Heyyy people, first off fuck meta but I have an excuse.
So today I went to make an account on Instagram through tor, it's my first time, so after filling everything, I hit sign up only to find out they're demanding a phone number and a captcha that doesn't end. Fine then, let's try to do it on the clearnet shall we? fine.
Went on the clearnet, filled all, hit sign up, found them telling me to open my email and out the confirmation code sent, different results here, but nevermind. I go to my email, enter the 6-number code, and get surprised by this:
"Sorry, something went wrong creating your account. Please try again soon."
Requested them to send me another code, did get sent, entered the new one, still the same message. I thought oh well let's try to sign up again, turned out the username isn't available :D Soooo my account has been supposedly created right? Let's sign in, enter the username and the password, only for me to face this message:
"Your account has been disabled for violating our terms: http://instagram.com/about/legal/terms/"
Wow, fucking cool of you Instagram. What did I do out of the ordinary? the extended ascii-less 70 characters long password or the email alias I used provided from simplelogin? Could it really be from that alias email of mine or what? So do I need to use gmail now? wtf is that, I wasn't even using a proxy, just brave browser's private window.
tl:dr: Unknown terms violated. Didn't get the chance to login, nor was I on a proxy or tor. Help like how tf can I make an Instagram account now xD the rare usernames I pick get WASTEDDD

I brewed him up cuz I tend to like how 3 drops create tempo plays in commander. He seems like a great fit for what he does cuz he creates blockers to protect you from getting the monarch stolen from you. Also he just looks cool? Anyway I'm doing the average thing, tons of 4 drop legends with a Blink theme, Blink wincons, but I feel like I'm missing something. I lost to a dude who resolved a Darksteel Plate onto his Vrondiss and he cast a Scourge of Valkas to combo and shoot me for a gazillion, which is cool. But even had I been able to remove something in response, he had a Tamiyo's Safekeeping effect, so I don't see a way around that interaction. I guess I should've tried to kill Vrondiss before he equipped it? I didn't see the combo coming although I should have. Anyway I think Faramir is a great budget commander and I was just curious of some anecdotal experiences with/against him, maybe some tips and tricks? I'm all ears.

https://youtu.be/f-uCQVwS-Pw?si=zY5DLz94E6duPVX9Oreo Frappe: A Delicious Delight Oreo : A Sumptuous Treat for Any Occasion #shortsvideo #shortsOreo Frappe: A Delicious Delight Oreo : A Sumptuous Treat for Any Occasion #shortsvideo #shortsOreo Frappe: A Delicious Delight Oreo : A Sumptuous Treat for Any Occasion #shortsvideo #shorts Indulge in the irresistible flavors of an Oreo Frappe - a delightful and sumptuous treat that is perfect for any occasion. This recipe calls for 180g of Oreo cookies, 200g of Chokola, 400g of pineapple, 400g of mango, and 200g of banana. Blend these ingredients together to create a delicious and satisfying beverage that will surely please your taste buds. Whether you're craving a sweet treat or looking to cool off on a hot day, this Oreo Frappe is the perfect choice. Enjoy the rich and creamy flavors of this decadent drink and treat yourself to a little something special.the components 180G Oreo 200G Chokola400G Ananas400G Mango200G Banane ,Oreo Frappe, Oreo cookies, Occasion, Creamy, Drink,Oreo Frappe, Easy recipe, Homemade, Coffee shop, Occasion, Oreo cookies, Creamy, Yummy, Quick and easy, Step by step, Tutorial, How to make, Refreshing, Cold drink, Iced coffee, Milkshake, Chocolate, Vanilla, Delicious, Dessert, Sweet, Delicious, Decadent, Special occasion, Celebration, Milk, Ice cream, Blended, Toppings, Craving, Cookies and creamOreo Frappe: A Delicious Delight Oreo Frappe: A Sumptuous Treat for Any Occasion

https://youtu.be/f-uCQVwS-Pw?si=zY5DLz94E6duPVX9Oreo Frappe: A Delicious Delight Oreo : A Sumptuous Treat for Any Occasion #shortsvideo #shortsOreo Frappe: A Delicious Delight Oreo : A Sumptuous Treat for Any Occasion #shortsvideo #shorts Indulge in the irresistible flavors of an Oreo Frappe - a delightful and sumptuous treat that is perfect for any occasion. This recipe calls for 180g of Oreo cookies, 200g of Chokola, 400g of pineapple, 400g of mango, and 200g of banana. Blend these ingredients together to create a delicious and satisfying beverage that will surely please your taste buds. Whether you're craving a sweet treat or looking to cool off on a hot day, this Oreo Frappe is the perfect choice. Enjoy the rich and creamy flavors of this decadent drink and treat yourself to a little something special.the components 180G Oreo 200G Chokola400G Ananas400G Mango200G Banane ,Oreo Frappe, Oreo cookies, Occasion, Creamy, Drink,Oreo Frappe, Easy recipe, Homemade, Coffee shop, Occasion, Oreo cookies, Creamy, Yummy, Quick and easy, Step by step, Tutorial, How to make, Refreshing, Cold drink, Iced coffee, Milkshake, Chocolate, Vanilla, Delicious, Dessert, Sweet, Delicious, Decadent, Special occasion, Celebration, Milk, Ice cream, Blended, Toppings, Craving, Cookies and creamOreo Frappe: A Delicious Delight Oreo Frappe: A Sumptuous Treat for Any Occasion

I always had a curiosity towards astronomy and physics. Man I wish, I had parents who had the same interests as me.
Parents who could’ve encouraged me in the right direction, parents who knew what I really felt like when I had those interests.
I don’t have a family that understands any of those things. I never was encouraged to do arts and was ridiculed for being good in the humanities.
My parents only cared about me doing good in stem. Because I was born to a working class family that always encouraged me to work towards a rich, well paying job. Those efforts aren’t misguided. But as a young kid I have a desire for more. A desire to understand things more. I don’t know what it is. Money, status and fame doesn’t make me happy anymore.
I tried to force myself to like science. I wanted to be an artists at a young age. But again it was met with ridicule. All my friends were doing medicine. Wanted to be doctors, because it was a well paying and respected job. So that’s what I had to do.
I gave up drawing at a young age. Ever since then I grew to hate it. And I didn’t have any motivation to pick up a pencil again.
I forced myself to like biology. Thought it was cool to learn about human biology. Thought it was meaningful. Seeing how important medicine was, saving people’s lives, making an impact in curing people of there illnesses, helping them getting them out of their own suffering, i wanted to do it.
So I worked hard in school to achieve. I lost my attention in every science class. It was boring. Ironically humanities was more interesting to me. Despite my hate for it, I still gained an interest enough to pursue it.
I soon enough realised that I had to work harder than my peers do as well as them in the sciences. I went to a good school, and a lot of my friends were more smarter than me who were doing science. A lot of them also wanted to do medicine.
I liked them enough that I wanted to be part of their group. Belong to those groups, feel like I have an identity. I always believed I had an identity that I was going to be a scientist and do research. I guess I wanted to feel smart.
I hated most of my science classes. Physics was more interesting to me than chemistry and biology. And biology which I hated the most. But I still went with biology and chemistry, because in accordance to my aptitude it felt like a more safer bet. Fast forward to covid, my GCSE grades were not that great. I regretted every time I slacked off in class and didn’t work hard enough. These grades were nowhere good enough for any medical school to look at my application. So after years, I finally gave up being a doctor.
I still picked science subjects because I had no idea what else I’d be doing. And here I am doing a bio science bachelors course that is soo tedious that is killing me from the inside.
I picked this. So it is my fault. But somewhere I felt like when I see my friends doing medicine and engineering, I feel like a disappointment in comparison. My parents always tell their friend that I’m doing something medical related to probably save embarrassment. And I feel too incompetent in comparison.
In hindsight, I could understand not to go through the risk of picking art as a career, but I wish I was more educated about my options in things I was good at.
I tried to again pick up drawing, but I felt that it was soo pointless. I’m recently being getting into calligraphy and maybe want to start scrapbooking.
My parents were always religious so I always felt out of touch with them. Their beliefs and ideas about how to live life, I always never agreed with. They also hold a lot of traditional values. I’m someone who is not a believe in God, a lot of my belief and values are quite different. So even talking to my parents is just a chore for me.
I have been very lazy throughout my life, because I always believed that I was incapable of achieving anything, after quitting medicine. It started after my GCSE years. Or during them. I gave up all dreams I had.
But I also gained new ones. I took a liking to physics more, and understanding the origin of the universe was always been a hot topic between atheists and theists. Still I didn’t really ever thought I could do it. My grades were quite low in it.
Now, I have lost my dreams and any goals. I don’t what I should live my life for.

New Players

• There's a ton of great resources out there, but the game has changed a lot, so you really want to make sure you are referencing the latest information on Reddit, YouTube, and Steam that you can find. The YouTube series that helped me learn the most to get started was MaxTheCatfish's "2022 Stellaris Beginner Tutorial" playlist. Despite the year, all the video titles now say 2023, so I imagine they were updated.
  
• For ship design, I referenced Mortu Play's ship design guides on YouTube, all were from 7 months ago and very recent and I noticed a huge improvement when I stopped using auto upgrade and auto generated designs.
  

The Rest Of It (please let me know if there are any achievement-friendly mods that fix these)

• Playing wide and playing late game is really frustrating. Also the computer when set to manage a planet works "well" when given a designation at doing that one thing, but has no idea how to be flexible, even when no more districts of the designation are left. I wouldn't even bother as much with auto designation if the Planets & Sectors window got redesigned to be more compact and allow me to manage, at the very least, several planets' build queues at once (for example).
  
• Why do I have to reference the top resource ribbon when determining how much immediate gain from a tech/perk/trait, etc. will be? It would be nice if there were tooltips or hovers that showed how much of an effect something is going to have besides just saying x% increase or decrease.
  
• The trade mechanic is... lacking in many regards. It doesn't seem very interesting to me (though I haven't tried a mega corporation yet). It seems powerful for the player, but spawning weak little pirates is pretty silly. Learning how trade works was really obscure, as well. Also, PS, why does a single corvette reduce more piracy than a giant battleship? Not that I would encourage that, but yeah just a lot about trade doesn't make sense to me.
  
• My first victory, while I really had a great time getting to it, was a little underwhelming seeing the end-game faction. An ally federation member walked up and cleaned it right as it spawned and then wiped out their units and that was that. I felt like I did nothing (other than create the federation itself). It did not feel like a crisis at all and then I was waiting 100 years of game time to finish to get the score victory.
  
• I like the idea behind the "skull" boss mobs on the map, but as you get closer to power in strength to them, it would be nice if there was some indication you might be ready to fight them. I had fleets at 50-80k+ power which I learned was a bit overkill. I wasted a lot of game time being afraid of something that offered some really interesting tech choices I could have taken advantage of earlier on.
  
• Star bases seem weak to me in many ways. I understand why having the cap is there, but it would be nice if they were revisited to be more interesting, especially in the mid-to-late game. Also, why is recruiting armies so obnoxious? And, in a game with so much depth in every system, why are armies super flat? It would be more interesting to me to design the transport ship and make those than have all the army stuff.
  
