***ads play and podcast starts at 1:47
Intro (Timestamp: 1:47) - Rachel: Welcome back to another episode of Rachel Goes Rogue. This is your host, Rachel Savannah Leviss. Today, we are talking about part three of the Vanderpump Rules reunion. - Rachel: It has finally come to an end, season 11. It's been a long time coming, and we're here to react. I have my producers with me, and as usual, they will be asking me some questions to get my perspective on what we just watched during the reunion.
Well, first of all, I want to start off with asking you just your overall thoughts on the reunion, watching it. How do you feel? (Timestamp: 2:19) - Rachel: Overall, I just feel tired at this point. I don't enjoy watching this show, and (Rachel starts to get emotional) I'm just happy that it's over. It was good that they didn't talk about me very much this last episode, part three. - Rachel: That's great, but it's been really difficult watching each week. And I feel like I can finally start to move on from all of this, because it's been really difficult. It was really heavy and sad. - Rachel: And I think everyone on that cast is struggling. And I would be too if I was there. I mean, I'm struggling just watching it from the sidelines, so I can only imagine what it's like being on that stage.
So you're getting really emotional right now. Where is this emotion coming from? (Timestamp: 3:28) - Rachel: It's coming from a place of feeling like I haven't had much room to go. Feeling like stuck between a rock and a hard place, so to speak. Because this entire time, I have been preparing for them to slander my name, to paint me in the worst light. - Rachel: And my goal with this podcast was to be able to represent myself, to defend myself, to share what I've learned through my time that I took away and my recovery, and just to shed more light on the situation. - Rachel: And it hasn't been easy. It's been an extreme rollercoaster of emotions in a lot of different phases, getting sucked back into it, and then feeling like all consumed by all the comments and everything, and then completely cutting off communication with the outside world and living in my own reality in the moment. It's all about that balance, and it has not been easy to move on. - Rachel: I don't think it's been easy for any of the cast to move on rehashing it and talking about it and having other people tune in. It's not typical. It's not normal. And the day has finally come that the show, season 11, is over, and it's a relief to me because I don't have to keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. - Rachel: I don't have to think about what lies they're going to spread about me, and I don't have to think about what I need to defend myself about. And then following week, I feel like I can finally start to live my life again.
And so you're kind of talking about the boundaries that you've been setting by staying away and cutting people off, which obviously boundaries was a really big topic at the reunion. You obviously set some really strong ones by not returning to the show. What's your take on this discussion of boundaries? Do you agree with Lala or do you side more with Ariana when it comes to boundaries when it's in regard to filming the show? (Timestamp: 5:40) - Rachel: I could see both of their points of view. Setting a boundary for yourself is not an easy thing to do. And when other people are upset that you set a boundary for yourself, that's usually a telltale sign that that person is using you in some way and is not happy that you have this new boundary because it's not serving them. - Rachel: So, I can see why Ariana upholded her boundaries by not speaking to Tom, even though she actually did film with Tom this whole season, or for the later part anyway. But she refused to have that conversation with Tom at the end of the show, and I commend her for it because it would have been a fake conversation. You could tell that Tom, his only motive to having that conversation with her is for camera purposes and storyline purposes. - Rachel: Therefore, it's not an authentic conversation. It would have been crocodile tears, the whole thing. And I completely understand Ariana walking away. I walked away too, and people weren't happy about that either. - Rachel: For Lala's point of view, I can understand her perspective in wanting to have a good TV show for her livelihood and the longevity of her career. If you're going to commit to filming, then I can see why Lala is upset, because you are not only committing to filming with this person, I can see her point in that she is living under the same roof as Tom. - Rachel: They're living together, they're filming together, yet in Lala's eyes, Ariana is being stubborn by not filming with Tom, or that one scene. Who even cares about that one scene? I don't know. - Rachel: It's all so silly to me, but boundaries are important. I was in a place where I didn't have boundaries, and I was really trying to appease production and put on a good show. That became my priority season 10.
And where do you think the line needs to be drawn, you know? When at the end of the day, this is a paycheck and this is a job, versus this is someone's real life. You've talked a lot about wanting to live in reality. Where do you think that line should be drawn? (Timestamp: 8:32) - Rachel: I think that's an impossible question to answer when you're filming a reality TV show, because the line is so blurry, it's impossible to know what's real and what's not. And the more I'm out of it, the clearer I can see that. We see it with Tom Sandoval when he talked about production. - Rachel: He did the New York Times article, and he stopped talking mid sentence when a plane flew over or a truck drove by, whatever it was, because the audio, typically when we're filming a show and a plane flies by, you stop talking so that the audio can pick up normally without the distraction in the background. - Rachel: So it's like programmed in your mind to think a certain way, to act a certain way, to talk a certain way, to pursue certain things, where it becomes a part of your patterning. We also see the lines get blurred with Scheana and the comment section, and what is real life and what is not, what is her own true motivation for doing certain things, and what is influenced by outside commentary. - Rachel: That gets so blurry, and when you're all consumed in the perception of yourself, how can you really be sure that you're operating from a place of an inner knowing? That's a boundary that's blurred. With Lala, she clearly prioritizes the success of the show because she wants to secure her paycheck, and when people are setting boundaries for themselves and it's conflicting with what she wants and what is successful in her eyes, that sparks an anger within her. - Rachel: And it's all fabricated to a certain point because the bottom line is this show. So, I think it truly is impossible to live a real life and be on a reality TV show.
So, do you think it's fair for Lala to direct that anger towards Ariana? Or do you think she should be directing it more towards the show? (Timestamp: 11:12) - Rachel: Oh, no, not at all. I don't think that it's fair that Lala is directing that anger towards Ariana because Ariana has been very clear with her boundaries since the very beginning and…
I guess if she's feeling this way, do you think maybe she should have upheld her boundaries more if she was feeling so resentful towards someone doing the same? Do you think she's feeling like she regrets things that she had said in the past? (Timestamp: 11:35) - Rachel: I think she did uphold her boundaries. I think that she feels like she hasn't been supported the same way that Ariana is being supported. And it's probably not a good feeling, but she maneuvered differently than Ariana has. And Lala doesn't extend the same empathy towards others. So it's harder to support her, I believe.
She does make a point to say, many times, that she feels like things are not being honest on camera. She points out Tom and Ariana’s relationship being one of those things. Katie has a flashback moment where she also calls it out. Do you agree that things are not always honest on camera? (Timestamp: 12:12) - Rachel: Totally. Yeah. I think the point that Lala is making is that Tom and Ariana haven't been honest about their relationship on camera. - Rachel: And I think people are getting caught up in Lala being hypocritical because she wasn't honest about her relationship with Randall. Okay, yes, that might be true. But the point is that Tom and Ariana haven't been good for quite some time. - Rachel: And their relationship that was portrayed on camera for fans to see was not an accurate representation of their relationship. I see the frustration because I agree with that too.
Even on your part, how does it affect you as someone on the show when people aren't fully honest on camera? How does that affect the rest of the cast? (Timestamp: 13:21) - Rachel: Yeah, it affects everyone when people aren't fully honest on the show. I mean, I wasn't fully honest the season 10 reunion. I was still covering up for Tom Schwartz. - Rachel: I was still covering up for Tom Sandoval. I was still going along with that narrative, and it would have been much better to just be open and honest about it. But of course, Tom was like, no, that wouldn't be good for business. - Rachel: It wouldn't be good for Schwartz and Sandys if people knew that the Schwartz kiss wasn't authentic and we need that to seem real. So it does affect everyone when you're not being honest, because it portrays a certain picture that isn't reality, and the whole point of reality TV supposedly is to be real, following these real people's lives. - Rachel: So honesty would be like the most important value characteristic you would think that everyone on this show should have. But it seems like nobody does.
Well, speaking of honesty, Ariana kind of called out Tom and his motives behind wanting to apologize on camera. He finally does get that moment during the reunion to apologize to Ariana. He has some words when he does, he calls the affair something he regrets every day. He says that he wears it like a badge of shame. On your end, how did that feel watching that? (Timestamp: 14:46) - Rachel: It's hard to tell if Tom is being honest or not. Even in the Secrets Revealed episode, when he was asked how many girls he had sex with since me, and he had to pause and think about if he was going to be honest or not, he's just been caught in so many lies that it's hard to tell if he's being truthful. - Rachel: But hearing Tom say that he regrets getting involved with me every single day, I regret it too, so it is a little bit painful, but it's also like maybe something is registering for him. - Rachel: I don't know. But then again, his actions speak a lot louder than his words. He knows what words to say, and then it seems that he fails to follow through with meaningful action. And that's where true amends come into play.
There was just, I feel like, a lot of pain in the room all around. You kind of acknowledged that at the beginning of this episode. What do you think that this pain, and even Lala saying that she was okay seeing some of those friendships end, what do you think that means for the future of this group? (Timestamp: 16:07) - Rachel: I don't see much of the future for this group. It looks pretty shattered. It looks like these friendships are not healthy friendships. - Rachel: The dynamic between Lala and Scheana is not a healthy dynamic. It seems to be like a power imbalance. It seems like Scheana is trying to appease Lala to make sure she's secure, and she's getting certain needs met in that friendship because Ariana hasn't been around for Scheana the way that she's used to. - Rachel: Yeah, you could tell that Scheana’s struggling with coping with that. It seems like Lala's really on a wavelength of not effing with anybody on the cast right now. It seems like her friendship with Katie isn't strong because Katie's gotten really close with Ariana. - Rachel: It seems like even her friendship with Scheana is a little rocky. I think she sees Scheana as someone that's not...How do I want to say this? - Rachel: And I hate saying this word, because I don't want to like categorize somebody as something, especially because I've been called this before too. But I think seeing how Lala reacted to everything and how Scheana was trying to be the fixer and appease Lala, and it just didn't seem like enough for Lala. I think Lala sees Scheana as someone who is weak, perceived weakness. - Rachel: I'm not saying that Scheana is weak. And I think that there's a lot of alliances and manipulation happening, and none of that is healthy for our friendship dynamic. I can see why the show is taking a hiatus, because it just seems so fractured
Well, it definitely seems like at the very end of the episode, Scheana was very sure to get that last word in. I felt like she was looking directly at Lala and almost begging for her to hear her out that she was on her side. And it really did seem like the very end, Scheana had to choose. Is she Team Ariana or Team Lala? Do you think she made the right choice? Do you think she needed to make a choice, or do you think that she's putting this pressure on herself? (Timestamp: 18:21) - Rachel: Ooh, that's a good question. I think she feels a lot of pressure from the outside perspective, and she doesn't want to, obviously, like burn bridges with Ariana or anything. And I think Ariana has been very gracious towards Scheana. Do I think that she needed to choose sides? I don't think so. I don't know. - Rachel: I can see Lala's frustration probably because I'm sure Sheena and Lala have had conversations about the whole situation. And without Ariana there, I'm sure Sheena's singing a much different tune than what we're hearing at the reunion, and that's sparking some frustration in Lala. And I'm sure that was a similar feeling when she called out Katie about it too. - Rachel: So yeah, I think that Lala feels pretty isolated, I want to say, in her feelings. And now that it's aired, and I did check Reddit for the first time in a very, very long time, it seems like the majority of people are hating on Lala right now. I'm human. - Rachel: I do hold some resentment towards Lala for the way that she's treated me over the years. I do empathize with her a little bit because all the hate online is just a little bit ridiculous. And I think also people are afraid to speak a differing opinion than the team Ariana side because people are just ruthless online and they don't want to hear a differing opinion. - Rachel: And if you do, then you get shunned out, too. It's very, my therapist calls it tribal shaming, where if you're not following the rules of the tribe, spoken or unspoken, then you're cast out and you're shunned.
***ads play and podcast resumes at 23:24
I mean, it does feel like the fans have had more of an impact on this season than ever. Would you agree with that? (Timestamp: 23:24) - Rachel: Yeah, especially because as they were filming this show, the fans were boots on the ground. We're going to production, we're going to filming, and we're going to take photos and document what we saw and all that stuff. Like it was very interactive in a way. - Rachel: I think with after show this year, it was a little bit different because some things have changed since the ending of filming last summer. One of the things was me starting my own podcast and speaking freely about my experience and my opinion and the after show gave the cast an opportunity to rebut what I was saying and it provided more of a context. - Rachel: And I think with more time passing from the end of filming last summer to, you know, early January, February of this year, when they filmed the after shows, cast dynamics shifted because as we all know, now watching the finale, Lala and Ariana did not end on a good note whatsoever. - Rachel: And so, you know, she had some choice of words to say during the after shows. And it seemed like she really got Sheena to support her with that.
Speaking about the fracturing of this cast, something about her did recently open. Not many cast members were in attendance to this opening. What's your take on that? (Timestamp: 24:56) - Rachel: Interesting. Do you know who went? - iHeart Lady: I know Schwartz went - Rachel: It seems a little telling that maybe Sheena and Lala aren't on the best terms with Ariana right now, because they went to like the Broadway opening that Ariana did for Chicago. And they also went to Dancing with the Stars. But this is all before they knew that she didn't watch the show. And so that was all before the reunion and everything. So yeah, it seems like maybe they're not on the best of terms right now.
What are your thoughts on production holding the last five minutes until the reunion to show to everyone? (Timestamp: 25:47) - Rachel: I wonder if they got word that Ariana wasn't watching the season. And they did that as a way to ensure that they would get a reaction from her, kind of like forcing her hand a little bit, forcing her into a situation that she did not want to be in. It was very strategic in that way. And it was something new. Like, we've never done that before. It was creative, for sure, on production's part.
Do you think it was fair to Ariana? (Timestamp: 26:27) - Rachel: There's a commitment, and part of that is watching the show and having an opinion on what's happening besides your own story that you're sharing. So in a way, it's like ensuring that Ariana did have an opinion on it. So very eye opening, to say the least.
I want your take on Tom's final words. He says, I love it. It's good for me. A lot of people in the room were very shocked by that. Tom even has a reaction to it, where he shakes his head no. They didn't even really press him on what he meant by that either. What's your take on all of that? (Timestamp: 26:49) - Rachel: I wish they pressed him on what he meant by that a little bit more. And Ariana was pretty much the only person that called him out on it too. She caught it. - Rachel: She was like, that exactly proves my point, that you are doing things for the audience, for the production value, and for his own story purposes. I guess in Tom's eyes, having Ariana refuse to film and walk off was good for him because he felt like he completed his job and fulfilled his duty with what production was asking from him. And Ariana was not. - Rachel: And I think selfishly, he probably thought that it would give him a better chance of having more of a redemption story. - Rachel: Because, ultimately, production is the one picking and choosing what they're going to share on the show and edit and put certain music behind certain scenes to make it seem even more of a certain way. Tom knows how to play into that. But I would have loved to hear what his explanation for that comment would be.
Why do you think they didn't press him? (Timestamp: 28:34) - Rachel: I think that they're protecting him, like they always have been.
We did see something interesting at the very end with Lisa stepping up and taking Ariana's side, which is kind of a different tune. You've talked about this before, where she seems to protect the guys a lot of the time, but then she changes her tune at the very end of the episode and takes Ariana's side. What are your thoughts on that? (Timestamp: 28:39) - Rachel: I think Lisa is very strategic with what she puts out there as well. And she knows what people are saying about her, with her always supporting the guys. So that could have been a motivation behind her changing her tune and supporting Ariana in that way. Yeah, I don't know. It's hard because I think also Lisa is very aware of who the fan favorites are. It's her show. - Rachel: She's an executive producer on this show. So she's not a dummy when it's coming to that. I think it helps her if she is supporting Ariana because she'll praise Ariana for walking away and end up holding her boundaries. - Rachel: But then when it comes to me, I don't even remember what she said about me. But when it comes to me walking away and setting a boundary for myself, I've been told that I'm a coward and I'm running away from my problems. - Rachel: So that part for me gets a little frustrating because it's like, and also the fans praising Ariana for upholding her boundaries and walking away and supporting her and telling her like, you know, she's outgrown this show. - Rachel: She should move on and do something even better with her life. And she's finding out now that these aren't her true friends and like good for her for upholding her boundaries and walking away from this situation. And I've done the same thing and it has been met with scrutiny.
Lala compares her situation with Randall to Ariana a lot throughout this reunion. Do you think the two are similar at all? (Timestamp: 30:37) - Rachel: I don't think that the relationship that Lala had with Randall is comparable to the situation that Tom and Ariana were in. It's hard to get on Lala's side with some of the things that she's saying, because the way that she spoke about her relationship with Randall is like bragging about doing BJs for PJs and getting gifted a Range Rover very early in their relationship and not being honest about who she was seeing and the situation that was happening basically. And it just seemed like she was in it for the money and like to secure her success and fame. - Rachel: So it's hard to get behind that, especially when she's been so outright about it. Unfortunately, Randall wasn't the stand up guy that she was selling him to be. We weren't buying it. - Rachel: In Ariana's case, viewers got to see that relationship develop over the years, whereas with Lala's, he wasn't around, like it was secret for a while. And, you know, it's harder to develop feelings towards a person or a relationship when you're not seeing it play out on camera. I think Lala has a lot of anger, maybe even towards herself, for the situation that she allowed herself to be in. And I think she might be taking that out on Ariana.
How hard is it to be really honest when you're in this position? And do you think certain cast members have an easier time doing this? (Timestamp: 32:22) - Rachel: So this is like where your own values come in. Like, are you an honest person or are you not? Because there are people in this cast that are not, and we know who they are, and they have no problem lying, and it doesn't bother them when they lie. - Rachel: And for me, I'm working towards living a more authentic, honest life. And part of that is being honest with my emotions, thoughts, and feelings, and expressing that, and doing that in a way that is still respectful, because I'm not trying to hurt people in the process. And I am trying to express myself honestly and be true to myself. - Rachel: So I think it just depends on who you're asking. I mean, it's definitely not easy. It's definitely hard because you're on this platform, this public arena where you're opening yourself up to scrutiny. - Rachel: And if other people have differing opinions than you do, or if your opinion is the minority, you're basically going to be harassed and scrutinized. And so sometimes for people, it's easier to not be fully honest with their thoughts and feelings in order to save face or in order to go with more popular opinion because it's perceived to be safer that way. But I don't know. - Rachel: At this point, it's like your words aren't going to hurt me. You can say whatever you want to say about me online, and I've survived this far. So whatever else you say about me is not going to affect me any more than it already has. - Rachel: I've developed thick skin through this process, and I've come to the point where I value my friendships that are real in the sense of I interact with these people in real life. I care more about people's perception of me when they actually meet me and interact with me and the vibes I give off that way. So you get to a certain point where it's almost your duty to show up for yourself and be honest with how you feel and how you think about a certain thing in that moment. - Rachel: And your opinions can change with time too and with more information. It's not like I'm going to say this one thing and I'm always going to feel this way. It's always changing, it's always developing, we're always getting more information, and we're always experiencing new things that change our perspective on life. - Rachel: So it's just your duty to represent yourself in the most authentic way so that your people will find you.
***ads play and podcast resumes at 38:08
Well, I think there was one kind of shining moment, I'll say, even though it was a really emotional moment. But the moment between, and this is a little bit of a pivot, but the moment between Schwartz and Katie, I found really interesting, where Andy was asking about their relationship. It seemed like this season, they had a little bit more of a playful dynamic. But Schwartz gets really emotional, saying that he doesn't regret how their relationship ended. But you can kind of see in his eyes that he tears well up. He gets really emotional. What did you make of that moment? (Timestamp: 38:08) - Rachel: We don't think we've really seen a moment like that between Tom, Schwartz, and Katie. It really seems like they've come to terms with how the relationship ended, and that it was for the best. But it seemed like there was a lot of fond memories and just appreciation for one another, that I don't think I've really seen that dynamic between them before. - iHeart Lady: To me, it seemed like in a season where there was a lot of hurt, that seemed like the one moment of maybe seeing two people that are going through the process of healing. - Rachel: Viewing that, it did seem like they were both coming from a place of healing, because they weren't throwing insults at each other or trying to bring each other down. It was very respecting one another and appreciating the moments that they did have together while it lasted. And that's refreshing to see on this show.
Lala said something at the very end where she said it was really hard for her to show up to season nine reunion, I believe it was. You know, she didn't want to talk about certain things, but she showed up. Ariana said the same thing where she could say the same about the season 10 reunion. She didn't want to be there. You could probably say the same thing about the season 10 reunion. You didn't want to be there as well. Is it fair to say everyone's been in a position where they didn't want to be somewhere, but they did anyway? (Timestamp: 39:44) - Rachel: 100%. Yeah, totally. And that's like the part of committing to this show. It's a commitment. And even though you don't quite know what you're signing up for, you know that it's not going to be necessarily easy. And there's a challenge in that. - Rachel: And I think, just speaking for myself, there was an opportunity for growth for me in that. Yeah, I think we've all been in a situation where we didn't want to show up for something and felt, I don't think obligated is the right word, but we made a commitment to being there, and we followed through with our commitment. And it's hard.
You started this episode off by acknowledging that there was a lot of healing that this cast needs to do. As someone who has taken a step back from filming, you've had this time to kind of come back to your own reality. What can this cast expect when you have that moment to kind of breathe and have that separation and you rejoin reality for a minute? (Timestamp: 41:07) - Rachel: Oh, okay. That is a loaded question. Because I think that there's a little bit of fear with not being the current topic of conversation. - Rachel: I think addiction is the wrong word, but there's a little bit of the dopamine hits that you get when you're being talked about on a reality TV show and the fear of that going away permanently could be a scary thing. But taking time off and re-centering with yourself, I think is like the best thing for this cast right now, because we don't want to be forced into situations that we don't want to be in. That's not living an authentic life. - Rachel: I mean, I've been worrying about scenes and storylines, and I haven't even been a part of this show, but now it feels good not to worry about that. And I do have to say, just like reading all the comments on Reddit right now, it's like hardly anybody is talking about me, which is a great feeling. It's just so much more freeing when you're not living your life for somebody else's entertainment anymore. - Rachel: It just feels like you get your life back a little bit. It's so complex, and I think it's hard to understand if you haven't been through being on a TV show for millions of people to comment on and judge your life. I don't think humans are meant for that, and there's no way that that's healthy. - Rachel: Yeah, I said that I think the cast, we have a lot of healing to do. We, as in, I still do too, and part of that is coming back to reality. And I really don't think that we've had a minute this whole season. I think it's going to be good for everyone.
Has this year though felt different to you? I feel like you're like half in, half out (Timestamp: 43:42) - Rachel: Oh, yeah, it's felt so different. But I think like a large part of that has to do with going to the meadows and really reconnecting with myself and learning about my issues and how it was showing up for me and really coming to terms with like, what is this piece of external validation and how is that motivating me? And is it even real? - Rachel: And just like really re centering back into myself and gaining a lot more perspective with that. Without the meadows, I would not be where I am right now. There's no freaking way. So it is. I'm living a new life. I really am. - Rachel: And I feel like I haven't really been able to truly have the opportunity to live my new life to the fullest because this show has been holding me back. And I know that that's partially my fault too because I'm indulging and speaking about it, but I'm really looking forward to the days when I can truly move forward and evolve into something even more magnificent.
Outro (Timestamp: 45:02) - Rachel: Thank you so much for listening to Rachel Goes Rogue. Follow us on Instagram and TikTok for exclusive video content at Rachel Goes Rogue Podcast.
***end

