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The Grand Dining Hall. Local time: 1210
Emma
The dining hall was, for all intents and purposes, the den of gossip.
[Grand Dining Hall. Add: Alternative Designator - DEN OF GOSSIP]
This was proven true by the incessant and rampant whispers, most of which were eventually hidden under privacy screens.But some of which were allowed to permeate through the air like a foul and sickening stench.
“What’s he trying to prove?”
“Usurpers. Tepid-blood minor nobles thinking themselves bigshots in their ill-gotten castles. This is all they know — power through brute strength.”
“Do you think this could be some sort of a roundabout statement for the House Choosing Ceremony?”
“Could be, or maybe the newrealmer is rubbing off on him. I heard those savages live in hunting-packs that deal exclusively in violence.”
“Poor Lord Ping… the man’s been dealt so many blows both to his ego and integrity. He truly is the victim in this upstart’s rebellion.”
“Let us hope the pious Ping prevails over his undeserving trials and tribulations. The man’s a saint, a pious soul that must hold fast for those of us adherent to the eternal truths.”
“Or perhaps we should wait and see how things develop. I, for one, wish to side neither with the narrow-minded bull nor the aggressive upstarts.”
“Lord Qiv may prove to be the more suitable candidate for class sovereign… but only time will tell.”
“Never in my wildest of imaginations would I have ever considered that the one to threaten our position, our place, our image, and our very survival in this sky of feral drakes to be you — Prince Thalmin.” Ilunor managed out incredulously, breaking me out of my long-range acoustic reverie. Though unlike his prior confrontations with myself, his current voice lacked the same intense vitriol. Instead, that was replaced with what I could only describe as a genuine sense of disappointment, as if confronting a friend who knew better than to commit to a dumb decision.
“That’s an understandable statement to make, Ilunor.” Thalmin replied uncharacteristically calmly, as if he hadn’t even registered the Vunerian’s assaults. Or at least, that seemed to be the case, until he shot the deluxe Kobold a predatory side-eye. “Because creatures that lack honor, integrity, and personal dignity, often conflate sacrifices and risk-taking, for foolishness and idiocy. For within the heart of a Nexian, lies only compromise for the sake of convenience. Whether that be the convenience of survival, the convenience of continuity, or the convenience of the status quo, you will sacrifice everything to maintain it — even if it means allowing your honor to remain sullied and trodden when there exists a pool to cleanse away that shame.”
Thacea’s eyes grew wary with concern at that statement, one of the few instances I’d seen her genuinely worried about an Ilunor-Thalmin interaction. In fact, even I didn’t dare to interrupt, especially after both parties had shot death-glares towards our elven waiter as he arrived with the lunch platter.
“Restraint, Prince Thalmin.” Ilunor responded with a deep and calculating breath. “This isn’t the adjacent realms, this isn’t Havenbrockrealm.”
“Oh that much is very clear to me, Ilunor.” Thalmin interjected with something just short of a growl. “In Havenbrockrealm, we would sooner slash, stab, flay, or lash our enemies in fair and open combat, than reduce ourselves to cowardly attempts at assassination or retreat with our tails between our legs at the earliest signs of defeat.”
Ilunor took another breath, placing a small hand atop of his snout. “I… empathize with your desires to follow through with what you believe is a morally sound decision.” The Vunerian responded in a surprising display of maturity. “However, and this goes for you as well, newrealmer—” He paused for a moment, taking the time to glare at me before shifting back to Thalmin. “—we are not acting as independent actors anymore. For better or for worse… which, mind you, I still strongly believe this is very much for the worse in my case… we are now a peer group. And as such, the actions we take and their resultant fallout, should represent the interests of us all.”
“These are bold claims.” Thalmin began with a restrained snarl. “Even bolder when considering your actions the week prior. If the measure of a man were dictated by his words alone, then I would be inclined to acquiesce. However, considering the measure of a man extends beyond the weightless chatter of an exhaled breath, I feel far more inclined to reserve such actions for those far more deserving of my respect.” At which point, the lupinor turned towards both Thacea and I, following that up with a dip of his head. “I apologize, Thacea, Emma, for conducting myself in the way I did.”
Thalmin took a moment to pause, side eyeing Ilunor as he acknowledged him once again. “Whilst his character may sully his words, there is some truth to them. I have, admittedly, overstepped my bounds in committing to an action which undeniably affects the group. However, I genuinely hope you understand the reasons behind my otherwise brash decision. For I must stand on principle, lest I decide to stand at all.”
“Given the crap Auris Ping pulled last night, I’m inclined to agree with you, Thalmin. More than that, I would’ve gladly taken your place and dueled him the good old fashioned way if I could. Besides, the look on his face when you chose him to be your dueling partner? It was just priceless.” I offered with a snide grin. “In all seriousness, I’m really not in a position to chastise anyone on the issue of just gunning it with your gut instinct anyways. Heck, the entirety of last week was one long drawn out escapade for my sake, which came at the expense of the group after all.” I chuckled nervously. “So… yeah, this is incredibly tame by those standards, Thalmin.”
“Whilst… unexpected, and indeed a risk, I can understand the reasons behind it, Thalmin.” Thacea nodded uneasily. “However, I do not advise any of you to make a habit out of this.” She commanded, making an effort to make individual eye contact with each and every one of us.
Thacea’s group-mom vibes were definitely showing at this point, which was probably for the better. Given the group seemed to be a magnet for this sort of thing, it was good to have an anchor of sorts.
Sure thing, mom. Was what my gut instinct screamed at me to say.
But instead, I decided to tone it down a notch.
“As you command, princess.” I dipped my head in acknowledgement, garnering a look of abashed confusion from Thacea, and just plain-old confusion from the other two.
“In any case… I… believe you wished to discuss matters outside of classroom priorities, Emma?” Thacea quickly attempted to shift past that little bit of prodding, which I obliged with an affirmative nod.
“Yep. Well, it’s more of a small change of plans that I think is worth discussing with you guys. So, you remember how I was planning on deploying an infil-drone on Mal’tory after the end of class right?”
All three nodded, urging me to continue.
“Well, since Mal’tory was a no-show, and with Larial taking the reins instead… I think it’s best if we stick with the plan anyways, just swapping out Mal’tory for Larial. I honestly don’t see any other way we can continue the library’s questline, or any other way to find evidence to support the Auris Ping-Mal’tory hypothesis we have going on. I know it’s a huge gamble since there’s no way of knowing if she’ll even head to Mal’tory’s office after class. But honestly? This is our best shot right now.”