• Maybe consider rebalancing some of the really cool techs you can find or flesh them out a lot more. Having amoeboid (sp?) and Leviathan-infused ships sounds like a cool idea. Right now a lot of the techs just sit in my log because I don't think any of them are incredibly useful. I tried to do an Archaeostudies fleet, but I just don't generate enough artifacts to sustain that. Obviously The Rubicon is needed for that and I still think they are probably not that amazing compared to generic options. My assumption is a lot of things are balanced for PvE and PvP, but for us PvP players, just let them customize the game. Let archaestudies or whatever be OP in PvE and give PvP players the option to disable that tech in a game. Just an idea. (Same goes for making espionage interesting/useful).
  
• Lastly, there has to be a better way to handle early game with all the notifications for finding anomalies and whatnot. I love anomalies aside from getting the windows every time they are discovered, which happens a lot. I haven't read even close to half of them because I am just so used to instantly closing them as soon as I get them. That's not fair to your writers at Paradox who actually put a lot of lore and interesting stuff into those events. But it's not their fault that the system is so invasive that it actively discourages actually wanting to engage with them.
  

Anyway, that's more than enough. Back to playing again and learning more :)

https://youtu.be/f-uCQVwS-Pw?si=zY5DLz94E6duPVX9
Oreo Frappe: A Delicious Delight Oreo : A Sumptuous Treat for Any Occasion #shortsvideo #shorts Indulge in the irresistible flavors of an Oreo Frappe - a delightful and sumptuous treat that is perfect for any occasion. This recipe calls for 180g of Oreo cookies, 200g of Chokola, 400g of pineapple, 400g of mango, and 200g of banana. Blend these ingredients together to create a delicious and satisfying beverage that will surely please your taste buds. Whether you're craving a sweet treat or looking to cool off on a hot day, this Oreo Frappe is the perfect choice. Enjoy the rich and creamy flavors of this decadent drink and treat yourself to a little something special.
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I'm not sure how helpful it will be to post here because I think my issue goes far beyond the usual conflicts one might find in a traditional dnd campaign. So before anyone reads this I wants to emphasise that 1. this was my very first dnd campaign and I joined it without any prior knowledge, and 2. this campaign was never intended to be a traditional "we're heroes and trying to save the world while fighting monsters left and right" campaign. I hope this answers any questions along the lines of "Well, why did you create this kind of character in the first place?" and "Why do your characters spend so much time talking about stuff, don't you have some beholders to fight?". I also cannot explain the whole situation without writing a literal 20 page long essay, so I'll try to keep it as short as possible and only give two examples. I'm definitely leaving a lot of details out here, so please let me know if clarifications or futher information is needed.
To preface what this is all about: I was a player in a very roleplay focused campaign and my character basically turned into the problem child of this campaign. I never intended for my character to be the focus, was never interested in him being the focus, but nothing I ever did suceeded in solving the issues at hand and taking the focus away from him. I constantly got accused of "making my character suffer", whereas from my perspective I was constantly trying to keep this character safe from the constant attacks he had to endure. It was like no matter what I did, no matter what I let this character do, it was never right. I think everyone in this group makes an effort to play their characters realistically, I defininitely do. And yet it was never me going "I know exactly what my character has to do to fix this but I'll REFUSE to do it because I don't like it" but me literally having no clue what people wanted from this character. The dm repeatedly said that nothing they tried to fix this character was helping. Whereas from my perspective these things that were supposed to "help" my character were the exact things that my character was struggling with. So it turned into a constant stream of something happening, my character then feeling bad, then everyone focusing on my character feeling bad, then my character trying to fix things, everyone telling him that he's doing it wrong, my character feeling even worse.... and me wondering why my character cannot just exist in peace, why we constantly have to focus on him instead of the "plot". I don't think anyone was interested in constantly discussing my character's mental state, I definitely wasn't interested in doing that, and yet we kept doing it. But I also did not know how to have him react differently to the constant shit getting thrown at him.
______
So, basically:
Around three years ago a friend of mine told me about this new dnd campaign they were starting and asked me to join. I've known this friend for half my life but we never lived close to each other, maintaining loose contact over Twitter and me visisting them every two or three years. I had never played dnd before, which they didn't think would be a problem, calling the campaign "very beginner friendly". The whole point behind this campaign was that both this friend (the dm) and two of the players from the main campaign they were playing wanted to play more regularly, so my friend/dm came up with this campaign which was basically a prequel to that main campaign. That main campaign was a more "traditional" dnd campaign with a quest to save the world and regular combat. Meanwhile this new campaign was supposed to be focused on roleplay. There was no overarching plot or quest and the setting was an arcane school and our characters were supposed to be students at said school, just starting their first semester.
When creating our characters the dm asked us to include at least one character in the backstory that was important for our character, and also an objective for our character, something they wanted to achieve. The character I came up with was a young half-elf wizard specialising in abjuration. The gist of his story was that his parents had been arrested and executed for high treason when he was very young and that he grew up rather isolated with his older brother in a place they were not allowed to leave before coming off age. When my character was 14 he woke up one morning to find his brother gone. He had left him only a cryptic letter, hinting at wanting to find out what had really happened to their parents, telling my character that he was sorry and that he would come back. When his brother had not come back after several months, my character too ran away and made his way to Candlekeep, which he had visited many times with his parents (who had been scholars) as a child. He tried to find answers in Candlekeep and spent the following three years hiding in the library before something prompted him to leave and travel to the aforementioned arcane school in order to study there. His objective was to find out why his parents had to die, what happened to his brother, and adjusting to normal life after years of isolation.
Personality wise this character was supposed to be very kind, very gentle, quite naive, honest, and at the beginning of the campaign rather anxious. My assumption was that after growing up in isolation he would need some time to get acclimatised and would be anxious and overwhelmed in the beginning but would loosen up with time and become more self-confident. Some bad stuff happened early on in the campaign and he reacted to it in a rather not healthy way (withdrawing, refusing to eat, but also not talking about what was going on because he didn't want to put the focus on himself). I messed up here, I realised that later. I assumed the other characters would sit him down and ask him what was going on, leading to some kind of cathartic conversation, my character then revealing his past, and him becoming more confident and positive through it, completely resolving this issue. I didn't realise that introducing these kind of psychological issues into the story would be an issue, simply because I wasn't planning on making it a big thing. I thought it would be realistic for him to react this way and I thought it was something that could easily be resolved. Nowadays I would approach this completely differently: if I were to play this character now I would make this whole "accepting his past, becoming more self-confident and open" thing part of his backstory and would start him off as being confident and in tune with his emotions, instead of trying to quickly get through this development at the start of the campaign. So I think I know what I SHOULD have done to prevent this from escalating. What I am trying to figure out is what I could have done to fix it AFTER realising my mistake. Because we spent months and months trying to resolve this issue and never really got anywhere. Despite me trying my best to keep the focus away from my character, despite me trying to turn him into someone more confident and happy, despite me NOT WANTING him to be the focus of the story and doing my best to keep him out of the spotlight.
______
Here is an example of the things going on in the story, to which my character reacted badly and me not knowing how else I could have had him react that would not have caused further conflict:
Over the course of the campaign L. figured out what his brother was up to after him and his friends getting intro trouble and a mysterious stranger helping them get out of there and that stranger then revealing himself to be A.'s husband (and therefore my character's brother-in-law). L. had a lenghty discussion with this person and after that I basically viewed L.'s conflict as resolved: he now knew why his brother had left, he knew that it had not been his fault, and he knew that his brother had found someone who loved him and was not alone. L. still hoped to be able to see his brother again to get to say goodbye properly. Because in L.'s mind there was no other possibility but this being a goodbye: his brother had a new life now that he, L., was not part of anymore. And L. accepted that. There was no anger, no resentment, only relief knowing that his brother was not alone, had someone by his side who loved him, and that he still cared about L. and that L. had not - as he had feared - done anything that had caused his brother to not want to be near him anymore. He had finally gotten the closure he had needed, he was feeling okay and I viewed this whole conflict as resolved.
Fast forward a few weeks: A. finally suceeded in doing what he had been working on these past few years and returned to L., just like he had promised in the letter he had left him all that time ago. When talking to him, L. realised that A. was not actually planning on leaving, like L. had assumed. Instead A. told him that he and his husband would stay and look for a new home near L.'s school. L. was very surprised by this but of course he was also happy. He hadn't even considered that his brother would stay. His biggest hope had been that his brother would occasionally send him a letter from whereever he was. Him actually wanting to stay was very unexpected for L. but of course he was very happy about it. They also had some good conversations during that time, which not only brought L. further closure but also revealed connections between several past plot points.
About a week after A.'s return L. went to visit him. He just wanted to spend some time with his brother and also ask him for advice. The semester was coming to an end and everyone was busy preparing for the final exams and L. also still needed to find an internship placement for the summer break. L. wanted to do his internship in Candlekeep but was unsure on how to approach this, who to contact, how to phrase his request, so he thought asking his eloquent and knowledgable brother for advice would be a good idea. This conversation quickly went downhill with A. accusing L. of not respecting the people working at Candlekeep enough to do proper research beforehand and L. ending up feeling like he didn't deserve doing an internship there and ending up feeling even more stressed out about the whole thing than he had already been beforehand. They changed the topic and at some point A. started to jokingly fighting L. and putting him in a headlock. L. had no interest in fighting his brother, even as a joke, and reacted by going limp so he could slip away. A. then asked something along the lines of "So that's how you react in a fight? You just give up?" and L. said "Well, I know you would never intentionally hurt me with no good reason". The next second L. was falling. He was up in the sky, the ground many meters below him, and he was falling. L. immediately deduced that this must be some kind of enchantment and tried to fight it, but neither acknowledging that this wasn't real nor trying to shake it off did anything. He did not know any flying or hovering spells, nothing that would help him stop the fall, and ended up crashing into the ground. The next moment he was in some kind of water pool inside a cave that he struggled to get out of. A. was waiting by the cave entrance and offered L. his hand when he got out. L. refused to take it. A. then left and L. eventually followed, finding himself back in the room they had been in before. Either in the cave or shortly afterwards A. asked L. why he hadn't just used a spell to stop his fall, being surprised by L.'s statement that he had not yet learned an appropriate spell. L. eventually sat down at the table and did some exam preparation. A. made some food and put some in front of L. which L. ignored. Eventually L. looked up and asked A. what his biggest fear was. A. had just put L. through several of his biggest fears - falling, drowning, not being able to trust the ones he loves, and getting his control taken away - so he wanted to know what A. was scared of most. A. the told L. that his biggest fear was someone using his abilities to do something bad. And then he explained to L. that he had come to the conclusion that he would not be able to stay after all. That while he was able to defend himself, L. was not, and anyone wanting to get to A. would have an easy time doing so through L. who was evidently not able to defend himself. L. did not take that well and asked A. why he couldn't just train L. so he would get better at defending himself but A. refused. A. then said he would take a walk and allowed L. to come with him. They walked for several hours without talking, ending up in the middle of a forest where some ancient creature appeared that A. had helped several years ago and that was now nearing the end of its life and had called A. there to say goodbye. A. also explained to L. that he did not actually want to stay. That he - A. - had been naive in thinking that he could just live a normal life and that it had been nothing but a dream and that he simply wasn't made for that kind of life. Some time during that conversation A. also told L. that he was convinced that he would end up in the Nine Hells for the things he had done. They spent the night in the woods and the next morning L. realised that all his things had been stolen by some fey creatures, including his spell book. After searching for several hours they were able to find his spellbook, which had been smeared with insults. A. managed to clean it up and they returned back home and L. was reuinted with the rest of the group. Before L. left A. also gifted him an indestructable spellbook. A few days after these events L. went to the temple and addressed Mystra, telling her how lost he was feeling and how worried he was about his brother. He told her that he wanted nothing more than to protect the ones around him but how he was constantly failing in doing so. And how he just wanted his brother to be safe and how he was worried he would really eventually end up in the Nine Hells and how he didn't think A. deserved that but that he didn't know how to prevent that from happening. The next morning L. found some strange piece of cloth on his face which after some examination was revealed to be an item belonging to Mystra which she had used to hide something in the past. The very condensed explanation of what that item does is that when attuned to it one cannot be found through any kind of traditional divination magic, making one basically undetectable. The next time L. saw A. he told him about this item and A. was basically like "Oh cool, well in that case we can actually stay here". L.'s reaction was to start crying and A. asked him why he was so upset and why everything was always the end of the world to him.
The way I see this whole situation: I simply wanted L. to spend some time with his brother, hopefully get some advice from him regarding that internship and then going back to the rest of the group. Instead what happened was that A. first called him disrespectful for wanting to do an internship at a place and not having done enough research beforehand. Then taking L.'s statement "you wouldn't hurt me with no good reason" to assault L. Then telling L. that he would not stay after all due to L. apparently not being able to defend himself. Then explaining to him that "actually, I didn't want to stay in the first place", and then a few days later telling him he WILL stay after all. So basically, L. had accepted that his brother would not come back to him for good, he had accepted this and had found closure. Then his brother told him he WOULD stay and L. was of course happy about this surprising turn of events. Then his brother told him that due to L. not being able to defend himself he CANNOT stay. Then he tells him he doesn't WANT to stay anyway, confirming the exact reasoning behind L.'s initial assumption that A. would not stay. And then after realising the threat was eliminated, decided to stay afterall, despite having it made very clear that he did not actually WANT to stay... and apparently only staying because he thought that's what L. wants, despite L. repeatedly explaining that his priority is for A. to be happy and that he does not want A. to stay if that's not what makes him happy and A. just completely ignoring that? Am I really the only person who thinks that it's understandable why L. is confused and upset in this situation? Plus the constant "What do you mean, you don't know [this one simple thing]?" when L. is already barely able to get a regular long rest in between trying to keep up with school work and all the stuff that's going on at the side, like a literal war for example, and constantly feeling that no matter what he decides it's always wrong and he never has enough time to do the things he is supposed to do, let alone the things he wants to do? Plus him wanting to spend the afternoon with his brother turning into a 36 hour long event and him having to spend half a day looking for his spellbook, only to find it smeared with insults?
Am I being dense for not understanding what the whole point of this was? Trying to make it clear to L. that his brother is a powerful and dangerous person? He was already very aware of that and did not need a reminder. Proving to L. that he shouldn't trust his brother? Why even associate with him in the first place if you don't want him to trust you? Giving him the indestructable spellbook was nice. But was having some fey creatures steal his original one and smear insults all over it and him having to spend hours searching for it really necessary?
Whatever the hell it is the dm was trying to do here, I think a simple, calm conversation between those two would have been a lot more effective.
But maybe it's clearer from the outside, so if someone else understands what happened here, please help me understand.
______
Another situation was that due to his struggles early on in the campaign my character was supposed to see the school's healer once a week so she could make sure that he was okay. My character went there once a week, feeling more or less okay when entering her office, and coming out feeling confused and upset after having his mental state analysed and picked apart. Neither did my character enjoy this nor did I think that any of the players (including myself) had any interest in listening to my character discuss his emotions every week. So eventually I had my character write a letter to the headmistress, explaning that he wanted to stop doing these weekly check-ins. Upon being asked why, he explained that these appointments actively made him feel bad and that he would do a lot better if he didn't constantly feel pressured into talking about things he didn't want to talk about. The reaction was that he was told that if he cannot handle simply being asked how he was doing once a week, then he wasn't stable enough to go to school, and consequently got kicked out. Leading to us spending two sessions trying to resolve this and my character eventually being allowed back into the school. ______
The situations I described are the kind of thing that constantly happened to my character.
We had a calendar where we wrote down short descriptions of what happened each day. I once went through this calendar with a friend (who does not play dnd) and it basically went like this: "So that day this traumatic thing happened to L., and the next day this happened, and two days later this happened, then the next day he almost died, then three days later he discovered this, the next day this other thing happened,....", and my friend just went "Holy shit, it's no surprise that this kid is losing his marmbles."
So I keep alternating between "I messed up this whole campaign by creating a problematic character" and the feeling that the dm had it out for specifically my character and it didn't matter what I did, nothing could have solved this.
Some constructive ideas on what I did wrong and what I could have done to fix things would be appreciated. (And yes, we did talk about this in the group. I eventually got tired of talking about it because it never lead anywhere.