[INDEX]
I banked the fire and stared into the golden eyes of Beatale before I crept into my makeshift tent.
I still had my auric vision running and couldn’t help but notice the thin silver cord that ran from me to Horse. Firming up my aura, I reached out with my hand and grabbed it. I could feel the nearly imperceptible vibration between my fingers as I used my mind to probe at the thread. I could feel a bright spark of intellect, a light at the end of a tunnel. Pushing with my mind, I slid down the thread until the spark grew larger and eventually filled my inner vision with a hazy white light. Horsey thoughts nudged at me curiously.
I slid into the haze and immediately lost all sense of direction. If it wasn’t for the silver thread, I’d have no idea how to exit this shifting white fog. Horsey thoughts got stronger as I followed the thread while the haze thinned and cleared to reveal an endless prairie of green grass. I found myself standing before a naked man wearing a horse mask and I stared in shock. It was obviously me wearing a cheap costume horse mask — there was no mistaking my tattoos.
“What did you expect?” Horse neighed at me. “I am you and you are me and we are all together. Goo goo ga joob.”
Horse made a shooing motion with his hands and I accelerated backwards through the white haze and slammed into my own body with a gasp. I stared at the tarp overhead for a long minute, processing this new revelation. Horse was a part of me, a piece of my spirit. Whatever psychic stuff I did with that silver cord lead me into a house of mirrors where I got to look at myself pretending to be a horse. I can’t even deal with that right now.
Rolling into my blankets, I dropped off to sleep.
*Ding*
-=- - Welcome to the Dreamworld - Included in the Psychic Skills pack, the Inner Sanctum is your psychic domain. It is the mental fortress that you must secure and maintain to defend against psychic and spiritual assaults. All of your neurosis and fears are symbolised in this realm and must be defeated or subjugated before you can become master of the domain. Good luck. -=-
I banished the pop-up and looked around. I knew I was asleep, but everything was just as real as when I was awake. I was breathing, I could feel the floor under my feet, and if it weren’t for the pop-up, I would have sworn I had been teleported. The room I was in resembled an oversized luxury prison cell, maybe a thirty foot cube. No windows. Rough stone walls with thick mortar. Large brass wall sconces were set directly into the stone and suffused the room with a warm, golden light provided by glowing rocks. The stone floor had colourful Persian rugs tastefully placed. A high plaster ceiling was painted with a rendition of Michelangelo’s ‘Creation of Adam’, depicting me as both Adam and God.
There was a comfy sofa in front of a large screen television that hung from one wall and an ornate grandfather clock ticked loudly in the corner. It was currently 10:08 PM. Another wall was a floor to ceiling bookshelf, stuffed with books of varying sizes. The third wall was covered with pictures and I could see at a glance that they were images from my life. The fourth wall had a thick riveted steel door on the right side, a full sized mirror on the left, and a computer workstation in the middle.
The picture wall was my first target. A few were quite large, nearly life sized, while others were tiny prints no larger than the palm of my hand. Scenes of my life were displayed in each one. The largest was me riding Horse with a shit-scared expression, shooting at a pack of wolves. Others were smaller, each with different frames. Some ornate gold or silver, others plain wood, a few wrapped in briars or barbed wire. Nanny Ramsey holding me as a young child. My dog Jean with a red ball in his mouth. My parents, screaming at me. I turned my attention to the books. Books are safe. Books don’t judge you.
The sweet, musty scent of a used book store filled my nostrils as I drew close to the honey coloured shelves. Hundreds of volumes filled the wall from floor to ceiling, with a ladder that could be rolled along a rail to access the top. I smiled at the sight. I had always wanted a library like this. I pulled a book at random and read the title, “Confused Fantasies about Joseph Harris, part XXIV of the Middle School Years”.
I slid the book back onto the shelf. Let’s see what’s on TV.
The remote was a slim, futuristic looking affair with a minimum of buttons. I pointed it at the television and moments later the huge screen came to life and presented me with a simple menu for movies, divided into six categories: Happy, Surprised, Afraid, Disgusted, Angry, and Sad. I scrolled through the offerings for a minute, reading the titles and reviews about the movies of my life. It really bothered me that there were so few selections in the Happy section.
The number of Sad movies increased by one.
I walked over to the mirror and noticed there was a small sticky note pasted to it. “Astral Realm. Experienced users only.” I shoved the note in my pocket and stared at my image. Sturdy black boots, black denim jeans and shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons, deep brown gun belt slung at my hip, red bandanna and black felt hat. All I needed was a pencil moustache and I would look like the stereotypical villain in any spaghetti western. At that very moment I decided to grow out a goatee. I’d rather be mistaken for a bad guy than a victim.
So how does this astral realm thing work?
The mirror appeared to be nothing more than a mirror. It was cold, smooth glass surrounded by a wrought iron frame, and reflected my image. I didn’t necessarily want to go walking into danger, but I wanted to know how it worked. I pushed and prodded the glass in frustration until I noticed my image grinning at me. I jumped back in surprise and it doubled over in silent laughter.
“Hilarious, dude. You got me,” I huffed. “So how do I get in?”
My mirror-self tipped his hat and stepped to side.
I reached up to the mirror again and my hand passed through, vanishing as if cut off. Okay, just a quick peek and we’ll explore the rest of the room. I stepped through and the world shifted around me. I was standing back at the campsite. My body was insubstantial as a ghost and the tarp was a wisp of substance running straight through me. Non living things don’t seem to have much presence in this realm. Glancing down, I saw my sleeping body rolled up in the blankets, a thin silver thread running from it to me, and another thread running to Horse.
Looking around, I surveyed the campsite. My astral vision seemed to be on and had an unlimited range. I could see the life all around me, the distant forest was a sea of greenish-gold, grasses and brush nearby glowed with spectral light. Tiny ghost insects scurried while ghost mice nibbled at whatever ghost mice nibble on. Ghost seeds and ghost insects, I suppose. I turned my attention overhead and gaped at the sight of a monstrous serpentine spirit flying through the inky void. I dropped back through the tent and rolled inside my body. That was plenty enough for now.
I rolled through the mirror and landed flat on my back, staring at the fresco on the ceiling. Vinnie-God winked at me and Vinnie-Adam grinned. Climbing to my knees, I brushed non-existent dust from my trousers and watched mirror-me doubled over in soundless laughter.
“Hey, laughing-boy!” I yelled at him. “You’re like the guardian or something, right? You got it covered?”
Mirror-me stood and saluted with a smile, then gave me two thumbs up. A moment later, his face took on a serious expression and he wriggled his right hand in the ‘maybe’ motion. Then he pointed at me, tapped his wrist, and then a finger to his head.
It all depends on how fast I learn stuff, I guess.
Two thumbs up and a winning smile reflected back to me.
A large cork board was mounted to the wall over the computer and a small note was pinned to it. “Note to self: Don’t fuck with the Elvish womens.”
The computer screen featured a screensaver of me as Vitruvian Man doing callisthenics over the words ‘HumanOS’. I tapped the spacebar and was rewarded with the sound of powerful fans kicking to life as the computer emerged from sleep mode and prompted me for a password. Should I assume it’s the same as the password on the computer I pawned in my previous life?
Password: *******esi
I was rewarded with a sweet R&M desktop and a couple of icons. System, NeuralNet, My-Tunes, My-Movies, My-Office.
System was just what I expected, lots of .dna files and other confusing scariness that allowed me to tweak my physical body and mental state. My-Tunes was a collection of every song I’d ever heard and My-Movies was a collection of every movie I’d ever seen. Not that I’m complaining, but it would have been nice to have “My-Games” so I could play RDR. My-Office was a clone of the popular software by a similar name. I have no idea what I’ll ever need a spreadsheet for in this world.
NuralNet opened up a search engine called Me-Seeks, featuring a familiar blue guy.
I typed in “beer” and several thousand results were displayed, anything I’d ever read, heard, or watched about beer, including how to make it. This right here made the price of admission totally worth it, access to an exact copy of everything I’d ever read, and I was a voracious reader. Sadly, most of the stuff I read was futurology — solar panels, electronics, biotech advancements, quantum computing. The material for steam engines, blacksmithing, farming and the like, were slim pickings. That’s okay though, I could still reproduce the Gutenberg press, the cotton gin, simple internal combustion engines, and basic batteries along with some sketchy knowledge of metal alloys, acids, bases, and other things I had read over the years. All that wasted time watching “How Things Work” was finally going to pay off. I copied a few likely money makers to My-Office, saved the file, and exported to my Notes, just in case they didn’t exist on Aerth.
A popup covered the screen.
📱 [New Upgrade Available!] 📱
🎉 Enhance Your Experience with the Latest HumanOS Features! 🎉
🌟 Features Include:

• 🧠 Memory Booster: Increase your Memory for smoother multitasking and improved performance.
• 🔋 Energy Optimizer: Extend your battery life with advanced power-saving techniques.
• 🛠️ Utility Upgrades: Access new apps and utilities to enhance your daily life and adventures.
• 🗺️ Advanced Mapping: Never get lost again with enhanced GPS and location tracking.

🔥 Special Offer: Only 2000 credits for version 2.0 or 5000 credits for version 3.0! 🔥
[Upgrade Now ✅] [Remind Me Later ❌]
Apparently I could upgrade myself, which reduced the cost of using my Utilities while providing other minor benefits. My Utilities would level up as I used them, which would increase their battery cost, so if I didn’t keep pace with an update to the OS they could become prohibitively expensive to operate.
Stupid pay-to-win world.
So, do I pay 2000 credits for version 2.0 or 5000 credits for version 3.0?
I selected version 3.0 and klicked [Install]. After watching it download the update, it popped up another screen that asked if I wanted to update now, or wait until Midnight for the mandatory update.
I selected [No] just as the grandfather clock chimed 10:30 PM. I wondered if time ran slower in here, because it seemed like I had spent a lot more time on the computer than 15 minutes. Walking over to the imposing steel door, I noticed a bronze key with a thin chain in the lock. There was another sticky note on the door. “Subconscious. Please keep the key with you at all times.”
That’s not scary at all, is it?
I unlocked the door with a loud clunk and pulled it open to reveal a bedroom straight out of some royal castle. I could tell immediately that it had seen better days. The tapestries on the wall were frayed and fading. The canopy over the bed had a few holes in it. A thin layer of dust covered the mantle of a small fireplace set into the wall. There was a window letting in bright sunlight and I moved over to look outside.
I was on the third floor of a keep surrounded by the walls and turrets of a modest castle. A castle that had fallen into serious disrepair. Did this represent the state of my inner mind? One tower was shattered and the curtain wall under it damaged. The lower bailey was full of litter. I could see a few soldiers walking around the allure, keeping watch.
I have people in my subconscious?
Someone behind me cleared their throat.
Whirling, I discovered a familiar old man standing in the door of the bedroom. What was left of his hair formed a white halo around his head, his face was unshaven and covered with several days of growth. He was dressed like a poor and tattered manservant, but carried himself with a dignified air.
“Woodhouse?”
“It’s nice to see the master at home,” He said with a proper English accent. “There are many matters that require the master’s attention.”
“Uh, sure,” I said, hanging the key around my neck and tucking it in my shirt. “And who are you again?”
“Your personal manservant, of course” he said with a slight bow. Walking over to the steel door, he pulled it closed and it locked with a solid thunk. “Master should always keep his inner sanctum closed. One never knows if something nasty will creep in.”
“Thank you, uh, Woodhouse. I’ll remember that,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “So what needs tending and how do things work around here?”
He smiled and beckoned me with a white gloved hand. “If master would be so kind as to follow me, I’ll introduce him to the staff and explain the duties and obligations of his domain.”
I’m 99.9% certain that everyone here is just me wearing a mask, so I shrugged and followed Woodhouse out of the bedroom and into the rest of my subconscious.
Five minutes later I was on the ground floor and seated on a shabby throne with the cast of a popular —and probably very copyright protected— animation in front of me. Woodhouse was the head butler and my personal manservant. Pam was the cook and demanded that I start importing sugar and alcohol before she was shushed by Woodhouse. Carol was a maid. Krieger was chancellor and Cyril was the steward. Archer and Lana were in charge of security. Ray was the marshal in charge of everything from the stables to the blacksmith.
I stared in disbelief at the motley crew kneeling in front of me. No wonder my inner mind was in such shambles. I was overcome with an irrational sense of anger at myself.
“Arright, listen up,” I barked, my voice echoing around the room. “I swear to God that I will fire every single one of you and hire circus clowns to replace you if you keep fucking things up. No joke. Circus clowns, got it?”
I ran a hand over my face as Ray pissed himself. “The only reason I’m not putting a boot in your asses right now is because I realise that you’re aspects of me, and the people you represent are pretty damn good at their jobs when they give enough of a shit to actually do them. As a team, you’re dysfunctionally fantastic and always seem to come out ahead no matter the odds.”
Heaving a sigh, I continued. “Things have changed and I need to get my shit together. I’m going to need every one of you to pull your weight and help me help you. Get back to your duties, I’ll meet you one on one later.”
My subconscious caretakers scurried out of the room.
“I’ll have one of the maids tend to the piss,” Woodhouse assured me.
“Never mind that,” I snapped. “I honestly had no idea my mind was such a shit show. I’m very disappointed in myself.” I pictured the Angry, Sad, and Disgusted counters on my personal movies clicking up. “Show me what needs to be done and let’s get started.”
During Woodhouse’s walking tour, everything clicked into place. This was some altered version of Bodiam castle, a location that was on my bucket list of places to visit. The royal council room, located behind the throne room, contained a “living” tapestry on the wall that showed the castle and surrounding land in real time. The castle was located in the middle of a small lake, and a single wood bridge led to the mainland. A small town surrounded the lake and a wall encircled the town. Outside the wall, the land was an irregular patchwork of forest and field, with a stinking swamp to the south. The entire “kingdom” was maybe ten miles across, surrounded by impassable mountains with innumerable creeks that fed the lake which drained into the southern swamp.
“Zombies are the problem, sir.” Woodhouse said, as I surveyed the living tapestry of my mental domain.
“Zombies?” I prompted.
“Yes sir, Zombies” Woodhouse continued. “Nasty bitey things that come in from the mountains and harass the peasants. They’ve gotten especially worse over the last few months. The soldiers do what they can, but they seem to have lost all motivation. Probably because they haven’t been paid.”
“And who pays them?”
“Typically chancellor Krieger is in charge of financial matters, although Steward Figgis has taken over the duty, sir.”
“Then let’s make Figgis our first stop.”
“Very good, sir.”
The office of the steward was run by Cyril Figgis, who managed the kingdom in my absence. It was overflowing with paperwork and charts, books and scrolls piled high on every flat surface. Cyril was desperately attempting to tidy things when Woodhouse and I walked in.
“Yo..you..your majesty,” Cyril stuttered, bowing low. Scrolls fell from his overloaded arms, spilling across the floor. He dropped to his knees and scrambled to gather them up. “I didn’t expect you to visit so soon. Please forgive the mess, housekeeping has been slacking…”
This was the guy who ran things while I was conscious.
“Shut up, Cyril” I said. “You’re responsible for everything in this office. That includes keeping it organised and tidy.”
“Y..yes milord.”
“It’s my understanding that you’re in charge of making sure everyone gets paid. So why aren’t we paying people?” I asked.
“We’re nearly out of Fuks, your majesty. I’ve been saving them for emergencies.”
“Fucks?”
“Fuks,” Cyril explained, pushing a pile of books off a large chest and opening it. Reaching inside he pulled out two small bags and emptied them on top of his cluttered desk. “Gold and Silver Fuks, the currency of the kingdom. I can’t maintain the kingdom when I have no Fuks to give.”
Behold the subconscious kingdom of Vincent J. Carter, it runs on Fuks.
“So how do I get more fuks?” I asked, examining one of the coins. It had an image of me on one side and symbol on the other that could be interpreted as “peace among worlds”.
“You kill the zombies, your majesty.”
Of course I do.
Woodhouse and I left Cyril’s office and headed towards the office of the chancellor where Krieger worked. It seemed that Cyril took over financial matters when Krieger became erratic and proposed luring all the zombies into the city and setting it on fire. Not sure how that corresponds to my own self-destructive behaviour, but I’ve had some dark thoughts over the last couple of months and I’m sure they’re reflected here.
Krieger’s office was much neater in comparison to Cyril’s, but it wasn’t by much. Shelves lined the walls and were filled with an array of questionable items, including a still snapping zombie head in a jar. While the office of the chancellor was supposed to be in charge of financial matters, it looked more like a dodgy rummage sale.
Krieger was launching sword blades at a pig carcass when we walked in.
“What exactly are you doing?” I asked, standing in the doorway.
“Hm? Oh, your majesty!” he said, turning around and bowing deeply. “I’m testing a new invention. It’s a spring loaded hilt that shoots sword blades. Very useful for our soldiers.”
“Stupidest idea ever,” I snapped. “I hate everything about it.”
“Okay,” Krieger said, tossing the hilt into a nearby pile of junk. “But don’t blame me when you need to shoot a sword at a zombie and don’t have one.”
“So why aren’t you managing the financial affairs? Collecting taxes, paying people, stuff like that?”
“Because the population has declined so much none of that matters?”
“What do you mean?”
“Wellll, the population represents things you care about,” Krieger said, going into lecture mode. “And the zombies and other monsters are real or imagined problems in your way. Since you don’t care about too many things the population has shrunk to just what’s needed to keep everything running on the bare minimum of fuks. And since you don’t seem to have any long or short term goals, there’s no need to kill off the zombies and get more fuks. Everything is fine just the way it is.”
“No, it’s not Krieger” I said, grinding my teeth. “My mind is in a shambles. It’s a joke. I want it fixed. No, I want it better than fixed. I want it improved.”
“Oh! I’ve got just the thing for that!” He said, digging around in his pockets, “It’s a spring-loaded hilt that shoots swords!”
Pam and Cheryl were hanging out a gallery window jeering at Archer and Lana sparring in the inner courtyard.
“What the hell are you doing!” I snapped
They whirled in surprise and then dropped into deep curtseys.
“Your majesty!”
I took a deep breath, trying to regain my centre. “Get to work cleaning this place up. Find a room, clean it, and move on to the next. Start with my bedroom, then the throne room and the council chamber, then everything else.”
Cheryl spoke up. “Can’t do it. We got no fuks to clean with.”
“You need fuks to clean?”
“Gotta buy stuff,” Pam said. “Cleaning supplies, food. You wanna eat, you’re gonna have to spend some fuks.”
“Talk to Cyril,” I ordered. “Tell him I said to get you supplied.”
They ran off in the direction of the stewards office.
I watched Archer and Lana bashing each other enthusiastically through the window.
Several minutes later the sparring couple stopped and bowed when Woodhouse and I stepped into the inner courtyard.
“Your majesty”
“My liege”
“Enough,” I said. “If you have enough energy to smash each other, you have enough energy to smash zombies. Tell me what I need to know so I can start gathering fuks.”
Archer shrugged and spoke first. “You just kill the zombies and other monsters. They drop fuks.”
“Anything special about the zombies?” I asked. “Are they fast? Do people get turned into zombies when bitten?”
“Nope,” Lana said, resting her wooden sword on her shoulder. “Most of them are slow shamblers and just need a good wack to the head to kill them.”
“Some are special,” Archer interjected. “Occasionally you’ll have some fast ones, or those that need holy water to kill. They’re just bad memories, figments of your personality that need to be eliminated. Some are worse than others.”
“The zombies are bad memories?” I asked, imagining all the bad memories that I had.
“Memories, thoughts, insecurities, metaphysical mumbo-jumbo,” Woodhouse supplied. “They are endless, but constant vigilance can keep them under control.”
“So let’s get started,” I said. “Lead the way.”
Lana and Archer lead me up to the parapet over the front gate where I looked over at the dozens of zombies milling about aimlessly in front of the entrance to my mind. Pulling out my gun, I began to pick them off, easy as shooting fish in a barrel. The crack of my spell pistol attracted more zombies and I dispatched them with ease until no more were left around the gate. As I fired each shot I could feel some sort of existential energy flowing from me, draining some hidden reserve.
“Gather up the Fuks,” I commanded. “And Lana?”
“Mi’lord?”
“There’s no excuse for this. From now on, I expect the walls to be clear of all zombies.”
“Yes mi’lord,” she said, giving me a small bow.
Turning to Archer, I shook my head. “You’re obviously my personal narcissism, so just try to stay out of Lana’s way, or better yet - try to kill more zombies than her. If you think you can.”
Archer scoffed. “No contest. I took top marks in sharpshooting.”
“That means I should expect to see results by tomorrow. I look forward to it.”
Archer looked panicked for a moment then smiled. “Sure, I can give you results.”
Turning back to Woodhouse I said “Show me what else need attending.”
Woodhouse led me through the town that represented my mind, pointing out each business that had fallen into disrepair, suggested others that needed improvements, and additions that would benefit me. In the distance, I could hear Lana and Archer shooting at the crowd of zombies and with each echoing shot I felt a tiny bit better about everything.
[INDEX]