“I concur, Emma.” Thalmin announced with a nod.
“Given her proximity to the professor’s orbit, we may in fact gain a greater bearing on his actual state. Which in itself may prove useful.” Thacea offered, more or less acknowledging my change of plans implicitly.
“We don’t seem to have any other choice, earthrealmer. So a shot in the dark is better than stowing your wand.” Ilunor acknowledged in a rare display of solidarity.
“It’s settled then. I’ll deploy the drone right after class is dismissed. Then, we wait and see what the drone comes up with.”

The Grand Concourse of Learning. The Hall of Light. Local Time: 14:00 Hours.
Emma
Mana field perception was, as one would expect, dry, bland, and utterly nonsensical.
Throughout most of it, the lesson was taught as if it was referencing something obvious, something mundane, something so typical that a lot of the topics were all but overlooked as ‘self evident’.
A lot of what was taught reminded me of a mix between perception-theory, and situational awareness training. However, instead of relying on your eyes, ears, heck, even your nose or sense of touch… it was instead relying on something completely outside of the human experience.
“Mana field perception, is at its core, a subject that is inherent to the sapient condition. However, the extent to which it is appreciated, understood, and most important of all — applied — varies exponentially. To an untrained mind, and an untempered soul, the world feels tepid.”
The apprentice paused, gesturing to Sorecar, who answered his cue by pulling out a massive painting of a beautiful mountainscape that seemed to play through a closed animation loop; the effect was like a high-definition e-ink display.
“To a trained mind, but an untempered soul, the world feels… distant, unaccommodating, and frustrating to emotionally comprehend.” Larial continued, prompting Sorecar to pull out yet another painting. This one, the exact same as the first, with literally no differences between them.
“To an untrained mind, but a tempered soul, the world feels… unpredictable, erratic, and frustrating to logically put together.” Once again, another painting was brought out. This one, just like the previous two, looked completely identical.
“But to a sufficiently trained mind, and a tempered soul, with enough time invested into both theory and practice… the world becomes open, expansive, and above all else… it becomes rich with sights and sensations that would be impossible to feel with the physical form alone.” Larial concluded, just as Sorecar pulled out what looked to be yet another identical painting.
The EVI’s analysis concluded that there were absolutely no differences between the four paintings. Moreover, the mana radiation signatures for each were likewise exactly the same.
It was only after slipping a note towards Thacea with a question written in High Nexian did I finally get my answer.
‘What’s the deal with these paintings? They’re all identical.’
Thacea quickly slipped me a blank piece of parchment in response.
Though it didn’t remain blank for long, as words and sentences started appearing on it; mirroring Thacea’s furious ‘note taking’ in her own notebook.
‘They’re artisanal pieces imbued with the purposeful manipulation of the subject’s aura, mana-field, and the surrounding mana. They were brought out in order to demonstrate the different degrees of mana-field perception by exaggerating the most common shortcomings found in those training in the magical arts. The first piece was, similar to your memory shards, lacking in any mana-fields or auras. The second and third pieces demonstrated a failure to imbue one or the other of the two fundamental tenets of mana-field perception. The fourth piece is representative of a perfect balance of both tenets, and is an exquisite work of art that completely outshines the first. It radiates beauty, whilst the first is flat and lifeless.’
It took a moment for me to really register all that. Longer still, as I eventually became fixated on that last line in particular.
Flat and lifeless… is that what the world is like from my eyes?
It was around that time that a thought hit me, and a realization truly sank deep into my very being.
The world that Thacea, Thalmin, Ilunor, and the rest of the magical beings across the interdimensional plane experienced… was one that I was utterly blind to.
It’d been referenced before.
In fact, it’d been drilled into me time and time again by the likes of Ilunor that I was lacking in something fundamental.
But up until now, everything was either circumstantial, or outside of my general focus. So much so that I never was able to digest the implications of it.
However, as much as a pit formed in my stomach, growing tighter by the second as Larial went on and on about the ebbs and flows of mana, so too did a very human resolve suddenly dawn upon me.
“I’m going to see what you guys see one day.” I wrote down on Thacea’s magic paper.
“How?” Was the message I received back.
To which I only had one thing to reply with.
“The same way we overcame all of our other shortcomings.” I wrote cryptically, garnering a look of confusion from Thacea as she read the note, to which I only had to point at my armor for added effect.
By once again defying nature. I thought to myself.
If we weren’t born with the ability to ‘see’ this beauty, we’d find a way to break it down into its fundamental components, dissect it, analyze it, and then reinterpret it for ourselves.
The class continued on after that exchange of notes, as we touched upon what Ilunor had so eloquently described on that second day of the grace period:
One: that manastreams were everywhere around us.
Two: that manafields generated by living organisms were akin to rocks that not only parted those streams, but at times, interacted with them.
Three: that using manafields, one could make out the presence of other manafields through the manastreams, and thus detect and extract information as is pertinent to the context of the situation.
And while Ilunor would’ve blabbered on and on about the ability to see and sense the emotional state of others through the manastreams, what Larial seemed to be focused on instead were the practical applications of this natural ability. Namely, she focused on exactly how to detect a spell being cast, what sort of spell was being cast, and most importantly — she focused on how it all tied back to Light Magic.
“In summary, only when one is proficient in the detection and analysis of manafields, can one finally start to dissect the intricacies of a manafield during spellcasting. And only once one masters the detection of spellcasting, can one even hope to begin the process of dispelling. The first step of which is to know exactly what a manafield looks like during spellcasting. Is there anyone in the class that can tell me what that looks like?” The professor asked, looking around, before picking one of the many raised hands.
This one belonged to Qiv.
“Yes, Lord Qiv?”
“Influxes and effluxes, Professor. One will see the influx of ambient mana through the manastreams into a manafield, and the potential efflux of mana through a manafield back into the manastreams in the form of a controlled mana-construct.”