I honestly wanted to get this off my chest because it’s been bothering me for a while. A person I went to high school with I thought I could create a friendship with them. For two years he would look at me and not interact with me at all. Then one day I decided to talk and initiate. It always seemed like I had to say hi or hey but he would say hey back with an annoyed tone of voice. I would notice it with me but around his friends he was much kinder to them. Sometimes he would talk to me and other days he would ignore my presence. This stung because I didn’t know who to talk about it with or who to go to. I would ask my therapist what I was doing wrong and she would proceed to say “ you have to talk to him” ask him why it’s bothering you. It was like I’m talking to an invisible wall. Recently he had a showing which was cool I tried to support him still got ignored. I thought I could break the ice by getting him some flowers. I guess he liked them? I think he just took them out of pity. So I thought hey he wants to be friends. But no I was wrong. One day I followed him on social media and thinking he would follow back. It appeared that he blocked me. He said he didn’t and got really snappy if I tried to ask. Now it’s the end of my college career and it feels like I’m back to square one. I wanted to get this off my chest because o just feel he hates me. There would be days where I would shutdown and cry because it hurt. I tried hugging him yesterday and he didn’t want to return it. So I just left without saying anything to him. So if you read this thanks for ignoring me for the past six years of my life because that’s truly what friends are for right? Just tell how much you dislike me instead of pretending. Because of this I don’t want to make friends as this has been hurtful for quite a while. Can’t win them all I guess. Leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

Hello there,
So, I have recently built a new PC and, well, it's not working lol. I am mildly experienced in PC building but me and my friends are at our wits end.
This is the part list. https://pcpartpicker.com/list/pGTbYN
The problem is honestly really strange. The PC boots up and just crashes after a short while. It doesn't turn off, the fans are still spinning, the AIO is still pumping, etc and the fans, GPU and motherboard are still glowing. It also crashes in different ways, from just throwing a black screen in my face, over simply freezing to the lovely Bluescreen of death.
Initially it didn't boot up at all, it only worked after I swapped the RAM slots from A1 and B1 to A2 and B2. After that it booted into BIOS just fine. The crashing problems only occur when I run anything outside the BIOS, like a windows or LINUX installer. After 6 hours of troubleshooting, I somehow got Windows installed and up and running, however, it takes 15 minutes (Not exaggerated,I have timed it) to boot into Windows and it freezes after a couple minutes as well.
It's not an issue of overheating, I have checked the temps during the crashes multiple times, I updated the BIOS, multiple CMOS resets before and after the update, tried booting without the GPU, issues still persisted. I've also tried reseating everything, including the SSD, as well as using two different boot devices. I have used 3 different boot sticks with both Windows 10 and 11 created from 2 different PCs, only using the official windows Installation medium crestion tool, so the likelihood of me just getting corrupted windows Installation files should be non-existent.
I did everything I could think off except run a memtest because I have no idea how to interpret the data it outputs anyways. Me and my friends agree that it's probably a motherboard issue, due to the defective RAM slots but if anyone here has encountered something like this before and maybe knows a fix that doesn't involve me waiting another week or two for a replacement motherboard, I'd appreciate it very much.
Thanks for reading, I hope you have a nice day.

I've been around DuroGang for a while and had several contributions over the years. I'm currently working on a handful of Duro mods, which I'll soon share with the sole purpose of inspiring others to do the same. I sincerely enjoy this community because we tend to point each other toward resources for cost-effective Duro parts while simultaneously sharing photos of our various modifications. I hope my contributions to date lend a little reputability as I share recent observations I've had. I'd ask that you take the following information in stride and please come to your own conclusions...
Over the preceding month, I've noticed a few "custom" mods that are very unique from anything I've seen in DuroGang to-date. They're definitely cool, and I normally encourage these posts; however, I hope no one here is trying to take credit for someone elses work and then attempting to profit off it. My concern is a recently promoted shopify store. It was immediately apparent this was a reseller who's significantly inflating prices beyond what's reasonable (nearly twice the cost).
You might ask how I know this. Well, a few years ago, I found a website belonging to a watch enthusiast/hobbiest who's located in Sweden (I'm in the United States). I'm going to call this person Mr. 🇸🇪 because I don't know his name. Mr. 🇸🇪 happens to create modification parts for all sorts of watch models (including the Duro). When I first discovered Mr. 🇸🇪's website, I had a brief email exchange where I inquired about custom dial pricing. During that exchange, I learned he makes all his dials and bezel inserts in-house using some high-tech CNC equipment. I learned he has access to this equipment due to perks through his primary employment. I learned Mr. 🇸🇪 sells his custom dials / bezel inserts at slightly above cost. When we emailed on pricing, Mr. 🇸🇪 was incredibly polite and receptive to talking about the hobby of watch modding even though I didn't order anything at the time. His website also featured crisp images while these new shopify stores that are popping up seem to feature low-quality images of the same items created by Mr. 🇸🇪.
My overall point is this... if you like any of the new "custom" mods that are showing up, it's only fair, Mr. 🇸🇪 be recognized for his creations and not resellers who appear to he claiming these creations as their own.
Mr. 🇸🇪's website is: urvintage.se
TO BE ABSOLUTELY CLEATRANSPARENT, I have ZERO affiliation with Mr. 🇸🇪 nor any of the other Redditors who are attempting to resell his creations. I additionally have zero intent to profit in any way from my own mods. As such, Mr. 🇸🇪, if you see this post, I don't want anything from you. I'm just a guy who enjoys modding the MDV-106.