Previous Interlewd XLI Next First
​
---Sample---
​
---Fnurfar’s perspective---
---2710 Terran Calenda3 years BF---
All six of my paws desperately scramble against the slick pavement of the Prosperity back alley as I flee for my life!
Pursuing me… is a monster!
His species aren’t meant to be sprinters!
They said if it came to a chase, I just needed to quickly get out of his line of sight and keep going and he’d not be able to keep up!
I skid around a corner and steal a glance behind me, seeing two furious eyes moving towards me so fast that they seem to leave streaks of emerald green behind them as afterimages!
The Fury is so close on my tail that he’s almost certain to catch me now!
It would be laughable how much my… ‘employers’ had underestimated him if it weren’t so terrifying!
‘You’ve got a Terran with you! There should be no issue!’
Yes, that idiot mercenary they hired almost had me going with his smug, arrogant proclamation that ‘Big=slow! Slow=dead!’ as he idly showed off his little knife tricks!
My confidence lasted up until the very moment I saw the one we were supposed to rob!
[20cm] taller than the skinny mercenary and looking like he could easily weigh twice as much, the man was a Hunt damned beast compared to the one who was meant to protect me from him!
I think Flynn reassessed his cocksure attitude as well because, rather than waiting for me to have an opening like we agreed in the [fucking] plan, he just drew a knife and tried to stab the monster to death!
An extremely poorly calculated risk!
There was no competition!
This juggernaut dealt with Flynn as easily as Flynn could have dealt with me!
It took him a matter of seconds to dispatch my accomplice but that was a matter of seconds where he was distracted enough that I was able to snag what we had been after… not that it makes any difference now!
Just as I hear thundering footfalls coming up on my left, powerful fingers impact the space between the bottom of my neck and the top of my top shoulderblades.
I’m slammed into the ground… but not killed…
I can feel the power contained in the iron grip around my neck…
I know that decapitating me would be as simple as deciding to close his fingers but, as I wait for death to come, it doesn’t…
Instead, the hand slides up my shoulders, gathering the loose skin and lifting me up like a kit in her parent’s mouth…
The first thing I’m able to see is the monster’s flat, booted feet, followed by a pair of long thick legs, then a chest and left arm covered in a loose fitting, buttoned shirt, patterned with vertical and horizontal lines.
The red fabric of his top disguises the bloodstain from the wound he got from Flynn, just below his shoulder. However, the nauseatingly metallic smell of it absolutely fills my nostrils!
The final thing to be revealed, as my feet hang more than [a metre] from the ground, is a face… the scarred skin a pale beige, the white, calcite teeth bared in a furious grimace, copper coloured eyebrows tilted downward in the middle over a nose, wrinkled with anger, and emerald eyes, burning with rage!
His shoulders rise and fall, in time with panted breaths he sucks in and out through his gritted teeth, putting me less in mind of a person (or even an animal) catching their breath after exertion and more in mind of some hulking piece of machinery from the Steam Age venting its pressure!
The Terran extends his pallid skinned, long fingered, furless, pentadactyl left hand to me, stained with the ferrous blood that’s run down his sleeve, and growls “Sample!”
“No…” I breathe, terrified.
“GIRL! I AIN’T fuckin’ PLAYIN’ with you!” he snarls, curling all but his index finger and jabbing it towards my snout “You’re gonna. GIVE. BACK. what you. FUCKIN’. STOLE!”
“You… can take it… from my corpse…” I defy, clutching my exhausted, trembling pawhands to the front of my jumpsuit.
Effortlessly, his free hand comes forward, batting my four aside, before pinching the top of the stasis vial and pulling it free, with there being absolutely nothing I can do to stop him!
He holds up the tube, in which is visible a small plant with a rosette of frilly black leaves and through which can be seen a frozen impression of the room it was in when it was stasised, demanding “You’re really willin’ to die for this!? For corporate espionage?!… Why the fuck’s this matter to you like that?!?!?!”
“I don’t care… about the plant… at all…” I answer, defeated.
His face twists in a sneer as he asks “Then why tell me I had to pry it from your cold. dead. hands!?”
“Because… if I come back… emptyhanded… they’re going to… torture my husband… and son… and make me watch!… If I don’t… come back… at all… maybe they’ll let them go!” I pant in answer.
His face falls blank… but I can tell that is not because he’s no longer angry!
Instead, his redoubled rage has gone from white hot to ice cold as he leans in and demands “Who’s ‘they’?”
---2715 Terran Calenda2 years AF---
“One!?” demands the sceptical, lutrine, Nvar man, one of six listening to my story for the first time (along with the two friends who’ve heard it before), holding up a webbed pawhand and extending a single finger “You’re trying to tell us that one Terran dismantled the entire Giluspri Sisters’ Syndicate, overnight!?… Simply because you told him a sob story about them holding your family hostage!?”
“I did say you wouldn’t believe me(!)” I smirk, lifting my drink to take a sip.
“You’re damn right I don’t believe you!!!” he sneers “It might have been a little more believable if you’d made it a team of a dozen or so Terrans that were guarding this thing but one!?… There’s no way it took a single individual a single night to root out and entirely destroy an enterprise that Prosperity’s government had been hunting for nearly [2 decades], even if that individual was a Terran!”
I place my drink down on the table and turn the palms of all four pawhands to the ceiling as I say “Believe me or don’t… that’s exactly how it happened!”
“Hmmm… Don’t know ’bout ‘exactly’…!” comes a familiar voice from behind my head, in the next booth over.
I freeze and straighten my back.
The friends and audience in my booth are looking past me, curiously, but, from their faces, it doesn’t look like they can see anything.
I stand and slide out through the gap between the table and Nafnarl’s footpaws.
I turn right and am immediately able to see that the booth next to us is occupied by a mixture of Terrans and some much smaller humanoids with green skin.
I keep going, rounding the partition to reveal…
“By the Hunt! Victor?!” I exclaim, seeing the man sat with his back almost exactly to where I was sitting, next to another tall, slim humanoid with blue skin and four arms.
His copper hair is much longer, his face isn’t as scarred and isn’t wearing the disgusted sneer that characterised so much of the time he and I spent together but… there’s no mistaking it!
The man turns his head, smiling, before standing up to nearly twice my height and extending a palm to ruffle the fur between my ears, saying “How’s it goin’, Foxy? You look a lot better ’an you did last time I saw you at least(!)” gesturing with his other hand up and down my less skinny and less visibly scarred body.
“Never mind that, Victor! What are you doing here?! You didn’t tell me you were coming back to Prosperity!”
He smirks “Yeah, sorry Foxy… It’s a loose lips sink ships kinda deal… Just thought I’d show my friends here the bar you brought me to celebrate after everythin’ was done that time… Didn’t think I’d actually run into you here!”
I stare up at the man, agog, for a few moments before reaching up with both my left hands and closing them around his wrist.
He allows me to drag him back to the head of my table.
“Nafnarl! Gfurnaf! This is him! This is the one I’ve been telling you about for the last [5 years]!” I say to my two Graufna friends before turning to the rest of the table to declare “He’s the man who took down the Giluspris! He’s Victor ‘Cuddles’ Taylor!”
With mirthful bemusement, the Terran raises his left palm to the table to smile “Y’alright guys!” before his eyes scan the faces and his expression goes concerned. He turns to me and asks “Your hubby alright, Foxy?”
I bare my teeth (I hope friendlily) and answer “Fnarnulf’s fine, Victor!… Fuffarn too! This is just a girl’s night…” gesturing at my two friends “…or… it was(!)” gesturing over the four men and two women, of four different species, who joined us to hear my story.
“What did you mean by it not being ‘exactly’ right?” queries Lunvo, the same sceptical Nvar who voiced disbelief before, still looking sceptical (not that I can blame him) but at least impressed by the fact that the ‘con’ has an (imposing looking) Terran stooge now(!)
“Weeeeell…” Victor frowns down at me, mirthfully “…the way she described me dodgin’ that knife attack, she made me sound almost psychic(!)… In reality, she and this guy weren’t as smooth as she seems to think(!) The fact that I even got nicked by someone I was payin’ as much attention to as that is a bad reflection on my reaction time!… Also, she kinda made it sound like I went into their headquarters with a gun in one hand and a lit plasmasword in the other(!) As I recall, I gave ’em all a chance to surrender and come quietly and it were only after they, shall we say, indicated a lack of interest in that option that my weapons first cleared leather!… Oh! And what was with all that comparin’ the way I pant to ventin’ steam engines, Foxy(?!)”
“But…” starts Muan, a nervous tolypeutine Wne woman beside her Wno husband, Kmuw “…you don’t deny it was you and you alone who brought down the Giluspris?… Without help?”
The pale skin of the Terran’s flat face performs a complicated scrunch as he considers the question before answering “Don’t know ’bout ‘without help’… I had Foxy here for showin’ me the way, after I’d done a lotta convincin’… and, once I’d taken care of ’em, local law enforcers came to take the survivors away… Aaaaand… I probably didn’t actually manage to kill or capture every last one of ’em… just gutted its power structure enough that the rats fled the sinkin’ ship(!)”
“Why are you calling her ‘Foxy’?” asks Lunvo, four eyes narrowed in suspicion “‘Fnurfar’ is the name she gave us!”
The large man shrugs his shoulders “I didn’t get her name until we came here to celebrate… she didn’t trust me to give it… Had to call her somethin’, so I called her Foxy.”
“Hmmm…” responds Lunvo “…I’m not buying it…”
Victor raises an eyebrow “You ain’t buyin’ me givin’ her a nickname(!?)”
“I don’t believe any of it! The whole story reeks of the fanciful!”
I bare my teeth and slam my paws on the table before snarling “I don’t care if you question my honesty, Lunvo, but this man saved my husband’s life, my son’s life, the lives of dozens of others, freed me from effective slavery and freed this planet from its largest criminal syndicate! I will not have you questioning his integrity!”
Lunvo cowers away from me, despite the table separating us.
I feel a large, strong hand on my shoulder.
I turn to see a smiling face.
“Eeeeasy there, Foxy… ’Preciate the defence but there ain’t no need to get heated over it!… ’Specially not when there’s a really easy way to sort this out…” he looks up at Lunvo and asks “Lunvo, was it? Could I ask you to look up the front page of the Prosperity Chronicle from the 3rd of September, 2710?… I think you’ll see a picture of me shakin’ hands with your governor at the time…”
---
Previous Interlewd XLI Next First
Discord
Dramatis Personae

this is a continuation from my earlier post .
my objective is to make accessible information in the greater public domain. much of what I am saying is available in public, but obscure or not present in one single place.
Main Idol overview -
the MOOLAVIRAT or DHRUVA beram, the subject of all legends and debates.

• I am biased in my opinion , but it is an idol , the craftsmanship of which is beyond anything I have ever seen. no Louv're museum, greek statues, Rome or even our Own hoyasala sculptures even come close. the details are extremely life-life. this is also why we see rumors like he is soft or sweating etc.

the level of detail is really extraordinary. fingernails, toenails, striations in the skin folds, and attention to detail to every ornament is seen.
all ornaments in front view continue on the back side. full 360 degrees. mostly on the back, are the strings and knots of the ornaments , all integrally in the idol. the hair locks, also have very tiny crevices, looking like real hair, especially in dim lighting.
there is another unique problem that all of this creates - it sounds silly but only people who are worshipping idols in temples would know.
normally, during ritual baths, CUrd ( or yoghurt ) is a key ingredient.
what most people don;t know, is that curd is very very hard to clean up afterwards .
it gets stuck in tiny crevices, and eventually the room starts to smell really bad.
in tirumala, the practice is to NOT use curd, and just stick to milk and various versions of water.
the real reason for that is the exquisite features of the idol. no amount of cleaning is enough to fully bring out all the curd. so a long time back, decisions were taken to stop using it. (again lot of debates on it and lot of controversies jumped out of it)
Curd Iis used now , for all the other smaller idols, where it is easier to clean up later.
Main Idol - dimensions
there are confusing reports about his height ranging from 6 feet to 12 feet. all are false. numbers change based on how he is measured.
he is 8 feet tall, if measured from foot to top of crown. the crown is 20 inches approx. (based on size of the gold crowns made for him..all of them 22 inches to accommodate padding)
the lotus base (Padma -peeta ) is estimated to be 18 inches.
but an idol is always measured with base included. this brings the total to 9 ½ feet , as the pedestal is always counted. but in reality , when we go to the temple today, we are standing standing above the height of his feet, so we would see 8 feet of his majesty .
these are all estimates and could be wrong by a couple of inches.
also, the dimensions of the sanctum sanctorum are 12feet 9 inches x 12 feet 9 inches. square. this is available in public domain. nothin secret about it.
in the Agama, among the GarbhaGrihas, this is the largest sanctioned dimension, only possible for a very tall mula virat.
*(we need to again remember- this extraordinary idol, was exposed to the sun and moon for centuries, surrounded by elephants and lotus ponds and venomous snakes , before a human being even came into the picture. its really hard to imagine him just standing there in the forest with a smile on his face , for a thousand years, before a temple was made out of wood ( yes literally wooden temple - more on that later)
his waist is estimated to be around 24-27 inches (depending upon exactly where you measure it)
his chest is 42 inches ( some serious bodybuilding goals for men - forget the old-NTR like chubby looks)
his arms circumference for the armlets is estimated to be 19 inches.
overall, the appearance of a youthful strong tall man.
now each body part -
feet - the feet are spaced apart at shoulder width. they are extremely well-formed, having even toenails. there are toe-rings on his toes, and then there are 2 varieties of anklets on him. 1 looks more like a feminine Dancer kind of anklet ( I dont know the right word for it) . the second one is more masculine and like a thick strong ring around the ankle.
the lower body cloth (peetambaram or dhoti) outline can be clearly made in the idol, resting near the anklets. its folded into 7 layers as we move upwards to his waist. on the backside, it continues and is neatly tucked into the small of his back. there is one very interesting observation here..... the knot and tucked in-dhoti on the back looks like the hood of a cobra. senior priests say it is symbolic of kundalini.
note: no actual cobra figure appear on the idol. I am only talking about the lower garment folded in such a way. this I have actually seen on other vishnu idols in iconography books on agama. I'll share a pic here of similar feature if I can.
normally, there is no gap in a stone idol , between the feet . rock is there to preserve the stability of the idol. but here there is a hollow, and a garment can be passed under to dress him.
there is also a decorative Vastram draped on this sides, beautifully knotted on both hips. its pleats gently fall down on either side.
as we move up, his two lower limbs are strong and bulky. the calves are particularly bulky, very strong from the backside.
strong massive thighs can be made out from all sides. the kneecaps are very prominently visible.
his posture is almost straight.... with a small tilt to the right side (his right side) . as such the right knee is slightly bent. overall, he stoops very slightly fowards, as if just about to step out of the pedestal. this is hard to observe after all the heavy ornaments and garlands.
I will talk about the more technical description of his posture by using sanskrit AGAMA terminology in future posts. this was intended for people who are not familiar with highly technical jargon.

Maybe hate is a bit strong, but I (18) am getting sick and tired of my friend's (19) low prioritization of me. This will probably end up being a little long and I'm sorry in advance, I just don't have anyone to talk to about this. Reddit kinda scares me but I really need some kind of third party advice, and maybe to vent a little. I'll keep the context as brief as possible, but I think a little bit of history is necessary to understand why I'm so irked. If you don't want to read it, though, it'll still make sense, so you can skip the next paragraph if you want.
Context: We've been friends since about 13 and have talked about every day for years, even if only for an hour or so. We bonded over our shared creativity of original characters and that's what's been the bulk of our conversation topics through the years, but we also talk about our lives and share events whenever something interesting or significant comes up. We'll also share smaller things like pictures of our pets. Typical stuff. I'm a very studious person, I prioritize schoolwork over friendship, but even when I'm in the midst of finals I've always made an effort to at least say hi in the chat every day, and for a long time we still talked for hours multiple times a week. I was literally doing assignments from 3 PM until 1 AM for years. Last year, I was completely drowning in schoolwork, and communicated so. For those 4 months or so, we didn't talk nearly as often, and that was the first occurrence of us losing daily communication for an extended period of time. Back to how our main conversation topic is our OCs, my friend--who I'll call Avery--started talking more to a friend--who I'll call Casey--that they had for a couple years and made a new OC world to talk about with them, point-blank telling me while we were hanging out that they needed someone to get their OC fix from. That was fine and understandable, basically just another way of saying they needed a friend to talk to more often. At that point school had lessened and we started talking a little more again. Except from that point on, conversation started to fall more and more on me. They no longer thought of "things" about their characters to tell me, which we'd both do frequently before. They no longer had anything interesting about their day to tell me. I had to reach out first a lot of the time, and when it was their turn to say hello they'd take a couple days. And it sucks a little, because they've effectively replaced me. Not even "almost," it's pretty literal.
Now fast forward to present, it's been about six months and school has been a lot easier. I mean I've had more time to myself than ever before and I actually have weekends again (who knew college would be easier). Avery didn't go to college, but has been helping their grandma out and living with her. Avery and Casey are now dating. Casey is very sweet, I like her, I have nothing against her at all. She's the best girlfriend Avery has had so far and they seem very happy. It's Avery I'm pissed at. I still reach out whenever it's my turn, but I am the one to think of conversation and Avery hasn't thought of a single thing to tell me about their life in the past two months. Casey is very clingy, and seems to message Avery multiple times a day, to which they'll respond and it seems like, from what I can tell, they talk almost every day. We haven't talked about our characters in months, and that singular occurrence that prevents that from being longer was short. Our conversations are often stilted by responses that are hours apart and dry responses that I can't continue the convo with. When I do the dry responses back, they don't bother trying to pick up the convo, but do another dry response and toss the ball back into my court. It's fucking tiring. Just last week they went to a convention and got a tattoo, but I didn't hear anything about this until we met up today and they only showed it to me after my mom pointed it out. Their first tattoo was of my art (which was sweet), but I would've thought that getting another would be something notable enough to tell me? They showed me art they've done recently this time meeting up, and pulled it from a recent chat with Casey where they shared it with her. It's pretty clear she's the first one they go to with anything notable enough to talk about now, and I'm left with the "No, I don't really have anything to talk about"s.
The thing that makes this tricky is that I've talked to them about this several times before, and they acknowledged that they've been bad at reaching out, and implied that I'm still their favorite person and they try to prioritize me (which I did not ask, they said on their own). When we meet in person we get along great, but talking online is fucking abysmal now. They are a very flaky person in general, with low general drive to do anything and a low attention span. I think a lot of this is that their girlfriend simply takes up a lot of brain space, and whatever duties they have helping out their grandma takes up a lot of their time. But I'm still pissed off because I've always made an effort to talk to and spend time with them, as much as I can, and I KNOW they have more time than I did then and have more than enough wiggle room in their schedule to make an effort to maintaining a friendship with them. Part of this might be that they take me for granted; we've been friends for a long time, and they probably don't think I'll ever fully leave their life. Maybe they're right, because our moms are friends. But I'm less attached than they probably think I am and I'm willing to drop them. I just don't know if I should really give them up yet, especially because of all the history between us. All I know is if this goes on much longer I'm going to, because now it's summer break and we have all the time in the world. If they can't make an effort now, they never will.