“Very good, Lord Qiv! Five points! Now, hold your thoughts on that latter part, because that ties into my next question!” Larial responded with a giddiness and chipperness that seemed to be lacking in every other class up to this point. “The fundamental means of detecting a spell being cast is by looking out for a point of influx, and a point of efflux. Influx being the more difficult of the pair to detect, for what you have to look out for is mana is being funneled into a manafield. A weak spell being cast, will incur less disruptions in a manastream. However, the opposite is also true. As the more powerful the spell, and the more powerful the mage, the greater the rate of influx, as the amount of mana needed to fulfill the requirements of the spell increases. Paradoxically this would mean it will be easier to detect a powerful spell before it is cast, as the reduction in the concentration of ambient mana will be more palpable as a result. Efflux however, is rather straightforward, and will be the primary vehicle through which Mana-field Perception will be taught. As it is through efflux that we can ascertain the most useful details of a spell, or as Lord Qiv so eloquently puts it — the mana-construct. Does anyone know what this next point may be referring to?”
Surprisingly, and out of a clear bias towards Qiv, Larial once more called him up.
I couldn’t blame her though.
The man, despite being a certified bully and teacher’s pet, was one of the few students who didn’t openly doubt the apprentice’s capabilities during the start of class.
“Yes, Lord Qiv?”
“The mana-construct refers to the skeleton of a spell; the arrangement and unique form it takes before manifesting into a proper spell.” The gorn-like lizard responded confidently.
“Outstanding, Lord Qiv! Five points! Now, whilst a mana-construct is indeed a vital step in the process of spell casting, its manifestation is rarely the point in time in which a spell can be intercepted — save for those who have mastered the art of Light Magic. As a result, a spell can be halted before it even has the chance to form. To most however, the mana-construct acts as a cue to prepare. It is a signal that demonstrates the irrefutable start to a spell. And as a result, it provides major structural clues as to the form of Light Magic that must be employed to combat it. Which leads me to my next point.”
The apprentice once more paused, as she manifested literally nothing visible to the tune of more than a dozen mana radiation warnings.
“When broken down to their basic components, every spell is a complicated meshwork of mana, channeled and contained within a dynamic pattern that continuously evolves throughout the duration of a spell. Because unlike artificing, the casting of magic evolves with unpredictability and thrives on organic change. No offense to you, of course, Professor Pliska.” The apprentice turned towards Sorecar worryingly, who simply responded with a bellowing laugh.
“None taken, my aspiring understudy!”
With that, Larial continued, her hands moving through an empty section of air that everyone seemed to be focused on; as if manipulating a hologram that I wasn’t privy to. “However, in spite of this unpredictability, the goal of Light Magic and Mana-field Perception in particular is to untangle the aforementioned meshwork of mana. For every spell is a puzzle and a series of knots to untangle. Your goal in this class, if I am to be reductive, is to untangle the complex mesh that comprises a spell, unraveling it to a point in which it can no longer maintain its form — collapsing it and thus, rendering it inert.” The apprentice emphasized this by miming what looked to be tiny little motions with her fingers, before pulling both hands backwards, garnering a series of affirmative nods from the crowd. “And with that, we now reach the conclusion of today’s class.”
“Or more accurately, the leadup to the climax of this class.” Sorecar quickly chimed in with a wave of his hand, prompting the room to change once more. Section upon section of the front of the classroom’s floor was dragged down into the impossible void, only to be replaced just as quickly by an elevated stage resembling that of a fencing strip. “Will the aspiring duelists please rise and approach the stage?” Sorecar turned back towards the crowd, prompting both Thalmin and Auris to stand, the pair giving each other some strong side-eyes before both marching up and towards the front of the class.
From there, with not a single word exchanged, they took their places, Thalmin at the far right, and Auris on the far left.
“The purpose of this demonstration is simple.” The apprentice began, as Sorecar began moving towards both Thalmin and Auris, insisting them to pay attention. “It is to show that even in spite of the complicated principles behind Light Magic, that there exists far simpler, far more basic principles that can achieve similar means. A precursor to more contemporary methods; spell-breaking. A maneuver that involves overpowering the structure and flow of a spell using a concentrated burst of pure mana irregardless of the type. However, unlike traditional dispelling seen in contemporary Light Magic, spell-breaking oftentimes requires a user to concentrate a disproportionately larger amount of mana in order to properly break a spell. It is thus highly inefficient, and as a result becomes rapidly impractical upon encountering spellcrafts of sufficiently advanced tiers. This demonstration will be aptly limited to a simple barrier-spell for the likes of the reciprocator, so as to not overburden the initiator with this simple task.”
The apprentice quickly passed on the torch to Sorecar, who quickly took center stage with a few steps.
“Now, as this is not a traditional duel for dominance, nor is it a sporting duel for the purposes of victory, I will explain the narrow context by which this duel will be held.” Sorecar continued, his hands clapping together, generating an empty and resonant CLANG in the process. “To our right, is our initiator, who will be demonstrating the principles of spell-breaking in an active capacity. To our left, is our reciprocator, who will be taking on the role of demonstrative spellcaster, casting only barrier spells for the duration of this short demonstration. Remember, there is to be no additional spells cast or demonstrated outside of these parameters. Is that clear?” Sorecar paused, making sure to meet both of the opponents’ gazes with his empty helm.
“Yes, professor!” Both parties shouted simultaneously, barely containing their frustrations beneath a veneer of calm and restrained fury.
“Then we shall begin on the count of three.” The apprentice continued, taking the reins over from Sorecar, as she stood just a few steps away from the stage’s combat-lines. “One.” She began, as Auris began moving into position, practically grinding his booted hooves into the stage, and taking on the posture of some unknown martial art. “Two.” Thalmin reciprocated by taking a more aggressive posture, as if positioning himself to leap towards the bull in a ravenous rage at the drop of a hat.
“Three.”
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 225% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 350% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
Nothing seemed to happen.
At least, not to my eyes.
Within a matter of seconds, all I witnessed were two mana radiation warnings timelogged as only a few seconds apart from one another.
No physical effects were evident to me. Nothing, except for the flinching of a few muscles, and the waving of arms. As if they were conjuring make-believe magic spells, without the added special effects that came with it.
Ironically, this was how I was expecting most Nexians to react to the reveal of laser weaponry. Silent, invisible, but otherwise omnipresent and deadly threats.
Though despite the lack of any physical effects I could discern, there were certainly more than enough context-clues to go by when it came to exactly what had just occurred.
Auris’ features had more or less swelled up into a fury. His nostrils flared just short of snorting out fumes, and his teeth were bared clearly holding back a few choice words for the now-grinning Thalmin.