Alright idk if there was a tut before me but I had tweeted a tut about create b4 on tweetah and I know some of you need this ASAP (OOOUUUH~ WOO ASAPPPP)
IF ITS THE YEAR 364637 INGAME AND YOUR TRAINEE FINALLY DEBUT IN CREATE AFTER 364636 TRIES YOU WILL ALL NEED MY HELP, IM ON MY WAY (SUPERNANNY)
1.Train them duh The stat I recommend is P+ and up even if you are placed C rank or B rank it isn't THAT bad you just need some trainees to help you sabotage other enemy groups and rig you to atleast 5th or 4th place.

1. How to sabotage Have atleast other trainees who have SSrank stats or just any that you trained to a decent rank that could endure to atleast 21 22 23 24 25 team round and prolly to vocalrapdance round. To sabotage you're gonna have the sabotage trainees at your enemies team most recommend to hope they're in a team with some high rankers so you can take a HUGE ADVANTAGE OUT OF THEM.
   
2. Glitch it hard hard. In vocalrapdance and concept and dressup round you get points for being a leader or if ur at style round dont beg for main positions so if you successfully get chosen get all your points as deserveeed also try to steal the other teams points with ur savotage trainees cuz they dont deserve it duh, go see your rank after. Unsatisfied? RESTART THE GAME and go to your desired position again till you get more points. If they take ur desired leadership RESTART THE GAME!!!!!!! NOW.. The glitch can badly effect your trainee if overused way too hard, these are the consequences.
   
3. HOW TO DRESS PROPERLY if you have MONEY you have MONEY TO STYLE THEM RIGHT DUH (if ur a new player and still don't have money I feel genuinely bad for you for setting up the contract badly you have such a pure soul for not exploiting your trainees to be ground.) If you have money just go to store go down the dressing and buy your desired or all concept points (only cool cute pure sexy points matter) Prototype your outfit first before giving points if you don't wanna make them look messed up as if you're dressing your child up for first day of school and they looked so messed up other than fashionable if you don't like it, use your special tickets and pick something you like better. (ACCESSORIES COST 3 TICKETS!!!!BUT THE REST LIKE CLOTHES DONT!!!THEY COST 1 TICKET) it must be pp5 rank, dress them the same like they're in uniform idk about other ranks but I wanna win If you placed then woohoo get your gems and MAYBE bid to get the group (DO ALL THE QUESTS AT THE CROWN MENU AT MANAGE GROUP FOR A HIGH RANK BUFF) If you need tips for which 8 or 7 (i forgot)QUESTS to do ima say it Release singles 2 times(dont waste your money on create groups), go do ent,event,festival,W app, radio ect schedules all seperately 3 times, do broadcast mini games 10 times and that's it yall but if you don't get your desired schedule just train them 500 times Until your trainees stats turn pp rank and up you can put them in create and earn double the gem prize I just recommend you have them in same team as you but don't restart cuz u don't have them all unless u wanna save them from lowrankers.
   