my mum spent a lot of time in her room for when i was 9 to about 17 years old. she'd lay im bed watching tv, reading or sleeping. my dad would bring her food. Before this she was a good mother who spent time with me, made family dinners and maintained the house. during this period where she was in her room, i would bang on her door to let me use her ensuite (the other bathroom was trashed by my dad and older brother), i would bang on her door to let me in to spend some time with her. she wouldn't let me in about 80% of the time. Sometimes i would get very frustrated and angry and start should and banging on her door and my dad would tell me to stop. After i felt disgusted with my actions and completely in the wrong. My dad was an ok parent, but struggled with employment and was morbidly obese. He usually spent more time with my older brother, so most of my time was spent with my dad in front of the tv shouting at him to stop snoring. My dad took over feeding my brother and i but it wasn't very healthy and he would trash the kitchen and not clean it. My dad would still drive my brother and i places, like to school and sportsgames. My mum was in and out of work. i am now 21 years old and have been living out of home for 2 years. It has taken me therapy and up until now to realise exactly what my upbringing in my youth was like. Before this realisation, i assumed it to be somewhat exceptional, as my dad always twisted it to sound. Looking back, it was nothing that down right depressing. I thought living passively in front of a tv for hours and struggling employment and eating bad food and living in a messy house was the norm. I wasn't depressed, but i was living like i was. We lived in a decent house in a rich area but always the stress of a mortgage that my parents never stopped ranting to me about since i was six years old. I went to a decent public school, then my grandfather paid for me to go private for 2 years. Both sets of grandparents are rich and my parents 'mooch' of them. I worked at McDoanld's from 14 years old to 18. and my parents even accepted money from me for the mortgage as a loan (getting some of the thousands back was a struggle). During this time i was quiet at home but my personality was loud and annoying at school. I was disrespectful to some teachers and peers and would not shut up. I knew i was annoying but i just couldn't stop and i resented myself for it. My friends dropped me when i was 14. It wouldn't have worked anyway because my parents were not friends with theirs and all their parents would get together and go on trips and my dad declined them, so i was left out there. This has really messed with my worth and confidence to make friends now. Right now my parents are starting to live their lives how they use to before they had kids pre-35 years old and becoming more active with friends, the community, exercise and some (though little) employment. I struggle to avoid living like this now. I do have a job, play sports, eat healthily alongside studying. I have been completely on my own financially for two years. working three days per week and studying full time, I managed to stay on top of my savings (especially good compared to other university students) earning enough for rent, food, hobbies and holidays and 6 months worth of expenses as an emergency fund. I'd have an extra $350 / week, but my parents haven't submitted their tax return in 3 years and since i am under 22 and considered a dependent, i have been declined twice now. You can claim independence if you've worked 2 or more years for 25hrs/week but i am just short of this. The reason i am just short of this is because ages 19 and 20 years i struggled with employment myself working a measly 3 hours a week. (from 14-18 i worked an average of 12 hours a week on top of full time high school). Right before my parents moved 6 hours away and rented out the family house, at 19 and 20 years old i lived exactly as displayed to me. I even failed 3 subjects at uni because i just didn't do it for a semester. I didn't withdraw, i didn't email for extension, i didn't attend class and i didn't even look at due dates for assignments / exams. At the timed it stressed me out but i buried the stress. My savings dropped from $10 000 near to $1000. and other bad things happened that i won't go into because that's a whole other essay. Uncommon from people who usually experience depression, i still took care of my personal hygeine (never had a cavity) and i still exercised. Since moving out i have come a long way my savings are up $20 000, I'm playing sport, i've been getting some high distinctions (but mostly credits) in uni and I am seeing friends again. I have had a 3-week international holiday and going to europe for a month soon (all paid for with my money). Therapy has helped. But here is the point of writing all of this: what do i do about my dwindling fear of retracting to old ways. The way that feels so natural and default to me. Because it has happened in my adult life. I feel at any moment i something could switch, i'll miss work and won't call in sick even though i am aware i should. I'll lose my job. I'll neglect my studies (5 year degree, 1.5 yrs left). I'll suck my savings dry. I'll eat unhealthily. I'll be glued to my phone and tv, not being able to form a proper thought. I got out of it last time all at once, complete 180. I got out of a bad relationship, got decent paying job working 4 days / week, moved to a better rental all within 6 days. The following uni semester i got my first ever high distinction, two at the same time! even though i was working way more than i ever had. My savings went up from $1000 to $13 000 in that first 4 months. I only called sick once to work when my ear drum burst. was even more social. But i am feeling myself become slacker with work, calling in slick. Watching shows whilst dreading my university assignments. It is like a boulder is above me with a string slowly fraying. How do i stop the boulder falling on me? How do i avoid living the way i used to? How do i avoid my parents way of life? Because if i fall into it, i don't think i'll be as lucky as getting out a second time. I mean, looking back i was really lucky to have gotten a good job. it's frustrating because this was just my parent's middle aged 10-year slump, 1-2 sixths of their life. They are getting out of it now. They are both from rich families and had normal upbringings. But this was almost half my life, it was half my childhood. It affects my entire personality and how i am around friends. and my parents are just moving on from it??? trying to give me career, financial and social advice??? completely ignoring they were decrepit for almost 10 years??? and when i bring it up they're just like 'oh that ahahah, well times change'??? How do i avoid going back to this? therapy can only do so much. Can anyone give a step-by-step of getting out of this for a second time? (*side note: no mental illness / conditions (e.g. sh, si) apart from barely eating for 4 months at 20 years old, that's the most of physical manifestations though). Also is there a name for this? it's like depression but isn't. Like i still am motivated to live but their is a mental barrier to do so. Maybe it is depression and i am in denial? it just doesn't feel like depression to me. Again, i think i might stop with therapy because it is expensive and besides this fear, i have gone through all my troubles over the 1 i've been in therapy and have successfully implemented cognitive behavioural therapy for feeling like i always am wrong and an inconvenience. I feel like this situation is like the chicken pox. and i've now caught the shingles (it occuring as an adult). and now i'm scared for my shingles to flare up again. would this be a correct interpretation? because it feels like people who haven't had the 'chicken pox' have received a vaccine and hence do not have to worry about shingles, or a shingles flare up.

dude...i just got rejected...by this girl thats like...the girl of my dreams. For a recap, when i started 9th grade (school year 2022-2023), we were seatmates. We usually didint talk but one time, during a hard leason in maths which was like quadratic equations and stuff. I was struggling hard. I legit was just staring at the activity sheet. After a while she noticed and helped me which brought the start of our friendship. We always talked through chat, sometimes irl, but its mostly through chat. The first few weeks of talking, she usually sent me videos of herself doing math problems that i can watch if i need help. It continued untilthe math lessons didint get hard the following quarters. Summer vacation came, and i thought it would be great. Guess what...IT WASNT. I hate my family, my dad isn't with us, so it was only me(oldest), my mom, my lil brother, and my sister. Me and my siblings are all 3 years apart from age. I dont know why its always me getting scolded back then for the things my siblings do. It was so bad...i wanted to commit suicide. Like, my mental state was not OKAY. I didint know who to cry to, who to talk to. But then, thats when i thought, why not talk to her? So i ranted and ranted and ranted, i wanted to kill myself. I wanna rnd my life. Things were rough and on the outside, i might look tough or emotion less, but in reality. Im just a sensitive loser thats emotional, easily cries, and sucks at everything. I told her i wanted to kill myself. She kept stopping me. And take note, we rarely talk irl because...im too shy yo approach her. Then she said the most out of the blue thing "If you can't find a reason to live, why not make me your reason to live?" IT HIT HARD. I didint know what to say or reply. I just dropped my phone and continued crying in my room. A few days passed, i talked to her again, but i guess that was the wrong day because she was NOT in the mood. Her parents were about to go divorce because of a problem(i cant rlly say). She told me stuff like she already cried abt it and stuff. We were both there for each other. after that talk with her...summer vacation went, just a little smoother. We always get to play games on roblox, because we cant rlly meet up. We always chat from morning till night. It was perfect. Then, 10th grade came(school year 2023-2024). This time, we weren't seatmates. Since we both go to a special school which has a robotics class, and our T.L.E(Technology and Livelihood Education) was specialized on animation. Like, the whole thing was about 2D and 3D animation. Beinh the perfect most smartest person she is (atleast in my eyes) she was assigned the role of 3D animation for her group. After that...we never got to play most of the time...during our mid year break, she was still busy...a few months pass and on the 4th quarter(final quarter) of the school year. THEY ANNOUNCED THAT OUR BATCH WAS HAVING A PROM. So naturally, i was so excited. I immediately invited her and asked if she wanted to go with me. She said she's gonna think about it so I waited. I asked her about 3 weeks before prom. Then when our batch representative announced in the groupchat that since theres more girls that boys in our batch, they made a poll on who wants to volunteer to go individual to prom. SHE IMMEDIATELY WENT SOLO AND VOTED. It kinda hurt...she said she was gonna think about it and well...she went solo. I asked her why she did that and then she said "I wanna go with my other friends", which was okay with me since i have no rights to make her my partner because...well...we weren't a thing yet, and i still havent confessed. After that...a few more weeks pass, and take not of this specific detail: She asked me what my discord was because she said she forgot what my discord name was because she lost count and alot of her discord friends changed names. THEN I REMEMBERED, my discord bio was basically, me telling that i like her and hoping she doesnt find out and stuff. So i immediately change it then send her the screenshot of my discord.
After 1 week, prom night came. I went in a cool looking suit and stuff when it was time for the red carpet... she eas absolutely stunning. Her eyes sparkled, her pink dress was beautiful. In my eyes, shes the one that stood out the most. She went solo for the red carpet...and i did too..i told my self if i wasnt gonna get partnered with her, then im not gonna get partnered with anyone. Our tabled were far apart but i could still see her from the distance. When it was time for the slow dance part of prom. I went outside because well...i wasnt gonna dance with anyone. When i went outside i saw her with her friends. I just passed by and sat near the bench outside of the venue. I didint know what to do but just admire her beauty from afar. She was perfect. As time passed, only a few more minutes were left before prom night ended so i worked up my courage and went to her. I was about to confess but then when i looked at her, my mind went completely blank. Her eyes weren't the ocean, but i still drown...get lost in them. I was panicking on the inside but on the outside, I was just staring at her. Then the moment of silence was broken when she suddenly said "I already know you liked me"...i smiled...then she said "gotta go" as she want back into the venue because her friends were calling her she looked back for a second then shouted "I knew from your discord bio" AND I WAS SHOCKED. Because...after the discord incident...she never distanced herself from me. We kept talking, and one time, she even asked me "Be honest, Do i text badly? Do you feel ignored?" Which was like...dude...bro i love her. I just sat on the bench the whole night thinking about what i should do. After prom, when i got home i immediately texted her and said "sorry for earlier...my mind went black ahahahaha" she said "its okay" then i said "so...uhh...do you like me back...?" She said "sorry i dont feel the same..i wanna keep things platonic" SO THAT SHOOK MY TO MY CORE...it hurt alot. But still, we kept talking, she still didint distance her self.
This is my confession btw: If you ever get this message, it may be because when i confessed to you, I had a lot more to say(i didint confess😭). You made me feel the most special person in the world, for once i felt i wanted and i guess you're the reason for that. I know you might not like me back, and i know I'm probably not even close to your standards, but i just wanted to tell you how i feel about you. Do you know the saying: "you cant love others without loving yourself first." I never believed in that because I never loved myself, but you...I love YOU so much that i forgot what hating myself felt like. You're the reason i catch myself smiling out of nowhere in the middle of the day. You are the sunshine in my thoughts, and the unexpected joy that fills my heart. Every time I think of you, everything seems just a little brighter and a little lighter. You make waking up the best part of the day, seeing you at school always makes me the happiest person on earth...and i really just like you...i hope this won't ruin our friendship, and that things won't get awkward between us.
A few more weeks passed by and it was our moving up. I didint get to go because i was sick. Before that she was showing me a necklace that she found on Instagram then...well...i thought to myself why not buy it. Atleast i can give jer something for moving up. I bought it for her..then thats when fever struck me. I didint get to go to moving up so i just told her about the necklace. Then she said "Oh i wanted to give you something too, a Friendship bracelet." Since we both didint get to see each other for moving up, i just told her..."lets give our gifts for each other next school year" and she said "sureee". After that well..A FEW MORE WEEKS PASSED BY. And i was thinking to myself. I wanna pursue her. I loved her. And like...i dont know how to say it. So i made this whole ass paragraph again.
WHAT I SAID: I've been thinking abt this for a while now...and i really wanna try pursuing you. I know you're still prioritizing ur studies and time with ur fam but, i do wanna try pursuing you, i know that you never felt the same and stuff but like...yk..i guess that's the point? who knows you might fall or maybe feel the same too? I'M NOT FORCING U OR ANYTHING. Just... you're one of the people who made me feel this tingly feeling like, when someone mentions your name or your chat head pops up on my screen..i just get this feeling, it only has ever happened when its about you...i cant really express through words what or how i feel about you...but im POSITIVE..i can show them through my actions. i wanna give you the best hugs you deserve(im rlly into hugs). I wanna get to know you even more, i want to get to share unforgettable experiences with you. You're the first person that just I REALLY WANNA PURSUE AND BE WITH. You are the most perfect person in my eyes...i know perfect people don't exist but your imperfections, your flaws, everything about you...it just makes me go bananas. So...how about...we try it...? Like...trying to learn how to love me too...? ARGH I DONT KNOW MY HANDS R SHAKING AS IM TYPING THIS...i just wanna....be with you...i wanna stay with you and...i dont know what to say anymore...but maybe...just maybe even if its the slightest chance, maybe you'd fall for me too like how i fell for you? I know I'm putting our friendship at risk of awkwardness and stuff and maybe even the end of it...but I'm willing to take those risks for you. I know I'll just get hurt but...can you really experience love if you don't feel pain too?
IM NOT PRESSURING U OR ANYTHING DWWWWW!! dam I yap alot😭 just answer with a yes or no. And i know what to do next. Anyways, iloveuu🫶🏻(?)
I sent it to her after a few hours of procrastinating. She replied a few hours later and this is what she replied.
HER REPLY: Idk, like I said I don't really care, but I don't wanna, and u shouldn't get ur hopes up, liek I said last time, I really don't want to get into a relationship at all, I'm sorry if this hurts your feelings but you did say that you aren't forcing but I don't want to "try" or anything like that, I see you as a friend and only a friend. I appreciate that you think of me that way but I won't be returning those feelings back to you in any point of my life.
IT HURTS. It hit me hard. Its like getting shot straight to the heart. Her reply was the last time we talked to each other(3 days ago). We still havent talked after that. Im legit gonna cry...the first person i actually had feelings for...damn.

I am relatively new to Notion and unfortunately, the formulas are beyond my brain capacity. Please help!
I've created a table with a list of items to be paid for and them a separate column for their price, so:
Column One (Text) Item: Packet of sprockets
Column Two (Number) Cost: $400
Other columns I want to create are:
Column Three: (Status): Invoice Not Received, Invoice Received and Invoice Paid
So I'm assuming the above are to be the manual inputs.
Column Four: I'd like to create a button (?) to click when invoice is paid that, if possible, then sets
Column Five: (Number): Total Paid
Column Six: (Number): Outstanding
Can anyone tell me what the formulas and button input need to be?
ALSO
Amongst the individual items, I would like to have a figure which will be the sum (total figure from several items of another database), so eg I could have amongst the list of items - Sprockets, Springs, String etc in Column One (with their respective $value), and then "Misc Items" (also in Column One, which has a $value generated from a list of misc. items from another database. Does that make sense? Is that possible? If so, how? (Please!)
Thanks so much in advance.