“Again.” He demanded, and barely a second after a nod of approval from the apprentice, came two more mana radiation warnings.
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 425% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
Once again, no noticeable physical effects had manifested. Though judging from the bewildered and shocked expressions of the crowd, something was definitely happening within the invisible world that was accessible through mana-vision.
“Again!” Ping announced, barely garnering approval from the apprentice this time, as things took a sudden enough turn that even I could notice them.
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
It started with that ‘barrier’ again.
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 500% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
Followed by Thalmin overpowering it.
However, instead of letting things go, Ping instead pushed towards a frenzied series of attacks.
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 375% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
As one—
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
—after another—
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
—after another—
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
—after another ‘barrier’ spell seemed to actually be causing Thalmin some pushback now. His movements now resembled someone attempting to dodge invisible projectiles, yet Auris made no moves to actually fling anything at him, only maintaining his prior stance.
Though of course, this came with the same expected response.
As Thalmin retaliated with his own attacks. Or rather, one, very large attack that truly outclassed what Auris could currently muster in his furious state.
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 550% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
This spell that mildly shook the room seemed to be enough to ‘break’ the sudden incursion, prompting both Ping and Thalmin to turn towards the apprentice — the former blasting steam from his snout and the latter slashing his tail in the air — for yet another round of fighting, only to have Sorecar step in, placing a hand on both of the duelists who were barely a foot away from each other now.
“Wonderful! Excellent! Put your hands together for our introductory duelists, everyone!” The professor quickly coerced both of the parties to face the class, actively grabbing them by the small of their back, and thus effectively entrapping them with his iron grip — forcing them to face the class who cheered on with a series of applauses.
Not a second later, the pair of them bowed, though it was unclear how much of this was Sorecar’s doing, and how much of this was done out of their own will.
“In any case, seeing as both of our aspiring duelists have gone above and beyond in their demonstration, and seeing that this is merely a demonstration, and not a challenge—” Sorecar emphasized that last point, forcing the pair to sweat in his over-shoulder grip. “—I believe it would be prudent to award them each a fair share of this duel’s fifty points.”
“Given the enthusiasm shown, I am inclined to agree, Professor Pliska.” The apprentice quickly nodded, prompting the armorer to quickly push both of them off-stage, and back towards the staggered raised steps of the lecture hall.
“Twenty-five points for both of our duelist’s groups.” Larial reiterated, and with a final round of reluctant applause, barely overpowering the incoming band marking the end of class… the apprentice made her final statement. “This concludes this week’s first lesson. Considering the house choosing ceremony coming up this weekend, along with the Elaseer school supply shopping trip to town… I am inclined to grant this class some clemency. No homework will be required. So please, enjoy the rest of the day, and prepare yourselves for what could be the most decisive day in your academic career here in Transgracia. Class dismissed!”
No sooner were those words uttered did my eyes quickly turn towards my HUD, and a flash of commands came through without a second of delay.
INFIL-DRONE01a ACTIVE, STATUS: NOMINAL. OBJECTIVE: PRIORITY TRACKING AND RECONNAISSANCE OF SUBJECT A109. MISSION PARAMETERS: TRACK, OBSERVE, MAP, AND RETURN-TO-BASE WITHIN PREDETERMINED PARAMETERS. CONFIRM COMMAND Y/N?
“Command confirmed.” I replied vocally, prompting the newly-printed replacement drone to pop out of its docking bay, before charting a course parallel to that of the apprentice.
The drone’s signal was lost just as the apprentice left the room through that dark threshold behind the lectern, at which point, the entire class began shuffling out to the tune of the encroaching band.
Only time would tell what would come of this mission.
But hopefully, we'll get our answers sometime later this evening.
However, instead of blending right into the crowd, or more specifically… being ignored by said crowd, quite a few eyes managed to find their way onto our group. Moreover, the chatter seemed way too interesting to ignore.
“You were right, Cynthis… perhaps there is something about this mercenary prince after all.” A female voice spoke from an all-girl group, eliciting a series of giggles, which were promptly silenced by a privacy screen the moment Thalmin craned his head around.
“Lord Auris Ping has yet again demonstrated his integrity. Let us ensure his pure-hearted determination is lauded this evening, lads! The fearsome strikers shall band together with the most pious of intent!” A tortle-like-turtle jeered, moving strategically to position themselves around Auris Ping’s group, as the expected schmoozing began in full.
“Newrealmer.” Ilunor began, generating a privacy screen in the process.
“Yes, Ilunor?”
“How long do you expect your insect to take in its dastardly escapades?”
“Last time it took a good few hours. So, given this probably isn’t a one-and-done deal, I’d say… maybe three to four hours at the least this time around?” I offered.
“Well then. Splendid. I shall be off, and return within that time frame.”
“Wait wait wait wait. Hold up. Where do you think you’re going?” I inquired firmly.
“I have my own life to lead, newrealmer. Now please, I shall return to our group’s escapades in due time.”
“Where, Ilunor?” I reiterated.
To which the Vunerian could only sigh in response. “The student lounge. Top floor today, if I am to be interrogated for every ounce of information…”
“Then let’s go. Together.” I proclaimed, garnering a few looks of surprise from both Thacea and Thalmin. “Perhaps it’s time we start getting a feel for the lay of the land. We’ve been cooped up in our own little world for far too long, maybe, just maybe, we should all expand our horizons just by a little bit.”
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(Author’s Note: The much anticipated round two between Thalmin and Auris has concluded! And following its conclusion, we also get quite a few reactions to Thalmin as a result of his daring display of magical prowess! We also get a pretty hands on demonstration of Light Magic this time around! This is perhaps one of the more hands on class, and indeed one of the more straightforward classes so far! Moreover, the end of classes marks not only the beginning of the little spy drone adventure, but also a little peak into exactly what Ilunor has been up to! I hope you guys enjoy! :D The next Two Chapters are already up on Patreon if you guys are interested in getting early access to future chapters!)
[If you guys want to help support me and these stories, here's my ko-fi ! And my Patreon for early chapter releases (Chapter 81 and Chapter 82 of this story is already out on there!)]

When I was in junior high a transfer student arrived in the middle of the semester; a kid that was different from everyone else. Right away he had caught my eye, in fact he caught everyone's attention because he had a very unique disability; he couldn’t speak. I guess you could say he was deaf, though it was clear to me after getting to know him that he could in fact hear; every word spoken to him was understood with simple nods or gestures; facial expressions contorting into understood language; so I guess he was mute; yeah, that would describe him best. He was an oddity to most but to me he was a unicorn, something that sparkled in our dim monotonous lives and it wasn’t until he revealed who he was did I become terrified of him and his shine.
