not doing this, that, or the other.” Just work with your therapist to find out what works best for you. If what I've described works well for you, great. And if it doesn't, you don't have to do it. These are just ideas. Being really kind and being really open to figuring out what works best for you and being very kind to yourself I think is most important. Kimberley: Amazing. Tell us where people can get more information about you. Tell us about your book. I know you've been on the podcast before, but tell us where they can get hold of you. Shala: Sure. They can get a hold of me on my website, ShalaNicely.com. I have a newsletter I send out once a month that they can sign up for called Shoulders Back! Tips & Resources for Taming OCD. In it, I feature blogs that I write or podcast episodes, other things that I'm doing. It's all free where I'm talking about tips and resources for taming OCD. I have two books: Everyday Mindfulness for OCD that I co-wrote with Jon Hershfield and Is Fred in the Refrigerator? Taming OCD and Reclaiming My Life, which is my memoir. It is written somewhat like a suspense novel because as all of you know who have OCD, living with untreated OCD is a bit like living in a suspense novel. My OCD is actually a character in the book. It is the villain, so to speak. The whole book is about me trying to understand exactly what is this villain I'm working against. Then once I figure out what it is, well, how am I going to beat it? And then how am I going to live with it long term? Because it's not like you're going to kill the villain in this book. The OCD is going to be there. How do I learn to live in a world of uncertainty and be happy anyway, which is something that I stole from Jon Grayson years ago. I stole a lot from him. That's what the book is about. Kimberley: It's a beautiful book and it's so inspiring. It's a handbook as much as it is a memoir, so I'm so grateful that you wrote it. It's such a great resource for people with OCD and for family members I think who don't really get what it's like to be in the head of someone with OCD. A lot of my client's family members said how it was actually the first time it clicked for them of like, “Oh, I get it now. That's what they're going through.” I just wanted to share that. Thank you so much for being on the show. I'm so grateful to have you on again. Shala: Thank you so much for having me. It was fun.

tv love freedom research meaning honestly obsessive compulsive disorder grass coke makes aha erp refrigerators scripting earpods shala everyday mindfulness my ocd jon hershfield

Christina Martini - Feeling Content at Shala Santosha Ashtanga

Native Yoga Toddcast

Play Episode Listen Later May 28, 2023 57:17

New podcast with Christina Martini of Shala Santosha Ashtanga & Ayurveda Yoga Holistic Practice available now!Senior Teacher and Owner, Founder of Shala Santosha Ashtanga Yoga & Ayurveda Wellness . A direct student of Manju Jois, the oldest son of K. Pattabhi Jois, recognised worldwide as the foremost authority on Ashtanga yoga. Christina has devoted her healing journey to trusting the Traditional Lineage of Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga and Ayurveda from her mid 20's to present as not only a way of living but her medicine for optimal health and healing. Visit her on her website: https://www.shalasantoshayoga.comFollow her on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/shalasantoshayogamaui/Topics we speak about during this conversation:Teaching yoga and working as a nurse. The power of suggestion in teaching. Looking out for the best interest of your students.How did you get started with Ayurveda and yoga? Working in palliative care. Thanks for listening to this episode. Check out:

Live Podcast with Shala Mansur O'Keefe (Jon's Fish Market) - Friday 5/19/23

Play Episode Listen Later May 19, 2023 77:57

Welcome to the Your Saltwater Guide LIVE Show every weekday at 12pm Pacific Time with a new special guest every Friday! Listen to the audio version of my podcast: Apple: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/your-saltwater-guide-fishing-show/id1642377784 Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/6WTZzGKgQFyOgMkwUk8aHL Official Your Saltwater Guide Merchandise: https://store.yoursaltwaterguide.com/ Are you tired at sucking at fishing and want to learn and get more comfortable on the water? I Captain Dave created a mobile app "Your Saltwater Guide" with 400+ videos showing and teaching you the ways of Saltwater Fishing. Available Now on the Apple App Store & Google Play Store! Search "Your Saltwater Guide" Apple App Store Link: https://apps.apple.com/us/app/id1666659346 Android Google Play Store Link: https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=tv.uscreen.yoursaltwaterguide Follow my SoCal Hot Spots and combine them with my Weekly Fishing Game Plans and you will be successful out fishing in Southern California using Your Saltwater Guide. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Ep 6 - Real World Cloud Transition with @GiftedLane

Cables2Clouds

Play Episode Play 59 sec Highlight Listen Later May 3, 2023 55:06 Transcription Available

In this episode, we are joined by Shala, aka @GiftedLane. Shala is currently a Cloud Associate Architect and has held multiple cloud positions over the last 12 months. We dive into the nitty gritty about her transition from network engineering into DevOps and learn about what her day-to-day looks like in her current and past cloud roles. We also explore the importance of salary negotiation within the industry and how she used certain methods to assure she was getting paid properly. This was a great roundtable discussion, suitable for anyone wondering about or currently working in the cloud! FYI: Unfortunately in the middle of this episode Alex got hit with a nasty power outage and he was not able to return. Don't worry, he'll be back on in full swing on the next episode. How to connect with Shala:Twitter: [https://twitter.com/giftedlane]Twitch: [https://www.twitch.tv/giftedlane]YouTube: [https://www.youtube.com/@giftedlane]Instagram: [https://www.instagram.com/giftedlane/]Topics:Shala's AONE Episode (Ep11): [https://podcast.artofnetworkengineering.com/2127872/12179006-ep-11-gifted-lane]AONE Salary Negotiation Episode (Ep83): [https://podcast.artofnetworkengineering.com/2127872/12178934-ep-83-salary-negotiation]Free AWS Cloud Project Bootcamp: [https://aws.cloudprojectbootcamp.com/] Check out the Fortnightly Cloud Networking NewsVisit our website and subscribe: https://www.cables2clouds.com/Follow us on Twitter: https://twitter.com/cables2cloudsFollow us on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@cables2clouds/Follow us on TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@cables2cloudsMerch Store: https://store.cables2clouds.com/Join the Discord Study group: https://artofneteng.com/iaatjArt of Network Engineering (AONE): https://artofnetworkengineering.com

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“Grace in the Overwhelm” by Shala W. Graham

Encouragement for Today Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 5, 2023 5:14

In today's episode, you'll hear a devotion written by Shala W. Graham based on Hebrews 4:16, which says, “So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God. There we will receive his mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most” (NLT).We hope today's devotion encourages you to approach God's throne to find grace upon grace waiting for you there. Related Resources: For more from Proverbs 31 Ministries, head to our website at proverbs31.org, where you can subscribe to Encouragement for Today devotions in written format, delivered to your inbox each weekday.Want more bite-sized nuggets of truth to carry with you throughout the day? Find snippets of hope and wisdom when you follow Proverbs 31 Ministries on Twitter. Click here to read the transcript for this episode.We want to get to know you! Will you tell us a little bit about yourself by filling out this survey?

god proverbs hebrews encouragement overwhelm ministries nlt shala

28. BONUS! Confidence & Intuition With Shala

Opening The Door

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 10, 2023 30:35

What's the connection between your confidence level and your intuition? Find out in this episode with our guest, Shala! She's a confidence coach and is here to give us general confidence tips, and we also chat about how our confidence and intuition are deeply connected. This episode will motivate you to be your most authentic self and give you a deeper understanding of why it's important to love ourselves and be as confident as possible so we can hear our intuition better Today we're welcoming Shala to the Opening the door. Shala is a confidence coach helping you connect to your most authentic and confident self! You can find her on instagram @shalamarie.confidence busting out dance moves on reels and giving you the tools to grow and expand into your highest potential. Shala's instagram: https://instagram.com/shalamarie.confidence

confidence intuition shala

Shapeshifting in the Moonlight

ParaNorthwest

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 8, 2023 69:52

We return to the reservation, this time with our good friends Mike and Richie from The Paranormal Roadtrippers. They drove down from Canada wanting to investigate with us, so we took them to one of the most active spots we know of. It was there that we caught our first glimpse of a creature we have never seen before, something that we weren't sure existed. It told us it's name, and channeled through Mike speaking Shala and Shiann's native language...

canada richie moonlight shapeshifting shala

#73 - The Four Corners of Your Mat - Yoga in Antigua with Ros Langer

Wild Yoga Tribe

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 17, 2023 26:55

#73 - The Four Corners of Your Mat - Yoga in Antigua with Ros Langer Welcome to Episode #73 of the Wild Yoga Tribe Podcast! My conversation with Ros Langer, a yoga teacher in Antigua, was so fun as we talked about her immense and immediate love for the practice, and how the four corners of your mat can teach you more than any yoga teacher training can teach you. We also talked about yoga and aging, and what it was like to come to the practice later in life. If you're looking to tune into a podcast episode that is all about yoga in Antigua then this is the conversation for you. Support the podcast: https://www.patreon.com/wildyogatribe Tell me more about Ros Langer Ros Langer has been studying and practicing yoga for over 15 years. Ashtanga vinyasa yoga remains her central reference and informs all of her teachings. According to Ros, “the mat is just the beginning.” She teaches yoga at Energie in English Harbour, Antigua. Ros's main residence is in Antigua but she spends a few months of the year in Cape Town, South Africa. She is the mother of two young men who continually inspire her to rise to her fullest potential. What to expect in the Yoga In Antigua episode of the Wild Yoga Tribe Podcast Ros Langer was first introduced to yoga through a friend, who had a yoga teacher come to Antigua to teach her and train her in yoga. Ros bought a John Scott Ashtanga DVD, and after practicing for a few years she moved to Capetown, which Ros calls the Rishikesh of South Africa. She was trained in Capetown and was delighted to be able to teach at The Shala in Capetown, which she deems one of the best yoga studios in the world. We also talked about how Ros's practice changed through menopause, surgery, and generally as she has gotten older. Ros came to yoga at 45, and was trained at age 50, she shared with us what happened with her practice over the years, and with a cancer scare and after surgery. Asana is not an exercise. This is something Ros firmly stands behind, and it was great to talk to her more about her thoughts on it. That being said, she thinks it's completely fine if people want to come to the yoga practice for the sake of exercise. Come and be welcome! For Ros, yoga is about finding balance and equanimity and spaciousness. Curious? Tune into the whole podcast episode! For the skimmers - What's in the yoga in Antigua episode? Immense and immediate love for the practice Began doing yoga at 40 and did her yoga teacher training at age 50 The love of teaching yoga: lifting vibration and supporting each other You cannot teach yoga unless you practice yoga The four corners of your mat will teach you more than any yoga teacher training can teach Why is asana not an exercise? Yoga is about finding balance and equanimity and spaciousness Connect with Rosalind Langer https://www.ros-yoga.com https://www.instagram.com/Ros.Yoga.Antigua Want more? Head on over to my website https://wildyogatribe.com/thepodcast/ Everything you need is just one click away! Check out all the resources here: https://linktr.ee/wildyogatribe --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/wildyogatribe/message

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Spaceshippin' With Chuck

ParaNorthwest

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 1, 2023 71:27

Ya'll ready to get put on a watch list? Strange happenings have been going on around Shala and Shiann the past month and it's coming to a head, a large grey one with huge eyes. Our friend Chuck stops by to discuss his favorite oddities in this universe and we get a peak inside his thoughts on the paranormal.

strange shala

Bonus Episode 30 - An Interview with Dr. Shala Ala'i-Rosales + Peggy Heinkel-Wolfe

ABA Inside Track

Play Episode Listen Later Jan 30, 2023 62:43

We were very honored to have both of the authors of “Between Now and Dreams” join us to discuss their new book for parents of autistic children. We chat about the different perspectives both Dr. Ala'i-Rosales and Ms. Heinkel-Wolfe bring to the topic, their goals in writing a book for parents (but also for clinicians), and taking the “how” out of “how-to” to create something very different and sorely needed in the promotion of joy, collaboration, and grace in raising a family. We'll have a full discussion and review of the “Between Now and Dreams” releasing this Friday for patrons (free preview on the main feed). Content discussed in this episode Ala'i-Rosales, S. & Heinkel-Wolfe, P. (2022). Reponsible and responsive parenting in autism: Between now and dreams. Different Roads to Learning. Ala'i-Rosales, S. & Heinkel-Wolfe, P. (n.d.). Resource Page. Responsible and Responsive Parenting in Autism: Between Now and Dreams. https://peggyheinkelwolfe.com/ways-to-buy-responsible-and-responsive-parenting-between-now-and-dreams/clinicians-book-club/

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Mapping Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome with Dr. Shala Salem #362

15-Minute Matrix

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 30, 2022 27:11

On this episode of the 15-Minute Matrix podcast we'll focus on polycystic ovarian syndrome or PCOS. Dr. Shala Salem's approach to addressing PCOS in her clinic and with fertility patients is both refreshing and “outside the box.” She combines physiological understanding, bioindividuality, and compassion with practical next steps in working with her patients suffering with […] The post Mapping Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome with Dr. Shala Salem #362 appeared first on Functional Nutrition Alliance.