For anyone who wants to see how things began.
https://www.reddit.com/HFY/s/S97b2fqIjx
“In what universe would I ever do you a favor? “ I say, sweeping the floor of the reinforced barn.
“It’s not a favor, it’s a trade, bud.
What do you want in return? “ Trenchcoat asks from within the coffin-like cage.
“To be back home, 8 months ago. “ I reply.
Over the past few weeks I’ve managed to integrate myself into the day to day life on the farm. Things are still a grim, horrifying slog, but with every day it gets a bit easier to deal with.
“Give me something I can do. “ The creature pleads.
“Why, so I can wind up on the end of another ‘ Gotcha’ moment? I’m good. “ is my answer.
A few minutes of silence go by, Augustus breaks it.
“I don’t know many secrets of the universe. Facts, not really my bag. But I know a couple.
How about I share one with you?
No one, not the pope, not my brother, not the shit-bird perched on the highest branch of my twisted family tree, knows what happens when you die.
Some of us never will, of course. Others have ways of avoiding it, but at the end of the day, when the lights truly go out, we know next to nothing.
We do know one thing though. There is judgement, by who? Who knows? Why? Not important.
But at the end of the day, if your battery can’t be recharged, you really want to be thinking about how many marks are on each side of the ledger. “
I don’t reply, and for the next hour or so I ignore the pleading and hinting Trenchcoat does.
But that night, as I sip acidic tea, and try to get a handle on how in the fuck old televisions function, his offer is at the forefront of my mind.
He wants to kill, specifically 6 teenagers who, according to him, have been murdering classmates yearly in a twisted ritual.
He wants me to think this is some kind of noble act, he frames it as almost superheroic. The evil prick knows how I feel, knows that I see the blood on my hands every day, and would kill ( possibly literally) for some way to atone.
Is it a play? I honestly don’t think so, something about how eager the twisted thing is, about how he’s treating the situation as a buyer’s market makes me think something about this makes it important to him.
He offers me everything besides safety and protection. I’m desperate for help, but I have no way to hold him to any agreement.
So the thought rolls around in my mind, staving off the few hours of sleep I get.
“Okay, so, I have it on good authority that tea is supposed to taste better over here. What the hell is wrong with this? “ I say, sitting around an outside table with Sylvia, Dafydd and Colin.
Sylvia smiles, “ Barium, calcium, and a touch of castor oil. “
I look at the brew, then at her.
“If I had told you when you got here you need to drink that to mitigate the effects of working with void touched objects and creatures, you’d have assumed the worst, and found a way to avoid drinking it.
Good to see you becoming more perceptive though. “ Sylvia explains.
“That’s called paranoia, Syl. “ I reply.
She laughs, lighting a cigarette.
“Do you know why I’ve let you figure things out on your own? “ The ancient woman asks.
“Accepted? Yes. Understood, not in the slightest. “ I answer, wondering what sadist invented the scone.
“It’s because I need a leader. Someone who can understand, not a boy who puts his head down and listens to orders.
Someone who can make their own decisions when the time comes.
And I think that time is coming soon. “ Her statement feels like a question.
“If I chose to be here I’d be honored.” I counter.
“That attitude on the other hand… needs work.
Nikolas, today, we talk about what’s really going on.
We play a role in a much larger organization, us, and other families like us, are the ‘boots on the ground’ so to speak.
Our job is not to capture creatures, or horde esoteric goods. We do not foil the schemes of demons, nor blind those who look too deeply into the abyss.
We’re given information about events that could steer the path of humanity into a brick wall. And our job is to make sure they don’t happen. “ Sylvia reveals.
“Something is happening with these fights? “ I ask.
“As I said, perceptive.
Yes, it could be next week, it could be in a decade or two. Right now, we know very little about it, other than when it happens, it would be in our best interests to be of a high standing in the pits. “ She replies.
I absorb the information, and t drug laced tea in equal measure. As I do, I feel something, I feel I’m a part of what’s going on.
This is going to sound dumb as hell, but up until this point I hadn’t been taking things seriously. Don’t get me wrong, death is on the table, and I was trying to avoid that. But I was just treading water, hoping something or someone came by and to get me out of this situation.
But as Syl lays things out, I start to think of my place here, what I can be doing to better my state.
“Here is the part where you avoid telling me why you couldn’t have used anyone around here. “ I prod.
I keep her gaze, Colin and Dafydd shift uncomfortably.
“Augustus, he’s a tricky one. But a very lucky find for us.
I’ve tried 2 others. A boy and a girl, both I practically raised.
Marco, he was a warrior. But the demon got in his head. There was nothing that could be done beyond end his suffering.
Zelma, I won’t talk about.
That thing, it has a way of turning someone’s best traits against them. You, are a blank slate, but you’re family. You’re my best guess as to how we can use him to our advantage.
And this is why I need you, not to listen, but to understand. To see what’s happening, and make your own decisions. If I were to give you my knowledge, if I were to arm you with the best weapons, and the most powerful esoteric objects I know. He’d just have more to turn against you. “ Sylvia’s revelation scares me and puts a massive weight on my shoulders all at the same time.
Confidence and fear are both dangerous emotions. The two of them are almost like drugs in a way.
After eight months of mainlining fear, the tiny line of confidence Sylvia gave me, went straight to my head.
Trenchcoat told me where to find a video file. And after a couple of weeks of running it through every possible test I could, to check for any kind of manipulation, supernatural or otherwise, I watched it.
I was confident that the world would be much better off without the people committing the vicious acts contained in those twenty minutes of footage.
A teenage view of morality, I admit. But what do you want, I’m a teenager.
We watch the abandoned house from across the street. It’s a dingy, urban blight affected suburb, that being said, how no one seems to notice the seven foot freak with me, I have no idea.
The kid inside smoking stolen cigarettes and illegally supplied booze is a husky young guy of about 14. The half dozen kids that show up a couple hours later look closer to my age, last couple of years of high school I’m guessing.
The way they get into the house tells me they’ve done this before. The backpacks they all carry tell me they’re there for a purpose.
“How fucking funny would it be if I just killed you here and took off? “ Trenchcoat says, looming behind me.
I tense.
“It’s a joke. Out of my whole rotten family, Art and I, are close. I’m not going anywhere.
Unfortunately for you. “ Trenchcoat shoves me to the ground as he walks toward the house.
We get in through a basement window, I fit easily, Trenchcoat contorts his body to fit through the thin opening, somehow doing so silently.
I keep hearing Sylvia in my head. Telling me how she needs someone that can make his own decisions.
As I stand in the litter strewn basement, beside a creature with child murder on it’s mind I question the decision that I made.
At first the illumination is dim, nothing more than scraps of moonlight filtered through splintered wood. But with an industrial click, suddenly a half dozen lightbulbs bathe the basement in harsh, yellowish light.
Harsh, but not harsh enough to cause the reaction I see from Trenchcoat.
He squints and tries, unsuccessfully to turn away from the lights. Something about them is causing him discomfort. I get my hopes up for a moment he’s going to burst into flame or turn into dust or something, but no dice.
The sight of the walking nightmare looking pained and confused makes me panic. But before I can think of how I fucked up, I hear a voice.
The room, by the sounds of it, the entire house, has been rigged with speakers. Cleverly recessed in sconces and corners.
“Augi, long time no see. And I see you brought a little Renfield fella with you. “ The voice is modulated, Trenchcoat looks curious for a moment.
“Who, is this? You that clown that’s been fucking with Art?” He guesses.
The voice laughs, “Nope.
Who I am, is a guy who managed to find a few boxes of lightbulbs from ’93.
Then again, with eBay, that could make me just about anyone. “
Trenchcoat turns and looks toward the window we came in. He reaches a hand toward it, stopping a few inches away.
“That’s fucking interesting. “ He says, eyes darting around the room.
“Isn’t it though? “ The voice replies, clearly hearing the creature’s whisper, “ Tonight you get the pay for centuries of the worst shit committed by man or beast. I’ve made sure of that. No one in this house is going anywhere for the next 8 hours.
I’m sure the rest of the houseguests are pretty confused as to what’s going on. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so let me give you the Cliff’s notes.
You kids have been killing a monster a year for half a decade. You were the perfect bait, and I have faith you’ll be able to outwit Augi long enough to make it out of here.
If not, you’ll still have helped kill one of the worst things to walk the face of the earth. “
“What the hell is he talking about? “ I ask, a sinking feeling in my gut.
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?
Yeah, these kids are more Scooby gang than Manson family. Don’t blame me for the fact it only took an out of context exorcism video and some promises of making things right with the universe to get you on board with killing them. “ Trenchcoat spits.
I feel afraid, stupid and small. Which is to say, lately, business as usual.
I begin to break lightbulbs, I notice no runes, or anything else that would indicate they have any kind of supernatural origin.
As the basement dims, Trenchcoat starts to breathe easier.
“What’s going on, what stopped you from leaving? “ I ask.
“This little shit is playing The Game. “ Trenchcoat says to himself as much as to me. He looks deep in thought, inspecting the glass from the bulbs.
“What are you talking about? “ I say, my voice cracking slightly.
I hear noises upstairs, frantic foot falls. Indecipherable shouting.
Trenchcoat turns to me, exasperated and filled with anger.
“You’ve heard of ‘Rules’ right? All that ‘Don’t turn left on East street at 3:24 am kind of shit? “ The creature starts, “More and more of them popping up lately. Can’t miss the things.
Well, your kind seems great at finding them, but fucking awful at figuring out what they are. It’s not someone’s new job, or creepy school. The answer is so damned simple, but all of you’ve missed it.
It's a game. It’s, The Game.
It’s ran by the thickest branches of my family tree, and the stakes are high enough even I don’t really understand.
And whoever has us here, he’s weaponized it. The crazy fuck. “
“Call on your family for help then. “ I say, starting to deal with the fear and confusion.
“You first. “ Is Trenchcoat’s reply.
I get his point, and for a twisted, shitty moment, I find myself relating to the murderous thing I’ve been saddled with.
“So what’s the plan? “ I ask.
“Get my hands on whoever’s been stalking me. Between A and B, probably kill those little do-gooders upstairs out of spite.
I need you to circumvent rules we come across. Humans need to agree to follow the rules, it’s why people encounter them in jobs and schools so much. I’m not human, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t get a choice. “ I’m shaking my head as Augustus relates his plan.
“We’re not hurting those kids. “ I say defiantly.
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.
But I’m a God damned child killing monster, bud! How long is that going to take to sink the fuck in?
Me not doing what I do, isn’t like giving up smokes. Think of it like not having a slash for months on end. Sooner or later, like it or not, I’m either finding a bathroom or pissing my pants. “ the rant scares me, but it makes me think.
Something about Augustus, it seems very, 90’s. Whoever was on the speakers was talking about the lightbulbs being from ’93. I’m picking up on a very distinct pattern.
I file that information with the rest of the disconnected lore I’ve managed to find on Trenchcoat as I follow him up the steep, narrow set of stairs.
He whips the thin wood door open, taking an aggressive, lurching step into the livingroom beyond. Surely ready to dispense too far quips and limitless violence, as per usual.
But that doesn’t happen, his rage filled scowl turns into a look of resignation, “Fuck”, is the monster’s last word before he disappears.
I cautiously walk up the loose splinter ridden stairs, expecting Augustus to be waiting around the corner, or engaged in combat with some other horror.
But once I get to the top, there’s nothing more sinister than a livingroom covered in dust and graffiti strewn with old bottles and new stains.
I know my chance when I see it. The particle board sealing the bay window is rotten, the glass long since broken.
No monster, no crazy family, I’ll take my chances with the streets of the U. K.
I tap the crumbling wood with a foot, it rattles, it won’t take much to make a hole.
I line up a kick, freedom no more than a quarter inch of rotten wood away.
“I wouldn’t do that. “ Says a voice behind me, male, around my age I’d guess, but with a confidence that makes me listen, “ Rigged with a load of C4 in the window frame.
Don’t take my word for it, guy wasn’t very subtle. ”
Sure enough, I see small wires running along the edges of the frame and embedded in the particle board.
I turn around, the six people standing in front of me have a vibe I can only describe as severe.
“Are we going to have issues? “ a slight, dark skinned guy asks.
“You making threats? “ I reply.
“No, he isn’t. “ it’s the same voice that warned me about the explosives. It belongs to a squared jawed kid with short black hair, he’s wearing a grey hoodie, and separates himself from the group. “ Call me Kent, and I’m in charge of making threats.
Sid, he’s our people person, he’s just trying to see if you’re someone we need to worry about. “
“We don’t have time to figure this kid out, leave him. “ a short, ginger girl says.
“Ami, why don’t I stay out of equipment, and you and Kent let me figure this kid out?” Sid says.
“I’m Nik. “ I volunteer.
“Good to meet you Nik. “ Sid says, walking around Kent, “Didn’t mean to start things off on the wrong foot.
We’ve just gotten used to doing these kinds of things in our own way over the past bit. We get a little… weird around this time of year if I’m being honest. “
I nod, apprehensive at giving any kind of detailed response.
“Derik” says a tall, pale guy, “ Research. “
“Liam. “ a tanned boy in a flannel shirt and deep blue jeans tells me, “ Oxford doesn’t talk, accident a couple of years back. I’m logistics, he figures spooky shit out. “
Oxford is thin and bald, his face looks much older than it should. Like he’s the victim of some kind of wasting disease.
Telling these kids the truth would be, complicated. And something about their war vet demeanor, makes me want to keep things simple.
So I give them a version of the truth. One where I was plucked from my room by Trenchcoat, and brought here for a slow death.
They buy it. I think.
“Well, I don’t know what this Jigsaw wannabe has planned, but trust me when I say, it can’t be much worse than the things we’ve went through. “ Kent says, trying to be reassuring.
“Just, one more thing. “ Sid begins, “ Why all the scars? “
I know I’ve won most of the group over, but I don’t like the look Sid is giving me.
“Work on a farm, on top of that, the family owns an auction. Lots of bent steel and splinters, what can I say? “ I say, trying to sound casual.
“Fair enough, that accent though. “ Sid’s look becomes almost predatory as he talks.
“Immigration my guy. What’s with the third degree? “ I reply.
“We’ve just met and I’ve only asked three questions.
Humor me here though.
You get taken in the night by that thing that winked out of existence.
Seems pretty nice of him to let you put on shoes. “ Sid lets his statement hang.
Kent turns, I don’t like where this is going. Panic and fear start to well up.
“What’re you thinking Sid? “ Kent asks.
“Kid’s lying. But he’s good at it. “ Sid answers.
“You saying this has turned into a, me, situation? “ Kent’s question starts a deep pit in my stomach.
“I don’t know if we need to go that far. But I don’t like the idea of him having seen our faces. I think this is a Liam situation. “ As Sid says this I look to Liam, who already seems deep in thought.
“Local cops will back our story, but he could go beyond them.
We tie him up until all of this is done, and we get some video of him putting a blade into the body upstairs. He goes telling any stories, it’s us and the locals versus some Yank on video stabbing the kid. “ Liam suggests.
I tried to fight, it went, embarrassingly. Kent had me on the ground in some kind of arm lock in about a second.
I’m bound to an old wooden chair with electrical cords, dragged into a room on the second floor where the chubby kid from before lays face down in a coagulated pool of his own blood. Surrounded by the trappings of misspent youth.
The door locks, and I stare at the corpse, wondering what in the hell went on up here, and in what universe are these psychopaths anything other than what they seemed on screen.
Time becomes almost malleable. I’m terrified to the point where every moment seems to stretch out forever.
Then, I hear it. A wet, organic noise. It starts below the body, and slowly starts to spread.
After a minute or two, the body starts to jerk and twitch. The room is dim as hell, but some kind of ropey, flesh-like substance, is sealing off the door.
I watch as the corpse clumsily gets to it’s feet. It’s skin pale, it’s throat slit to the point of near decapitation.
The head falls backward, obscenely with a small spurt of thick blood.
I scream, I thought I’d been getting used to being face to face with monsters. But fully bound, inches away from a kid that seems to be filled with a twisting mass of barbed, writhing, intestine like tentacles, I realize I’m not used to shit.
The ropey mass forms the barest suggestion of features, a shifting, lumpen mass of ever moving tendrils coming from what used to be the kid’s neck.
The sound spreads more, cracks in the floorboards and walls begin to show hints of the tendrils filling them in like spray foam.
No one is hearing my screams, or if they are, they have no interest in helping.
Ever wonder how you’d handle torture? I think if you’re the kind of person to be reading this, it’s likely you have.
I started by pissing myself.
The second the thin tendril touches my hand, I feel a blinding, flensing pain. I can do nothing but watch, as thousands of nearly hair thin spines tear and consume my flesh. As it slowly, almost, curiously makes it’s way up my arm, it leaves a bloodless, scarred furrow about an eighth of an inch deep.
My second reaction was to lose any pretense at defiance or dignity. I thrash and scream, beg and offer. All of this turning into choked sobs as the thing starts to do much of the same with another tendril.
It felt like I was in hell, every inch of me nothing more than a canvas for this artist of misery.
But pain, it can only go so far. Whether we’re talking about my tolerance, or this thing’s interest.
Mutilation, the brutal wedding of pain and loss. That was it’s next step.
A thick, almost centipede like tendril sits on my pinky like a hot iron. I can only watch in horror as I see fat, then muscle, then bone, then, nothing.
My voice shreds, I tear my wrists and ankles trying desperately to break the expertly tied wires.
My mind is at the breaking point, the creature in front of my makes a terrible, high pitched keening I assume is laughter.
My body is a roadmap of scarred pits and lines. My hand sports a cleanly severed finger. Fuck me, I wish things ended there.
Of all the important parts of the human body, the eye, tends to feel the least pain. Which isn’t to say, as I watched the greedy, grasping claws slowly take pieces of one of mine, it didn’t hurt, but the worst part, was knowing what was happening.
The vision in my left eye begins to distort at first, the edges getting blurry, then going dark. Bit by bit, chunk by irreplaceable chunk, the creature takes half my vision.
I can feel the shifting air on the bare socket, to call what I’m doing screaming, would be understating things to the point of absurdity.
My brain reels at what has just happened. I can feel my grip on reality begin to loosen, pain, worse than can bare, loss of half my sight, it’s too much.
My brain feels filled with static, for a few brief moments I swear, I can hear someone, a voice, trying to tell me something.
But then, a smell hits me. Something so foul, so alien, it yanks me back from the brink of disassociation. I gag and choke, as the air becomes thick with the rotten, chemical reek.
Then, I see it, I see, him.
As randomly as he disappeared, in an instant Trenchcoat is in the room.
He’s torn apart, wounds so deep and ragged, I can see the door on the other side of the room through the worst of them.
One arm is a twisted, broken mess, the flesh jacket torn to shreds of necrotic tissue.
The look on his face is panic, paranoia. A rictus grin of someone that has been kept on his toes for entirely too long.
He trembles and heaves, looking like he could fall over at any second.
He points his good arm at the tendril creature, who I notice has a too familiar eye suspended in it’s shifting features.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the motherfucker who just made me kill my favorite cousin, would you? “ Trenchcoat asks, his voice cracked, and strained.
He gets a confused keening in response.
“Bad day for you then. “ Augustus says.
There is no style to his violence, Trenchcoat grabs the shifting mass, his wicked, claw tipped fingers angling themselves in tendrils. As he lifts the thing, floorboards break, and it’s torn free from the root-like system it was creating in the room.
Three brutal slams cover me in ichor and pieces of creature. Trenchcoat tosses the mewling, twitching pile in a corner and looks at me with disgust.
“You let that thing do this to you? Fuckin’ pathetic, bud.
And who tied you up? “ The nightmare I’ve been cursed with chides me.
“The kids downstairs. “ I say only now realizing I’ve still been sobbing.
One handed, Trenchcoat snaps the wires, then stumbles backward, slowly sliding down the wall.
He coughs, grey, bloody phlegm hitting the ground.
“So, what’s the play here? If this shit broke you, I could use the spare parts, if not, well, you know what the Bible says.
An eye for an eye. “ Trenchcoat grins as he talks, nearly on the brink of death.
And that’s where I think I’m going to leave things. Because, honestly I don’t know what I’m choosing.
I’m mutilated, half blind, using too much of my energy typing to strangers online about things because, I’m so fucking alone here.
If you hear from me again, I hope I made the right move. If not, take this as a lesson on what happens when you screw around with the occult.