I was in 7th grade maneuvering my way through the jungle of middle school, avoiding trouble and premature violence. I was an undersized boy for my age, no more than 5ft tall; puberty had yet to visit me leaving me left out of the herd; the other students or the ‘sheep’ as I called them that infested my school. They were all the same, kids that were driven by hormones constantly talking about boys or girls, their deep voices riding on the coattails of the wind that breezed in and out of our hallways. I was a mere shadow, always walking a few paces behind the others not wanting to be seen or acknowledged; I saw what others that looked like me went through, they were tortured and abused for simply existing.
Once Bryce Ellis and his friends stuck Timmy Easton’s face in the shitter for over 10 flushes, I was in a stall over, hiding and waiting for the torment to be over. I slithered my feet up on to the stall caressing them to my chest as I sat in a fetal position horrified of how one human could treat another. Eventually the bullies had gotten bored, their short attention span driven minds directed them to another endeavor leaving Timmy to fester in his tears and possible filth.
He sobbed for minutes that felt like hours as I remained silent in the stall over, I placed my hand cautiously on the barrier wall trying to absorb a bit of his pain, my heart ached for him in that moment and I wanted to lend him a compassionate hand if only I had the courage to do so. So yeah, I did my best to stay hidden, unseen to all the dwellers that mindlessly walked in and out of our school on a daily basis, the boys that believed themselves to be men or the girls that pontificated to anyone that listened. I was lost into an enteral sea of vindictive young adults that searched for any reason to lash out at anyone that stood in their way.
So when ‘Tape boy’ — as they would eventually call him — came to my little middle school that stood still in the secluded hills of our small town I was enthralled almost immediately with his existence. He was introduced to my home room class, I sat in the back burying my head into my arms, occasionally lifting my head to listen on the days lecture. My day dreams entertaining me as the clock slowly ticked away at our lives and it wasn’t until my teacher promptly stopped talking did it trigger a primal emotion in me to sit up and pay attention. I postured myself up straight, pausing the internal movie that played in my mind to see what the interruption was about.
There he was, a new boy that no one had ever seen before, by middle school everyone knew each other; we had went to the same elementary school, the same holiday events and grocery stores. So getting a new student was like getting a new flavor at Baskin Robbins; a mystery taste simmering on the tip of your tongue as you digested every drop, his presence was intriguing. He wasn’t small like me, I would say average height for a 12 year old; about 5'4, slender body with unkempt dark black hair. He looked timid, his head tilted towards the ground not wanting to accidentally lock eyes with any of us as the teacher introduced him, my mind wandering with such intrigue because to all of our astonishment he was wearing a surgical face mask — mind you this was in the 90’s; eons before the Covid pandemic breached the windows of our thoughts.
Right away I could hear the murmurs, the questions erupting throughout the classroom as everyone pondered of why this boy sheltered his face. I stared on for what must of been minutes as the shy boy kept his gaze down, I could see him slightly squeezing the arm straps to his backpack nervously the longer he stood there on full display for all.
I had my fill and I relaxed my postured sinking back into my chair directing my stare out the window but then Billy Sherman asked the question we all had on our minds,
“Uhm, why is he wearing that mask?”.
Our teacher explained to us that it was because of some weaken immune system, something about how his ticker didn’t click like the rest of ours, she then also told us about him being mute. This drew my eyes right back to him, I think it did for all of us and for a moment the quiet kid raised his head and locked eyes with me. His dark black eyes glistened with despair, the deep purple bags that sagged under his eyes were more indicative of someone that hadn’t slept in days. I felt something for him in that moment, our third eye conversing in some cosmic dialogue and as quickly as he rose his head did it drop once again towards the ground. I could still hear all the the other kids snickering, questioning and some even giggling; it made me sick, if I was a braver boy I would of stood on top of my desk and verbally lashed out to all the sheep, instead I rose my hand asking something Mrs. Willis never said, what was the timid boys name?
“Oh I’m sorry, how rude of me, this is Gabriel”.
She sat Gabriel upfront next to her desk, wanting him close in case he needed to write or sign something to her and just like that everyone went back to their simple lives; including myself.
The next few weeks I saw little of Gabriel other than the back of his head during class, once the bell rang everyone that my eyes glimpsed at for the day disappeared or just maybe it was me who dissolved into the ambience of our school. Either way I saw little of the boy who wore a mask, the one that sheltered his true identity and my curiosity with the new flavor of the week gradually faded into the abyss of non-existence; well, that was until the day I saw the mask slip.
It was end of the day, I spent most of the time turning corners anytime Bryce Ellis approached; evading the wrath of him and his band of merry men who were the pinnacle of human torture; finding any opportunity to demean those who crossed their path. I remember leaving Chemistry class, my mind all to occupied with leaving the hell hole of every kids dread and that’s when I saw Gabriel walking down the hall towards the cafeteria; his head still tilted down; his gaze tracking every step he took; face mask still tightly fitted around his face.
This time I saw someone was following him, it was Tom Ingram one of Bryce’s guys, a kid that tried to be the “alpha male” of the group numerous times, doing his best to dethrone the reign of Bryce. He was a big boy for his age, probably about 5'9 and easily weighed 200 pounds, he was a wild card alright; he got caught pouring sugar down Mr. Whitakers old Pontiac gas tank for giving him a poor grade. So when I saw him berating poor Gabriel; taunting him as grotesque laughter followed every insult, I felt like I had to do something and my consistent stealth veneer of camouflage morphed into into a full on sprint towards the two. I saw Tom was closing in on him, other kids looking on with bewilderment on their faces — not knowing if they should laugh out of fear or grimace from disgust. For the first time in a long while did a burning sensation of courage ignite in my soul, I was tired of seeing monsters preying on the sheep and I was going to stop it somehow.
Finally Gabriel had stopped walking and stood still, his head hanging even lower than before, the strands of his long hair covered the remainder of his face. Tom began slapping the top side of the poor kids head, yelling out obscenities, angered that he didn’t stop sooner. I was close, I was gonna stop this since all anyone else could do is cower in fear while looking on and then it happened causing me to stop dead in my tracks, my eyes widening with befuddlement. Tom had torn away the mask from Gabriel's face, awes with groans came from everyone then silence blanketed the entire school and for those few seconds our existence had been swallowed up by the earth itself.