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Mapping Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome with Dr. Shala Salem #362

15-Minute Matrix

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 30, 2022 27:11

salem mapping pcos polycystic ovarian syndrome shala minute matrix

Ep. 288 What To Do When You Get Bad News

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 10, 2022 26:45

SUMMARY: Today, I share what to do when you get “bad” news. This episode will share a recent situation I got into where I had to use all of my mindfulness and self-compassion tools. Check it out! Episode Sponsor: This episode of Your Anxiety Toolkit is brought to you by CBTschool.com. CBTschool.com is a psychoeducation platform that provides courses and other online resources for people with anxiety, OCD, and Body-Focused Repetitive Behaviors. Go to cbtschool.com to learn more. Spread the love! Everyone needs tools for anxiety... If you like Your Anxiety Toolkit Podcast, visit YOUR ANXIETY TOOLKIT PODCAST to subscribe free and you'll never miss an episode. And if you really like Your Anxiety Toolkit, I'd appreciate you telling a friend (maybe even two). EPISODE TRANSCRIPTION This is Your Anxiety Toolkit - Episode 288. Welcome back, everybody. We literally just finished the six-week series on managing mental compulsions. My heart is full, as full as full can be. I am sitting here looking into my microphone and I just have a big, fat smile on my face. I'm just so excited for what we did together, and I felt like it was so huge. I have so many ideas of how I want to do something similar in the future with different areas. And I will. Thank you so much for your feedback and your reviews. I hope it was as helpful as it was for me, even as a clinician. I found it to be incredibly helpful, even as a supervisor, supervising my staff. I have nine incredible staff who are therapists, who help treat my clients and we constantly keep referring back during supervision of like, “Do you remember what Lisa said? Do you remember what Reid said? Listen, let's consider what Jon said or Jon Hershfield said, or Shala Nicely said.” It was just so beautiful. I'm so grateful. If you haven't listened, go back and listen to it. It's a six-week series and ugh, it was just so wonderful. I keep saying it was just so wonderful. So, if you go back, I did an introduction, Episode 282. And then from there, it was these amazing, amazing experts who just dropped amazing truth bomb after amazing truth bomb. So, that's that. Today, I am going back to the roots of this podcast. And I'm sharing with you-- for those of you who have been listening for a while, we usually start the episode with a segment called the “I did a hard thing” segment. This is where people write in and tell me a hard thing that they've done. If you go to my website, which is KimberleyQuinlan-lmft.com. There on the podcast page is a place to submit your “I did a hard thing.” And today's “I did a hard thing” is from yours truly. I just had to share this story with you. I feel like it's an important story to tell you guys, and I wanted to share with you that I'm not just talking the talk over here, I'm walking the walk. So, today's episode is called When You Get Bad News. I'm just going to leave it at that. Before we get started, I would love to leave you and share with you the review of the week. This is from hannabanana3131, and they said: “Fantastic mental health podcast. Such an amazing podcast. I have learned so many useful tools for dealing with my anxiety and OCD. And Kimberley is such a loving, compassionate coach - I feel like she's rooting for me every step of my healing journey,” and she's left a heart emoji. Thank you so much, hannabanana. I love, love, love getting your reviews. It does help me so much. So, if you have a moment of time and the podcasts are helpful for you, that is the most helpful thing you can do back. When we get reviews, then when people who are new come over and see it, it actually makes them feel like they can trust the information we're giving. And in today's world, trust is important. There is so much noise and so many people talking about OCD and anxiety, and it's easy to get caught up in nonsense stuff. And so, I really want to build a trust factor with the listeners that I have. So, thank you so much for doing that. Okay. It's funny that hannabanana says, “I feel like she's rooting for me,” because the “I did hard thing” is me talking about my recent experience of having a root canal. Worse than a root canal. So, let me tell you a story now. I'm not just telling you this story to tell you a story. I'm telling you this story because I want to sometimes-- when we do the “I did a hard thing” segment, it's usually very, very short and to the point, but I'd actually like to walk you through how I got through getting some really bad news. So, let's talk about it. And I'll share. I'm not perfect. So, there were times when I was doing well and there was times when I won't. So, for those of you who don't know, which I'm guessing is all of you, I have very bad gums. My gums, I inherited bad gums. It comes in my family. I go in every three months for a gum routine where they do a deep cleaning or they really check my gums to make sure there's not receding too much. And because of that, I take really good care of my teeth. And because of that, I usually have very little dental issues. I never had a cavity. I've never had any cracks or any terrible swollen problems. That just isn't my problem. My problem is gums and it's an ongoing issue that I have to keep handling. So this time, I go in, I get my x-rays, and the doctor comes in. And I have this really hilarious dentist who has not got the best bedside manner, but I do love him and he has been with me through some really tough times that when I found out I have a lesion on my brain, I fully broke down in front of him and he was so kind and gave me his cell phone number. He was just so lovely. But he comes in and he rubs his hands together and says, “What are we doing here today, Kimberley?” And he looks at the x-rays and I kid you not, he says, “Holy crap!” Literally, that was his response, which is pretty funny, I think. From there, I proceed to go into some version of a panic attack. I'm like, “What? What's wrong? What do you see? What happened?” And I think that was pretty appropriate for me to do that. So, I want to validate you. When you get big news, it's normal to go into a fight or flight, like what's going on, you're hypervigilant, you're looking around. Now, he waited about 45 seconds to answer my question. I just sat there in a state of panic while he stared at the x-rays on the wall. And these 45 seconds, I think, was the longest 45 seconds of my life because he wouldn't answer me. And I was just like, “Tell me what's wrong. What's wrong?” So, he turns around and he says, “Kimberley, you have a dead tooth.” And I'm like, “What? A dead tooth? What does that even mean?” And he says, “You have a tooth infection that is dormant. Do you have any pain? Do you have a headache? What's going on?” And I'm like, “Nothing, nothing. I'm fine. Everything is fine.” And so, he proceeds to immediately in this urgent, panicky way, call in his nurses, “Bring me this, bring me that, bring me this, bring me that. Bring me this tool, bring me this chemical or medicine or whatever.” And they're all poking at me and prodding at me and they're trying to figure it out. And he's like, “I cannot figure out what this is and why it's here.” So, bad news. Just straight-up bad news. Now, the interesting thing about this is, it's hard to be in communication with someone, particularly when they're your doctor and they appear to be confused and panicking. Not that he was panicking, but he was acting in this urgent way. That's a hard position to be in. And if you've ever been in a position like that, I want to first validate you. That's scary. It is a scary moment that your trusted person is also panicking. Just like when you're on an airplane and it's really bumpy. But if you see that the air hostesses are giggling and laughing, you're like, “Okay, it's all good.” But when you see their faces looking a little nervous, that's a scary moment. So, first of all, if you've been in that position, that's really, really hard. What he then proceeded to tell me is, “Kimberley, this tooth has to come out. It has to come out immediately. We cannot wait. It's going to cost a god-awful amount of money. And this has to happen right away.” Now in my mind, you guys know me, I am really, really strict about scheduling. I have a schedule. I'm not compulsive about it, but I run two businesses. I have a podcast, I have two children. I have a medical illness. I have to manage my mental illnesses all the time. So, I have to be really intentional with my calendar. So, this idea that immediately, everything has to change was a little alarming to me. But what I remember thinking, and this is one of the tools I want to offer you for today, is being emotionally flexible is a skill. And what we want to do in those moments, and this is what I practiced was, “Okay, Kimberley, this is one of those moments where your skills come in handy. Thank God for them.” How can you be flexible here? Because my mind wanted to go, “You got to pick up the kids and you've got to do this and you've got to a meeting tomorrow and you've got clients and you can't do this. This can't happen this week.” But my mind was like, “I'm going to practice flexibility.” In addition to that, when things change really quickly, we tend to beat ourselves up like, “Such and such is going to hate me. They're going to be mad at me. They're going to think I'm a loser for having to change the schedule.” And I just gently said to myself, “Kimberley, we're going to be emotionally flexible here and we're going to let everybody have their emotions about it.” So, the kids get to have their emotions about everything changing and my clients get to have their emotions about it too. And having to cancel the meetings, they get to have their emotions. Everyone's allowed to have their emotions about the fact that many, many things are going to be canceled in the next few days. And that has been such a work of art for me, but it has been so beautiful for me to say, instead of me going, “No, no, no, I can't do this,” because I don't want them to have feelings and I don't want them to think this about me, now I'm just like, everyone gets to have their feelings. They get to feel disappointed. They get to feel angry. They get to feel annoyed. They get to feel irritated. They get to feel sad. Everybody gets to feel their feelings about it because that's a part of being a human. That's one of the tools I want you to think about. Just play with these ideas. You've just come off the six-week series. These are some more ideas to play with. But then from there, I had about 36 hours where I had to wait for this surgery. And during that time, I had to have an x-ray where I was told, and this is the real bad news, is this infection, actually, this is gross. So, trigger warning, guys. The infection actually ate through a part of my jaw bone. I know. Isn't that crazy? The infection was so bad and it was right at this area where I guess nerves come out of your jaw. There's this tiny hole right at the front, around the sides where the nerves come out of your jaw and up into your lips and the infection spread and was all over that area. I know that is gross, but it's also really scary. So, not only did I have to think about all of the changes, but he, the doctor, the dentist had made me very aware that this surgery has to go really well, and that if he pushes too hard or he pulls too hard with a tooth or he had to put in a-- there's these words I don't even know, but like a canal, like some kind of fixture so that he can create a new tooth because I had to have a tooth completely pulled out. He was like, “If I push it in too far, I actually may hit this nerve, which could be very, very bad.” So, this uncertainty felt horrible to me. And of course, I'm going to have these intrusive thoughts like, “What if I never get to speak again? What if I lose a feeling in my gums and what if he pushes hard and this is terminal? What if, what if, what if, what if?” And so, my skill here, and we've learnt this from managing mental compulsions, is bring it back to the present. Until there's a problem, we don't solve them. So, that's what I kept doing. “It's not happening now. Kimberley, it's not happening now. It's not happening now,” even though it's a real threat, even though it's going to be something I have to face, because sometimes our fears are like, “What if something happens?” But it's just a what-if. There's no actual event that you know for certain is going to happen. This was like, “Yeah, you're going to do this in literally 30 hours and all of these risks are here.” You guys have probably got stories like this, where you've gone in for some brain surgery or any surgery where there's a risk, but this risk was pretty huge. He was very concerned. I think appropriately concerned. So, here I am for 30 hours, managing this stuff where I'm like, “Okay, this could go really well or this could go really bad, like really, really bad.” I giggle just because it makes me nervous just to think about it. That's a nervous giggle that you just heard me. I don't know. I often giggle when I'm nervous. But it's a big deal. So, I, in these moments, had to weigh up, go back to what Lisa Coyne was talking about. I was like, “Okay, values versus fear. Which one do I consult with?” I had reached out to the dentist to say, “You know what, let's just not do this. I'm not in any pain. Let's just keep it there. Let's just not.” And his response was like, “That's not even an option. If you've already got this much damage, this could get worse and be very, very problematic.” So, I didn't even have the option to back out. I had to do this. And so, as I proceeded forward, I had to keep being aware like what Jon Hershfield talked about and Dr. Grayson and Dr. Reid Wilson, and Shala. I had to really allow all the intrusive thoughts to come like, “Yup. Possible. Yup, that's possible too. Yup, that's possible too. Maybe it does. Maybe it will. Not going to give it my attention right now. I see you're back again. Good one, bro. Hi there, I see you. I fully accept the uncertainty.” That was me for l30 hours, literally bringing in every tool I have. The cool thing is it was a hugely busy week. And because I have been really doubling down on my mindfulness skills over the last few months, that actually really helped. Every time I noticed that I was getting anxious, I was like, “Okay, what does the keyboard feel under my fingers?” I have these fiddles that I play with and I'm like, “Okay, what does this feel like? This rubber feel like, or this metal feel like, and so forth?” So, that was really helpful. The day of the surgery, I go in and I'm fully anxious. I'm going to the bathroom. I'm needing to pee. I feel dizzy. I'm not allowed to be on my medication. Oh, and that's the other thing, is this maybe the-- what do you call it? The silver lining. Just a little update for you guys, is there is a small chance, because this infection has been here for a long time and we haven't actually detected it yet, that it may be the reason for all my POTS symptoms. As some of you may know, I have postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome. It is a chronic illness related to dysautonomia. It causes me to faint and have headaches and nausea and dizziness and blood pooling and it's the worst. And there is a chance that that might be why. So, I'm half scared and half excited all day, which is a lot to handle. But as the day is moving forward, I'm getting more and more nervous and I start to feel the urge to start to seek reassurance. I start to observe the urge to Google. I start to observe the urge to ask the doctors many, many, many, many questions. And when I say it, I'm saying that very intentionally. I observed the urge, which is I didn't do those behaviors. I just noticed the urge that kept showing up. “Ooh, let's try and get this anxiety to go away. Ooh, let's try and get that anxiety to go away.” Knowing that when it's my turn to sit in that chair, I will ask specific questions. So, I'm not saying you can't ask your doctors questions, but that was key for me, was to observe the urge to seek reassurance, observe the urge to go into avoidance. I'm not going to make this story too much longer, but what I will say, I want to tell you the funniest part of this story. I'm in the doctor's office because I had to go in for this very fancy x-ray that does all your nerves because he was afraid he was going to hit one. He's showing me the x-ray and I'm literally looking at it. He's showing me cross-sections of my jaw. And you guys, it was so scary. You can see the hole that it's created. You can see the infection and how it's deteriorated the bone. It was so scary. And so, he puts his hand on my-- and I'm like, at that point, “Is there any way we could get away with not doing this? Because this is really scary.” He puts his hand on my hand, he says, “I'm going to go and take care of all of these last patients I have so I can give you 100% of my attention and I will be back.” You guys, this is the funniest thing ever. So, the dental nurse is there watching me. My heart is through the roof. My blood pressure is all over the place. She stands in front of me and she says, “Miss Kimberley, don't be worried. We've watched all the YouTube videos.” And I swear to you, every piece of panic that I had went out the window for that small second and I laughed so hard. She said, “In fact, that's where the doctor is right now. He's just going to watch the YouTube video one more time.” And I just died laughing. Now for some of you, that may have actually been really anxiety-provoking. But for me, it was exactly what I needed. I needed someone to make this so funny. And it was so funny. I swear to you, every time I think of it, the way she says it in her accent was the most hilarious thing ever. It was so perfectly timed. The delivery was perfect and I burst out laughing. He comes back in-- this is the end of the story. I'm not going to drag it out for too much longer. I promise. But he comes back in, and I just wanted to share with you, because I know last week with Lisa, I had a really emotional moment, and I think it was really tied to this. As he was putting in the IV – because I had to be knocked out. He said he couldn't take a risk of me moving. So, he knocked me out for the surgery – tears just rolled out of my eyes. And I wasn't going to be ashamed of it. And what came up for me was, I said, “Please, sir.” I said “Sir,” which I think is so funny, because I know him by his first name. “Please, sir. Please just take care of me.” And for me, tears were rolling down my face, but that was an act of compassion for myself. Instead of me saying-- because I know two years ago, or even six months ago, I probably would've said, “Please, don't kill me,” or “Promise me nothing bad would happen.” But there was this act of compassion that just flowed out of me, which was like, “Please, sir. Please take care of me.” And it was coming from this deep place of finally in my life, being able to ask to be taken care of. And I've been working on this, you guys, for about a year, is having the ability to actually ask for help has been something I've really sucked at and it's something I've worked so hard at. And for me, that was groundbreaking, to ask for help. Now you could say it was me pleading with him, but it wasn't. It was me. It was an act of compassion. It was an act of saying, “I'm scared. I'm not asking you to take my fear away. I'm just asking you to hold me in a place of kindness and compassion and nurturing and care.” And that for me was profound. So, I just wanted to share that with you. I know that it might not be as skills-based as some of the other episodes, but I love sharing with you hard things and I love sharing with you that I'm a human, messy human who's doing the best they can and is imperfect too. But I just wanted to give you a step-by-step one. It's okay if it's hard and there are skills that you can use and we can get through hard things. It's a beautiful day to do hard things, I always say that. And so, I wanted to just record this and share with you the ups and the downs of my week and help you maybe if there's a time where you've gotten bad news on ways that you might manage it. Now, what I do want to end here with is, I understand my privilege here. I understand my privilege of getting bad news and being able to get medical care and have a lovely dentist and a lovely nurse who makes funny jokes. And sometimes the news doesn't end well, and I get that. I want to honor you that there is no right way to get bad news. And the grief process of getting bad news is different for everybody. This was more of an anxiety process, but I want to honor to you that if you're going through some hard thing in your life where you've gotten bad news, I want to also offer you the opportunity to grieve that and I want to honor that this is really, really a hard thing to go through. So, I really want to make sure I make space for you with that because my experience is not your experience, I'm sure. So, that's it, guys. That's what to do when you get bad news. That's my experience of getting bad news and I hope it's been helpful. We are embarking on some shifts here with the podcast. I am so inspired to be more focused on just delivering the tools to you and being a safe place for you and being a bright, shiny light for you. And so, I'm doing a lot of exploring on how I can do that. So, if you ever-- again, please do feel-- if you want to give some thoughts, please do reach out, send me an email. If you're not on my newsletter list, please do go and sign up. I'll leave you a link in the show notes, or you can go to CBTSchool.com and sign up for the newsletter and you can reply there as well or you can leave a review. All right. I love you guys. Have a wonderful day. It is a beautiful day to get bad news and do the hard thing. I love you. Have a great day.