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Anglestan
Augustus 5, 1923
Facility 9, Mancheston
Colonel Jacobs
His hands flew through the folders General Jorgenson and Colonel Thatcher had. There were dozens of them, stacked upon each other all filed in alphabetical order. It had only been a few days since he had woken up from his coma and visited his home— now his mother’s grave. He clenched his fists at the thought. The grief and rage threatened to bubble and spill over once again. He took a deep breath and dragged out the exhale, almost to the point where he had emptied out his lungs.
He was the only one with clearance, and so he couldn’t disclose any of what he learned with his team. They would simply have to trust him and his judgment. Which he was sure they would do. His hands went over one of the folders skimming through it. There were multiple secret projects, but the ones with the most notes were Project S.T.A.R, Project L.U.N.A.R.I, Project R.E.V.I.V.E, Project D.A.W.N, and Project T.E.M.P.L.A.R.
The colonel decided to start with the most notes and papers. Project D.A.W.N.
He skimmed through the notes, reading through some of the details and highlighted words. Project D.A.W.N, the espionage project Thatcher had started placed two spies in Verlin who were to report directly to a Crescent general named Sienna Moretti who was apparently on humanity’s side.
So I was right. There was an espionage element. With the recent attacks and Thatcher’s death, however, it’s safe to assume that it had somehow failed. Either they got found out or they betrayed us. Both seem very likely, but if they were found out, it would be possible that they had died.
He read through all of it before setting the folder down. There were no new notes recently. He sighed and assumed that Project DAWN was a failure. Whether or not the agents were still alive and well, it was too risky to check if they had been compromised. It was better to assume that they had been and cut all contact. The only way to find out now was to go there himself and check. I can’t contact them again. There’s no telling if it would still be Moretti or the agents who would see my messages. It’s a big risk, and judging by the state of things, best to assume it failed.
He picked up another folder. This one had the label ‘under development’ on the folder. Project Templar. He opened the folder and was instantly met with a blueprint and drawings of a massive bipedal machine. It looked humanoid with strange proportions and was supposed to be standing at an impressive 30 meters, or 100 feet. The Titanic Engine Mech for Personal Land Assault and Reconnaissance.
It was apparently a joint project with the Church of Sol, utilizing new and advanced technologies he hadn’t heard of. A 203mm Gatling cannon on one arm, while the other had three different weapons. A massive firestarter that utilized a new type of fuel mixture that could theoretically spew flames a kilometer away using a high-pressure nozzle. The fuel was ignited using an electrical spark. The second weapon was a high-powered light weapon that fired a single powerful beam of focused light that was even further amplified by layers of focusing lenses that could increase its output several times. Its third weapon was… a dust domina?
Mark read through the specifications of the so-called ‘sand cannon’ weapon. It was a massive cannon that accelerated tiny particles several times. Each particle was to be electrically charged, and it would travel at immense speeds. Near impossible speeds. The resulting impact of a microscopic particle at such speeds would be enough to form a small crater and punch through armor like it was nothing. This weapon would fire multiple at the same time, which could literally eat away at anything on the opposing end.
In terms of secondary weapons, the titan had two missile launch chambers in front of its shoulder each containing about 40 missiles, and two massive howitzer cannons on top of it. Both are 800mm in caliber. It had massive stumpy legs that served as bunkers for a small platoon on each leg. Each leg had machine dominas and 155mm cannons. Its chassis held two nuclear reactors inside providing for its power and weaponry. Its armor was the thickest and most ridiculous he’d ever read. Two meters of heavy steel armor.
How far are we in terms of technology? This thing looks like it came out of an H.G. Wells sci-fi novel. He thought, shaking his head. It was over the top, but there was no denying its combat capabilities. If it was already under-developed then it must be the first prototype. This has already been approved. Guess I better see it for myself later and check how it's coming along. Construction apparently started just a few months before the invasion.
Next was project L.U.N.A.R.I. It was a project involving Six. “Huh,” he said, continuing to read on.
The Light Undone: Nocturnal’s Adaptive Resistance Initiative. As he read further, his eyes widened. The reason why Six was so special wasn’t just because of her immunity to all strigoi weaknesses, but because of her impressive ability to turn any true born strigoi like her. She could transfer her strain like any other strigoi and transform them into a version of hers. It however only seemed to work for naturally born strigoi. The new species of ‘half-breeds’ were called ‘Blessed Children’ as Thatcher had coined in the folder.
The plan was to turn all willing true-born hemolite strigoi into these blessed children. Able to withstand the sun. Immune to silver. Free from the dependency on blood. They could remove all the weaknesses of the strigoi and after the war— make it possible to integrate them into society as normal citizens living on the surface. The project folder also made mentions of a city-wide draft in Dante and highlighted the possibility of turning all Dantenite true born strigoi into these blessed children and renaming them as ‘Lunari’. A mix of the dark and the light. The light of Sol reflected in the children of the night.
“Thatcher, what the fuck have you been up to…” Mark whispered to himself.
While it was true that it could help in the war effort by utilizing Six and the dantenite population, it would also invite some unforeseen problems and consequences. Would humanity be okay with the Lunari? Would the world even be ready for them? Strigoi who were immune to the sun. They wouldn’t be impossible to kill, but they would be immensely more powerful if we were to take away their inherent weaknesses. This is a gamble. Its gain would only be seen during the war period, but its unintended effects on society could be catastrophic.
He frowned, setting the folder down. It was obviously Thatcher’s main plan; seeing as all her moves could be traced to the path of the eventual completion of this project. It seemed dangerous in the long run, but the duskwalkers and dantenites had been monumental in the war effort. Maybe it was the time the world started to accept them more. Isolation and segregation was definitely not the way to disperse fears and foster understanding.
If Thatcher thinks this is the next step forward… then I’ll put my faith in her plans.
Next up was Project S.T.A.R, or the Superior Tech and Adaptive Resistance. An upgrade to the current hemolite weapons and gear by using new researched studies. The Starfire Pattern Domina. The SFD-23 This thing features a new loading system and magazine, ditching the rotating cylinder most domina used, or the rotating helix magazine design of the current hemolite standard BM-16 domina.
The new domina had its magazine like a box… a strange design but it was certainly easier to handle than the bulky cylinders the helical mags used. In terms of ergonomics, it was smoother and fit more. Its placement however was on top of the domina, just above the barrel. Most of the weapon were to be made of lightweight polymers and the barrel itself were to be crafted out of reinforced aluminium. In addition to that, it had a 10-inch bayonet attached to it.
There were other new things as well, such as the composition of the bullet. Looking at the conceptual cross-section designs, Mark read through its description and how it would function. A .308 cased telescoped bullet covered in a silver jacket with break-away petals surrounding the main body. Inside the jacket was a penetrator core that was to be made of depleted uranium. It had a small amount of incendiary compound and… powdered white phosphorus behind an explosive compound. The thin silver jacket would deform and trigger the explosive compound inside the body. It would blow up causing massive internal damage and release the incendiary materials into the body with the flecks of powdered white phosphorus. The penetrator core could still potentially keep going and hit a second target, or punch through heavily armored targets.
Part of the new Project S.T.A.R was overhauling the armor and gear of not just the Hemolites but the Hunters as well. Starfire Mk 1. Carapace Armor. Carapace? It looked like plates of steel covered in a rubberized coat. It was supposed to be slipped on over the original hemolite body armor. It added a spring-loaded wrist blade to the gauntlet, a thicker coat made of resistant materials, and added extra padding for the knees, shoulders, and elbows.
However, the hemolites weren’t the only ones mentioned in the folder. It was to serve the Hunters as well. “Hunters…” Mark said. “August’s group is part of this initiative too.” He flipped through some of the pages. There were blueprints and drawings of an armored suit. A mechanized suit even smaller and more compact than the jotunn units. The Mark 1 STR battlesuit. It was supposed to hug the wearer’s frame and increase their overall power. It was supposed to be built of titanium alloy and a heavy steel frame with composite armor. It had a cooling system, life support systems that could recycle bodily fluids, and an exoskeleton frame that could increase the wearer’s strength and speed.
However, the real eye-opener was Thatcher’s notes. She had been ranting about the new human evolution, and how the Hunters were the first of the ‘Solari’. She wanted to enhance human genetics and push past the peak of human ability to reach greater heights. Implants and restructuring of the anatomy to make it more efficient. Using the blood of the goddess herself. She must have lost it. These are the ramblings of a lunatic. At least… if she didn’t mention the goddess. Why was the goddess important here?
The writings ended with the words: “See Project R.E.V.I.V.E, for more details.”
Mark eyed the final folder. His hands shook as he reached out to take it. Flipping it open, his hands nearly dropped it in shock. The goddess Helena was alive. There were pictures of her naked form floating in a giant tube of fluid. There were more of Thatcher’s ramblings and excited rants about the possibilities of such a discovery. Resurrection, Enhancement, and Veneration: Implementation of Visionary Evolution.
The goddess is alive?! According to the file, she’s currently under the Cathedral of New Lundun. Not only that, but the file also detailed the extraterrestrial tech that lay beneath the cathedral. So the goddess is real and she’s— not really a goddess, but rather, a vampyr who created herself a human body to stand in the sun, and decided that it wants to be on humanity’s side… what the fuck.
Mark’s frown and confusion only increased as he read on. Thatcher’s notes seemed to nearly descend into madness as she had written about creating ‘the first hundred’, alluding to the 100 members of the Hunters division. Her plan was to revive the goddess, and with her help and expertise in genetics— use her DNA to transform the Hunters into demi-humans. Super soldiers. Literal children of the goddess Helena. They would then don the STR battlesuits, the first of the superhuman warriors to defend humanity. Solari.
Their lightning-speed advancement into technology was heralded by studying the alien tech, which deepened the understanding of physics and engineering. Nuclear technologies, chemical warfare, new material sciences, the mechs, and walkers, it was spearheaded by trying to reverse-engineer technology centuries ahead of our own… for the past hundred years. It wasn’t completely stolen, however. More or less borrowed ideas that had been made into our own with our own designs and implements. Still, the speed at which the Church and the military had deciphered such advancements all by themselves was… impressive to say the least.
Still, the fact that the goddess was alive, and could be brought back was big news. Checking the file for details, he found that the previous general, Jorgenson, had already approved this project. It was their next step as soon as they returned from New Amsterdam; which never happened.
If Helena was alive, then she could end this war swiftly, or at the very least help greatly like she once did during the War of Darkness. Having the goddess back would throw a massive wrench in the Crescent’s plans. It would certainly be something they wouldn’t expect. Not even I expected this, since many sources say that the goddess had already ascended to watch over humanity, while conspiracy theorists claim she had died in battle and that the Church was worshiping a corpse. This could be the trick up our sleeves that no one would even consider.
The colonel quickly got up from his seat and gathered the main files he had read. He placed them in a bag and rushed outside of his office in Facility 9. He went over to a nearby room and flicked the lights on. “We need to go,” he said. In an instant seven hemolite soldiers got up from whatever they were doing and instantly stood in line.
“Sir! Whatever you need of us, sir,” the group said in unison.
They were Hemo-1. His former squad members. He had taken up Louis' suggestion that they be his personal security detail. It was a shame that he had basically placed the best hemolite team out of commission, but after all he had been through he convinced himself that he could be just a little selfish. He didn’t want to lose any more friends. Not on his watch. Not while he was in an office, and they were out fighting.