“What the hell” Tom yelped out breaking the still but heavy disquietude.
I wanted to say something, but no words could be manifested only gurgles as I choked on my own disbelief. The timid boy under the mask of intrigue had a strip of black duct tape covering his mouth, it stretching from the side of his face to the other almost resembling what would be some hideous smile. The timid boy then collapsed his hands over his face as faint muffles of sobbing protruded from him, he ran into the nearest restroom only for Tom to pursue. Finally my thoughts had been gathered while my body came back to life, I brushed off the bizarre occurrence of that grizzly smile and I reminded myself of what was about to happen. Tom was going to punish Gabriel for simply existing as he and his gang have been doing for years and like some old factory machine the cogs of my body set into motion as I ran towards the restroom.
Before I could open the door the most horrid scream exploded outwards into the hallway, the sound sending a cold shiver down my spine and Tom came running out of the restroom gripping at his face crying. He was hysterical running and bumping into the walls until finally crumbling onto the floor only to continue sobbing. My mind was clouded with a whirl wind of confusion, I no longer knew what to do, I mean I was going to run in there and stop the assault but now the assaulter was on the floor destroyed. Then Gabriel calmly came out of the restroom, his mask firmly back on and he turned to look at me, his dark eyes burning an image of anguish into my mind. I asked if he was okay of course he said nothing though, he didn’t need to I could just sense his response and it was one of gratitude. I almost could see him smiling at me from underneath the mask and I reminded myself of what was under it; that abysmal duct tape that looked like a sinister grin.
From that day on most of the kids were afraid of Gabriel, I could see the look of terror in their eyes anytime he passed by them even though his headed was still shifted downwards but that’s the day whenever someone mentioned him they referred to him as “Tape boy”. I had heard through the whispers of our school that Tom had suffered some mental breakdown, that the doctors couldn’t find anything psychically wrong with him, it was as if his mind had shattered. He remained in some mental hospital, memories of him gradually fading and the sheep went on with living their mundane lives. Bryce even slowed his bullying, I think he knew that their were now more eyes watching everyone after the altercation and he didn’t want to get caught in some bad situation, though I could see he was itching to get at Gabriel. I went back to being a shadow, avoiding all the others still not too confident that the days of torture were over.
Even though Gabriel was regarded as some magical or perhaps malevolent being by most; not sure which one; he still appeared to be sad; lonely, his head always dragging with despondency. I made an effort in getting to know him, I wasn’t afraid like the rest of them something about the day we locked eyes gave me the resolve to understand he wouldn’t hurt me. I approached him during lunch break, he was outside sitting underneath a tree, the shade showering him a gloom of haze. I think I surprised him or maybe it was just my stealth nature but I saw him jump when I sat next to him. I began talking about the origins of Darth Vader, of how he was originally a hero using his force power for good only to eventually turn to the dark side.
Gabriel just looked at me confounded of why I was even talking to him, his stare looking on with indifference. I told him that he was like a super hero, doing whatever he did to Tom was just like a super power, that I was thankful. His gazed then returned back to the floor almost out of shame, I guess whatever he did that day he didn’t see it as something special, or something to praise. I then told him that I still envied his ability to defend himself, that having such an ability was better than winning the school lottery — which was a week supply of free cafeteria food. I kept blabbering on for the remainder of the break while he still postured his stare towards the floor until the bell had finally rung. Before getting up I told him that if I could have a super power mine would be invisibility that’s when he turned to me pulling out a small spiral from his back pack writing something down, he then showed me.
“Why?” it read.
I told him that I didn’t like being seen, that if I could I would melt away into the noise, then life would be better he just stared at me with what I could assume was disbelief. He didn’t write anything back, he just remain seated while I stood to my feet. I asked if he was coming back to class but he ignored me and just stared out into space presumably lost in his own thoughts.
For the next several months I would catch Gabriel in the hallways, talk to him about the latest edition of whatever comic I was reading, Superman being my favorite and I would go on and on about how his true super power wasn’t strength but hope. I think he became more comfortable with me, pulling out his spiral notebook to write down his thoughts; his questions and answers — a new gateway of communication had formed between us. Most times I could tell what he was going to write by looking at his eyes, those dark haunting eyes, he was a mysterious book slowly being revealed to me and I was completely beguiled by his friendship. Bryce and his little posse slowly went back to bullying the sheep, though they kept their distance from Gabriel and me.
I guess I had a new protector one that wouldn’t be crossed and something about that protection left me feeling proud. I knew in my heart that the timid kid that now went by “Tape boy” wouldn’t hurt a fly that maybe the day of Tom going crazy was all by chance, perhaps his rage snapped his mind. I tried asking him about that day numerous times but he never explained what happened he would redirect the conversation back to super hero’s. I would walk home with him on certain days, well, more like he would walk me home I never got to see where he lived, he was too reserved to give up that kind of information but the days we would walk together was always fun. I finally felt like I belonged, the longing emotion of needing acceptance was found by his friendship.
One day when I was walking home by myself I decided to stop in at the gas station to pick up a drink and scour the latest edition of comic books in the small rack of magazines. Before entering the store I could hear arguing voices engaging in combative dialogue and it became vividly clear that it was more of a yelling match than conversation. It was coming from the side of the building, most times I would just ignore it but one of the voices sounded all too familiar and I crept slowly to the edge of the building poking my head out to get a glimpse of the disturbance. It was Bryce, his back was up against the wall while someone who I presumed was his father berated him with such a vicious snarl on his face. The angry man kept slapping Bryce across the face anytime he tried to say something and soon tears began drizzling off the face of the mighty bully only for the man to laugh.
I didn’t know why the older man was treating Bryce the way he was, information cut out of my understanding, for all I know it could of been because of something the bully did at school. I found it to be poetic justice that the boy that caused so much heart ache suffered the same amount only at home. It felt like a cliche, the angry kid was angry because of the angry father; a cruel loop of never ending proportions. Eventually the man or father walked away getting back into his car leaving the bully to brush away the tears from his face. I cautiously retreated my head away deciding to ditch the store completely when that same broken voice only minutes ago shouted out to me with a hefty dominance.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bryce howled out.