google holy worse spread iv fantastic obsessive compulsive disorder bad news thank god sir shala reid wilson body focused repetitive behaviors jon hershfield your anxiety toolkit lisa coyne

Ep. 286 6-Part Series: Managing Mental Compulsions (with Dr. Reid Wilson)

Play Episode Listen Later May 27, 2022 57:42

SUMMARY: In this weeks podcast, we talk with Dr Reid Wilson. Reid discussed how to get your them out of the way and play the moment-by moment game. Reid shares his specific strategies for managing mental compulsion. You are not going to want ot miss one minute of this episode. Covered in This Episode: Getting your Theme out of the way The importance of shifting your additude Balancing “being aggressive” and implementing mindfulness and acceptance How to play the “moment by moment” game Using strategy to achieve success in recovery OCD and the 6-moment Game Other tactics for Mental compulsions Links To Things I Talk About: Reid's Website anxieties.com https://www.youtube.com/user/ReidWilsonPhD?app=desktop DOWNLOAD REID's WORKBOOK HERE Episode Sponsor: This episode of Your Anxiety Toolkit is brought to you by CBTschool.com. CBTschool.com is a psychoeducation platform that provides courses and other online resources for people with anxiety, OCD, and Body-Focused Repetitive Behaviors. Go to cbtschool.com to learn more. Spread the love! Everyone needs tools for anxiety... If you like Your Anxiety Toolkit Podcast, visit YOUR ANXIETY TOOLKIT PODCAST to subscribe free and you'll never miss an episode. And if you really like Your Anxiety Toolkit, I'd appreciate you telling a friend (maybe even two). EPISODE TRANSCRIPTION This is Your Anxiety Toolkit - Episode 286. Welcome back, everybody. I am so excited. You guys, we are on number five of this six-part series, and this six-part series on Managing Mental Compulsions literally has been one of the highlights of my career. I am not just saying that. I'm just flooded with honor and pride and appreciation and excitement for you. All the feedback has been incredible. So many of you have emailed me or reached out to me on social media just to let me know that this is helping you. And to be honest with you, I can't thank you enough because this has been something I've wanted to do for so long and I've really felt that it's so needed. And it's just been so wonderful to get that feedback from you. So, thank you so much. The other plus people I want to be so grateful for are the guests. Each person has brought their special magic to how to manage mental compulsions. And you guys, the thing to remember here is managing mental compulsions is hard work, like the hardest of hard work. And I want to just honor that it is so hard and it is so confusing and it's such a difficult thing to navigate. And so, to have Jon talking about mental compulsions and mindfulness and Shala talking about her lived experience and flooding, and Dr. Jonathan Grayson talking about acceptance last week. And now, we have the amazing Reid Wilson coming on and sharing his amazing strategies and tools that he uses with his patients with mental rumination, mental compulsions, mental rituals. Literally, I can't even explain it. It's just joy. It's just pure joy that I get to do this with you and be on this journey with you. I'm going to do this quick. So, I'll just do a quick introduction. We do have Dr. Reid Wilson here. Now we've had Reid on before. Every single guest here, I just consider such a dear friend. You're going to love this episode. He brings the mic drops. I'm not going to lie. And so, I do hope that you squeeze every little bit of juice out of this episode. Bring your notepad, get your pen, you're going to need it, and enjoy. Again, have a beautiful day. As I always say, it is a beautiful day to do hard things. Let's get onto the show. Kimberley: I am thrilled to have you, Dr. Reid Wilson. Reid: Thanks. Glad to be here. Kimberley: Oh my goodness. Okay. I have been so excited to ask you these questions. I am just jumping out of my skin. I'm so really quite interested to hear your approach to mental compulsions. Before we get started, do you call them mental compulsions, mental rituals, mental rumination? How do you-- Reid: Sure. All of the above doesn't matter to me. I just don't call it “pure obsessions, pure obsessionals” because I think that's a misnomer, but we can't seem to get away from that. Kimberley: Can you maybe quickly share why you don't think we can get away from that? Do you want to maybe-- we'd love to hear your thoughts on that. We haven't addressed that yet in the podcast. Reid: Well, typically, we would call-- people write to me all the time and probably do that too, say, “I'm a pure obsessional.” Well, that's ridiculous. Nobody's a pure obsessional. What it really is, is I have obsessions and then I have mental compulsions. And so, it's such a misnomer to be using that term. But what I mean is, how we can't get away from it is it's just gotten so completely in the lexicon that it would take a lot of effort to try to expel the term. Getting the them out of the way Kimberley: Okay. Thank you for clearing that up, because that's like not something we've actually addressed up until this time. So, I'm so grateful you brought that up. So, I have read a bunch of your staff. I've had you on the show already and you're a very dear friend. I really want to get to all of the main points of your particular work. So, let's talk first about when we're managing mental compulsions. We'll always be talking about that as the main goal, but tell me a little bit about why the theme, we've got to get out of the way of that. Reid: Right. And my opinion is this is one of the most important things for us to do and the most difficult thing to accomplish. It's really the first thing that needs to be accomplished, which is we have to understand. And you're going to hear me say this again. This is a mental health disorder and it's a significant disorder. And if we don't get our minds straight about what's required to handle it, we're going to get beaten down left and right. So, of course, the disorder comes into the mind as something very specific. Focusing on the specific keeps us in the territory of the disorders control. So, we need to understand this is a disorder of uncertainty. This is a disorder of uncertainty that brings distress. So, we have that combination of two things. If we're going to treat the disorder, we cannot bring our focus on our theme. But the theme is very ingrained in everyone. I talk about signal versus noise, and this is how I want to help people make that transition, which is of course, for all of us in all humanity, every worry comes into the prefrontal cortex as a signal. And we very quickly go, “Oh yeah, well, that's not important. I don't need to pay attention to that.” And we turn it over to noise and let go of it and keep going. With OCD, the theme, the topic, the checking, and all the mental rituals that we do are perceived and locked down as signals. And if we don't convert them into noise, we are stuck. What I want the client to do is to treat the theme as nothing, and that is a big ask. And not only do we have to treat the theme as nothing, we have to treat it as nothing while we are uncertain, whether it's nothing or not. So, in advance of an obsession popping up, we really need to dig down during a no problem time and get clear about this. And then we do want to figure out a way to lock that down, which includes “I'm going to act as though this is nothing,” and it has to be accomplished like that. Go ahead. Kimberley: No. And would you do the same for people, let's say if they had social anxiety or health anxiety, generalized anxiety? Would you also take the theme out of it? Reid: Absolutely. But if the theme is in the way, then we need to problem-solve that. So, if we go to health anxiety, okay, I've got a new symptom, some pain in the back of my head that I've never had before. I have to decide, am I going to go into the physician and have it checked out or am I not? Or am I going to wait a few days and then do it? With that kind of anxiety and fear around health, we have to get closure around “I don't need to do anything about this.” Sometimes I use something called “postponing.” So, with social anxiety, it can-- I mean, with health anxiety, it can work really well to go, “Well, I'm having this new symptom, do I have to immediately go in and see the physician and get it checked out? Can I wait 24 hours? Yes, I can. I've already been diagnosed with health anxiety. So, I know I get confused about this stuff. So, I'm going to wait 24 hours.” So, what does that give us then? Now I have 24 hours to treat the obsession as nothing because I don't need to focus on it. I've already decided, if I'm still worried tomorrow, I'm making an appointment, we're going in. That gives me the opportunity to work on this worry as an obsession because I've already figured it out. The reason we want to do that so diligently is we have to go up one level of abstraction up to the disorder itself. And that's why we have to get off of this to come up here and work on this. Kimberley: This is so good. And you would postpone, use that same skill for all the themes as well? I'm just wanting to make sure so people clarify. Reid: Well, sure. I mean, postponing is a tactic. I wouldn't say we can do postponing across the board because some people have-- it really depends on what the obsession is and what the thinking ritual is as to whether we can use it. But it's one of them that can be used. Shifting your attitude Kimberley: Amazing. Tell me about-- I mean, that requires a massive shift in attitude. Can you share a little bit about that? Reid: Yeah. And if you think about-- I use that term a lot around attitude, but we've got some synonyms in attitude. What is my disposition toward this? Have I mentioned mental health disorder? What do I want my orientation to be? How do I want to focus on it? And we want to think about really attitude as technique, as skill set. So, what we know is the disorder wants some very specific things from us. It wants us to be frightened by that topic. It wants us to have that urge to get rid of it and have that urge to get rid of it right now. And so, that begins to give us a sense of what is required to get better. And that again is up here. So, why do you do mental counting? Why do you do rehearsal mentally? Why do you try to neutralize through praying? When you look at some of those, the functions of some of those or compulsions and urge to do the compulsions, it is to fill my mind so I don't get distracted again, it is to reassure myself, it is to make sure everything is going to be okay. It is to get certain. And so, when we know that that is the drive of the disorder, we begin to see, what do we need to do broadly in general? And that is, I need to actually operate paradoxically. If it needs me to do this, feel this, think this, I'm going to do everything I can to manipulate that pattern and do the opposite. It wants me to take this theme seriously, I'm going to work on-- and really it has to be said like that. I'm going to work on not taking it seriously. So, that's the shift. If we can get a sense of the attitude and the principles that go along with all of that, then moment by moment, we'll know what to do in those moments. Do you need to be aggressive with OCD and intrusive thoughts? Kimberley: We've had guests talking about mindfulness and we will have Lisa Coyne talking about act and Jon Grayson talking about acceptance, and you really talk more about being aggressive. How do you feel about all of those and where do they come together, or where are they separate? How would you apply these different tools for someone with mental compulsions? Reid: Yeah, sure. Mindfulness is absolutely a skill set that we need to have. Absolutely. We are trying to get perspective. We're trying to get some distance. We would like to detach. That's what we're trying to do. But what are we trying to be mindful of? We're trying to be mindful of the belief that this topic is important. We're trying to be mindful of the need to ritualize that is created by the theme. So, the end game is mindfulness and detachment. That's where we're going. My opinion is, the opening gambits, the opening moves, it's very difficult to go from a frightened, terrified, scared, and slide over to neutral and detached. It's just difficult. And so, I think initially, we need to be thinking about a more aggressive approach, which is I'm going to go swing in this pendulum from, “I can't stand this, this is awful.” I'm going to swing over right past mindfulness over to this more aggressive stance of, “I want this, let's get going. I'm taking this theme on.” The aggressiveness is a determination of my commitment to do the work. And here's the paradox of it. I'm going to address on the disorder by sitting back. My action is to go, “I'm okay. This is all right.” And that's a mindful place to get to. But you have to know we're going after this big, aggressive bully, and it requires an intense amount of determination and you have to access your determination over and over and over again. You don't just get determined and it's steady. So, we just got to keep getting back to that. “No, no, I want to do this work. I want to get my outcome picture. I want to have my mind back. I want to go back to school. I want to be able to connect with my family in a loving way, with having one-third of my mind distracted. I want that back very strongly. And therefore, If I have to go through this work to get there, I want to go through this work.” We can maybe talk more about what that whole message of “I want this” means, but here it is, which is, “I want this” is a kind of determination that's going to help drive the work. Kimberley: Yeah. Let's go there because that is so important. So, tell me about “I want this.” Tell me about why that is so important. So, you've talked about “I want to get better and I want to overcome this,” and so forth. Tell me more about the “I want this comfort.” Reid: Well, let's think about-- you really only have two choices in terms of your reaction to any present moment, either I want this moment, so I'm present to this moment, or I don't want this moment. It's very simple in that way. When I don't want this moment, I'm now resisting this present moment. And what that means