“We’re going to New Lundun. Better pack up, it’s going to be a long night.”
“Mark,” Olivia said.
Jacobs turned to her direction and gave her a nod.
“Colonel, sir, may I ask where in New Lundun?”
“Liv, you don’t need to do that with me. Please. I give all of you special permission,” the colonel groaned. “It’s so weird. I mean, ‘captain’ was bad enough, but now you’re acting like I’m an authority figure.”
“You… are, though,” Emma shrugged.
“I’m your friend, and Liv I’m literally your partner. Unless you have some kind of weird fetish, save it for later.”
Olivia grinned, shaking her head. “Duly noted!” she chirped.
“That’s better,” Mark chuckled. “Now come on, we have a cathedral to visit.”
“Uhh, I’m not sure if you noticed, but we’re kinda… strigoi?!” Louis groaned. “I’d burn the moment I step in that place! Plus, it’s coated in silver! Anything I even touch will give me burns!”
“Oh come on, Lou. You have fucking gloves on. As long as you’re not a clumsy dumbass you’ll be fine… oh wait.’
“Uh huh, just sayin’ what I think, boss.”
The group headed out and Mark said something on his radio. He then sat on the ground, making his joints pop. The rest of the squad shrugged and followed his example, sitting down on the grass and waiting for… nothing. Charles and Zach looked at each other in confusion. “Uh, sir?” they asked. “Aren’t we supposed to be heading out and traveling right now?”
“Oh yeah, we’re just waiting.”
“Foooor…?”
The colonel gave them a smirk as a loud noise began to make itself known. A hummingbird transport appeared out of the distance and stopped right above them, slowly descending into the grass. “Being colonel has its perks,” Mark said with a smile. He stood up and hopped inside the hummingbird as soon as it landed. “Come on now! We’ve got work to do! Last one aboard buys everyone food later!”
Emma zipped in before Mark could even finish his sentence, followed by Olivia, Phineas, Charles, Zach, and then Louis, who sadly took too long to process what the colonel said, and lagged behind.
“Aw, man! Fuck this shit.”
“Rules are rules, Lou. Prepare your wallet later.” Mark grinned.
With a smile, the colonel pulled Olivia to his side, who blushed for a moment before shaking her head. “Take us up! New Lundun Cathedral! How long would it take?” he asked the pilot.
“About an hour and a half!” The pilot replied. “Less if you want to get there as soon as possible!”
“Take your time! The night’s still young.”
The hummingbird started to lift up, taking them into the air. The group settled down in their seats and watched outside the open. Mark opened up a bag inside the hummingbird and took out some ear muffs built for a strigoi. Extremely loud noises were damaging for a strigoi’s enhanced hearing, so the military started implementing ear muffs for them after complaints from early deployments of the hemolite squads.
The trip didn’t take too long. In only an hour and twenty minutes they had arrived at the safe zone of New Lundun, heading straight for the cathedral. The night mass had just ended and people were leaving the cathedral. “Looks like we made it in perfect time!” Mark smiled. They hovered for a few minutes in the air before eventually landing down right in front of the statue of Helena.
As soon as they landed, the colonel and his group left the hummingbird. Mark instructed the pilot to wait for them. He went straight for the cathedral with his group following behind. He entered inside, clearing his throat. “Hello?”
“Well this is surely unexpected,” an old man said, walking up to greet them.
“Great Grandfather Aurelius. It’s uh, an honor.”
“Please. The honor is mine… I see you’re the new colonel. Yes, I’ve heard the news,” he said. “Would you mind telling me your name, young man? As well as your companions, if they feel so. I usually don’t allow duskwalkers here but, I have nothing against them. I’ll make an exception for your group.”
“Thank you, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “I am Colonel Mark Jacobs. These are my friends and security detail. Olivia, Zach, Phineas, Charles, Emma, and Louis.”
“I see, and what brings you here?”
“Since Thatcher’s demise, I was given access to her research and project folders upon taking up the title. I’ve learned about what’s under your cathedral,” Mark cleared his throat. “Would it be alright if we could see it? I’d like to check it for myself. Of course, under your permission and guidance, Great Grandfather.”
The church head looked from Mark to his companions. He pulled a slight frown and hummed. “Do these companions of yours have the clearance? Surely, we wish to keep our secrets hidden,” he said. Mark nodded.
“They do not have clearance to know what is in Thatcher’s folders and her findings,” the colonel nodded. “However, I give them permission to accompany me, and should they discover things for themselves, then you have my word and my trust that I can keep them from spilling state secrets.”
The Great Grandfather gave a short pause before ultimately relenting. “Very well,” he let out a sigh. “Follow me.”
Aurelius walked behind the altar and pulled the same lever, which opened the same staircase leading underground, where Jorgenson and Thatcher had once gone. “Over here, colonel,” he said. “I do not know you completely yet, but this is a big deal of trust I am giving you. Perhaps you would be the one to do things that Thatcher could not have.”
Mark nodded, he and his group followed the Great Grandfather down the staircase. It led down to a massive underground facility, with numerous priests, researchers, and scientists. Libraries, records, instruments, and artifacts of old. It was a treasure trove of learning.
“So,” Aurelius cleared his throat. “What would you like to know about?”
“This isn’t all of it,” Mark said. “Thatcher mentioned a living, breathing, Helena.”
His group behind him let out a soft gasp, but they tried their best to hide their surprise.
“Hm,” the Great Grandfather nodded. “Perceptive young man aren’t you? Very well.”
They were then led into another room, behind a set of heavy blast doors. If the whole group were trying to hide their surprise then, now they could barely contain it. Even the colonel stared awestruck at the things he had seen. Despite the near-magical objects around them, the true shock was the massive starship at the end of the hallway. “It’s impressive isn’t it?” Aurelius said. “All of the goddess’ artifacts and items at our disposal, to use and learn from, to integrate into our own. This is why Anglestan is the most powerful nation in the UHT in terms of development. When it comes to industry, however, that would go to the UNA. But we share our secrets with them. All our advancements are handed to them first before any other nation.”
“This is all amazing, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “But this is not what I’m here for.”
“No, it’s not.” Aurelius nodded.
He led them to another room, one that was sterilized and sported advanced machinery. Things that Mark had never even seen. There were screens with luminous green texts that appeared in front of it. Large panels with numerous keys, levers, and dials. Graphs of all sorts and beeping monitors. In the center, was the very thing he had come all this way to confirm. A large cylinder filled with liquid, sporting tubes and pipes connecting to its base. Inside was a woman of large proportion. Four arms, two legs, and six wings. In her bare chest was a symbol of the sun that seemed to glow dimly.
“There she is, there’s you goddess.”
Neither Mark nor his group spoke a word. He walked up to it, eyeing the woman inside. It really is her. Down to the last details. Golden hair, six limbs, six folded wings, and she looks massive. Probably as big as her statue just outside the cathedral. This is it. The very goddess in the history books, the one spoken about in legends and the one worshiped in the Churches of Sol.
“Can we free her?” he said.
The Great Grandfather nearly choked on his spit upon hearing those words. “Free her?! That could kill her! We don’t even understand this technology, let alone control it!” he said pointing at the panels. “The machines you see here are the best and most advanced we have based on what we can reverse engineer, but even then, the consequences of tampering with its functions may be disastrous!”
“I understand, Great Grandfather,” Mark said. “But we are in a dire situation, and the goddess may be our hope of turning this around. Whatever secrets of her tech that you don’t understand, wouldn’t she be able to teach us directly? What good is she floating around in Sol knows what?”
“That is her miraculous healing fluid. She had already built this contraption centuries ago in case anything were to happen to her, that her body’s natural healing could not sustain,” Aurelius said. “During the War of Darkness, Helena was struck with a weapon so deadly, her very cells began to tear away. The Reaper. Dealt to her by Absolem the progenitor. Her flesh was peeling from her body, and she began to decay whilst she still breathed. She entered this contraption and gave strict instructions to the Great Grandfather at the time, not to interrupt the healing process. The machine that monitored her, however, began to fail over time.”
“So this… these screens and panels…”
“Is only what functions we can understand. We took it upon ourselves to rebuild and study it the best we could. What we have right now is only a cheap imitation of a technology we do not fully comprehend,” he said. “It took us decades to even figure out the fundamentals and create a working prototype of this machine. By some miracle, the goddess’ healing process had remained even while we replaced components of technology ahead of ours.”
“But you know how to free her, don’t you?”
“I… yes.”
“Great Grandfather Aurelius,” Mark began. “We can end this war. Imagine what we could do with the goddess fighting on our side. We could advance even further, we could finally end the bloodshed, and we can show humanity that there is still hope. Imagine how people all over the world would feel seeing as their goddess has returned.”
“I wish I had your enthusiasm,” Aurelius said. “But it is simply too risky. The Church’s duty is to protect Helena and her legacy. We keep her alive, literally and figuratively. She nearly died the last time she was involved in a war. Would you risk losing the goddess?”
“Would you risk humanity losing?”
The Great Grandfather fell silent, looking back at Helena floating inside the tube, then to the panels that controlled it. He frowned and let out a long sigh. “The goddess said that we should not interrupt it. That it would end as soon as it was finished. Maybe we should trust her words.”
Mark shook his head. “I don’t spot a single blemish on the goddess. Not a single scratch,” he argued. “You said it yourself that the machine had begun to fail and you replaced components. How would you know that the thing that’s supposed to wake her up was not tampered with? Think about it. What you may think is a useless piece may be integral to the whole machine. Or maybe your replacements were not up to the task. Just because nothing’s happened doesn’t mean its functions have remained whole.”
“Young man, we simply cannot gamble with the goddess’ life here.”
“Have you no faith? Great Grandfather?”
Aurelius stepped back in shock. Mark’s companions looked at each other, clearly surprised as well. “Mark… I don’t think we should keep arguing with—” Olivia tried to say.
“No,” the colonel said firmly, cutting her off. “Great Grandfather Aurelius, do you think that Helena will not be able to pull through if we wake her? How long has it been? A century? How much longer will we wait? She may be immortal but humans aren’t.”
“I'm sorry, but the chances of failure are too high. The probability of her—”
“I don’t care about the probability! Would you rather put your faith in a statistic?!” Mark raised his voice. “I lost my mother to this war! My friends! My job! My eye, and almost my life! I’ve put mine on the line out there! You don’t know what it’s like out there! Was my mother’s death just a probability too? Was she just a statistic to you?! That as long as the numbers are good, no matter how many are lost, we are ‘winning’?!”
“Mark—!”
“No, Liv! He needs to know what’s really going on out there!” he spat. “Great Grandfather, with all due respect, but you don’t have a damn clue what it’s like to be in the field. You’re a man of faith, aren’t you? Take a risk. Everyone else has.”
Aurelius stood there, dumbfounded. He bit the inside of his cheeks and clenched his fists. “For your insolence, I would have had you flogged and stripped of your rank,” he glared at the young colonel. However, his features slowly softened, letting out a soft sigh. “But I have never seen such conviction. Mighty is your faith.”
The Great Grandfather moved over to the panels and reached into his robe, pulling out from around his neck a key with the symbol of the sun. He inserted it into the machine and turned. A beep sounded, right before Aurelius pulled a lever. In an instant, the fluid inside the glass chamber began to drain out into the tubes under it. Slowly, the chamber emptied and all that was left was the nude form of the goddess sitting in the glass.
“Did it work?” Louis asked, stepping forward and looking at the woman.
Aurelius stayed silent, his hands shaking in anticipation. Mark moved toward the glass chamber, when suddenly, the glass opened up like a door, releasing a fragrant mist. They stood there, watching for a whole minute. Nothing. At first nothing. The Great Grandfather looked like he was about to break down. His knees shook as he covered his mouth, thinking that he was responsible for the death of Helena.
That was when… a soft sound was heard. Movement. Olivia immediately went over to Mark and stood in front of him. Ready to protect him should anything happen. Slowly, the goddess moved more, her arms inched to the side.
Then, her eyes opened.