For anyone who wants to see how I got into this situation.
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/s/R0DAycoVIm
“In what universe would I ever do you a favor? “ I say, sweeping the floor of the reinforced barn.
“It’s not a favor, it’s a trade, bud.
What do you want in return? “ Trenchcoat asks from within the coffin-like cage.
“To be back home, 8 months ago. “ I reply.
Over the past few weeks I’ve managed to integrate myself into the day to day life on the farm. Things are still a grim, horrifying slog, but with every day it gets a bit easier to deal with.
“Give me something I can do. “ The creature pleads.
“Why, so I can wind up on the end of another ‘ Gotcha’ moment? I’m good. “ is my answer.
A few minutes of silence go by, Augustus breaks it.
“I don’t know many secrets of the universe. Facts, not really my bag. But I know a couple.
How about I share one with you?
No one, not the pope, not my brother, not the shit-bird perched on the highest branch of my twisted family tree, knows what happens when you die.
Some of us never will, of course. Others have ways of avoiding it, but at the end of the day, when the lights truly go out, we know next to nothing.
We do know one thing though. There is judgement, by who? Who knows? Why? Not important.
But at the end of the day, if your battery can’t be recharged, you really want to be thinking about how many marks are on each side of the ledger. “
I don’t reply, and for the next hour or so I ignore the pleading and hinting Trenchcoat does.
But that night, as I sip acidic tea, and try to get a handle on how in the fuck old televisions function, his offer is at the forefront of my mind.
He wants to kill, specifically 6 teenagers who, according to him, have been murdering classmates yearly in a twisted ritual.
He wants me to think this is some kind of noble act, he frames it as almost superheroic. The evil prick knows how I feel, knows that I see the blood on my hands every day, and would kill ( possibly literally) for some way to atone.
Is it a play? I honestly don’t think so, something about how eager the twisted thing is, about how he’s treating the situation as a buyer’s market makes me think something about this makes it important to him.
He offers me everything besides safety and protection. I’m desperate for help, but I have no way to hold him to any agreement.
So the thought rolls around in my mind, staving off the few hours of sleep I get.
“Okay, so, I have it on good authority that tea is supposed to taste better over here. What the hell is wrong with this? “ I say, sitting around an outside table with Sylvia, Dafydd and Colin.
Sylvia smiles, “ Barium, calcium, and a touch of castor oil. “
I look at the brew, then at her.
“If I had told you when you got here you need to drink that to mitigate the effects of working with void touched objects and creatures, you’d have assumed the worst, and found a way to avoid drinking it.
Good to see you becoming more perceptive though. “ Sylvia explains.
“That’s called paranoia, Syl. “ I reply.
She laughs, lighting a cigarette.
“Do you know why I’ve let you figure things out on your own? “ The ancient woman asks.
“Accepted? Yes. Understood, not in the slightest. “ I answer, wondering what sadist invented the scone.
“It’s because I need a leader. Someone who can understand, not a boy who puts his head down and listens to orders.
Someone who can make their own decisions when the time comes.
And I think that time is coming soon. “ Her statement feels like a question.
“If I chose to be here I’d be honored.” I counter.
“That attitude on the other hand… needs work.
Nikolas, today, we talk about what’s really going on.
We play a role in a much larger organization, us, and other families like us, are the ‘boots on the ground’ so to speak.
Our job is not to capture creatures, or horde esoteric goods. We do not foil the schemes of demons, nor blind those who look too deeply into the abyss.
We’re given information about events that could steer the path of humanity into a brick wall. And our job is to make sure they don’t happen. “ Sylvia reveals.
“Something is happening with these fights? “ I ask.
“As I said, perceptive.
Yes, it could be next week, it could be in a decade or two. Right now, we know very little about it, other than when it happens, it would be in our best interests to be of a high standing in the pits. “ She replies.
I absorb the information, and t drug laced tea in equal measure. As I do, I feel something, I feel I’m a part of what’s going on.
This is going to sound dumb as hell, but up until this point I hadn’t been taking things seriously. Don’t get me wrong, death is on the table, and I was trying to avoid that. But I was just treading water, hoping something or someone came by and to get me out of this situation.
But as Syl lays things out, I start to think of my place here, what I can be doing to better my state.
“Here is the part where you avoid telling me why you couldn’t have used anyone around here. “ I prod.
I keep her gaze, Colin and Dafydd shift uncomfortably.
“Augustus, he’s a tricky one. But a very lucky find for us.
I’ve tried 2 others. A boy and a girl, both I practically raised.
Marco, he was a warrior. But the demon got in his head. There was nothing that could be done beyond end his suffering.
Zelma, I won’t talk about.
That thing, it has a way of turning someone’s best traits against them. You, are a blank slate, but you’re family. You’re my best guess as to how we can use him to our advantage.
And this is why I need you, not to listen, but to understand. To see what’s happening, and make your own decisions. If I were to give you my knowledge, if I were to arm you with the best weapons, and the most powerful esoteric objects I know. He’d just have more to turn against you. “ Sylvia’s revelation scares me and puts a massive weight on my shoulders all at the same time.
Confidence and fear are both dangerous emotions. The two of them are almost like drugs in a way.
After eight months of mainlining fear, the tiny line of confidence Sylvia gave me, went straight to my head.
Trenchcoat told me where to find a video file. And after a couple of weeks of running it through every possible test I could, to check for any kind of manipulation, supernatural or otherwise, I watched it.
I was confident that the world would be much better off without the people committing the vicious acts contained in those twenty minutes of footage.
A teenage view of morality, I admit. But what do you want, I’m a teenager.
We watch the abandoned house from across the street. It’s a dingy, urban blight affected suburb, that being said, how no one seems to notice the seven foot freak with me, I have no idea.
The kid inside smoking stolen cigarettes and illegally supplied booze is a husky young guy of about 14. The half dozen kids that show up a couple hours later look closer to my age, last couple of years of high school I’m guessing.
The way they get into the house tells me they’ve done this before. The backpacks they all carry tell me they’re there for a purpose.
“How fucking funny would it be if I just killed you here and took off? “ Trenchcoat says, looming behind me.
I tense.
“It’s a joke. Out of my whole rotten family, Art and I, are close. I’m not going anywhere.
Unfortunately for you. “ Trenchcoat shoves me to the ground as he walks toward the house.
We get in through a basement window, I fit easily, Trenchcoat contorts his body to fit through the thin opening, somehow doing so silently.
I keep hearing Sylvia in my head. Telling me how she needs someone that can make his own decisions.
As I stand in the litter strewn basement, beside a creature with child murder on it’s mind I question the decision that I made.
At first the illumination is dim, nothing more than scraps of moonlight filtered through splintered wood. But with an industrial click, suddenly a half dozen lightbulbs bathe the basement in harsh, yellowish light.
Harsh, but not harsh enough to cause the reaction I see from Trenchcoat.
He squints and tries, unsuccessfully to turn away from the lights. Something about them is causing him discomfort. I get my hopes up for a moment he’s going to burst into flame or turn into dust or something, but no dice.
The sight of the walking nightmare looking pained and confused makes me panic. But before I can think of how I fucked up, I hear a voice.
The room, by the sounds of it, the entire house, has been rigged with speakers. Cleverly recessed in sconces and corners.
“Augi, long time no see. And I see you brought a little Renfield fella with you. “ The voice is modulated, Trenchcoat looks curious for a moment.
“Who, is this? You that clown that’s been fucking with Art?” He guesses.
The voice laughs, “Nope.
Who I am, is a guy who managed to find a few boxes of lightbulbs from ’93.
Then again, with eBay, that could make me just about anyone. “
Trenchcoat turns and looks toward the window we came in. He reaches a hand toward it, stopping a few inches away.
“That’s fucking interesting. “ He says, eyes darting around the room.
“Isn’t it though? “ The voice replies, clearly hearing the creature’s whisper, “ Tonight you get the pay for centuries of the worst shit committed by man or beast. I’ve made sure of that. No one in this house is going anywhere for the next 8 hours.
I’m sure the rest of the houseguests are pretty confused as to what’s going on. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so let me give you the Cliff’s notes.
You kids have been killing a monster a year for half a decade. You were the perfect bait, and I have faith you’ll be able to outwit Augi long enough to make it out of here.
If not, you’ll still have helped kill one of the worst things to walk the face of the earth. “
“What the hell is he talking about? “ I ask, a sinking feeling in my gut.
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?
Yeah, these kids are more Scooby gang than Manson family. Don’t blame me for the fact it only took an out of context exorcism video and some promises of making things right with the universe to get you on board with killing them. “ Trenchcoat spits.
I feel afraid, stupid and small. Which is to say, lately, business as usual.
I begin to break lightbulbs, I notice no runes, or anything else that would indicate they have any kind of supernatural origin.
As the basement dims, Trenchcoat starts to breathe easier.
“What’s going on, what stopped you from leaving? “ I ask.
“This little shit is playing The Game. “ Trenchcoat says to himself as much as to me. He looks deep in thought, inspecting the glass from the bulbs.
“What are you talking about? “ I say, my voice cracking slightly.
I hear noises upstairs, frantic foot falls. Indecipherable shouting.
Trenchcoat turns to me, exasperated and filled with anger.
“You’ve heard of ‘Rules’ right? All that ‘Don’t turn left on East street at 3:24 am kind of shit? “ The creature starts, “More and more of them popping up lately. Can’t miss the things.
Well, your kind seems great at finding them, but fucking awful at figuring out what they are. It’s not someone’s new job, or creepy school. The answer is so damned simple, but all of you’ve missed it.
It's a game. It’s, The Game.
It’s ran by the thickest branches of my family tree, and the stakes are high enough even I don’t really understand.
And whoever has us here, he’s weaponized it. The crazy fuck. “
“Call on your family for help then. “ I say, starting to deal with the fear and confusion.
“You first. “ Is Trenchcoat’s reply.
I get his point, and for a twisted, shitty moment, I find myself relating to the murderous thing I’ve been saddled with.
“So what’s the plan? “ I ask.
“Get my hands on whoever’s been stalking me. Between A and B, probably kill those little do-gooders upstairs out of spite.
I need you to circumvent rules we come across. Humans need to agree to follow the rules, it’s why people encounter them in jobs and schools so much. I’m not human, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t get a choice. “ I’m shaking my head as Augustus relates his plan.
“We’re not hurting those kids. “ I say defiantly.
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.
But I’m a God damned child killing monster, bud! How long is that going to take to sink the fuck in?
Me not doing what I do, isn’t like giving up smokes. Think of it like not having a slash for months on end. Sooner or later, like it or not, I’m either finding a bathroom or pissing my pants. “ the rant scares me, but it makes me think.
Something about Augustus, it seems very, 90’s. Whoever was on the speakers was talking about the lightbulbs being from ’93. I’m picking up on a very distinct pattern.
I file that information with the rest of the disconnected lore I’ve managed to find on Trenchcoat as I follow him up the steep, narrow set of stairs.
He whips the thin wood door open, taking an aggressive, lurching step into the livingroom beyond. Surely ready to dispense too far quips and limitless violence, as per usual.
But that doesn’t happen, his rage filled scowl turns into a look of resignation, “Fuck”, is the monster’s last word before he disappears.
I cautiously walk up the loose splinter ridden stairs, expecting Augustus to be waiting around the corner, or engaged in combat with some other horror.
But once I get to the top, there’s nothing more sinister than a livingroom covered in dust and graffiti strewn with old bottles and new stains.
I know my chance when I see it. The particle board sealing the bay window is rotten, the glass long since broken.
No monster, no crazy family, I’ll take my chances with the streets of the U. K.
I tap the crumbling wood with a foot, it rattles, it won’t take much to make a hole.
I line up a kick, freedom no more than a quarter inch of rotten wood away.
“I wouldn’t do that. “ Says a voice behind me, male, around my age I’d guess, but with a confidence that makes me listen, “ Rigged with a load of C4 in the window frame.
Don’t take my word for it, guy wasn’t very subtle. ”
Sure enough, I see small wires running along the edges of the frame and embedded in the particle board.
I turn around, the six people standing in front of me have a vibe I can only describe as severe.
“Are we going to have issues? “ a slight, dark skinned guy asks.
“You making threats? “ I reply.
“No, he isn’t. “ it’s the same voice that warned me about the explosives. It belongs to a squared jawed kid with short black hair, he’s wearing a grey hoodie, and separates himself from the group. “ Call me Kent, and I’m in charge of making threats.
Sid, he’s our people person, he’s just trying to see if you’re someone we need to worry about. “
“We don’t have time to figure this kid out, leave him. “ a short, ginger girl says.
“Ami, why don’t I stay out of equipment, and you and Kent let me figure this kid out?” Sid says.
“I’m Nik. “ I volunteer.
“Good to meet you Nik. “ Sid says, walking around Kent, “Didn’t mean to start things off on the wrong foot.
We’ve just gotten used to doing these kinds of things in our own way over the past bit. We get a little… weird around this time of year if I’m being honest. “
I nod, apprehensive at giving any kind of detailed response.
“Derik” says a tall, pale guy, “ Research. “
“Liam. “ a tanned boy in a flannel shirt and deep blue jeans tells me, “ Oxford doesn’t talk, accident a couple of years back. I’m logistics, he figures spooky shit out. “
Oxford is thin and bald, his face looks much older than it should. Like he’s the victim of some kind of wasting disease.
Telling these kids the truth would be, complicated. And something about their war vet demeanor, makes me want to keep things simple.
So I give them a version of the truth. One where I was plucked from my room by Trenchcoat, and brought here for a slow death.
They buy it. I think.
“Well, I don’t know what this Jigsaw wannabe has planned, but trust me when I say, it can’t be much worse than the things we’ve went through. “ Kent says, trying to be reassuring.
“Just, one more thing. “ Sid begins, “ Why all the scars? “
I know I’ve won most of the group over, but I don’t like the look Sid is giving me.
“Work on a farm, on top of that, the family owns an auction. Lots of bent steel and splinters, what can I say? “ I say, trying to sound casual.
“Fair enough, that accent though. “ Sid’s look becomes almost predatory as he talks.
“Immigration my guy. What’s with the third degree? “ I reply.
“We’ve just met and I’ve only asked three questions.
Humor me here though.
You get taken in the night by that thing that winked out of existence.
Seems pretty nice of him to let you put on shoes. “ Sid lets his statement hang.
Kent turns, I don’t like where this is going. Panic and fear start to well up.
“What’re you thinking Sid? “ Kent asks.
“Kid’s lying. But he’s good at it. “ Sid answers.
“You saying this has turned into a, me, situation? “ Kent’s question starts a deep pit in my stomach.
“I don’t know if we need to go that far. But I don’t like the idea of him having seen our faces. I think this is a Liam situation. “ As Sid says this I look to Liam, who already seems deep in thought.
“Local cops will back our story, but he could go beyond them.
We tie him up until all of this is done, and we get some video of him putting a blade into the body upstairs. He goes telling any stories, it’s us and the locals versus some Yank on video stabbing the kid. “ Liam suggests.
I tried to fight, it went, embarrassingly. Kent had me on the ground in some kind of arm lock in about a second.
I’m bound to an old wooden chair with electrical cords, dragged into a room on the second floor where the chubby kid from before lays face down in a coagulated pool of his own blood. Surrounded by the trappings of misspent youth.
The door locks, and I stare at the corpse, wondering what in the hell went on up here, and in what universe are these psychopaths anything other than what they seemed on screen.
Time becomes almost malleable. I’m terrified to the point where every moment seems to stretch out forever.
Then, I hear it. A wet, organic noise. It starts below the body, and slowly starts to spread.
After a minute or two, the body starts to jerk and twitch. The room is dim as hell, but some kind of ropey, flesh-like substance, is sealing off the door.
I watch as the corpse clumsily gets to it’s feet. It’s skin pale, it’s throat slit to the point of near decapitation.
The head falls backward, obscenely with a small spurt of thick blood.
I scream, I thought I’d been getting used to being face to face with monsters. But fully bound, inches away from a kid that seems to be filled with a twisting mass of barbed, writhing, intestine like tentacles, I realize I’m not used to shit.
The ropey mass forms the barest suggestion of features, a shifting, lumpen mass of ever moving tendrils coming from what used to be the kid’s neck.
The sound spreads more, cracks in the floorboards and walls begin to show hints of the tendrils filling them in like spray foam.
No one is hearing my screams, or if they are, they have no interest in helping.
Ever wonder how you’d handle torture? I think if you’re the kind of person to be reading this, it’s likely you have.
I started by pissing myself.
The second the thin tendril touches my hand, I feel a blinding, flensing pain. I can do nothing but watch, as thousands of nearly hair thin spines tear and consume my flesh. As it slowly, almost, curiously makes it’s way up my arm, it leaves a bloodless, scarred furrow about an eighth of an inch deep.
My second reaction was to lose any pretense at defiance or dignity. I thrash and scream, beg and offer. All of this turning into choked sobs as the thing starts to do much of the same with another tendril.
It felt like I was in hell, every inch of me nothing more than a canvas for this artist of misery.
But pain, it can only go so far. Whether we’re talking about my tolerance, or this thing’s interest.
Mutilation, the brutal wedding of pain and loss. That was it’s next step.
A thick, almost centipede like tendril sits on my pinky like a hot iron. I can only watch in horror as I see fat, then muscle, then bone, then, nothing.
My voice shreds, I tear my wrists and ankles trying desperately to break the expertly tied wires.
My mind is at the breaking point, the creature in front of my makes a terrible, high pitched keening I assume is laughter.
My body is a roadmap of scarred pits and lines. My hand sports a cleanly severed finger. Fuck me, I wish things ended there.
Of all the important parts of the human body, the eye, tends to feel the least pain. Which isn’t to say, as I watched the greedy, grasping claws slowly take pieces of one of mine, it didn’t hurt, but the worst part, was knowing what was happening.
The vision in my left eye begins to distort at first, the edges getting blurry, then going dark. Bit by bit, chunk by irreplaceable chunk, the creature takes half my vision.
I can feel the shifting air on the bare socket, to call what I’m doing screaming, would be understating things to the point of absurdity.
My brain reels at what has just happened. I can feel my grip on reality begin to loosen, pain, worse than can bare, loss of half my sight, it’s too much.
My brain feels filled with static, for a few brief moments I swear, I can hear someone, a voice, trying to tell me something.
But then, a smell hits me. Something so foul, so alien, it yanks me back from the brink of disassociation. I gag and choke, as the air becomes thick with the rotten, chemical reek.
Then, I see it, I see, him.
As randomly as he disappeared, in an instant Trenchcoat is in the room.
He’s torn apart, wounds so deep and ragged, I can see the door on the other side of the room through the worst of them.
One arm is a twisted, broken mess, the flesh jacket torn to shreds of necrotic tissue.
The look on his face is panic, paranoia. A rictus grin of someone that has been kept on his toes for entirely too long.
He trembles and heaves, looking like he could fall over at any second.
He points his good arm at the tendril creature, who I notice has a too familiar eye suspended in it’s shifting features.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the motherfucker who just made me kill my favorite cousin, would you? “ Trenchcoat asks, his voice cracked, and strained.
He gets a confused keening in response.
“Bad day for you then. “ Augustus says.
There is no style to his violence, Trenchcoat grabs the shifting mass, his wicked, claw tipped fingers angling themselves in tendrils. As he lifts the thing, floorboards break, and it’s torn free from the root-like system it was creating in the room.
Three brutal slams cover me in ichor and pieces of creature. Trenchcoat tosses the mewling, twitching pile in a corner and looks at me with disgust.
“You let that thing do this to you? Fuckin’ pathetic, bud.
And who tied you up? “ The nightmare I’ve been cursed with chides me.
“The kids downstairs. “ I say only now realizing I’ve still been sobbing.
One handed, Trenchcoat snaps the wires, then stumbles backward, slowly sliding down the wall.
He coughs, grey, bloody phlegm hitting the ground.
“So, what’s the play here? If this shit broke you, I could use the spare parts, if not, well, you know what the Bible says.
An eye for an eye. “ Trenchcoat grins as he talks, nearly on the brink of death.
And that’s where I think I’m going to leave things. Because, honestly I don’t know what I’m choosing.
I’m mutilated, half blind, using too much of my energy typing to strangers online about things because, I’m so fucking alone here.
If you hear from me again, I hope I made the right move. If not, take this as a lesson on what happens when you screw around with the occult.

My story is similar to many others, probably many of you here. Now we have watched as the world is living a similar tale.
__
My Story:
When I was 23, my lifelong health issues became debilitating. I lost everything - my job, my home, my education. For the first year, I was shut away in my family home desperately clinging to the remnants of my old life.
Then I started a new medication that improved my functionality a little bit. In a whirlwind, I was re-enrolled in college, moved back to the city to share an apartment with friends, and collaborated on projects with others. I was crashing regularly, it was the epitome of the "push-crash cycle." I barely passed that semester, and then I couldn't keep up with the next semester. I couldn't keep up with anything, really.
So I began to try a new approach, which was only possible because I had housing security living with my girlfriend at the time. It was not an ideal situation, but it did give me the space to begin to learn how to live with my illness instead of fighting the reality of it.
I taught myself how to do things more slowly. To begin to accept that I was always going to miss out on something, that my to do list would never be done. I figured out what I needed to participate in events, like making myself care kits and turning my backseat into a bed. I even went to Burning Man, spending most of my time at camp or on our art car.
I wish I could say the story just kept getting better. Alas, it did not. There was homelessness, a monster flare up leaving me unable to walk for a few months, and a depressing return to my family home.
Then, the pandemic happened. Six months into it, I moved into a small guesthouse where I actually lived Bo Burnham's "Inside." One by one, friendships ended. Often by my own choice. I had realized I would rather be alone than to compromise my heart. And, unfortunately, too many friendships compromised my heart.
Something else happened, though. Something I never expected. I stopped crashing. My flare ups became more mild. My health... stabilized.
I didn't even have a car anymore to drive myself to see trees or touch grass. It was just me and those four walls day after day after day after day after day after day.... It was maddening. Stressful. Lonely.
Yet, my body thrived. It reset itself, in some ways. I added another medication, and my functionality once again improved. So I re-enrolled in college, this time just starting with 2 classes. Then built up to full time.
I wish I could say it was a happy balance. Alas, I cannot. lol. I didn't and still don't have the support I actually need to have a more balanced life living with disability. But even without what I really need, I've been able to progressively learn more about what I need and how my body communicates with me and what I can do to care for it as best as I can.
____
How many of my chronically ill buddies can relate? When the initial illness happened it was terrifying and confusing. Am I dying? What is happening? How can I fix it?
Answers come slowly, if they come at all. Treatments that do nothing. Treatments that make things worse. Treatments that help a little.
For the fortunate among us, our functionality might improve. Except it's rarely a cure. And many of us, like myself, overdo it at the first sign of improvement.
It takes time and patience to learn how to live with chronic illness. And far too often, we don't have the support or stability to do so. Even so, we get creative.
___
Covid was collectively terrifying and confusing. Understandably, the first concern was how many it was killing. What was it? How could we fix it?
Some answers came. Some treatments.
The vaccine rolled out, offering a means by which society could become more functional again. And, like I did with my own illness, the improvement was treated as if it was a cure. Instead of learning a new way of living, the world tried to force a return to life before.
___
The world is now chronically ill with covid.
For too many, that is a very literal and very personal reality. My heart hurts for them all.
Chronic illness demands space. Yet, it is exhausting to hold space for illness every day. For those who have the illusion that they can opt out, I understand why they do.
Society does not make space for the in between. The result of illness is supposed to be a cure or death. Tragedy has a time limit.
Most folks have not had to learn the valuable lessons that the chronically ill have been forced to. Most are still living with narratives that they can control things, that they must be productive to be valuable, that major events must be stories with clear beginnings, middles, and endings.
It takes daily emotional and mental labor to wear a mask, think about ventilation, test regularly, calculate your risk budget... Just as it takes daily labor to manage individual chronic illness.
Could the covid story have been different? Abso-fucking-lutely.
But we can't live in the what if's. We can only live with the present moment as it is. And in this moment, covid is here to stay. The world is chronically ill. And the world is in denial about it, overdoing it, lacking necessary support, and not getting proper treatment.
For our loved ones who have refused or given up on or half-ass precautions... Perhaps we can give some of them grace, in a similar way we might to someone who is chronically ill and has a doctor telling them that it's all in their head or that they should eat ice cream every day. They are living in a painful world and being told ways of coping with it that are actually harming them. (note: we can give others grace without bringing them into our inner circle, there are concentric circles of connection).
Those of us who choose to do the labor to continue covid precautions, we are acknowledging the perpetual liminality of this pandemic. The space in between is uncomfortable. Most don't linger unless they are forced to. And when forced, we naturally want to grasp at the first opportunity to leave - even when doing so is an illusion.
So here's to us, who choose to make our way through the unknown as wholeheartedly and fully present as we can. The way is dark and there are horrors all around us. Yet we will not look away. <3
___
______
Also, thank you all for posting and commenting here. I've been a longtime lurker. I only just begrudgingly remade a reddit account, in large part because I want to actually connect with you and make some friends here. :)
__
tldr
the collective response to covid is similar to some individual journeys with chronic illness: the initial illness is scary, medical care is inadequate, the first sign of improvement can lead to grasping for a way of life that is no longer possible (the vaccine and the return to normal), living with chronic illness requires daily labor that integrates accommodations in order to create new possibilities