practically speaking is, now I've taken part of my consciousness, part of my mind that is available for the treatment and I've parked it. I've taken it offline and actually provoking myself, sticking myself with, “Are you sure you want to do this? Is this really safe? Don't you think-- maybe we could do this later and not now.” So, there's a big drive to resist that we need to be aware of. Have I mentioned this yet? This is a mental health disorder that is very tough to treat. I want 100% of my mental capacities available to do the treatment. I'll never have all of that because I'm always going to have some form of resistance, but I need to get that resistant part of me on the sideline not messing with me, and then let me go forward all like that. One of the confusions sometimes people get around this work when I talk about it is it's not, “Oh, I want to have another obsession right now,” or “I want to have an urge to do my compulsion right now. I want that.” No. What we're talking about is a present moment. So, if my obsession pops up, if it pops up, I want it. If I'm having that urge to do my compulsion, I want it. And why is that? Because we have to go through it to get to the other side. I have to be present to both the obsessions and the urges to do the compulsions in order to do the treatment. So, that's the aggressive piece. “Come on, bring it on. Let's get going. I'm scared of this.” Of course, I don't want-- Kimberley: I'm just going to ask. Reid: I don't want to feel it. I don't want to, but I'm clear that to do the treatment, it requires me to go through the eye of the needle. If you're like I am, there's plenty of days when you don't want to go to the gym. You don't really want to work out or sometimes you don't even want to go to bed as early as you should, but if we want the outcome of that good rest, that workout, then we manifest that in the moment and get moving. We're disrupting a pattern. When I talked about postponing, it's a disruption of this major pattern. If we insert postponing into these obsessions and mental compulsions are impulsive, I have that obsession and I pretty immediately have that urge to do the compulsion. And then I begin doing my mental compulsion. If we slide something in there, that's what mindfulness does go, “Oh, there it is again. Oh, I'm doing it.” Even if you can't sustain that, you've just modified for a few moments, the pattern that you've had no control over. So, that's where we want to be going. And you know how I sometimes say it is, my job is to-- as the client is to purposely choose voluntarily to go toward what scares the bejesus out of me. I don't know if you have bejesus over there in California, but in North Carolina, we got bejesus, and you got to go after it. Kimberley: I think in California, it's more of a non-kind word. Reid: Ah, yes. Okay. Well, we won't even spell it. The Moment By Moment Game Kimberley: That's okay. So, I have questions. I have so many. When you're talking about this moment, are you talking about your way of saying the moment-by-moment game? Is that what you're talking about? Tell me about the moment-to-moment game. Reid: Sure. I'm sure people hearing this the first time would go, “Well, don't be-- you've lost rapport with me now because you called it a game.” But I've been doing this for 35 years, so it's not like I am not aware of the suffering that goes on here. The only reason to call it a game is simply to help structure our treatment approach. Kimberley: That's interesting, because I think of a game as like you're out to win. There's a score. That's what I think of when I-- Reid: That's what this is. That is actually what this is. OCD and the 6 Moment Game Kimberley: I don't think of it as a game like Ring A Rosie kind of stuff. I think of it as like let's pull our socks up kind of stuff. Is that what you're referring to? Reid: We've got this mental game that we are-- we've been playing this game and always losing. So, we're already engaged in it. We're just one down and on the losing end, on the victim end. So, when I talk about it as moment by moment, I want to have, like we've been talking about, this understanding of these sets of principles about what needs to happen. It wants me to do this, I'm going to do the opposite, this is paradoxical and so forth. And then we need to manifest it moment by moment. So, how do we do this? I will really talk about six moments and I'll quickly go through the first three because the first three moments are none of our business. We can't do anything about them. So, moment #1 is just an unconscious stimulus of the obsession, and that's all. That's all it is. Moment #2 is that obsession popping up. And moment #3 is my fear reaction to the obsession because obsessions are frightening by their construct. And so, now I've got those three moments. As I'm saying, we can't do anything about those three moments. These three moments are unconsciously mediated. They are built right on into the neurology. Now we've got in my view three more moments. So, moment #4 is really the foundation of what we do now, what we do next, which is a mindful response. And it is just stepping back in the moment. Suddenly the obsession comes up and I'm anxious and I'm worried about it and I'm having the urge to do the compulsion. And what I want to train myself to do, which can take a little time sometimes, is when I hear my obsession pop up. The way I just described it right there is already a stepping back. When I recognize that I've started to obsess and sometimes it takes a while to even recognize it, I want to step back in that moment and just name it. They have that expression, “Name it to tame it.” So, it's the start of that. So, I'm stepping back in that moment going, “Oh, I'm doing it again,” or, “Oh, there it is.” Now, the way I think about it, if I can do that and just step back and name it, I just won that moment because I just inserted myself. I insinuated myself into the pattern. OCD doesn't want you anywhere near this at this moment. It doesn't want you to be labeling the obsession an obsession. It wants you to be naming the fearful topic of it. So, I'm going to step back in that moment. And if I can accomplish that, great, I've won that moment. If I can go further in that moment, of course, in the end, we want to be able to do that, moment #5 is taking the position of, “I'm treating this as nothing. There is my obsession. I'm treating it as nothing.” And there's all kinds of things you can say to yourself that represent that. “This is none of my business. Oh, there it is trying to go after me. Not playing. I'm not playing this game.” Because it really is a game that the disorder has created. And what we're saying is, “Look, I'm not playing your game anymore. I'm playing my game. And this is what my game looks like.” I'm going to notice it when it pops up, the obsession and the urge to do my compulsion, and I'm going to go, “Not playing,” whatever way I say it. And then moment #6, and this is a controversial moment for others. Moment #6, I'm going to turn away from it. I'm going to just redirect my attention, because this is nothing, but it's drawing my attention. I'm going to treat it as nothing by engaging in some other thought or action that I can find. And even if I can refocus my attention for eight seconds, even if it pops right back up again like, “Where are you going? This is important. You need to pay attention to it,” even if I turn away for eight seconds, I've won that moment because I'm no longer responding to this over here. Now, why I say this is controversial for some folks is it sounds like distraction. It sounds like, “Oh, you're not doing exposure. You're just telling the person to distract themselves. And that's opposite of what we want to be doing.” I don't see it that way. Kimberley: No, I don't either. I think it's healthy to engage in life. Reid: And if we think about, what we're really trying to do is to sit with a generic sense of uncertainty, then this allows us to do it because, in essence, the obsession is a kind of question that is urging you to answer. And when you turn away, engage in something else, you are leaving that question on the table. And that is exposure to pure uncertainty. I just feel like in our field, in exposure, we're doing so much to ask people to expose themselves to the specifics and drill down about that as a way to change neurology. And we know that's really the gold standard based on all the research that has been done. But I think it really adds a degree of distress focusing on that specific that maybe we can circumvent. Kimberley: Do you see a place for the exposure in some settings? I mean, you're talking about being aggressive with it. Does that ever involve, like you said, staring your fear in the face purposely? Reid: Well, yeah. And how do you do that? Well, what you do is you either structure or spontaneously step into circumstances that would tend to provoke the obsession. So, do something that I've been avoiding for fear that thought is going to come up or anything that I have been blocking or avoiding out of fear of having the obsession or anything that tends to provoke the obsession. I want to step into those scenes. So, step into the scene, but the next move isn't like, “Okay, come on obsessions. I need to have an obsession now.” No. If you step into the scene that typically you have an obsession with and you don't have the obsession, well, that's cool. That's fine. That's progress. That's great. Now you got to find something else to step into it with. However, most people with thinking rituals, it goes on most of the day anyway. So, we're going to have a naturalistic exposure just living the day. Kimberley: The day is the exposure. Reid: And for people who are structuring it and you know you're about to step into a scene where you have the obsession, you can, in that way, be prepared to remind yourself, cue yourself ahead of time what your intention is. The more difficult practice is moving through your day and then getting caught by it. So, you get caught by it and then you start digging to fix the content and it takes a little more time to go, “Oh, I'm doing it again.” We're doing exposure. This is exposure. You have to do exposure. I'm just saying that there's a different way to do it instead of sitting down and conjuring up the obsession in order to sit with the distress of the specific. Kimberley: I'm going to ask you a question that I haven't asked the others, just because it's coming up specifically for me. Some clients or some of my therapist clients have reported, “Okay, we're doing good. We're doing good. We're not doing the mental compulsion.” And the obsession keeps popping up. “Come on, just a little. Come on, let's just work it out.” And they go, “No, no, no, not engaging in you.” And then it comes back up. “No, no, no, not engaging in you.” And much of the time is spent saying, “Not today, not today,” or whatever terminology. And then they become concerned that instead of doing mental compulsions, they're just spending the whole time saying, “Not today, not today.” And they're getting concerned. That's becoming compulsive as well. So, what would you say? Are you feeling like that's a great technique? Where would you intervene if not? Reid: Well, I think it's fine if it is working like we're describing it, which is not today, turning away, engaging in something else. So, we've got to be careful around this “not today” thing if you forget to do-- Kimberley: The thing Reid: Moment #6, which is find something else to be engaged in. Then you're going to be-- it's almost, again, you're trying to neutralize, “Oh, this is nothing.” So, we want to make sure that we really complete the whole process around that. And the other way that we-- again, mindfulness and acceptance, the way we can get to it is we have the expression of front burner and back burner. So, we want to take the obsessiveness and the urges and just move them to the back burner, which means they can sit there, they can try to distract you, they can try to pull your attention. So, here you are at work and you're really trying to do right by the disorder, but you're trying to work, and it's still coming over here trying to get to you. You're going to be a little distracted. You're not going to be performing your work quite as well as you would if your mind were clear. And that is the risk that you need to take. That is the price that you need to pay. And that's why you need to have that determination and that perspective to be able to say, “Geez, this is hard. This is what I need to be doing.” You have to talk to yourself. You have to. We talk to ourselves all day long. This is thinking, thinking, thinking. So, we know people with thinking rituals are talking about the urges and so forth. And we've got to redirect how we talk about it in the moment. Kimberley: Okay. So good. What I really want to hear about is your ideas around rules. Reid: Sure. And again, nobody seems to talk about rules. I'm a very big component or a proponent of rules. And here's one reason. What are thinking rituals all about? It's all about thinking, thinking, thinking, thinking, thinking. What do we need to do in the treatment strategy? Well, first off, the disorder is compelling me to fill my mind with thoughts in order to feel safe. I need to come up with a strategy and tactics that reduce my thinking. Then if I don't reduce my thinking, I'm not going to get stronger. One of the ways to reduce my thinking is to say, “I don't need to think about this anymore. I've already figured out what I need to do.” So, during no problem times, during therapeutic times, whether you're sitting with your therapist or figuring this out on your own, you come up with literally what we've been talking about, “What I need to do when an obsession takes place? And then here's what I'm going to do next.” Kimberley: So, you're making decision-- Reid: I'm going to turn my attention. I'm sorry, go ahead. Make Decisions Ahead of Time Kimberley: Sorry. You're making decisions ahead of time. Is that what you mean? Reid: Absolutely. You're making decisions. This is rules of engagement. So, we're not talking about having to get really specific moment by moment. We're talking about thinking rituals. So, it's rules of engagement. Well, simply put, initially, the rule of engagement has to do with those six moments