I didn’t bother turning around, I just ran home, dodging into alley ways trying my best to not been seen. It didn’t appear as if he was following, but seeing him in such a vulnerable state was bemusing. We were a small town how could I not know who the man was, we all knew each other since we were small and then it hit me; Bryce’s dad had left when he was little. This man must of been his step dad or perhaps mom’s boyfriend, it didn’t matter I was going to mind my own business, I was going to slither back into the shadows; but my attempts would only fall on defeated shoulders.
I didn’t want to tell anyone of what I saw, I hoped that keeping my mouth shut would of been enough for the bully to leave me be. Unfortunately there is no reasoning when it comes to human beings, we base our actions on emotions, our anger and Bryce confronted me the next morning in front of Gabriel.
“Hey fairy, did you enjoy the show?” the angry kid spouted out at me.
I tried explaining to him that I wasn’t trying to intrude, that the arguing concerned me, that I didn’t like seeing him being mistreated and then he punched me right in the gut. I fell to the floor gripping at my stomach, the pain slicing through every fiber of my body. I tried catching my breath but inhaling was too painful and I sheltered my face expecting another punch but the bully walked off leaving me to sweat. Gabriel kneel down to me taking out his spiral notebook writing the obvious question, I gestured to him to give me a moment and I honestly felt like crying. I had spent years doing my best to blend into the background, the invisibility power I was so desperate to have amongst the sheep was now gone; I was on Bryce’s radar.
For the remainder of the school year I tried avoiding the bullies, the monsters that preyed on the sheep but their leader would actively search for me, he was no longer intimidated by Gabriel; his once menacing allure had dwindled and now we both were sitting ducks. Luckily there was only a few weeks left until summer break and I only had hoped that the time off would be enough for the monster of monsters to cool off.
Entering summer was a relief much needed for my sanity, I took a few thrashings but it was over, me and Gabriel had big plans on spending time together. He wasn’t an out door kind of kid, he usually would just come over my place and we would read my comic books. He quickly grew enchanted with the idea of super hero's, their powers restoring balance to the nature of our world. I enjoyed every minute of it, my parents on the other hand looked less jovial to our friendship, they didn’t like the mask; it worried them. They thought that whatever illness he had could be passed on to me, but they didn’t do anything to stop us from seeing each other, they only silently protested.
So after awhile we decided to meet somewhere outdoors, away from my parents judgmental stares, there was a creek close to my house, the trees giving us enough shade to stay cool on those long summer days. The small stream that flowed through the trenches of the creek enriched our view as we would find the perfect rock to perch on while reading our comics. We didn’t see much of any of the other classmates that summer, the sheep kept their distance or maybe it was just us, but the days seem to pass quickly and before we knew it summer was coming to an end. I couldn’t remember how many volumes we must of read but Gabriel was now a fan of almost every super hero. He tend to raise out his arms while walking, mimicking the premise of flying like Superman; his ponderous eyes cutting through the brush as we escaped our secluded summer spot.
It was on the final day of our summer break did I pressure the shy timid boy to explain to me what had happen that day, the day Tom lost his marbles, I needed to know. Gabriel as always tried redirecting the conversation, holding up a comic of Batman, pointing at some dialogue. I got upset, I raised my voice telling him that if we were friends then he should tell me, that there wasn’t secrets between us. His heavy eyes collapsing to the ground, shifting his posture on the rock that we both sat on.
“Look, I just need to know, you’re my best friend” I told him with genuine longing.
The school year was about to start up again and I could already envision a future of slithering through the hallways how I have always done, but with Gabriel maybe that could change. I needed to know and I was done guessing, fantasizing that he was some super hero or at least my hero; my protector. I stood up off the rock walking over to the stream, the sound of water colliding unto the small stones that infested the trench triggered something awful in my gut. I took a deep breath and made my final stand with my best friend.
“If you don’t want to tell me then I’m going home, see ya” I said with impatience dripping off of my words.
Gabriel ignored my warning and continued pointing at the comic book, that’s when I noticed what he was pointing at, it wasn’t dialogue it was one of Batman's villains — he was pointing at Clayface. This made me stop, my minding halting after speeding at 100 miles per hour; it crashing my thoughts.
“Yeah, what about Clayface?” I curiously asked with a withered and tired voice.
That’s when his pointer finger was no longer on the page but rather it was pointed towards his mouth; the mouth that was hidden behind his mask. He could see my face drop with sadness, whatever disfigurement he had underneath that horrid black duct tape must of been something like the villain from the comic and my heart broke for him. Gabriel’s eyes gleaming with absolute sorrow, the boy that only wanted to be left alone, the person all the others feared just wanted solitude and here I was badgering him to no end about something so insignificant. We stared at each other for several seconds, our eyes meeting in some altered state and I reached my hand up to his face tenderly taking off his mask. There it was, the black duct tape that resembled a grin, a nightmarish one that could only been seen in some horror movie. I then placed my fingers on the edge of the tape, my cold grip causing him to shiver and I slowly began to remove it.
“What the hell are you fairy’s doing?” a voice called out from the brush, one that sank my heart into my stomach.
I turned trying to locate the voice and sure enough there he was, the bully that had tortured so many for so many years — it was Bryce. His body slowly revealing itself from the brush like some despicable ooze frothing from the depths of hell. Though, something about him was different, his cold stare no longer fictitious but more intimidating and as his body fully emerged did I see the blood trickling down his soaked stain shirt. He was covered in the crimson fluid, there was even some on his cheeks almost as he had some open wound and smeared the remnants of it on his face. The devilish grin that bestowed his bruised and beaten face quickly led me to a conclusion; one that I wish I didn’t conclude. A purplish black infested the out layer of his left eye, it practically closed shut and his nose had been bent to a unsightly angle. I started to whimper as my lips trembled from fright because this Bryce was not the same one that had given us wedgies or swirlies this one was a true monster, a beast that devoured souls. His gaze was enough to display a vacancy of any humanity and my eyes crawled down his arm into his hand to see the black pistol that he firmly gripped.
“Uh, Bryce what happened? Are you okay?” I groaned out while sniffling.
He didn’t answer, he just kept grinning at me, the ghastly smile that stretched ear from ear plagued my vision and I knew that he had done it, that he had hurt someone badly. I was terrified and in the moment I had completely forgotten about Gabriel, my tunnel vision only focused on that firearm.