Tenth Moon, 25AC

Pentos
Twenty-three, Twenty-four, Twenty-five.
“You are certain?” Probed Dynohr, but Orys waved him off.
Twenty-six, Twenty-seven, twenty-eight.
“The lord Protector does not need to remind you of your commitments, master Dynohr,” Aeran mercifully answered before he needed to. He had come down to the docks with a splitting headache, and from the moment he saw them, he had to count. He was promised two-hundred and twenty, he would count them, he would be certain.
Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six.
“Even so, surely you have more time, we need not depart so swiftly. The storms… they will be quite terrible this time of year, the sea is not merciful to the hasty,” said the sellsword legate. He was an excellent commander by all accounts, but Orys was earning a second pain in the back of his ear listening to him. He refused to lose his count too. For all he cared, all that mattered, the aged warrior did not need this right now.
Fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four.
“And as agreed, we had to depart in the coming days. The timeline does not allow for dalliance, nor does it allow for you to dither,” Raymont snapped, though Orys could hear the stress in his voice. Of all his family, of his sons, of his wife, Raymont was the one to caution him against coming here. He was the one to say that leaving at such a time would be a detriment, that departing just before the feast, the hunt, before the prince’s name day would only lead to a greater divide between who should wear the crown. He was a good lad for it, a smart one. Someone worth being his heir, someone who cared.
Eighty-five, eight-six, eighty-seven.
Their path led them on an incline up the docks, following towards the enormous walls that surrounded the grand old city. He needed a better view, sails were easier to count from so high. And he had already counted those that numbered among the closest to the wharfs.
“I understand your haste, and your needs, young lord, but the tides care little for what we wish to do. Righteousness means nothing to the waves,” protested another, but the Lord protector ignored him. He was a slight fellow, much less present than the rest of the entourage following him. In fact, a glance back barely revealed him from the overpowering shadow of Vyronno. The behemoth of a man gave only a grunt at being glanced at, though the grunt seemed more to be about the leg of chicken he was currently feasting upon.
Ninety-three.
“The haste is well-founded,” Aeran cut in again, his sharp Myrish accent cutting through the conversation like a knife. If there was anger or annoyance in it however, Orys did not register. His only focus were the ships. What a strange figure he must have cast with a band of Essosi at his back, from the free cities, from further East, he was trailed by a dozen figures, all bickering over the course and all the head of the group cared for, were boats.
“And yet if we act too fast, what happens then? If the waves claim half of the ships? What of the cargo then? Of the contents? We’ll be ruined because you simply wished to return while the Queens remained in king’s Landing!” The slight man said, and finally his name came to Orys. Horo Hartion, one of the ship captains from Braavos.
One hundred and thirty-three.
The man was an expert on the waves certainly, but Orys was not able to heed him. Not now. Perhaps a year ago he might have, but not now. Not when ideas came late and solutions later. He had gathered what he needed, he had visited the triarchs, the magisters, the princes and Sealords, and only now had he his ships, his supposed two-hundred and twenty.
“How long before we should leave then? Hm?” Pried his son, blessed Raymot with his well-directed displeasure.
“At least until the winter, the cool air will help keep the sea calm. And perhaps it would make it easier on your home,” said the captain, but Aeran hissed a condescending laugh.
“Winter? If we do that, then we will be arriving in winter, and then having to rebuild in winter and solve the kingdom’s woes in winter. You think it is bad normally? Try it when there’s no food growing,” the man snapped, and the captain audibly shrunk away, his voice growing smaller.
“But…”
One hundred and seventy-five.
He was coming so close to the remaining few sails. He had segmented them by their respective groups, moored together and kept locked side by side to fit the harbour better. It made it far easier to count them, that much was certain. Though he couldn’t help but wonder if there were other dangers to it.
So close, so much wood.
One hundred and ninety-six.
“If not later, perhaps at least a faster route?” Asked the captain, earning a scoff from Aeran and Raymont in unison. And within seconds they were back to bickering. Orys shook his head, the imposing lord rubbing at his temple as he walked to the edge of the wall, trying to rid himself of the headache, and failing terribly at it.
Their bickering picked up, moving from quick-spoken words to shouts and he closed his eyes.
Two hundred and five.
More of the band of followers were joining in, blessedly except for Vyronno. The man’s bellows were simply too heavy for his ears to handle amid the headache.
Orys shook his head, but the voices grew louder, and soon enough he was conscious of the markets below, the sounds of the tides. With a breath, hie attempted to focus on the counting, opening his eyes to the harbour, but finding the world below a blur.
Two hundred… two-hundred and what?
He sucked on his gums… he was close. So fucking close to the end of it. What was that number? He clenched his fists, digging his fingers into the hard stone of the wall, but the elusive numerals refused him. And as his headache grew and the shouting overpowered him. He grit his teeth and slammed a fist against the stone.
“Enough!” He bellowed, and the entourage fell silent immediately.
Anger flooded through him, annoyance in turn and finally, dismay. He was so fucking close to finishing his count, spoiled by his interminable headache and further agitated by the sounds surrounding.
“We sail on schedule, on the course plotted, with all…” he glanced to the captain and then to Dynohr, both men lightly bowing their heads, both averting their gazes slightly. The Lord Protector rubbed a thick hand across hie forehead and leaned into the wall. Gods what he would have given for all the strength of his youth, for the power of the man who bested Argillac. For the strength of the man who helped dragons conquer kingdoms.
“Fuck,” he said quietly, drawing the eyes of his son.
“I do this for it is better to do something than to let it be left a mystery. Better to try to do something right than to hope the alternatives simply work out,” he said and looked over the assembly. At Vyronno, his trusted friend whose enormous, folded arms might have warded off some, but not him. He looked to Raymont, his son as tall as him, a mirror of Aegon’s hand in his younger years. To Aeran, the golden haired Myrish warrior, to the captain Hartion with his wildly styled moustache and elegant hat and to Dynohr, the flamboyantly dressed sellsword.
“Bad weather will waylay us, if it comes, but that is all. We will not be subjects to the fear of the rain or the waves. Not now.”
With a hard look at each of the squabbling men, he finally sighed.
“Go. Leave me,” he finished and the men looked between themselves before silently dissipating. Only Raymont and Vyronno remaining. The behemoth never abandoning his side unless told to by name. And Raymont, for the young Baratheon’s brows remained furrowed. Down there, in the city was the boy’s wife, the Dayne. Orys pondered for a moment, what did she think of this endeavour? Certainly she was of the mind of his son at first, foolhardy and confused. Perhaps directly opposed. But she had yet to raise a word of it.
Subterfuge had gotten them this far, care and caution had kept their plans in place and free of the eyes of others. Syrella’s spies did not reach so far, and the Westerosi were not concerned with what lay beyond their own coasts. Essos was a wild and untamed land to them, just as Westeros was to the inhabitants of the Free cities and beyond. Perhaps it would work against them, perhaps he would be seen as something terrible and unknown. But he had kept the Kingdom running for years, he had conceded to the queens instead of battling them at each turn. He had killed his ego so that the land would heal from the conquest, so that it would recover from massacres in the woods, so that burnt bridges in the Reach and Dragons in the North would not be enough to break Aegon’s dream apart.
But now…
“You haven’t taken the medication they gave you, have you?” Asked Raymont.
“No,” his heavy voice rang plain, and his weary eyes lifted to meet his sons. So full of worry, so full of youth, wasted here, wasted contending with his father’s woes.
“And the headaches have gotten worse, have they not?” He asked.
Orys shook his head, “only here, only where it’s loud,” he sighed, his lean growing heavier against the wall. What he would have given now for his comfortable chair in his office in the tower of the hand. Where he was too high for the city to bother him, where none came to find him lest there was an emergency.
Here… here it was just too loud.
“Here,” Raymont said with a sigh, handing over a small tincture, and holding up his flask. Orys eyed the tincture suspiciously, but he knew its contents. He would not win this battle, however. Orys Baratheon knew when he was beaten, the Lord Protector took the vial from his son, uncorked it and downed the contents. He clicked his tongue and he washed down the awful taste with he offered flask, blessedly it was just water. He had grown sick of the amount of wine in this place.
“Vyronno, how fare the captains?” he asked, the headache already numbing, giving him blessed few moments of clarity.
The large man shifted, and even that motion seemed to be a great effort for the giant.
“They are tired, they are wary. They are afraid. I fear many do not wish to cast off come the day,” the thick-bellied and deep-voiced man grumbled. He had no love for the ship captains, many of which were sellswords themselves, a group in which the behemoth held little regard for.
“How many?” Orys probed.
“Perhaps a quarter,” mused the man, and Orys grimaced. Enough to hamper them.
“Then…” he looked to the harbour now, eyes narrowing on the locked together ships.
“Uncouple all but twenty of the ships,” he said quickly, and Raymont frowned.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I will motivate them if they will not do it themselves.”
Raymont’s frown held, and Orys sighed, “take Aeren and his men, do it at night.”
His son finally nodded, and then he too finally left as Orys’ headache finally faded.
“I fear he should not come with us,” Vyronno said.
The Lord Protector huffed, but he eventually nodded. Raymont was not destined to be a victim of his father’s sins. At least he would not see it happen.
“Tell Shovi and Salaela what to do,” Orys said, leaving the comment unanswered. Vyronno gave a nod and reluctantly left Orys atop the battlements, watching the harbour, and finally, he was allowed to be alone and count again.
One, two, three…
From the blessed view of the extensive balcony of Orys' manse, he was given a grand perspective of the sea, and from there, he watched the brilliant roar of flames billowing upwards. Though as he watched, he tapped, counting the seconds by as the flames billowed. If they could not control it within the next five minutes, his plan would be a deathblow to his goals, but he had faith. Faith sometimes was enough o quell the burning in his chest, to overtake the distress at a failed idea.
But… he had faith.
And faith was rewarded at times. As his ears itched from the ringing of bells, finally, someone burst into the room. Orys did not look back, but found the voice of Isembard Stassanar addressing him.
“My lord… the fleet… sabotage,” he huffed breathily, but Orys held a hand to him.
“Calm, I know,” he said and he motioned to the window and his view of the docks, where he was given a perfectly adequate view of the slowly dimming flames. They were pretty against the night, but he could not deny how it reminded him of the conquest… though those flames would not have been doused by such attempts. Buckets would not carry enough water to fight dragonflame.
“Thank you for telling me, Isembard… you may go,” he mused and with what was probably the sound of a salute, the man slinked from the room, doors rocking closed quietly after him.
One, two, three.
The halls of his manse were filled today. Three or four hundred men, all as colourful as they were varied. From every free city, from as far as the great grass sea. They were plentiful, and they all looked to him as he entered, raised up on a balcony overlooking the assembled crowd. His headache was back and the tincture did little to help it. But he persevered.
“The fleet’s damage was minimal,” he said plainly, earning some grumbles from one portion of the crowd and sighs of relief from another.
“Our plans however have been put in place, there are those who clearly know of my intentions, which means we may not act with such sloth. Time has come for us to make our final preparations. It is time we set sail,” he spoke plainly, voice bellowing and the crowd’s silence was a surprise. But eventually, from within it came the voice of Aeran.
“Well out you fuckers go!” he shouted and with grumbling voices, the men began to filter out.
“So the die Is cast,” Orys sighed, earning a chuckle from Vyronno.
“So it is…” sighed the behemoth.
“So it is.”
"Oh, and one thing," Vyronno added, earning a raised brow from Orys.
"There was an error on the part of the clerk, there were more than two hundred and twenty," he reported and the raised brow lowered as Orys grinned.
"Thank the gods for small mercies it seems."
May we pray for more

I am NOT OOP, OOP is u/CuteLeader6038
Originally posted to TwoHotTakes
AITA for walking away from my best friend's wedding over her demands for my appearance change
Triger Warnings: body shaming, emotional manipulation, controlling behavior, bullying
Original Post: March 20, 2024
I (30F) have been inseparable from my best friend "Lily" (30F) since we were kids. Coming from a small town with little to offer, we promised each other we'd be there through thick and thin. Our backgrounds are humble, and we've both faced our share of struggles, supporting each other no matter what.
Lily met "Evan" during college, a charming guy from a well-off family. When he proposed last year, it was like a fairytale unfolding, especially with Evan's family offering to spare no expense for their dream wedding. Naturally, I was thrilled when Lily asked me to be her Maid of Honor. I envisioned dress shopping and bachelorette planning, all the fun stuff.
However, about three weeks ago, Lily requested a sit-down that felt more like an intervention. She presented me with a "Maid of Honor Makeover Plan," which took me by complete surprise. It wasn't about dresses or spa treatments; it was a detailed regime for me to change my appearance drastically before the wedding.
The plan was shocking - Lily wanted me to dye my vibrant red hair to a more "understated" shade to avoid clashing with the wedding palette, get a spray tan to "blend in better" with the other bridesmaids, and she hinted heavily at me losing at least 20 pounds to "fit perfectly" into the designer dress she had picked out.
I've admittedly gained weight since college, something I'm self-conscious about, especially next to Lily, who's remained as fit and active as ever. But this... this felt like a slap in the face. I tried to laugh it off, hoping it was a bad joke, but Lily was dead serious. She claimed it was all in the spirit of having the perfect wedding photos, heavily influenced by the expectations of Evan's family.
I felt betrayed. Our friendship had survived so much, yet here we were, divided over something so superficial. I told her it was unreasonable and hurtful. She retorted that I was being selfish, letting my insecurities get in the way of her happiness. That hurt.
The argument escalated quickly, with words thrown that we could never take back. In a moment of hurt and anger, I told her if my appearance was more important than our friendship, perhaps she should find another Maid of Honor. Lily accused me of abandoning her and destroying our friendship over something so trivial. We haven't spoken since that day. The wedding is fast approaching, and the fallout has been swift and divisive among our circle of friends. Many of them, caught up in the excitement of the event and possibly influenced by Lily's side of the story, have been calling and texting me, suggesting I'm overreacting. They say I should just apologize and make up with Lily, implying that my refusal to comply with her wishes is a sign of not valuing our lifelong friendship.
Social media hasn't helped, with subtle posts from some of the bridal party hinting at my absence and the disruption it's caused. It feels like I'm being painted as the villain in a situation where all I wanted was to maintain my dignity and self-respect. The pressure from these mutual friends is immense, making me second-guess my decision. Was standing up for myself worth the potential loss of a friendship I've cherished for over two decades? Or have I indeed overreacted, allowing pride to cloud my judgment and harm a relationship that's meant everything to me?
This ordeal has left me feeling isolated, questioning the dynamics of our friendship, and wondering if it was ever as unconditional as I believed it to be. Am I the asshole for walking away from my best friend's wedding over her demands for my appearance change, even when everyone else seems to think I should just apologize and move on?
Relevant Comments
marblefree: NTA she chose a "wedding aesthetic " over friendship. I don't know how you move past her thinking impressing her new relatives with how perfect she and her life is (because why else is she doing this), over having someone who truly loved her in her wedding party.
Please do yourself a favor and unfriend /unfollow all of these people. Do something fun or indulgent for yourself on her wedding day (even take a holiday). Life is never perfect and having people love you no matter what is what stands the test of time.

OOP: Thanks a lot for saying that. It’s been a mess, and you pretty much nailed how I’ve been feeling. Honestly, the idea of ditching the drama and doing something cool for myself instead of getting hung up on the wedding day hadn’t fully hit me until now. Maybe a little getaway or just a day off doing my favorite things is the move.
Really appreciate you taking the time to share your thoughts. It’s kinda wild how a few kind words from someone who gets it can make a big difference. Cheers for the support—it’s helped more than you know.

Charming_Big2092: This is a hill I would die on. Honestly, what she did is disrespectful and hurtful. Do not doubt yourself. She has shown her true colors and what she values most. Which is others superficial opinion’s instead of a relationship with true value. It is heartbreaking to accept that your friendship is falling apart , but stay strong knowing you advocated for yourself that is true strength.

OOP: Thank you. Really, just hearing someone else say that helps a ton. It’s been rough, doubting myself and all. What you said about standing up for myself—that hit home. It’s tough to see a friendship go sideways, but you’re right, it’s about respecting myself at the end of the day.
Appreciate your words more than you know. It’s comforting to feel understood and not alone in this. Thanks for backing me up.

 
Update May 25, 2024 (2 months later)
I wanted to give you all an update on what's been happening since the fallout with Lily. Firstly, thank you so much for your support and understanding during this tough time. It means the world to me.
After everything went down, I felt like I needed to reach out to some of our mutual friends to explain my side of the story. Some of them totally got where I was coming from and were really supportive. But, you know how it goes, some of them sided with Lily too, which was tough to hear.
It's been about a month since the wedding, and I still haven't talked to Lily. We're still friends on social media, so I see her updates every now and then, which is a bit weird. But I've come to terms with the fact that maybe our friendship wasn't as solid as I thought.
Skipping the wedding wasn't an easy decision, but I felt like I had to stick to my guns. It's been rough dealing with the fallout, but I'm starting to realize that real friendships are about more than just going along with whatever someone else wants.
Thanks again for all your support. It's been a tough journey, but I'm getting there, one step at a time.
Comments
arianrhodd: True friends love you for who you are, not the aesthetic they want you to fit for the "perfect" wedding. The fact that she made the outrageous requests in the first place (dye your hair, get a spray tan, lose weight) for her wedding indicates a complete lack of respect and empathy.
How would the "friends" siding with Lily feel if their appearances were picked apart and told they needed to drastically change their appearance for her wedding?
Her behavior was shameful and pathetic and I'm truly sorry she treated you with such disregard after all you teo meant to each other.
mangos247: One day Lily will realize how ridiculous her requests were, and that she threw away a good friendship for nothing.
 

DO NOT COMMENT IN LINKED POSTS OR MESSAGE OOPs – BoRU Rule #7

THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT OOP

I just saw my long time crush today, and I can't help but reflect on what happened.
I've had this crush on a girl from middle school (I just finished college), but due to the way she lives her life and the way I live mine, I would always be around people who knew her (like her parents, siblings, etc.,), but never her specifically. I actually have a decent repertoire with her father, although her mother and her sister are w/e towards me.
I just can't help but get angry at myself about how I behave around her. I usually am pretty well kept, and I come off confident (silent confidence), but when I'm around her... it's like I'm a kid in a candy shop. I'm talkative, loud, like a really strange ENFP. It's like my senses come alive whenever I realize she's around me. I'm not saying it's strange, but moreso, my natural charisma, my natural understanding of social norms.. Goes out the window. Suddenly, I can't help but feel a rush. (Honestly, it's not too bad, whenever I try to do a read of other people, I don't think people really mind it.)
The problem is, her body language, it feels so... distant.. uninterested.
A couple years ago, she would address my brother and wouldn't even engage with me after I tried to show that I was interested in her with my body language, and these days she's cordial, but I have to start the engagements.
And the truth is. I want to get rid of this feeling, good or bad. Yes or no. Living with the uncertainty is hell, and getting rid of it through therapy and discussion has proven to be impossible.
I don't know what keeps me bound to her, but from what I can tell, it's not a red string. Her body language keeps telling me no, but my mind keeps thinking there's hope.
The truth is, from my point of view, it'd be a worthwhile friendship. We're into the same activities, the same things. But it doesn't matter if she doesn't give me the time of day, and that's the problem. I don't have an opportunity to really talk with her and to learn from/about her.
So, I want to move on. I want to be able to feel these emotions for someone who I actually can. To be stuck to one person for so long, when other girls show interest in me, and I have to constantly reject them... (I have gone on dates with some of them, but I think that because I have feelings for someone else, no new romantic feelings can form for someone else). It feels like I'm trapped.
I just realized today that she's likely an INFJ. One of my colleagues got her number, and she texts like I do. Reflecting on her behavior, it reminds me of how I used to act around her, (tbh in some ways the way I do when I'm not directly engaging with her), where I didn't want her to know I was into her. I try not to watch her too much (she noticed I was stealing glances a couple years ago, so I stop).
But it's so frustrating having to take this risk, without having an inkling that it could work. My Ni keeps screaming at me, that there isn't enough information to make a solid guess. That I would have to YOLO and screw social norms a little (I'm still waiting for a good opportunity).
Sometimes, I wish that these feelings could just disappear. That I could find out what they are tied to, what trauma or desire, what need... Because I can't keep living like this, being bound to someone who seemly does not want me.

Live Music

• Gary Douglas Campbell, The Cellar Upstairs Wine Bar & Restaurant, 1:00 pm – 4:00 pm
• Joe Targove, Backyard Island Cafe at Meehan's, 1:00 pm – 5:00 pm
• Redfish Rich, Conch House Marina Resort, 4:00 pm – 8:00 pm
• David Watt Besley, Aunt Kate's, 4:00 pm – 7:00 pm
• Lonesome Bert's Thick and Thin String Band, Marina Munch, 5:00 pm – 8:00 pm
• Dewey Via Band, Fish House & Oyster Co., 5:00 pm – 8:00 pm
• Jonathan Lee Dotson, Embassy Suites by Hilton, 5:00 pm – 8:00 pm
• Fond Kiser, Oasis Deck & Restaurant, 5:30 pm – 8:30 pm
• Josh Ford, Schooner's Seafood House, 6:00 pm – 8:00 pm
• Ivan Smith, Guy Harvey Resort, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
• Heather Craig, Crabby's Beachside, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
• Denny Blue, Kingfish Grill, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
• Caleb Joye, The Cellar Upstairs Wine Bar & Restaurant, 6:00 pm – 10:00 pm
• Duffy Bishop Band, Fuzion 904 Eatery, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
• Aaron Esposito, O.C. White's Seafood, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
• Allen Arena, Hurricane Patty's Bar and Grill, 6:00 pm – 9:30 pm
• Micah Gilliam, Chez L'Amour, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
• ZaZa Flamenca, River & Fort, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
• Alexis Peramas, Pierre's Pub, 7:00 pm – 7:45 pm
• Baba Caiman, Colonial Oak Music Park, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
• One Good Ring, Mellow Mushroom — Murabella, 8:00 pm – 11:00 pm
• Mike Cook, Meehan's Irish Pub & Seafood House, 8:00 pm – 12:00 am
• One Good Ring, Mellow Mushroom — Anastasia Island, 8:00 pm – 11:00 pm
• Annie Dukes, Pierre's Pub, 8:00 pm – 8:45 pm
• Smokin' Joe Schauer, Mr. Chubby's Wings, 8:00 pm – 11:30 pm
• HORNIT, Tradewinds Lounge, 9:00 pm – 1:00 am
• Fortune Child, Pierre's Pub, 9:00 pm – 9:45 pm
• House Cats, Stogies Cigar Bar, 9:00 pm – 1:00 am
• El Castillo, Pierre's Pub, 10:00 pm – 10:45 pm
• Cumberland, Prohibition Kitchen, 10:00 pm – 12:00 am

Kiwanis Club Trot & Walk

• Kiwanis Club of St. Augustine hosts a Family Fun Trot & Walk event to raise money for their foundation to help those less fortunate. The one-mile walk around the Osceola Elementary School field and other activities will start at 8:20 a.m. on Saturday, June 1, 2024.
• Kiwanis Club, a service organization, supports outreach programs worldwide, including ones that benefit struggling children and families. Participants will make a difference in someone's life while also enjoying the bounce house, games, and food trucks onsite.
• Many community partners participate and sponsor this event. Sponsorships are available, and donations are much appreciated. Check the website for more information about these opportunities.
• Admission: Entry is $10.00. Children 12 years old and younger are free.
• When: Check-in is at 7:30 a.m. on Saturday, June 1, 2024. The opening ceremony is at 8:20 a.m., with the walk beginning at 8:30 a.m. and the ribbon ceremony following at 9:15 a.m.
• Where: It will be at the Osceola Elementary School multipurpose field, located at 1605 Osceola Road, St. Augustine, Florida 32084.

# Amphitheatre Farmers Market

• The St. Augustine Amphitheatre Farmers Market offers visitors a variety of goods such as local fresh produce, handmade arts and crafts, baked goods, plants directly off the farm, freshly-caught seafood, cheeses, and more. The farmers market makes for a morning of family-friendly fun with live entertainment on select dates.
• In addition to the impressive variety of organic produce offered by local farmers, a number of local artists and craftspeople also display their wares at the market.
• Admission: FREE
• Where: St. Augustine Amphitheatre located at 1340 A1A South St. Augustine, FL 32080.
• When: Every Saturday morning from 8:30 am - 12:30 pm.

# Fort Mose Militia Muster & Training

• Fort Mose Historic State Park hosts Militia Muster and Training on the first Saturday of each month — except for July.
• The Fort Mose Militia bring the 18th century back to life by practicing their firing drills, and by teaching new members historic weapons use and safety. Park visitors witness the weapons demonstrations, which include musket firings. This unique experience provides great photo opportunities and is a wonderful way to spend a day enjoying a state park.
• Admission: The program itself is free. Admission into the Visitor Center is $2.00 for adults and free for children under six.
• When: The first Saturday of each month (except July) from 9:30 to 11:30 a.m.
• Where: Fort Mose Historic State Park is located at 15 Fort Mose Trail, St. Augustine, Florida 32084.