we talked about, which is, okay, when this pops up, this is how I'm going to respond to it. So, we want to have that. All that we've talked about decide that ahead of time. And then as I would say, lock it down, lock it down. And now the part of you who is victim to the disorder, when the obsessiveness starts again, when the urge to do the compulsion starts again, I want to have all of me stand behind the rules, because if we don't have predetermined rules, what is going to run the day? What's going to win the day? What's going to win the day in the moment is the disorder shows up. The victim side, the victim to the disorder is also going to show up and it's going to say, those rules that I was talking about before, “This seems like a bad idea. I don't think in this circumstance that's the right thing to do.” So, if we don't lock it down and we don't have a hierarchy, which is, what I was saying, we're not killing off the side of us that gets obsessive and is being controlled by the disorder. But we are elevating the therapeutic voice, “I'll do that again with my hands.” This is a zero-sum game. So, if I bring my attention to what I've declared what I need to do now, then by default, my attention toward that messages of my threatened self are going to diminish. And this is what I've been talking about with you around determination. You have to be so determined, because it's so tantalizing. Even if they say this isn't going to take me very long to complete this mental ritual, and then it'll be off my plate, and I won't have to be scared about the outcome of not doing this, why wouldn't I do that? So, that's what we're really competing against in those moments of engagement. Thinking Strategically Kimberley: Right. So good. I'm so grateful for what you're sharing. Okay. I want to really quickly touch on, and I think you have, but I want to make sure I'm really clear in terms of thinking strategically. It sounds like everything you just said is a part of that thinking strategic model. I love the idea that you come into the day, having made your decisions upfront with the rules. You've got a plan, you know the steps in the moment. Thinking strategically, tell me if that's what that is or if there's something we've got to add to it. Reid: Yeah. So, yes, all that you just said is that, that we're understanding the principles of treatment based on the principles of what the disorder has intended for us. And then we're trying to manifest those principles in, how do we act in the moment? How do we engage in that in the moment? The other thing we want to think about in terms of how I think about strategic treatment is we're looking for the pattern and messing with the pattern. So, I talked earlier about postponing. We insert postponing into the pattern. It's much easier to add something to a pattern than to try to pull something away. So, if we add postponing or add that beat where I go, “Oh, there's my obsession,” now we're starting to mess with the pattern. I'll give you a couple of-- these are really tactics. Let me tell you about a couple of others and these seem surprisingly ridiculous. Okay, maybe not surprisingly ridiculous. Kimberley: Appropriately ridiculous. Reid: I'm sure you experience this. I experience a lot where people go, “Look, I'd love to do what you're saying, but these obsessions are just pounding away at me all day long. I can't interrupt them. I can't do it.” What I would like people to be focused on is, what can we do to make keeping the ritual, keeping the obsession more difficult than letting it go? So, we talked about postponing. That doesn't quite do what I'm saying right now. One of the things I'll have people do is to sing it. I know, and I'm not going to demonstrate. Kimberley: Please. I will. Reid: And here's what you do. If I can't stop my obsessions, I can't park them, then when I notice – there's moment #4 – when I notice my obsessions-- and we can do this in a time-limited-- I'm a cognitive therapist, so we do behavioral experiment. So, we can just do an experiment. We can go, “Okay, for the next three days, three weeks, three hours, whatever we decide, anytime I notice the obsession coming up, instead of saying it urgently and anxiously in my mind, I must sing it.” It just means lilting my voice. “Oh my gosh, how am I ever going to get through this? I don't count the tiles on the ceiling. I'm not sure I can really handle what's going to happen next. Oh my gosh, I feel so anxious about--” you see why I don't demonstrate. Kimberley: Encore, encore. Reid: SO, it's just lilting the voice like that. A couple of things are going on. One is obviously we're disrupting the pattern. But just as important, who in their right mind, having a thought that is threatening, would sing it? So, simply by singing my obsession instead of stating it, I'm degrading the content, I'm degrading the topic. And so, that's why I would do it. And again, that's what we were saying. You got to lock it down. You got to go signal versus noise. This is noise. It's acceptable to me to be doing this. This is very difficult. With such a short period of time, I don't drill that home as much as I might. This is really, really hard, but it is an intervention. So, singing it is one thing that I will sometimes have some people do. And the other one is to write it down. And this means literally carrying a notepad with you and a pen throughout your day. And anytime your obsession starts to pop up, you pull that notepad out and you start writing your obsession. And I'm not saying put it in an organized paragraph fashion or a bulleted list or anything like that. We're talking about stenographer in the courtroom. I want to, in that moment, when I start obsessing, to step back, pull out my notepad, because I said for the next three days, I'm going to do this, and then I'm going to write every single thing that's popping up in my mind. Kimberley: So, it'd be like, “What if you want to kill her? You might want to kill her. There's a knife. I noticed a knife. Do I want to kill her with a knife? Am I a bad person?” Reid: Oh, it's harder than that. It's harder than that, Kimberley, because you're not only saying, “Do I want to kill her? There's the knife. Oh, what did I just say?” Now I got to write, “Oh, what did I just say? Oh, the knife. Oh, the knife. Do I want to kill her with the knife?” So, every utterance, we're not saying every utterance. And so, there's going to be a message of, “Did I just say that right? Now I can't remember what I said. Damn it, damn it.” All of that. Now, again, a couple of things are happening. I'm changing modes of communication. The disorder wants me to do this by thinking. You and I know, you can have an obsessive thought a thousand times in a day. You can't write it a thousand times. So, now we're switching from the mode of communication that serves the disorder to a mode of communication that disrupts it. And if I really commit myself to writing this, after a while, now I'm at a choice point. Now when obsession pops up later and I go, “Oh, I'm obsessing again. Well, I can either start writing it,” or “Maybe I can just let it go right now because I don't want to write it. It's just so much work. Okay, let me go distract myself.” So, all of a sudden, we've done exposure and response prevention without the struggle, because I don't want to do what I have agreed to do locked down, which is write this. So, it empowers. Writing it, just like singing it, empowers me to release it, especially people with thinking rituals. The whole idea of using postponing around the rituals, singing the obsession if I need to, writing down the obsession as tactics to help break things up, and then just keep coming back to what's our intention here. This is a mental health disorder. I keep getting sucked into the topic. I don't think I can-- here's I guess the last thing I would say on my end is, this is it, which is, I don't know if this is going to work. I don't know how painful whatever is coming next is going to be by not doing my ritual. I am going to have faith. I mean, this is what happens. You have to have faith and a belief in something and someone outside of your mind, because your mind is contaminated and controlled by the disorder. You can't keep going up into your thinking and try to figure out how to get out of this wet paper bag. You're just not-- you can't. So, you got to have faith and trust. And that's a giant leap too. Because initially, when we do treatment with people, however we do it, they've got to be doing something they don't know is going to be helpful. When people start doing the singing thing or the writing down thing, for instance, after a while, they go, “Wow, that really worked. Okay, I'm going to do that some more.” And that's what we need. Initially, you just have to have faith and experiment. That's why we like to do short experiments. I don't say, “Hey, do this over the next 12 weeks and you'll get better.” I go, “Look, I know you think this over here, I'm thinking it's this over here. How about we structure something for the next X number of minutes, hours, days, and just see what you notice if you can feel like you can afford to do that.” Kimberley: So good. I've just got one question and then I'm going to let you go. I'm going to first ask my question and then I want you to explain, tell us about your course. When you sing the song, I usually have my staff sing it to a song they know, like Happy Birthday or Auld Lang Syne, whatever it may be. You are saying just up and down, “No, no, no,” that kind of thing. Is there a reason for that? Reid: Well, I don't want people to have to make a rhyme. I don't want them to have to-- Kimberley: It's just for the sake of it. Reid: I'm totally fine with what you're saying. Okay, I'm going to-- you can figure it out. It's like going, “Okay, anytime I hear my obsession come up, I'm going to make my obsession the voice of Minnie Mouse. So, I'm going to degrade it by having to be a little mouse on my shoulder, anything to degrade it.” If you've got to set little songs or you ask your client what they would put it to, then yeah. And then in the session, we're talking about the therapist, demonstrate it and have them practice it with you in order to get it. Kimberley: Right. I've even had clients who are good at accents, like do it in different accents. They bring out-- Reid: You've got a good one. You're really practicing that Australian accent. Kimberley: Very. I practiced for many years to get this one. All right. You talk about the six-moment game. I've had the joy of having taken that course. Can you tell us if that's what you want to tell us about, about where people can hear about you and all the good stuff you've got? Reid: Sure. Well, I would start with just saying anxieties.com. It's anxieties, plural, .com. And that's my website, a free website. It's got every anxiety disorder and OCD. You've got written instruction around how to do some of the work that we're talking about. And then I've got tons of free video clips that people can watch and learn a bunch of stuff. I laid out, in the last two years, a four-hour course, and I filmed it. And so, it is online now. I take people all the way through what I call OCD & the 6-Moment Game: Strategies and Tactics, because I want to empower people in that way. So, I talk about all the stuff that you and I are rushing over right now. It's got a full written transcript as an eBook, a PDF eBook. I've got a workbook that lets people figure out how to do these practices on their own. All of that. In fact, you can get-- I can't say how to get it at this moment. Maybe you can post something, I don't know. But I will give anybody the workbook, that's 37 pages, and it takes you through a bunch of stuff. No cost to you, send it to anybody else you want. So, I feel like that, first off, we don't have enough mental health professionals to treat the people with mental health disorders in this world today. And so, we need to find delivery systems. That will help reach more people. And I believe in Stepped Care. And Stepped Care is a protocol, both in physical medicine and in mental health, which says that first step of Stepped Care and treatment is self-help. And I call it self-help treatment, because the first step is relatively inexpensive, empowering the patient or the client, and giving them directions about how to get stronger. And a certain percentage of people, that will be enough for them. And so, all of us who have written self-help books and so forth, that's our intention. And now, I'm trying to go one step beyond self-help books to be able to have video that gives people more in-depth. What I want is for that first step, the principles that are in that first step, go up to the next step. So, if a self-help course or a book or whatever is not sufficient to finish the work, then you go up one level to maybe a self-help group or a therapeutic group and work further there. And if you can't complete your work, then go up the next step, which is individual treatment, the next step, which is intensive outpatient treatment, the next step, mixture medications, and so forth. And so, if we can carry a set of principles up, then everybody's on the same page and you're not starting all over again. So, I focus on step one. I'm a simple guy. Kimberley: I'm focused on step one too, which is what you're doing with me right now, which makes me so happy. I'm so grateful for you for so many reasons. Reid: Well, I'm happy to be doing this, spending time with you. It's great. And trying to figure out how to deliver the information concisely. It's still a work in progress. Thank you for giving me an opportunity. Kimberley: No, thank you. I've loved hearing about all of these major points of your work. I'm so grateful for you. So, thank you so much for coming on again. I didn't have a coughing fit during this episode like I did the last one. Reid: Nothing to make fun of you about. Kimberley: Thank you so much, Reid. You're just the best. Reid: Well, great constructing this whole thing. This is what I'm talking about too, is to have a series of us that eventually everybody will see and work their way down and get all these different positions and opinions from people who already do this work. And so, that's great. You have a choice, so that's great. Kimberley: Love it. Thank you. Reid: Okay. Talk again sometime.