First/Previous
Gemma was right about the sky’s open night, and I could sympathize with her recollection of the beauty, but for me it must’ve been a greater tragedy—the young woman had only ever enjoyed the stars in the pits of Golgotha; I could, long before, drink in the sky at leisure. Cruel memories.
The night the Rednecks died was one of viscera, but before that it was coolness on the breeze, a warmth by the fires while John played his guitar and we had only just taken two dozen kegs of lager (personal reserves) from the Atlanta despot—the man that kept his subjects as slaves and not a person among the camp was left without budding intoxication. No matter the age, everyone was invited to be merry; if it was that children too faced the plight of a bad world, then so too should they reap the moments of plenty—or so the camp figured.
John had taken a group by the fires where wagons were drawn in interlocking semicircles for cover and Jackson sat beside the picker. Jackson was a man which normally preferred quiet reflection over boisterous singing and nearly never wore the band on his throat, and yet there he was belting out the chorus at the top of his lungs, tankard in hand, red cloth blazed around his neck—it was a contagion and those drunk enough for easier embarrassment sang proudly along:
“There is power, there is power in a band of working folk!
When we stand hand in hand,
That’s a power, that’s the power,
That must rule in every land!”
I’d taken to the outlying shadows with my back pressed against the gas-powered caleche, my own tankard in hand. I loved the warmth of that great big family, truly, but even in those days—and maybe it was that queer youthfulness which longed for individualism that made me that way then—I remained as distanced as possible when I could. I sipped the lager, it was a fine drink and my brother Billy, nearly as old as I was when I’d first taken up in the infantry, swaggered to stand beside me just as quiet for minutes and we looked at the stars and he asked me what it was like to kill a man.
“Is it hard?” he asked.
I nodded, “Sometimes.”
“Killing monsters ain’t so bad. Don’t know if I could do it to a person.”
“You could if they meant to kill you; or if they meant to do it to someone you cared about,” I promised him. In those days, spry, energized, I held no time for staring into abysses; though I still wasn’t a man fully, I pretended as one. It was about family, and it was about doing what was right—what’s right seemed to change, or I changed. The world felt stark with good and evil and even later I’d feel that sentiment well up in me, but if that’s true, I know I stand more on the latter and so I intentionally obfuscated it—this I know. If not, it might be too much to bear. I was required to lie to myself and even in knowing I lied, it was better.
Billy tugged on the red kerchief around his throat and asked me how it looked on him.
“Looks good,” I said.
“Don’t think I look stupid at all?”
I smiled over my drink, “You always look stupid.” I sipped. “The neckwear’s fine.”
“Give me a break,” said Billy; he investigated his own cup, gave it a swish with his wrist, watching its contents swirl. “Aren’t you ever afraid you’ll die?”
“Sometimes—nights like this—I wouldn’t mind it.”
“Really?” my brother asked.
“There’s always a chance of it. Every moment, I guess.”
He smiled. “I wish I had that confidence.”
“You’ll get it,” I returned his smile; it was true that he would gain the fighting spirit. It came to us all with time and reminiscing on the early days, I recall the grit and the hatred—there was learning there too though. Besides, I’d seen the squalors of a stationary man. The stagnation of a place, an unmoving home.
John put his guitar away and laughter erupted from the crowd from something said and Sibylle, cowboy hat cocked funny, traipsed across the camp to the open keg for a refill; the man there, tending the cylinders, was a man named Tandy (a foreigner and one unknown besides the way he smoked a skunk pipe and told wild stories). My mother leaned over while Tandy opened the spigot mouth on the keg, and she froze there, and I could see her there cut out forever against the light of the fires; I watched, and it came so suddenly that I couldn’t be sure what’d happened at all. It was so sudden that I couldn’t find my weapon and I couldn’t find even the courage to fight because in those moments it wasn’t courage I needed, it was grounds to understand.
Sibylle came apart in two pieces immediately, torn completely through and dust erupted as her legs struck the ground while her torso spun through the air like a top, a trail of liquid trailed after, caught in the blue of night so it shone as black; she couldn’t scream. Tandy was a statue. Before anyone could react, more flesh, other bodies, went up and there was all manner of limbs which filled the ground, and it is astounding how quickly a red mist forms across the ground during a massacre. Perhaps the wails of my comrades started before, perhaps others fell before Sibylle, but I could not comprehend the goings-on till I saw her drop the way she did.
Frail human screams rose on the night; I slammed to the ground, tankard gone away and hands scrambling in the dirt; I reached up blindly and yanked Billy to my level and his expression was one of innocence, panic, tears even. Glancing around, I saw the demons bolt from the pitch-black darkness on the edges of camp, mutants taking the fore while greater creatures lurked further back, some hurled whips of gliding metal which writhed over their heads when they stretched them out for a strike—alien—and they sliced directly through soft human bodies. Not even a cry escaped me, but Billy let go with it and I slapped my cupped hand over his mouth hard to hold the screams. His voice would not have been alone anyway, not alongside that startling cacophony. Amidst the cries of people, there were the cries of horses, of our hounds.
We rolled across the ground, slipped beneath the raised body of the gas-powered caleche, remained quiet in the dark, peeked out between the wheels.
“What’s happening?” Billy whispered through my fingers; I removed my hand from him and caught a glimpse of him framed in a square of firelight through the wheels—we lay there on our bellies and the left side of his face was glazed with dirt where I’d pulled him down.
“Shh,” I told him, “Shh, please. Please.” Not another word came while I pleaded with him, pleaded with the world to make this all a nightmare.
Through the haze and the running silhouettes painted black, I saw what might have been Jackson; he stumbled and in the moment that it took me to gasp, his head was gone from his body, his torso slid on as he collapsed, came to rest mere feet from the motor wagon. I told myself that it wasn’t him, but it probably was.
Some mutants lumbered through the camp like animated corpses, some leapt with wild energy or sprayed noxious fumes which lingered in the air; others still were amalgams of humanlike limbs themselves—fiends—exhausting terrible sounds, producing smells of sulfur, glistening with whatever liquids excreted from their oblong alien orifices. Demons ran amok, chanted in devil tongued languages, laughed madly at the destruction—others still, those which displayed some greater intelligence, broke into a song I could never hope or want to replicate; it seemed a unified damnation.
“Please,” I repeated in a whimper and Billy hushed me this time and I realized we were holding hands, squeezing for dear life as figures walked the camp, speared those half-alive, elected others for twisted carnality.
In darkness, in fright plainly, we scuttled from the recess of our hiding place, kept quiet, held to each other, and went into the wasteland where nothing was—every shadow was a potential threat, every second could’ve been the last. We were holding hands; then we weren’t.
Only a glance—that’s all I afforded my brother and nothing more—what a joke of a person I am! What a coward I was. Always.
Something got him in the dark and instead of dying alongside those I cared about, I went on, heartbeat driving me till it was all that I heard in my ears and my muscles ached and my chest heaved and sweat covered me, chilled me in the breeze of the night—it was only once I’d accepted the dark completely, crawled into a hollowed space of rocks along a squat ridge that I watched the demolished camp; it seemed no larger than a spark, but the creatures, fiends and others continued their war cries; never before had I witnessed demons participate in such an attack.
I watched till the sun came, till the fires became smoke, then I watched the band of hell creatures disband. The smell of sulfur remained in the air—copper too—and I stumbled back to the camp in a dreamlike daze, totally unbelieving of the things I saw. Among those dead on the ground, I could recognize none; among those piked from rear to shoulder, standing like morbid scarecrows where they’d been steadied against the ground, I could not want to recognize.
Many of the wagons were overturned, including the gas-powered caleche and I went to it; the metal of its body was warped but I fell to the ground by it and pushed my back against the exposed undercarriage, remained frozen there while examining the bodies, the terrible strips of skin which rested places like wet sheets of paper, the piles of bones removed and smashed and piled.
I cried so deeply that oxygen became a memory, and the shakes couldn’t be contained.
It was like that for so long, knees pulled up, face pushed between, and the wails came unafraid of whatever attention they might garner; there was no rationale, but I imagine if there had been, I would’ve welcomed death in that misery. It was a deep wound that not even my own cowardice would overcome for the sake of survival.
Unaware of my surroundings, not wanting to look up from the ground between my legs, the noise which had started out as imaginary became real and I raised my head then to listen better and wipe my sore eyes; it was the sound of clip-clop horse hooves and I mildly wondered if any of the animals had been spared. I stood and pivoted around the dead camp and there it was, a man on a painted horse with golden hair; he leisurely drove the mount through the place, maneuvering around pools of blood, clumps of body parts and upon seeing me, he smiled and offered a languid wave, keeping one of his gloved hands on the reins.
The man wore white and swished his hair back upon arriving directly in front of me. Ahoy, he offered kindly, Did you happen to see the other riders?
I shook my head, feeling numb.
Ah, he said, I could have sworn four other riders, at least, passed me on my way. His gray eyes examined the carnage. Shame. He shook his head. You are?
“H-harlan.”
He nodded and nearly offered an expression of genuine condolence before descending from the horse; the animal gave a gentle grunt and wandered away from its master to inspect a nearby group of the dead. The man offered his hand, and I took it in a shake. Mephisto, said the man. He flashed a smile again before his face grew serious. I’ve come to you to deal.
I shot him a questioning look, one of bafflement.
I heard your calls from far off. He nodded, removed a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and swiped it down his face. Hot out. He shrugged then replaced the cloth in his pocket. This, he motioned to the disarray of vehicles, of bodies, I can’t fix all this—it’s too much—but there’s a person you love, I know. I could bring them back.
“Doctor?” In retrospect it was such a naïve question.
He shook his head.
“Angel?”
He grinned and nodded, Sure.
“Demon?”
Undoubtedly. His eyes—pits of gray in that radiant face—nearly expressed solemness; he daintily shook the hair from his face and looked at his steed which sniffed a corpse. What’s the word, Harlan? There are others calling and I must be on my way soon—I can’t dally. There was a sharpness to the words. Can’t dally. We must convene soon, or I’ll mosey on.
I snorted back the clog in my nose from the tears and wiped my eyes with my sleeves. “Okay.”
Deal?
I nodded, “Deal.”
Sleep tonight, said Mephisto, Sleep and you’ll be rewarded in the morning.
“You said it’s a deal.”
He nodded and scanned the carnage before we matched gazes and then he said, Yes?
“What is it you want from me?”
Nothing you need now. He called the horse, and it came, and he swept his feet quickly from the ground and settled into position atop the animal. Sleep, Harlan. You won’t be bothered. There are worse things still over the horizon.
I watched him go till he disappeared and once he was gone, I couldn’t cry anymore and instead rummaged through the wagons for what I might carry; along the way I found John, face twisted but corpse intact. The body from the previous night that I’d guessed was Jackson couldn’t be determined but I found him nowhere else. I slid Sibylle’s holster from her hips, fell hard onto the ground and found that I could sob more. I took her cowboy hat, placed it on my head and held her pistol in one hand and the belt holster dangled from the other while I searched the other bodies; there were so many, but I could not find Billy.
Waiting for darkness, I took the spot where I rested, back against the caleche’s undercarriage, watched the sky and felt the gun in my hand; it was heavy. I put it to my head, closed my eyes, and whispered affirmations to myself then I put the pistol between my splayed legs, watched it still in the dirt, and pulled the hat down over my eyes but it did little for the smell. Though the brim of the hat cut the sky out, I watched the ground and saw circling shadows form overhead and heard calls of turkey vultures; they came to pick over the bodies. I withdrew my knees to my chest there again and laid my forearm across them and bit into my arm while closing my eyes. I had thought I was a man and for a time, maybe I was, but there in that miserable pit of despair I became a child again and if I’d become more delirious, I’m sure I might’ve called out for Jackson like it was a bad dream.
Into a fading stupor of sleep in the sun I went and when I awoke again it was dark and chilly and I was tired and hungry but too sick to eat and hardly strong enough to move; I looked at the gun and put it into its holster and left it there by the caleche. In the light of the moon and stars, I moved to gather a bolt of canvas; I unfurled the fabric and created a leaning shelter against the overturned vehicle and crawled into it. There was a hole in the canvas, and I peeked out at the stars.
Weeping came again, but not so uproarious; I was stuck there letting go of whimpers, lying on my back, feeling the tears trace in lines from the outer corners of my eyes to collect along my earlobes. In time, I fell to sleep again on the hard ground because the mourning had taken all else from me.
A pinpoint of sunlight broke my eyelids and I jerked awake and reached for the holster, but it was gone. So was the hat. I crawled from the leaning shelter and there he was.
Billy stood plainly among the dried, congealed blood-soaked field and he looked on to the horizon and all shadows were long in the midday sun which hung up there in a soft blue sky. Whether it be a dream or a spell, I couldn’t care—I charged to him and spun him so he faced me and though his face was plain and expressionless, I wrapped him into a forceful hug. He placed his hands on my back and gave a gentle squeeze; when I pulled from him, my hands on his shoulders, I saw he held Sibylle’s hat in his left hand, pinched by the brim; he’d already tugged her holster belt around his hips—he could have it all. I shook while holding him then let go to wipe my face.
“You’re alive,” I nodded.
He nodded without speaking then looked at the hat in his hand and placed it on his head and firmly pressed it down.
“Billy! Hell, you’re alive!”
The corners of his mouth twitched upward for a moment then he nodded again. “Yeah.” His eyes curiously searched our surroundings like he meant to take each detail in forever.
I slapped him on the shoulder and almost squealed. “Goddammit.” I wiped my eyes again and could do little to keep the excitement from exploding from me. “Oh, we should go. We should go on and get somewhere safe.”
He nodded toward the horizon, “’Lanta?”
“Sure.”
We packed and it was a like an ethereal phantom remained among us beside the quiet dead; turkey vultures cawed to break the silence, pecked where they pleased on the bodies, and I couldn’t want to fight them. I kept sidelong eyes on Billy with the ever-present worry that he’d vanish. Perhaps he was the phantom.
From the rear of the caleche, I removed a few sentimental books Jackson liked, essential cookware, and sparse rations for the trek. The last thing I grabbed was my shotgun and a bit of ammo.
As we set from the dead place, the terrible silhouettes that were cut from there on the horizon behind us grew in my mind with every backward glance—I wanted to fall to pieces, but I saw Billy walk alongside me and although contented is not the right word, it is the nearest. The steps of our boots were all that was heard because I could not fathom to pierce the space between us with words for fear that it would all end. It was a dream, surely. I’d lost my mind. With my hands thumbed into the straps of my pack, I saw I my hands still shook, and they would shake a lot longer—years and with memories too. The crunch of earth underfoot became a rhythm and instead of looking at my brother, I watched his shadow on the ground.
“Everyone’s dead?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” I repeated.
“How ain’t I? How ain’t you?”
To say that it was luck would’ve been too morbid. Instead of saying anything, I shrugged, kicked a loose stone, watched my feet some more, and felt a queasiness come over me. For the moment, the immeasurable deaths of those I’d left behind were forgotten in the company of my brother and a sickness welled up inside of me so suddenly that I felt that I’d fall to pieces at the slightest provocation. Finally, I did speak again, but only after steeling myself to the troubles, “Yeah, how are you alive?”
Billy shrugged at me then stumbled up a hill which overlooked trash wood wilderness where sticks lay twisted and bare and further on the sight of Atlanta was visible and I cupped a hand across my brow and Billy did the same and we looked on at the shadows of the place out there where strings of smoke rose from the skyline as a signature for the desolation of the city; it was dead. I felt it in my bones.
My hands were light while my head was heavy, my throat was dry, and the entire world seized in moments of stillness or perhaps it was my own vision which construed the world in that way; I took to the small hill which Billy had climbed and sat there and stared at the place between my feet to steady myself.
“Fire,” said Billy.
I nodded and nearly choked.
Leviathan—till then I had no belief in dragons—glided over the broken city, its winged shadow little seen but its voice was deep across the scene, letting go of roars which shook the ground. We hid among the trash wood and moved down the hill and watched the creature thrash in the air as if it was angry for its abominable life. Whatever millennia it spent in the pits of hell seemingly thrust upon it a love of destruction and pain.
My brother moved with a more assured stride and kept a cool distance and upon fleeing from the wreckage, from the outlying area of Atlanta and the place we’d left our family, he spoke little and watched me strangely whenever I took to melancholic fatiguing. We lit no fires for fear of what it could draw from the night so in the dark I’d see him watching some far-off place, maybe seeing through the reality which surrounded us, and he’d snap from it, catch my eye, and disappear for minutes to scan the perimeter of whatever place we stayed. Being alongside my resurrected brother was lonelier than I could bear, and I hoped he’d disappear for good or that I could work up the courage to end my own life. It was like purgatory explained in books and for a time, it felt endless; upon witnessing the destruction of Atlanta, we pushed to Marrietta, and it was much the same. As was Chatanooga, Nashville, Knoxville, Louisville, Charlotte. The ocean had risen so that Fayetville was gone underwater, and the Florida leg disappeared completely as far as I’m aware. I understood later that Memphis was overlooked and more places further west were alive too, but when we’d exhausted the south, we moved north and found strongholds of families or traders or even small groupings of civilization, but by and large we found nothing much in the two years that we hoofed it from place to place; it was my doing mostly—I wanted to find a place untouched by the mayhem in the area my family had once patrolled.
In retrospect, I am certain that Billy only stayed by my side for convenience; there wasn’t any of my brother left in the man that was my travelling companion for that time. He was a ghost of a person and Mephisto had preyed upon my desire in the worst moment of weakness in my life. There were nights—maybe we’d taken up in a natural alcove for shelter or we’d locked ourselves in some ancient structure for sleep—I’d watch Billy lay where he was, Sibylle’s hat and holster lying beside him, and I’d think of putting him down but he’d stir and in a brief shadow I’d see my brother as he’d been and withdraw to bury my face in fake sleep to be met with images of the night the demons attacked where I’d shake, sweat, and bite my lips so hard I’d drink blood.
Two years we marched around the Appalachians and in that time, I felt myself wither and disconnect.
Upon moving further north we met Indianapolis—that’s what it was called back then—and it was run by an older woman called Lady Lazarus; I reckon her father, affluent and dead, was a fan of Plath. Indianapolis was fortified more than most with its high walls, and its wall men, and its underground facilities which produced substantial ammunition. We—me and Billy’s revenant—were travelling with a group of traders we’d taken up with from out west; they called themselves wizards and although they seemed of the occult, their spirits discounted whatever suspicions I might’ve had of them.
I remember first pushing through that big gate; the town kept with it an indisputable malaise and though we were greeted at the gate by the leader Lady Lazarus—her brothers came along with her—and her jovial demeanor carried a certain infectious quality, I could not help but notice that the regular denizens maintained a healthy distance from their leader (the guards which followed the Lady everywhere probably had something to do with this).
Lady Lazarus touched each of our hands in greeting with enthusiasm and I could not help but notice how soft they were, how vibrant her eyes were, how much she smiled, and how beautiful she was given her age; already her head was fully gray.
Upon meeting each of us, going through the wizard traders first, she came to me, and Billy and she shook my hand then pivoted to Billy.
“Welcome. You can call me Lady.”
Billy caught her hand in his, held it longer than she’d intended so that they held eye contact, and he smiled broadly, tipped the cowboy hat on his head back to expose his smooth forehead and said, “And you can call me Maron, mam. You are quite a sight for a tired man.”
Though Maron—as he’d named himself—was more boy than man, Lady took a disturbed liking to him immediately and we prolonged our stay in Indianapolis after the wizards departed to head west.
Under the rule of Lady, Indianapolis was a theocracy, with her addressing the huddled masses at the steps of her grand abode, she’d preach for hours on sin and strife and quote her favorite passages; though reminiscent of my time with the Rednecks, I never found any truth or sincerity or freedom in her teaching—hers was more trouble, brimstone, fire and I’d had enough of that for a lifetime. Public execution was common. As was torture.
Maron distanced himself further from me, but I remained to keep an eye on him—it was not sentimentality but rather I existed without purpose and conjured some from watching my brother.
Often, Lady invited Maron to her private rooms and though the rumors and speculation ran the full spectrum of perverse speculation, every denizen feigned ignorance at her pregnancy.
Upon giving birth, the infant was malformed with two heads—her brothers took this as an omen and killed the child, put their leader in the stocks for months, and stripped her of dignity while the denizens did to her what they pleased.
Maron rose through the wall men while Lady’s brothers assumed control of Indianapolis and called themselves Bosses; in the time since Lady’s reign, the place was renamed to Golgotha for its closeness to a messiah.
I went west but always found myself drawn back to Golgotha because of some emptiness in me. It was only with Suzanne that I wanted something more and knowing them, I almost believed in a world like the one that children dream about. The world that Gemma and Andrew chased after when they left home, like the one Aggie talked about in her mother’s books. There’s a hopelessness in me that I’ll never be rid of. In the interim between our initial arrival to Golgotha and that flight from that terrible city, I cannot know how many people I sacrificed in convening with demons because I refuse to know because the number would destroy me. That is the worst of it; I do not even have courage enough to face myself or the actions of my past in any substantive way.
Mephisto tainted me so that I could speak with his kind as a dealmaker and the disease grew.
Billy or Maron or whatever he is should have been reaped long ago or better, I should never have brought that abomination alive. Such a cruel world where a deep longing like that can be inverted, weaponized. Me and him should both die; me and him should have died a long time ago.
First/Previous
Archive