I am unable to post the sources because they are getting flagged as spam since they are all similar in name. So please visit this site for the list.
Written out urls here tinyurl.com/yjkw32kd

For future events please visit the Discord.

https://discord.gg/NG4eZSWAgR

Live Music

• Gary Douglas Campbell, The Cellar Upstairs Wine Bar & Restaurant, 1:00 pm – 4:00 pm
• Joe Targove, Backyard Island Cafe at Meehan's, 1:00 pm – 5:00 pm
• Redfish Rich, Conch House Marina Resort, 4:00 pm – 8:00 pm
• David Watt Besley, Aunt Kate's, 4:00 pm – 7:00 pm
• Lonesome Bert's Thick and Thin String Band, Marina Munch, 5:00 pm – 8:00 pm
• Dewey Via Band, Fish House & Oyster Co., 5:00 pm – 8:00 pm
• Jonathan Lee Dotson, Embassy Suites by Hilton, 5:00 pm – 8:00 pm
• Fond Kiser, Oasis Deck & Restaurant, 5:30 pm – 8:30 pm
• Josh Ford, Schooner's Seafood House, 6:00 pm – 8:00 pm
• Ivan Smith, Guy Harvey Resort, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
• Heather Craig, Crabby's Beachside, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
• Denny Blue, Kingfish Grill, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
• Caleb Joye, The Cellar Upstairs Wine Bar & Restaurant, 6:00 pm – 10:00 pm
• Duffy Bishop Band, Fuzion 904 Eatery, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
• Aaron Esposito, O.C. White's Seafood, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm
• Allen Arena, Hurricane Patty's Bar and Grill, 6:00 pm – 9:30 pm
• Micah Gilliam, Chez L'Amour, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
• ZaZa Flamenca, River & Fort, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
• Alexis Peramas, Pierre's Pub, 7:00 pm – 7:45 pm
• Baba Caiman, Colonial Oak Music Park, 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm
• One Good Ring, Mellow Mushroom — Murabella, 8:00 pm – 11:00 pm
• Mike Cook, Meehan's Irish Pub & Seafood House, 8:00 pm – 12:00 am
• One Good Ring, Mellow Mushroom — Anastasia Island, 8:00 pm – 11:00 pm
• Annie Dukes, Pierre's Pub, 8:00 pm – 8:45 pm
• Smokin' Joe Schauer, Mr. Chubby's Wings, 8:00 pm – 11:30 pm
• HORNIT, Tradewinds Lounge, 9:00 pm – 1:00 am
• Fortune Child, Pierre's Pub, 9:00 pm – 9:45 pm
• House Cats, Stogies Cigar Bar, 9:00 pm – 1:00 am
• El Castillo, Pierre's Pub, 10:00 pm – 10:45 pm
• Cumberland, Prohibition Kitchen, 10:00 pm – 12:00 am

Kiwanis Club Trot & Walk

• Kiwanis Club of St. Augustine hosts a Family Fun Trot & Walk event to raise money for their foundation to help those less fortunate. The one-mile walk around the Osceola Elementary School field and other activities will start at 8:20 a.m. on Saturday, June 1, 2024.
• Kiwanis Club, a service organization, supports outreach programs worldwide, including ones that benefit struggling children and families. Participants will make a difference in someone's life while also enjoying the bounce house, games, and food trucks onsite.
• Many community partners participate and sponsor this event. Sponsorships are available, and donations are much appreciated. Check the website for more information about these opportunities.
• Admission: Entry is $10.00. Children 12 years old and younger are free.
• When: Check-in is at 7:30 a.m. on Saturday, June 1, 2024. The opening ceremony is at 8:20 a.m., with the walk beginning at 8:30 a.m. and the ribbon ceremony following at 9:15 a.m.
• Where: It will be at the Osceola Elementary School multipurpose field, located at 1605 Osceola Road, St. Augustine, Florida 32084.

# Amphitheatre Farmers Market

• The St. Augustine Amphitheatre Farmers Market offers visitors a variety of goods such as local fresh produce, handmade arts and crafts, baked goods, plants directly off the farm, freshly-caught seafood, cheeses, and more. The farmers market makes for a morning of family-friendly fun with live entertainment on select dates.
• In addition to the impressive variety of organic produce offered by local farmers, a number of local artists and craftspeople also display their wares at the market.
• Admission: FREE
• Where: St. Augustine Amphitheatre located at 1340 A1A South St. Augustine, FL 32080.
• When: Every Saturday morning from 8:30 am - 12:30 pm.

# Fort Mose Militia Muster & Training

• Fort Mose Historic State Park hosts Militia Muster and Training on the first Saturday of each month — except for July.
• The Fort Mose Militia bring the 18th century back to life by practicing their firing drills, and by teaching new members historic weapons use and safety. Park visitors witness the weapons demonstrations, which include musket firings. This unique experience provides great photo opportunities and is a wonderful way to spend a day enjoying a state park.
• Admission: The program itself is free. Admission into the Visitor Center is $2.00 for adults and free for children under six.
• When: The first Saturday of each month (except July) from 9:30 to 11:30 a.m.
• Where: Fort Mose Historic State Park is located at 15 Fort Mose Trail, St. Augustine, Florida 32084.

I am unable to post the sources because they are getting flagged as spam since they are all similar in name. So please visit this site for the list.
Written out urls here tinyurl.com/yjkw32kd

For future events please visit the Discord.

https://discord.gg/NG4eZSWAgR

Basically, I was introduced to this guy by my closest childhood friend. We've started talking for some time and at the start, everything seemed to go swimmingly well. Conversations flowed smoothly and it was dreamlike. There seemed to be some tension there: Staring into each other eyes, the whole world got quiet, etc. The friendship was initiated by the guy and he started texting me a lot and he would call me for hours on end. After only around a week of knowing me, he started pestering me for my phone number and he was extremely persistent. I ended up giving it to him. He started texting me every single day, morning till night, no matter whether if I replied or not. He would send me updates about his life like his outfit, etc. He decided to introduce me to his close friend and that went...well. In short, it was a call with his friends and the girl, who seemed obsessed with the guy as he kept putting me down and comparing herself to me in terms of closeness to the said guy.
He started asking about me at school, like he would ask my childhood best friend about how I was, if I was okay, how I was and all those sorts of stuff. Allegedly, my childhood best friend, let's call him M, always sounded really enthusiastic when he was talking about me. "His voice softens." He initiated everything, as I was not really interested. He would always beg me to call and I ended up giving in. We started having all these late night conversations about any topic that we were into. During these calls, he would always be a little flirtatious. He would always look at me really intimately, as if I was his world. He would say things like, "I like to see your face, stop hiding your beauty." "Oh my gosh, I love talking to you. You're so enchanting." He would always be flirting about how he would be a great boyfriend and constantly asked what my type of guys was. He even had the audacity to question why I was not into him. He did many other things to seem like he genuinely cared for me. For example, he had several lessons in a day. Yes, he's a rather busy lad. However, he would always make time for me and to reply to me, even if it was a text to inform me that he was busy and not purposely ignoring me. He knew that I had trust issues, so he would even send a picture that he was busy to prove that he wasn't purposely avoiding me. Every single time he and I were online on Whatsapp, he would always text me to ensure me that he wasn't ignoring me. Lastly, he is an extremely religious guy, and he never listened to music because of that. However, ever since he met me, he started to listen to the music that I liked and replied to it in detail. He never liked texting, but he would talk to me on Whatsapp all of the time. This is extremely untypical of him, as he is an unemotional guy. In addition to that, the effort put into that should mean something?
The guy kept trying to meet me in person. Since I have extreme trust issues, I didn't want to do that. He was a guy that I met online, and I had let's just say, unpleasant experiences with guys. This was after six months of knowing me. I told him to leave and that he was creep and a pervert due to my personal defense mechanism. He then left me alone and didn't talk to me for a full day. We then talked about it and I told him that I didn't want to talk about why as it was really personal to me. He said that it was fine and I could just tell him when I felt like it.
We were fine after this for another 7 - 8 months. He just really wanted to know and that he wanted me to be honest with him. I kept yelling at him and starting unnecessary fights due to that. Childish, I know. I regret that now, but that's just what I felt and acted upon at that point of time. After all of that, he left and refused to talk to me forever.
I tried to explain to him but he just pushed me away and said that it was fine. I know, I got a taste of my own medicine. He seemed really hurt about the fact that I called him a creep and a pervert and I kept saying that I cared about him when I wasn't willing to be honest with him about why I said those hurtful words in the first place. I tried everything from calling him, to sending him texts, whether it was messages to check up on him or paragraphs explaining and apologising for treating him like garbage. What was even more inhuman of me was that I deliberately called him a creep and a pervert due to me knowing that it was something that would shake him up as it was something that he was called before by many others.
I was about to leave him and the situation alone when he started picking up my calls. He would pick them up and he would say nothing and just leave the call running. I don't know why he did that, and that confuses me thoroughly. When he unblocked me on Whatsapp, he asked me deliberately for something sexual which I am not going to specify due to privacy reasons. He knew that due to my history with guys, that has left long lasting emotional scares.
I regret everything. I realized that I love him deeply. What should I do? He blocked me everywhere and he won't pick up my phone. I'm thinking about showing up at his house. The whole point is not to get him back, but to explain myself. To truly apologise for hurting him. I want to know how he truly feels. Whether he loved me before, still loves me or if it was a whole joke. I sincerely regret my actions, and I want to make up for them. The what if's are burning freshly into my wounds, and I would really appreciate to know the answers.

Okay, y'all. My friend has been heartbroken by a guy and she doesn't know if this guy cares about her. Dear woman wants me to write this post for her instead as she is I hereby quote, "Too lazy to do anything." I'm just posting this on behalf of her. Thank you in advance.
From her point of view:
Basically, I was introduced to this guy by my closest childhood friend. We've started talking for some time and at the start, everything seemed to go swimmingly well. Conversations flowed smoothly and it was dreamlike. There seemed to be some tension there: Staring into each other eyes, the whole world got quiet, etc. The friendship was initiated by the guy and he started texting me a lot and he would call me for hours on end. After only around a week of knowing me, he started pestering me for my phone number and he was extremely persistent. I ended up giving it to him. He started texting me every single day, morning till night, no matter whether if I replied or not. He would send me updates about his life like his outfit, etc. He decided to introduce me to his close friend and that went...well. In short, it was a call with his friends and the girl, who seemed obsessed with the guy as he kept putting me down and comparing herself to me in terms of closeness to the said guy.
He started asking about me at school, like he would ask my childhood best friend about how I was, if I was okay, how I was and all those sorts of stuff. Allegedly, my childhood best friend, let's call him M, always sounded really enthusiastic when he was talking about me. "His voice softens." He initiated everything, as I was not really interested. He would always beg me to call and I ended up giving in. We started having all these late night conversations about any topic that we were into. During these calls, he would always be a little flirtatious. He would always look at me really intimately, as if I was his world. He would say things like, "I like to see your face, stop hiding your beauty." "Oh my gosh, I love talking to you. You're so enchanting." He would always be flirting about how he would be a great boyfriend and constantly asked what my type of guys was. He even had the audacity to question why I was not into him. He did many other things to seem like he genuinely cared for me. For example, he had several lessons in a day. Yes, he's a rather busy lad. However, he would always make time for me and to reply to me, even if it was a text to inform me that he was busy and not purposely ignoring me. He knew that I had trust issues, so he would even send a picture that he was busy to prove that he wasn't purposely avoiding me. Every single time he and I were online on Whatsapp, he would always text me to ensure me that he wasn't ignoring me. Lastly, he is an extremely religious guy, and he never listened to music because of that. However, ever since he met me, he started to listen to the music that I liked and replied to it in detail. He never liked texting, but he would talk to me on Whatsapp all of the time. This is extremely untypical of him, as he is an unemotional guy. In addition to that, the effort put into that should mean something?
The guy kept trying to meet me in person. Since I have extreme trust issues, I didn't want to do that. He was a guy that I met online, and I had let's just say, unpleasant experiences with guys. This was after six months of knowing me. I told him to leave and that he was creep and a pervert due to my personal defense mechanism. He then left me alone and didn't talk to me for a full day. We then talked about it and I told him that I didn't want to talk about why as it was really personal to me. He said that it was fine and I could just tell him when I felt like it.
We were fine after this for another 7 - 8 months. He just really wanted to know and that he wanted me to be honest with him. I kept yelling at him and starting unnecessary fights due to that. Childish, I know. I regret that now, but that's just what I felt and acted upon at that point of time. After all of that, he left and refused to talk to me forever.
I tried to explain to him but he just pushed me away and said that it was fine. I know, I got a taste of my own medicine. He seemed really hurt about the fact that I called him a creep and a pervert and I kept saying that I cared about him when I wasn't willing to be honest with him about why I said those hurtful words in the first place. I tried everything from calling him, to sending him texts, whether it was messages to check up on him or paragraphs explaining and apologising for treating him like garbage.
I was about to leave him and the situation alone when he started picking up my calls. He would pick them up and he would say nothing and just leave the call running. I don't know why he did that, and that confuses me thoroughly.
I regret everything. I realized that I love him deeply. What should I do? He blocked me everywhere and he won't pick up my phone. I'm thinking about showing up at his house. The whole point is not to get him back, but to explain myself. To truly apologise for hurting him. I want to know how he truly feels. Whether he loved me before, still loves me or if it was a whole joke. I sincerely regret my actions, and I want to make up for them. The what if's are burning freshly into my wounds, and I would really appreciate to know the answers.
I know that I sound absolutely horrible and maybe deranged after that paragraph. However, I would really value the opinions of the public. Maybe y'all could help me out? Thank you for your time. Have a great year ahead.
PS. Btw, I apologize for that long winding paragraph and I appreciate y'all for putting away some precious time from your day to read and perhaps, respond to it. Every response is valued, and I really appreciate them.

sorry this is so long i just need to vent even though i sound pathetic but
i (15f) am in a friend group of 5 people (also 15f). For context, We used to be a friend group of 6, but the 6th girl left our group because she didnt really have the same tastes as us and we kind of drifted apart, but we are still on okay terms. anyway, when we were still a six, i was very happy, because it was an even number, and we all had our 'pair' that we were closest to - it was me and friend 2, friend 3 & 4, and friend 5 and 6. naturally these pairs formed because i was in the same house (we're in a boarding school) as friend 2, and friend 3 & 4 are in the same house, and friend 6's partner was in the same house as friend 5, which meant they hung out a lot more, which made them closer as well.
however, friend 5 has always made it very clear that she favors friend 2 (she has literally stated her favourite person in the group is friend 2), even though she was closer with friend 6 at the time, so when friend 6 drifted from us, friend 5 instantly hung out more with friend 2, and they became closer, so i am left as the odd one out, as now it seems like they are the pair and i am left with no one because we are now an odd number, which drains me a lot as i tend to overthink even though i know the friendship is not one sided i just feel like there is some favouritism
so tell me why this had to get SO MUCH worse. literally my entire friend group is going to our favourite artists concert without me (I dont resent them for it but i just hate this damn situation). last year, we all collectively registered for eras tour tickets in the UK, and we agreed that if 2 people were lucky enough to get codes, they would buy tickets for all of us and we would pay them back so we could all go together as a group. however, only friend 5 got a code, and the limit to buy tickets in the UK for the eras tour was 4 tickets per person.
as you can probably guess, i was the one left without a ticket, but anyway, heres the breakdown. first of all, friend 5 has a twin, so one ticket was given to her, so that left only 2 tickets remaining. because we are all overseas students except for friend 3, friend 3 had agreed to let them stay over at hers during the weekend of the concert, so obviously she got a ticket as well (and she of course deserves it too). that left one last ticket, and friend 5 picked friend 2 to give the ticket to, which i had already guessed before. after this, friend 4 was able to get resale tickets online. i wanted to to this as well, but the prices are so expensive that my parents wouldnt allow me to get one, as they think it is a waste of money (it is like 800 to over 1000 pounds) and also because they dont trust the resale websites like viagogo and stubhub and are scared of scams. i have also tried waiting to see if the prices go down as i saw online that they get cheaper as it gets closer to the concert date but they haven't and ive waited almost a year now, and theres only 3 weeks left until the concert so i have almost lost all hope.
i really dont know why this is happening and this is one of the worst things that has happened to me - i know its not a big deal in the long run but i really really hate this. last year i was so excited to register for the codes because the concert was so conveniently on the exeat weekend for UK boarding schools and i really hoped we would all be able to go and i was really excited but now with this i dont even know what to do anymore because i feel like after they go to this concert i will feel even more left out and i cant help but think of how much fun they are going to have without me (i still want them to have fun i just feel very sad that i wont be there with them). also, other people in my school sometimes ask me why i am not going to the concert when my whole friend group is going together and i feel really embarrassed and so pathetic when they ask me and i dont know how to reply to it and it just reminds me again and keeps the topic on my mind which makes me want to cry not to mention all the clips on tiktok and social media of the concert just reminding me on what im gonna miss out on. i have also come across my friend's bucket lists which has the eras tour on it and everytime i get reminded of it my heart just drops and it kills my mood. i guess it was just too good to be true but i never thought this would happen because this was the worst possible outcome for me. and at this point its not even me just missing out on the eras tour experience i just have so much FOMO from this i dont even know what im gonna do
my friends have also talked to me about this and they said that they feel like they wont have as much fun because im not there because they feel guilty which makes me feel a bit guilty as well because i still really want them to have fun but obviously i also really want to go so this is really such a horrible situation.
so anyways i just needed to vent a bit because i feel a bit left out already but i think it will get 100 times worse after the concert and i really dont know what im gonna do on that night when they're all there and im just at my guardians house and especially after when we get back to school after exeat because im really scared this will isolate me from the group especially since the eras tour is such a huge experience 💀💀

20 years old. I work in a grocery store over the summer between college semesters, from early May to late August. Been on T for about 9 or 10 months. Just got off a terrible shift. I love my job, actually, I like my coworkers and I like the process of running the cash register. Scan items, say the script, press the buttons, do the math, the change, the reciept. I even like chatting with all the folks that come through.
I can't handle the constant misgendering.
Now, for context. I have a mustache and a shitty little goatee. My face is angular and my eyebrows are naturally low and thick. Admittedly I've got huge breasts, but I've got binders, and I tie my apron at work hella loose so you can't see 'em. I wear a packer (bornwear stroker). The work uniform is a unisex black polo and jeans, and I usually wear regular fit costco jeans and a plain black belt to keep them up. Men's shoes, too, not that customers can really see those. Black leather bracelet on my wrist. The only thing I can possibly imagine is throwing them off is the purple hair (cut in one of those haircuts that transmascs and lesbians both tend to have? I'm told it's a very gender neutral cut, anyways) and the voice (low for a girl, high for a man). Maybe my mannerisms, but I act more masculine than your average "flamboyant" cis gay man at the very least.
Multiple times, I've had to genuinely argue with customers about my pronouns. As in they don't believe me, and I have to press the issue or let it go, and my skin crawls when I let it go. Other than that, it's just the constant correcting-- people assume I'm a girl, and they refer to me as such, and I want to puke, and then I correct them, and usually they apologize and I have to either say it's alright (a lie, it is not alright) or get flagged for poor customer service (customer is always right).
Some days, everybody who comes through my line is great and I don't get misgendered once. Days like today, I don't get correctly gendered even ONCE by a customer, only by coworkers, and even then, they don't do jack about the customers, usually because they're busy running their lines and not monitoring the language in my line, occasionally because there are coworkers of mine who have actively said anti-trans things to many queer members on staff, none aggressive enough to be punished by HR, and therefore they don't WANT to correct people about me.
How do you cope with stuff like this? I mean... I've been socially transitioned for 6 or 7 years, and sure I've got my dysphoric days, but I very rarely hate my body for being what it is. I actually like some of my "feminine" features, honestly. I managed to get myself from body neutrality to genuine body positivity, I hadn't CONVINCED myself I liked my body, but I DID like my body. I still do most of the time. But I get off of a bad shift and I just feel like I'd rather be in ANY OTHER PERSON'S body. I feel so uncomfortable in my own skin. I feel so resentful of every single part of me for not being outwardly manly enough. These aren't things I feel usually, even when I get misgendered in public when I'm off the clock. I get my fair share of "ma'am" and "ladies" (referring to me and my lovely cis girlfriend, who is the most beautiful and supportive woman in the world, she's the reason I'm on HRT, she bought me my packer, she started to get confused when cis men DIDN'T have breasts or top surgery scars, that's how supporting she is) when I'm out and about, and that I usually laugh off without even correcting the person, but this? This makes me desperate to figure out why I don't pass to these people. This makes me analyze every aspect of my person to figure out what I'm doing that isn't enough. But I shouldn't have to rearrange my entire life around making these idiots use the right pronouns the first time, because they shouldn't matter. What other people think of my gender shouldn't matter, but yet, here, it does. It makes me feel like I will never reach a point where people believe me when I say I am a man. I feel that I am a man, yes, that is never a question, but I feel like I will never, ever be seen for what I am, and that hurts me badly.
I'm not asking for passing tips (though I guess if you have anything service-industry related, specifically, that would also work), but more like... ways to deal. Is it possible to make yourself okay with it? Is there any good way of framing the situation to myself that makes me less generally miserable? Affirmations? Just... anything like that. I don't want to quit my job, but this is very severely impacting my ability to feel ok in my own body and I can feel it making my desire to even be seen in public decrease. I'm afraid I'm going to get turned into a shut-in at this rate, and I just really wish I could work somewhere away from the public eye but there's nowhere else for me to go. I need the money so I can eat during the semesters at college and pay off my loans before the interest swallows me whole. So, quitting isn't quite an option anyways. I don't know. I'm scared I guess, and I feel very young and unguided. I've got a lot of older folks in my life guiding me through a lot of other things, but no trans elders or even just trans men who are older than me/been out longer than me, and I just feel completely lost, like there's something I'm just completely missing, and this is the only place I could really think to check with some degree of anonymity.