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Ep. 284 6-Part Series: Managing Mental Compulsions (with Shala Nicely)

Play Episode Listen Later May 13, 2022 41:43

SUMMARY: In this weeks podcast, we have my dearest friend Shala Nicely talking about how she manages mental compulsions. In this episode, Shala shares her lived experience with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and how she overcomes mental rituals. In This Episode: How to reduce mental compulsions for OCD and GAD. How to use Flooding Techniques with Mental Compulsions Magical Thinking and Mental Compulsions BDD and Mental Compulsions Links To Things I Talk About: Shalanicely.com Book: Is Fred in the Refridgerator? Book: Everyday Mindfulness for OCD ERP School: https://www.cbtschool.com/erp-school-lp Episode Sponsor: This episode of Your Anxiety Toolkit is brought to you by CBTschool.com. CBTschool.com is a psychoeducation platform that provides courses and other online resources for people with anxiety, OCD, and Body-Focused Repetitive Behaviors. Go to cbtschool.com to learn more. Spread the love! Everyone needs tools for anxiety... If you like Your Anxiety Toolkit Podcast, visit YOUR ANXIETY TOOLKIT PODCAST to subscribe free and you'll never miss an episode. And if you really like Your Anxiety Toolkit, I'd appreciate you telling a friend (maybe even two). EPISODE TRANSCRIPTION This is Your Anxiety Toolkit - Episode 284. Welcome back, everybody. We are on the third video or the third part of this six-part series on how to manage mental compulsions. Last week's episode with Jon Hershfield was bomb, like so good. And I will say that we, this week, have Shala Nicely, and she goes for it as well. So, I am so honored to have these amazing experts talking about mental compulsions, talking about what specific tools they use. So, I'm not going to take too much time of the intro this time, because I know you just want to get to the content. Again, I just want to put a disclaimer. This should not replace professional mental health care. This series is for educational purposes only. My job at CBT School is to give you as much education as I can, knowing that you may or may not have access to care or treatment in your own home. So, I'm hoping that this fills in a gap that maybe we've missed in the past in terms of we have ERP School, that's an online course teaching you everything about ERP to get you started if you're doing that on your own. But this is a bigger topic. This is an area that I'd need to make a complete new course. But instead of making a course, I'm bringing these experts to you for free, hopefully giving you the tools that you need. If you're wanting additional information about ERP School, please go to CBTSchool.com. With that being said, let's go straight over to this episode with Shala Nicely. Kimberley: Welcome, Shala. I am so happy to have you here. Shala: I am so happy to be here. Thank you for having me. Kimberley: Okay. So, I have heard a little bit of your views on this, but I am actually so excited now to get into the juicy details of how you address mental compulsions or mental rituals. First, I want to check in with you, do you call them mental compulsions, rituals, rumination? How do you address them? Shala: Yeah. All those things. I also sometimes call it mental gymnastics up in your head, it's all sorts of things you're doing in your head to try to get some relief from anxiety. Kimberley: Right. So, if you had a patient or a client who really was struggling with mental compulsions, whether or not they were doing other compulsions as well, how might you address that particular part of their symptomology? Shala: So, let me answer that by stepping back a little bit and telling you about my own experience with this, because a lot of the way I do it is based on what I learned, trying to manage my own mental rituals. I've had OCD probably since I was five or six, untreated until I was 39. Stumbled upon the right treatment when I went to the IOCDF Conference and started doing exposure mostly on my own. I went to Reid Wilson's two-day group, where I learned how to do it. But the rest of the time, I was implementing on my own. And even though I had quite a few physical compulsions, I would've considered myself a primary mental ritualizer, meaning if we look at the majority, my compulsions were up in my head. And the way I think about this is I think that sometimes if you have OCD for long enough, and you've got to go out and keep functioning in the world and you can't do all these rituals so that people could see, because then people will be like, “What's wrong with you? What are you doing?” you take them inward. And some mental compulsions can take the place of physical compulsions that you're not able to do for whatever reason because you're trying to function. And I'd had untreated OCD for so long that most of my rituals were up in my head, not all, but the great majority of them. Exposure & Response Prevention for Mental Compulsions So, when I started to do exposure, what I found was I could do exposure therapy, straight up going and facing my fears, like going and being around things that might be triggering all I wanted, but I wasn't necessarily getting better because I wasn't addressing the mental rituals. So, basically, I'm doing exposure without response prevention or exposure with partial response prevention, which can make things either worse or just neutralize your efforts. So, what I did was I figured out how to be in the presence of triggers and not be up in my head, trying to do analyzing, justifying, figuring it out, replaying the situation with a different ending, all the sorts of things that I would do over and over in my head. And the way I did this was I took something I learned from Jonathan Grayson and his book, Freedom From OCD. I know you're having him on for this series too. And he talked about doing all this ERP scripting, where you basically write out the worst-case scenario, what you think your OCD thinks is going to happen and you write it in either a worst-case way or an uncertainty-focused way. And what I did was after reading his book, I took that concept and I just shortened it down, and anything that my OCD was afraid of, I would just wrap may or may not surround it. So, for instance, an example that I use in Is Fred in the Refrigerator?, my memoir, Taming OCD and Reclaiming My Life was that I used to-- when I was walking through stores like Target, if I saw one of those little plastic price tags that had fallen on the ground, if I didn't pick it up and put it out of harm's way, I was afraid somebody was going to slip and fall and break their neck. And it would be on some security camera that I just walked on past it and didn't do anything. So, a typical scrupulosity obsession. And so, going shopping was really hard because I'm cleaning up the store as I'm shopping. And so, what I would do is I would either go to Target, walk past the price tag. And then as I'm just passing the price tag, I would say things. And in Target, I obviously couldn't do this really out loud, mumble it out loud as best, but I may or may not cause somebody to kill themselves by they're going to slip and fall on that price tag because I didn't pick it up. I may or may not be an awful, terrible rotten human being. They may or may not catch me and throw me into jail. I may or may not rot in prison. People may or may not find out what a really bad person I really am. This may or may not be OCD, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. And that would allow me to be present with the obsessions, all the what-ifs – those are basically what-ifs turned into ‘may or may nots' – without compulsing with them, without doing anything that would artificially lower my anxiety. So, it allowed me to be in the presence of those obsessive thoughts while interrupting the pattern of the mental rituals. And that's really how I use ‘may or may nots' and how I teach my clients to use ‘may or may nots' today is using them to really be mindfully present of what the OCD is worried about while not interacting with that content in a way that's going to make things worse. So, that's how I developed it for myself. And I think that-- and that is a tool that I would say is an intermediary tool. So, I use that now in my own recovery. I don't have to use 'may or may nots'. It's very often at all. If I get super triggered, which doesn't happen too terribly often, but if I get super triggered and I cannot get out of my head, I'll use 'may or may nots'. But I think the continuum is that you try to do something to interrupt the mental rituals, which for me is the 'may or may nots'. You can also-- people can write down the scripts, they can do a worst-case scenario. But eventually, what you're trying to get to is you're trying to be able to hear the OCD, what-ifs in your head and completely ignore it. And I call that my shoulders back, the way of thinking about things. Just put your shoulders back and you move on with your day. You don't acknowledge it. What I'll do with clients, I'll say, “If you had the thought of Blue Martian is going to land on my head, I mean, you wouldn't even do anything with that thought. That thought would just go in and go out and wouldn't get any of your attention.” That's the way we want to treat OCD, is just thoughts can be there. I'm not going to say, “Oh, that's my OCD.” I'm not going to say, “OCD, I'm not talking to you.” I'm not going to acknowledge it at all. I'm just going to treat it like any other weird thought that we have during the day and move on. Your question was, how would you help somebody who comes in with mental rituals? Well, first, I want to understand where are they in their OCD recovery? How long have they been doing these mental rituals? What percentage of their compulsions are mental versus physical? What are the kind of things that their OCD is afraid of? Basically, make a list or a hierarchy of everything they're afraid of. And then we start working on exposure therapy. And when I have them do exposures, the first exposure I do with people, we'll find something that's-- I start in the middle of the hierarchy. You don't have to, but I try. And I will have them face the fear. But then I'll immediately ask them, what is your OCD saying right now? And they'll tell me, and I'll say, “I want you to repeat after me.” I have them do this, and everyone that I see hates this, but I have them do it. Standing up with their shoulders back like Wonder Woman, because this type of power pose helps them. It changes the chemistry of your body and helps you feel more powerful. OCD thinks it's very powerful. So, I want my clients to feel as powerful as they can. So, I have them stand like Wonder Woman and they repeat after me. Somebody could-- let's just say we are standing near something red on the floor. And I'll say, “Well, what is your OCD saying right now?” And they'll say, “Well, that's blood and it could have AIDS in it, and I'm going to get sick.” I'll say, “Well, that may or may not be a spot of blood on the floor. I may or may not get sick and I may or may not get AIDS, but I want to do this. I'm going to stay here. OCD, I want to be anxious, so bring it on.” And that's how we do the exposure, is I ask them what's in their head. I have them repeat it to me until they understand what the process is. And then I'm having them be in the presence of this and just script, script, script away. That's what I call it scripting, so that they are in the presence of whatever's bothering them, but they're not up in their head. And anytime something comes in their head, I teach them to pull it down into the script. Never let something be circulating in your head without saying it out loud and pulling it into the script. I will work on this technique with clients as we're working on exposures, because eventually what we'll want to do is instead of going all over the place, “That may or may not be blood, I may or may not get AIDS, I may or may not get sick,” I'll say, “Okay, of all the things you've just said, what does your OCD-- what is your OCD scared of the most? Let's focus on that.” And so, “I may or may not get AIDS. I may or may not get AIDS. I may or may not have HIV. I may or may not get AIDS,” over again until people start to say, “Oh, okay. I guess I don't have any control over this,” because what we're trying to do is help the OCD habituate to the uncertainty. Habituate, I know that'd be a confusing word. You don't have to habituate in order for exposure to work due to the theory of inhibitory learning, but we're trying to help your brain get used to the uncertainty here. Kimberley: And break into a different cycle instead of doing the old rumination cycle. Shala: Yes. And so then, I'll teach people to just find their scariest fear. They say that over and over and over again. Then let's hit the next one. “Well, my family may or may not survive if I die because if I get a fatal disease and I die and my family may or may not be left destitute,” and then over and over. “My family may or may not be left destitute. My family may or may not be left destitute, whatever,” until we're hitting all the things that could be circulating in your head. Now, some people really don't need to do that scripting because they're not up in their head that much. But that's the minority of people. I think most people with OCD are doing something in their head. And a lot of people aren't aware of what they're doing because these mental rituals are incredibly subtle