"Katsuki Bakugo, the hero known as CoolOff is a villain killer!"
The news circulates throughout the country. It's on TVs, YouTube ads, Posters, Billboards, stickers. If that wasn't enough the people are now wearing badges calling Bakugo a criminal.
"Young Bakugo, I heard what happened. Come we need to leave the country NOW" All Might stressed.
"No, I'm not leaving because a bunch of damn extras starting sympathising with a fucking femicidal maniac"

...

"I'm sorry, I'm just really agitated by this whole thing. I can't believe my entire career as a hero is over" Bakugo said as he looked down at his feet sheepishly.
"Don't be. This whole thing will blow over soon when the truth gets out" All Might responded
"Thanks"
KRAKAKAKOOOOOOOMM!
"What was that"
"I don't know but we should go check it out"
Bakugo stops Yagi
"I should go check it out. You stay, with OFA's embers down to 45% you're in no condition to go fight"
"Fine, but I'd feel more comfortable by your side Young Bakugo...That way I'd know your safe"
"Aww, your making me blush" Bakugo replied sarcasticly as he ran off.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
"There's more where that came from" The mysterious voice answered as he joyfully tormented his victim
"Please...Please stop" Izuku pleaded
"NO"
"Now I'm gonna make sure your kind never sees the sun rise again. INDISCRIMINATE SHOCK 1.3 MILLION VOLT-"
"SHUT THE HELL UP NERD"
Bakugo caught Denki off guard
"Wait. Are you that pathetic quirkless murderer guy i've been hearing about because frankly you're such a damn bore" Bakugo teased
"A-Are you making fun of me" Denki questioned
"Duh! What else do you think I was doing shit for brains"
Denki gasped
"That's soo rude" Denki reacted
"KAAACHAN!" Izuku gleefully cried
"Oh hey Deku"
"Wait. You know this juvenile" Denki queried
"Well-um yes? Kaachan and I go way back. We used to hang out back in Junior High"
"DEKU!!! Stop telling the bad guy E V E R Y T H I N G" Bakugo started grinding his teeth in frustration.
"Oh...sorry"
"HUMAN STUN GUN!" Denki electrocutes both Deku and CoolOff and runs off
All Might smacks Denki with a wooden plank effectively knocking him out
^{"Timber from Cainz...Specifically Miura Smash"} All Might careful whispers to his sleeping opponent.
"Who are you talking to?" Bakugo said bluntly
"N-No one" All Might hastily said
"Is that?...All Miiiiiiiiiiiiggggggghhhhhhhttttt" Izuku breaks out into a fanboy frenzy
"Yes, it is I young man. You must be awfully scared but fear not for I am here"
Izuku starts crying and tells All Might about how scared he was
"What do we do with this piece of crap now?"
"We?"
"We" Bakugo confirmed
"OW!" Bakugo yelled
"What's wrong Young Bakugo?" All Might asked
"Yea Kaachan are you alright?"
"I'm FIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNEEEEEEE"
Bakugo was indeed not fine
"You're sweating and your arms are covered with black veins"
"Huh?"
"Denki has an electric-type quirk" Izuku blurted
"Then it's worse than I thought" All Might added
"I think...You might be dying"
Bakugo laughs at All Might
"What are you crazy?"
"I'm quite serious Young Bakugo..How's your breathing and your heart rate. Check your heart rate"
"Alright All Might"
Bakugo checks his resting heart rate
"It says 160. Is that good?"
All Might dissolves back into skinny form
"You should be dead" All Might articulated
Blood starts dripping from Bakugo arms and old wounds start opening up
"That's not good"
"NO SHIT DEKU"
Bakugo's heart rate starts rapidly beating as if it were to explode
Bakugo struggles to breathe
He tries to shake the feeling off but ends up splashing his blood all over Deku
Bakugo realises his time is up and flys as far away as he can from the city and people
He explodes in an abandoned warehouse
Tears drop down All Might's face as he hears his protege's demise
Izuku goes home that night upset and gloomy.
He wakes up the next day
And punches his door in a fit of rage
His arms explode off
Terrified Izuku calls his mom for help.
4 hours later
"The surgeons have managed to successfully reattach your arms Izuku"
"Are you ok, honey?" Inko asked worried about her son's spontaneous combustion
"I'm fine mom"
BREAKING NEWS! TEEN HERO COOLOFF FOUND DEAD IN ABANDONED WAREHOUSE
Inko switches off the tv
"I'll give you some space"
Inko exits the room and heads over to get some coffee
Izuku's door opens
"Mom, I thought I made it clear I wanted to be left alone"
"Well then it's a good thing I'm not your mom"
"ALL MIIIIIGGHHHT"
"Hello Izuku-Kun, I heard your arms exploded off which is why I came"
"You see Bakugo is....dead. Which I'm sure you already know but what you don't know is that I gave my power to Bakugo..One For All...And he gave that power to you"
"Me? Why would Kaachan give OFA to me?"
"Well he didn't do it intentionally. When he tried shaking all his blood off some of it must've entered your mouth or gone up your nose and with the intention in mind to transfer the power you received it"
"Why would Kaachan want to give up this power?"
"Because his burden proved to great for him to handle"
"I'm sure you took note of the media cancelling Young Bakugo"
"I did"
"Well the media kind of twisted the truth and as a result Young Bakugo has been having thoughts of quitting for months. He let his rage get the better of him and now he's....May his soul rest in piece".
"Now that your arms have been fixed I think it's time to start your training"
Meanwhile in an abandoned warehouse
"Ah! CoolOff the 9th and last user of OFA! Now OFA will finally be mine!
The mysterious man grabbed CoolOff's hand but to his surprise no OFA
"He passed it on. I should've expected this of course Toshinori's protege would have his own protege". The mysterious man thought
"No matter. I'll make use of what I can" the mysterious man said a loud as he carried CoolOff's corpse to his van before driving off
"Vive Les Puissants"
Fin.
Some trivia about this universe:

• In this universe Bakugo is given OFA (at least 2 years before he ends up in UA).
  
• Bakugo is a lot nicer and friendlier to All Might than everyone else (All Might gives up on his relentless quest of finding a quirkless aspiring hero. It's been 20 years so he just gives OFA to the strongest and most dedicated aspiring hero he can find).
  
• Izuku also pulls up to UA (quirkless. He's in the General Education Department).
  
• All Might uses tech from David and Melissa Shield as well as Mei Hatsume and Power Loader [to make up for OFA's declining embers All Might utilises tech to continue his day-to-day hero pursuits. All Might's support gear includes: Electromagnetic Soles (for speed), High Density Capture Nets (neatly compressed and fired from a gun to swiftly capture one's foes), Koete Arm Bracers (a mix between Izuku's Airforce gloves, the mid-gauntlet and the full gauntlet. It's reinforced with iron, tungsten, tantalum, and vanadium. The fingertips of the Arm Bracers are covered with potassium chlorate, sulfur, and nitroglycerin [covered with resin so All Might doesn't accidentally set himself on fire. These coin-like projectiles activate when All Might flicks them at his opponents], The QAD (David Shield's Quirk Amplification device. The prototype was a headset but since then the design has been redeveloped and has been drastically changed to a set of trendy shades), and a Jetpack (to allow All Might to fly without placing further strain on OFA's embers).
  
• Weirdly enough Bakugo has been silently doing hero work for 2 years (He's following Eraserhead's footsteps by avoiding the media).
  
• Bakugo comes face to face with his arch nemesis [the weird slime villain who got the better of him 2 years ago] and blasts him to smithereens...This creates a very unfortunate series of events of Bakugo.