at times. And so, as people, as my clients go out and work on these exposures, I'll have them tell me how it's going. I have people fill out forms on my website each day as they're doing exposures so I can see what's going on. And if they're not really up in their head and they don't really need to do the ‘may or may nots', great. That's better. In fact, just go do the exposure and go on with your life. If they're up in their head, then I have them do the 'may or may nots'. And so, that's how I would start with somebody. And so, what I'm trying to do is I'm giving them what I call a bridge tool. Because people who have been mental ritualizing for a long time, I have found it's virtually impossible to just stop because that's what your mind is used to doing. And so, what I'm doing is I'm giving them a competing response. And I'm saying here, instead of mental ritualizing, I'd like you to say a bunch of 'may or may nots' statements while standing up and say them out loud while looking like Wonder Woman. Everybody rolls their eyes like, “Really?” But that's what we do as a bridge tool. And so, they've lifted enough mental weights, so to speak, with this technique that they can hear the OCD and start to disengage and not interact with it at all. Then we move to that technique. Flooding Techniques for Mental Rumination Kimberley: Is there a reason why-- and for some of the listeners, they may have learned this before, but is there a reason why you use 'may or may nots' instead of worst-case scenarios? Shala: For me, for my personal OCD recovery journey, what I found with worst-case scenario is I got too lost in the content. I remember doing-- I had had a mammogram, it had come back with some abnormal findings. I spent the whole weekend trying to do scripting about what could happen, and I was using worst-case scenario. Well, I end up in the hospital, I end up with breast cancer, I end up dead. And by the end of the weekend, I was completely demoralized. And I'm like, “Well, I don't bother because I'm going to be dead, because I have breast cancer.” That's where my mind took it because I've had OCD long enough that if I get a really scary and I start and I play around in the content, I'm going to start losing insight and I'm going to start doing depression as a compulsion, which is the blog we did talk about, where you start acting depressed because you're believing what the OCD says like, “Oh, well, I might as well just give up, I have breast cancer,” and then becoming depressed, and then acting like it's true. And then that's reinforcing the whole cycle. So, for me, worst-case scenario scripting made things worse. So, when I stayed in the uncertainty realm, the ‘may or may nots' that helped because I was trying to help my brain understand, “Well, I may or may not have breast cancer. And if I do, I mean, I'll go to the doctor, I'll do what I need to do, but there's nothing I can do about it right now in my head other than what I'm doing.” Some people like worst-case scenario and it works fine for them. And I think that works too. I mostly use 'may or may nots' with clients unless they are unable through numbing that they might be doing. If they're unable to actually feel what they're saying, because they're used to turning it over in their head and pulling the anxiety down officially, and so I can't get a rise out of the OCD because there's a lot of really little subtle mental compulsions going on, then I'll insert some worst-case scenario to get the anxiety level up, to help them really feel the fear, and then pull back into 'may or may nots'. But there's nothing wrong with worst-case scenario. But for me, that was what happened. And I think if you are prone to depression, if you're prone to losing insight into your OCD when you've got a really big one, I think that's a risk factor for using that particular type of scripting. Magical Thinking and Mental Compulsions Kimberley: Right. And I found that they may or may not have worked just as well, except the one thing, and I'm actually curious on your opinion on this and I have not had this conversation, is I find that people who have a lot of magical thinking benefit by worst-case scenario, like their jinxing compulsions and so forth, like the fear of saying it means it will happen. So, saying the worst-case is the best exposure. Is that true for you? Shala: I have not had to use it much on my own magically. I certainly had a lot of magical thinking. Like, if I don't hit this green light, then somebody's going to die. But I think the worst-case scenario, I could actually work well in that, because if you use the worst-case scenario, it can make it seem so ridiculous that it helps people let go of it more easily. And I think you can do that with 'may or may nots' too. I'll try to encourage people to use the creativity that they have because everybody with OCD has a ton of creativity. And we know that because the OCD shares your brain and it's certainly the creative stuff And to one-up the OCD, you use the scripting to be like, “Gosh, I may or may not get some drug-disease and give it to my entire neighborhood. I may or may not kill off an entire section of my county. We may or may not infect the entire state of Georgia. The entire United States may or may not blow up because I got this one disease. So, they may or may not have to eject me off the earth and make me live on Mars because I'm such a bad person.” This ‘may or may not' is in all this crazy stuff too, because that's how to win, is to one up the OCD. It thinks that's scary, let's go even scarier. But the scary you get, it also gets a little bit ridiculous after a while. And then the whole thing seems to be a little bit ridiculous. So, I think you can still use that worst-case stuff with may or may not. Kimberley: Right. Okay. So, I mean, I will always sort of-- I know you really well. I've always held you so high in my mind in just how resilient and strong you are in doing this. How might you, or how do you help people who feel completely powerless at even addressing this? For you to say it, it sounds very like you're just doing it and it's so powerful. But for those who are really struggling with this idea of like, you said, coming out of your head, can you speak to how you address that in session if someone's really struggling to engage in 'may or may nots' and so forth? Shala: Yeah. Well, thank you for the kind words, first off. I think that it's really common for people with OCD by the time they get to a therapist to feel completely demoralized, especially if they've been to multiple therapists before they get to somebody who does ERP. And so, they feel like they're the victim at the hands of a very cruel abuser that they can't get away from. And so, they feel beaten down and they don't know how to get out of their heads. They feel like they're trapped in this mental prison. They can't get out. And if somebody is struggling like that, and they're doing the 'may or may nots' and the OCD is reacting, which of course, it will, and coming back at them stronger, which I always warn people, this is going to happen. When you start poking at this, the OCD is going to poke back and poke back even harder, because it wants to get you back in line so it can keep you prisoner. So, what I'll often do in those situations, if I see somebody is really feeling like they have been so victimized, that they're never going to be able to get over this, is the type of script I have them do is more of an empowerment script, which could sound like this: “OCD, I'm not listening to you anymore. I'm not doing what you want. I am strong. I can do this.” And I might add some 'may or may nots' in there. “And I want to be anxious. Come on, bring it on. You think that's scary? Give me something else.” I know you're having Reid Wilson on as part of this too. I learned all that “bring it on” type stuff and pushing for the anxiety from him. And I think helping people say that out loud can be really transformative. I've seen people just completely break down in tears of sort of, “Oh my gosh, I could do this,” like tears of empowerment from standing up and yelling at their OCD. If people like swearing, I also just have them swear at it, like they would really swear at somebody who had been abusing them if they had a chance, because swearing actually can make you feel more powerful too, and I want to use all the tools we can. So, I think scripting comes in a number of forms. It's all about really taking what's in your head, turning it into a helpful self-talk and saying it out loud. And the reason out loud is important for any type of scripting is that if you're saying it in your head, it's going to get mixed up with all the jumble of mental ruminating that's going on. And saying it out loud makes it hard for you to ruminate. It's not impossible, but it's hard because you're saying it. Your brain really is only processing one thing at a time. And so, if you're talking and really paying attention to what you're saying, it's much harder to be up in your head spinning this around. And so, adding these empowerment scripts in with the 'may or may nots' helps people both accept the uncertainty and feel like they can do this, feel like they can stand up to the OCD and say, “You've beaten me enough. No more. This is my life. I'm not letting you ruin it anymore. I am taking this back. I don't care how long it takes. I don't care what I have to do. I'm going to do this.” And that builds people up enough where they can feel like they can start approaching these exposures. Kimberley: I love that. I think that is such-- I've had that same experience of how powerful empowerment can be in switching that behavior. It's so important. Now, one thing I really want to ask you is, do you switch this method when you're dealing with other anxiety disorders – health anxiety, social anxiety, panic disorder? What is your approach? Is there a difference or would you say the tools are the same? Shala: There's a slight difference between disorders. I think health anxiety, I treat exactly like OCD. Even some of the examples I gave here were really health anxiety statements. With panic disorder-- and again, I learned this from Reid and you can ask him more about this when you interview him. But with pain disorder, it's all about, I want to feel more shorter breath, more like their elephant standing on my chest. I want my heart to be faster. But I'm doing this while I'm having people do exercises that would actually create those feelings, like breathing through a little bit of cocktail straw, jogging, turning up a space heater, and blowing it on themselves. So, we're trying to create those symptoms and then talk out loud and say, “Come on, I want more of this. I want to feel more anxious. Give me the worst panic attack you've ever had.” So, it's all about amping up the symptoms. With social anxiety, it's a little bit different because with social anxiety, I would work on the cognitions first. Whereas with OCD, we don't work on the cognitions at all, other than I want you to have a different cognitive relationship with your disorder and your anxiety. I want you to want the anxiety. I want you to want the OCD to come and bother you because that gives you an opportunity to practice. That's the cognitive work with OCD. I do not work on the cognitive work on the content. I'm not going to say to somebody, “Well, the chance you're going to get AIDS from that little spot of blood is very small.” That's not going to be helpful With social anxiety, we're actually working on those distorted cognitions at the beginning. And so, a lot of the work with social anxiety is going to be going out and testing those new cognitions, which really turns the exposures into what we call behavioral experiments. It's more of a cognitive method. We're going out and saying, “Gosh, my new belief, instead of everybody's judging me, is, well, everybody is probably thinking about themselves and I'm going to go do some things that my social anxiety wouldn't want me to do and test out that new belief.” I might have them use that new belief, but also if their anxiety gets really high and they're having a hard time saying, “Well, that person may or may not be judging me. They may or may not be looking at me funny. They may or may not go home and tell people about me.” But really, we're trying to do something a little bit different with social anxiety. Kimberley: And what about with generalized anxiety? With the mental, a lot of rumination there, do you have a little shift in how you respond? Shala: Yeah. So, it's funny that the talk that Michelle Massi and others gave at IOCDF-- I think it was at IOCDF this year about what's the difference between OCD and GAD is they're really aligned there. I mean, I treat GAD very similarly the way I treat OCD in that people are up in their heads trying to do things. They're also doing other types of safety behaviors, compulsive safety behaviors, but a lot of people GAD are just up in their head. They're just worried about more “real-life” things. But again, a lot of OCD stuff can be real-life things. I mean, look at COVID. That was real life. And people's OCD could wrap itself around that. So, I treat GAD and OCD quite similarly. There are some differences, but in terms of scripting, we call it “worry time” in GAD. It's got a different name, but it's basically the same thing. Kimberley: Right. Okay. Thank you for answering that because I know some folks here listening will be not having OCD and will be curious to see how it affects them. So, is that the practice for you or is there anything else you feel like people need to know going in, in terms of like, “Here is my strategy, here is my plan to target mental rituals”? What would you say? Shala: So, as I mentioned, I think the 'may or may nots' are bridge tool that are always available to you throughout your entire recovery. My goal with anybody that I'm working with is to help them get to the point where they can just use shoulders back. And the way that I think about this is what I call my “man in the park” metaphor. So, we've all probably been in a park where somebody is yelling typically about the end of the world and all that stuff. And even if you were to agree with some of the things that the person might say from a spiritual or religious standpoint, you don't run home and go, “Oh my gosh, we got to pack all our things up because it's the end of the world. We have to get with all of our relatives and be together because we're all going to die.” We don't do that. We hear what this guy's saying, and then we go on with our days, again, even if you might agree with some of the content. Now, why do we do that? We do that because it's not relevant in our life. We realize that person probably, unfortunately, has some problems. But it doesn't affect us. We hear it just like when we might hear birds in the background or a car honking, and we just go on with our day. That's how we want to treat OCD. What we do when we have untreated OCD is we run up to the man in the park and we say, “Oh my gosh, can I have a pamphlet? Let me read the pamphlet. Oh my gosh, you're right. Tell me more, tell me more.” And we're interacting with him, trying to get some reassurance that maybe he's wrong, that maybe he does really mean the end of the world is coming soon. Maybe it's going to be like in a hundred years. Eventually, we get to the point where we're handing out pamphlets for him. “Here, everybody, take one of these.” What we're doing with 'may or may nots' is we're learning how to walk by the man in the park and go, “The world may or may not be ending. The world may or may not be ending. I'm not taking a pamphlet. The world may or may not be ending.” So, we're trying to not interact with him. We're trying to take what he's saying and hold it in our heads without doing something compulsive that's going to make our anxiety higher. What we're trying to do is practice that enough till we can get to the point where we can be in the park with the guy and just go on with our day. We hear him speaking, but we're really-- it's just not relevant. It's just not part of our life. So, we just move on. And we're not trying to shove him away. It's just like any other noise or sound or activity that you would just-- it doesn't even register in your consciousness. That's what we're trying to do. Now I think another way to think about this is if you think-- say you're in an art gallery. Art galleries are quiet and there are lots of people standing around, and there's somebody in there that you don't like or who doesn't like you or whatever. You're not going to walk up to that person and tap on their shoulder and say, “Excuse me, I'm going to ignore you.” You're just going to be like, “I know that person is there. I'm just going to do what I'm doing.” And I think that's-- I use that to help people understand this transition, because we're basically going from 'may or may nots' where we're saying, “OCD, I'm not letting you do this to me anymore,” so we are being really aggressive with it, to this being able to be in the same space with it, but we're not talking to it at all because we don't need to, because we can be in the presence with the intrusive thoughts that the OCD is reacting to, just like the presence of all the other thousands of thoughts we have each day without interacting with them. Kimberley: That's so interesting. I've never thought of it that way. Shala: And so, that's where I'm trying to get people because that is the strongest, strongest recovery, is if you can go do the things that you want to do, be in the presence of the anxiety and not do compulsions physical or mental, you don't give anything for OCD to work with. I have a whole chapter in my memoir about this after I heard Reid say at one of the conferences, “We need to act as though what OCD is saying doesn't matter.” And that was revolutionary to me to hear that. And that's what we're trying to do both physically and mentally. Because if you can have an obsession and focus on what you want to focus on, do what you want to do, you're not giving OCD anything to work with. And typically, it'll just drain away. But this takes time. I mean, it has taken me years to learn how to do this, but I went untreated for 35 years too. It may not take you years, but it may. And that's okay. It's a process. And I think if you have trouble trying to do shoulders back, man in the park, use 'may or may nots'. You can use the combination. But I think we're trying to get to the point where you can just be with the OCD and hear it flipping out and just go on with your day. OCD, BDD, and Mental Rituals Kimberley: In your book, you talk about the different voices. There is a BDD voice and an OCD voice. Was it harder or easier depending on the voice? Was that a component for you in that-- because the words and the voice sound a little different. I know in your memoir you give them different names and so forth, which if anyone hasn't read your memoir, they need to go right now and read it. Do you have any thoughts on that in terms of the different voices or the different ways in which the disorders interact? Shala: That's a really great question because yes, I think OCD does shift its voice and shift its persona based on how scared it is. So, if it's a little bit scared, it's probably going to speak to you. It's still going to be not a very nice voice. It might be urgent and pleading. But if it's super scared, I talk about mine being like the triad of hell, how my OCD will personify into different things based on how scared it is. And if it's super scared and it's going to get super big and it's going to get super loud in your head because it's trying desperately to help you understand you've got to save it because it thinks it's in danger. That's all its content. Then I think-- and if you have trouble ignoring it because it's screaming in your head, like the man in the park comes over with his megaphone, puts it right up against your ear and starts talking, that's hard to ignore. That's hard to act like that's not relevant because it hurts. There's so much noise. That's when you might have to use a may or may not type approach because it's just so loud, you can't ignore it, because it's so scared. And that's okay. And again, sometimes I'll have to use that. Not too terribly often just because I've spent a long time working on how to use the shoulder's back, man in the park, but if I have to use it, I use it. And so, I think your thought about how do I interact with the OCD based on how aggressive it's being also plays into this. Kimberley: I love all this. I think this is really helpful in terms of being able to be flexible. I know sometimes we want just the one rule that's going to work in all situations, but I think you're right. I think that there needs to be different approaches. And would you say it depends on the person? Do you give them some autonomy over finding what works for them, or what would you say? Shala: Absolutely. If people are up in their heads and they don't want to use 'may or may nots', I'll try to use some other things. If I really, really think that that's what we need right now, is we need scripting, I'll try to sell them on why. But at the end of the day, it's always my client's choice and I do it differently based on every client. For some clients, it might be just more empowering statements. For some clients where it's more panicky focused, it might be more about bringing on your anxiety. Sometimes it might be pulling self-compassion in and just saying the self-compassion statements out loud. So, it really does vary by person. There's no one-size-fits-all, but I think, I feel that people need to have something to replace the mental ritualizing with at the beginning that they've been doing it for a long time, just because otherwise, it's like, I'm giving them a bicycle, they've never ridden a bicycle before and I won't give them any training wheels. And that's really, really hard. Some people can do it. I mean, some people can just be like, “Oh, I'm to stop doing that in my head? Okay, well, I'll stop doing that in my head.” But most people need something to help them bridge that gap to get to the point where they can just be in the presence with it and not be talking to it in their heads. Kimberley: Amazing. All right. Any final statements from you as we get close to the end? Shala: I think that it's important to, as you're working on this, really think about what you're doing in your head that might be subtle, that could be making the OCD worse. And I think talking and being willing to talk about this to therapists about putting it all out there, “Hey, I'm saying this to myself in my head, is that helpful or harmful?” Because OCD therapy can be pretty straightforward. I mean, ERP, go out and face your fears, don't do rituals. It sounds pretty straightforward. But there is a lot of subtlety to this. And the more that you can root out these subtle mental rituals, the better that your recovery is going to be. And know too that if you've had untreated OCD for a long time, you can uncover mental rituals, little bitty ones, for years after you get out of therapy. And that's okay. It doesn't mean you're not in recovery. It just means that you are getting more and more insightful and educated about what OCD is. And the more that you can pick those little things out, just the better your recovery will be. But we also don't want to be perfectionistic about that like, “I must eliminate every single mental ritual that I have or I'm not going to be in a good recovery.” That's approaching your ERP like OCD would do. And we don't want to do that. But we do want to be mindful about the subtleties and make sure to try to pull out as many of those subtle things that we might be doing in our heads as possible. Kimberley: Amazing. Thank you. Tell us-- again, first, let me just say, such helpful information. And your personal experience, I think, is really validating and helpful to hear on those little nuances. Tell us where people can hear about you and the amazing projects you've got going on. Shala: You can go to ShalaNicely.com and I have lots of free blog posts I've written on this. So, there are two blog posts, two pretty extensive blog posts on 'may or may nots'. So, if you go on my website and just search may or may not, it'll bring up two blog posts about that. If you search on shoulders back or man in the park, you'll find two blog posts on how to do that technique. I also have a blog post I wrote in the last year or so called Shower Scripting, which is how to do ERP, like just some touch-up scripting in the shower, use that time. So, I would say go to my website and you can find all sorts of free resources. I've got two books. You can find on Amazon, Everyday Mindfulness for OCD, Jon Hershfield and I co-wrote. And we talk about ‘may or may nots' and shoulders back and some of the things in there just briefly. And then my memoir, Is Fred in the Refrigerator?: Taming OCD and Reclaiming My Life, is also on Amazon or bookstores, Audible, and that kind of thing. Kimberley: I wonder too, if we could-- I'm going to put links to all these in the show note. I remember you having a word with your OCD, a video? Shala: Oh yes, that's true. Kimberley: Can we link that too? Shala: Yes. And that one I have under my COVID resources, because I'm so glad you brought that up. When the pandemic started, my OCD did not like it, as many people who have contamination OCD can relate to. And it was pretty scary all the time. And it was making me scared all the time. And eventually, I just wrote it a letter and I'm like, “Dude, we're not doing this anymore.” And I read it out loud and I recorded it out loud so that people could hear how I was talking to it. Kimberley: It was so powerful. Shala: Well, thank you. And it's fun to do. I think the more that you can personify your OCD, the more you can think of it as an entity that is within you but is not you, and to recognize that your relationship with it will change over time. Sometimes you're going to be compassionate with it. “Gosh, OCD, I'm so sorry,” You're scared we're doing this anyway. Sometimes you're going to be aggressive with it. Sometimes you just ignore it. And that changes as you go through therapy, it changes through your life. And I think that recognizing that it's okay to have OCD and to have this little thing, I think of like an orange ball with big feet and sunglasses is how I think about it when it's behaving – it makes it less of an adversarial relationship over time and more like I have an annoying little sibling that, gosh, it's just not going to ever not be there, but it's fine. We can live together and live in this uncertainty and be happy anyway. Kimberley: I just love it. Thank you so much for being here and sharing your experience and your knowledge. It's so wonderful. Shala: Thank you so much for having me.

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Ep. 284 6-Part Series: Managing Mental Compulsions (with Shala Nicely)