“Where the hell did the other one go?” the monster asked, I turned and realized Gabriel in fact had run away leaving me behind.
I wanted to run, I wanted to flee while screaming but horror kept me in place and I felt like some dear trapped in headlights contemplating my entire life in mere seconds.
“Everyone always messes with me!” Bryce yelled out with such ferociousness.
There was no talking my way out of this one, no pleading, I knew in that moment he was going to kill me; his rage over flowing to the point of lunacy. He quickly pounced dropping me to the floor, screaming with madness and he repeatedly hit me over the head with the but of the gun causing me to see stars. His words became incoherent sounding like muffled tones that slushed it’s way into my hearing, I shook my head trying to collect myself, just maybe I could figure a way out of this but as soon as my vision corrected itself Bryce would strike me another time causing it to blur once again. I fell into a darkness, my world collapsing into an eternal void of loneliness as my body began to float effortlessly but as soon as I thought this was my final moments flashes of Gabriel flooded into my mind awakening me out of whatever slumber I found myself in. That’s when I realized Bryce was no longer hitting me, instead he was talking to someone and as I grabbed at my head trying to steady my balance I saw it was Gabriel standing still head as always tilted downwards.
Bryce confronted him pointing his 9mm directly at his head yelling, screaming at the top of his lungs but my best friend remained unmoved, just quiet and then he slowly removed his mask. This caused Bryce to pause, his tone weaken and I think for the first time he digested if he should proceed doing what he was doing.
“What are you doing freak?” the bully yelped out.
Gabriel remained quiet, eyes still directed towards the floor, his breathing escalating; I could see his chest pump more vigorously with each passing second. With the mask off me and Bryce could see the bewildering black duct tape strapped to his face, Gabriel’s face began to tremble violently as if he was trying to yell through the bondage. He then finally began to peel of the thick layer of black duct tape and it came off with a wicked screech as I could see my friends eyes squint with pain.
Bryce was no longer pointing the gun at Gabriel, no longer was he even saying a word his arm lowered to his side and both him and I stared on with amazement. What was under the tape was layers of skin, twisting and binding to each other like some thriving organism living it’s own life on Gabriel's face. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t say anything I was in shock and my head still throb from pain. Then Gabriel's mouth — if you want to call it that — began to stretch open, he tilted his head backwards while the mountain of dead flesh started to drip down his face allowing some endless void to open up inside of him. I could hear the cracking of bones breaking, his jaw shifting to accommodate the massive hole that was now his mouth and then horrid dwindling fingers began to protrude from the darkness.
My mouth gaped open with trepidation and if I had the ability to adjust my head I would think Bryce had the same facial expression. Then a grotesque head forced it’s way out of my friends mouth revealing a face that could only exist in the realms of the dead, this new creature having two large almond shape eyes; eyes that looked very similar to the ones that were attached to my friend. This ‘thing’ then stared at Bryce, that’s all it did, no words were spoken no violence was created it just stared at him and soon the bully grasped at his face and began to yell. He ran frantically in different directions, his gun firing out into the tree line, I jumped for cover; falling to the floor sheltering my head with my arms. Bryce’s terrified screams caused my stomach to turn and soon those dire cries stopped along with the gunshots.
I must of stayed on the floor for what felt like hours, too scared to rise to my feet and through my peripheral did I see the sun begin to set plunging the small creak into darkness. I eventually mustered up enough courage to get up and I looked around, Bryce was mere feet away from me, he lay still on the floor blood spewing out of his head; it appeared as if had shot himself. I walked over to his body befuddled of what to do I then remembered Gabriel, I turned to look for him but he was gone it was only me and Bryce's dead corpse. I ran home telling my parents about everything, of the encounter I experienced, at first it seemed as if they didn’t believe me but they still phoned for the police.
I led them to the creek to the bullies dead body, I initially thought perhaps they would blame me, connect me to his death but the police believed me; well the believed me about Bryce but not about Gabriel. They told me that Bryce had killed his step father, apparently they had gotten into some altercation and afterwards he went into his mothers bedroom and shot her to death. They told me that the once bully was a disturbed individual, suffering abuse for many years; that I was lucky to escape from his wrath. I told them that they needed to find my friend I wanted to know if he was okay, but all the officers could do was pat my back with sympathy trying to relax me.
It has almost been 30 years since the event, I still have nightmares of what had happened, I see the dead stare Bryce had while pointing his pistol at me, I see him repeatedly hitting me over the head again and again. Though, what still haunts me more is Gabriel's mouth contorting into that horrid shape revealing the creature that lived inside of him. He was never found, I’m pretty sure he moved on to another city, another place where bullies like Bryce tormented their schools and I could only imagine Gabriel was there to balance the wrongs of the world. I am scared of my best friend, but I know at the same time he is my protector; my super hero, he is out there doing good, I can feel it and I hope he can sense my love for him. Maybe we will never meet again, perhaps it’s not written in the stars for us to reunite but one thing is for sure, I get comic books mailed to me randomly every month; most are of Superman and I know exactly who they are from.

I just need to vent and don't know who to vent to so sorry for the super long, dramatic post. I guess I'm sharing my "story" in case it makes someone feel less alone, because I'm hoping to feel that way. I guess I'm also hoping for advice. :)
Growing up, my father was physically/ emotionally/ verbally abusive. The physical stuff was only when I was very young, it fizzled out as I grew up. But the other stuff was so brutal. The general overview was that I was the scapegoat from a very early age. My older brother had some special needs/ emotional issues so a lot of my parents' energy went to him and my younger sister was the baby of the family, the favorite, often leaving me on the outskirts. Any attention I did get was purely negative. I think as a child I harbored some resentment towards the two of them, as unfair as it is. I know as an adult it wasn't their fault and I truly feel I've moved past it. However the effects of only ever experiencing negative attention from my parents are horrible.
I was taught at such a young age that I was bad, that there was something truly, devastatingly wrong with me, and therefore I caused all of the tension and fighting in the house. My father had a hard day at work, it was my fault when he took it out on everyone. My siblings got in a fight, it was my fault for causing the bad moods. If I retaliated while being attacked (physically or verbally), it was viewed as an isolated incident, an uncalled for, uncontrollable temper. When I did mess up or misstep, it only made it worse. Everyone else was infallible, while my mistakes were ammunition, weaponized as evidence.
I remember knowing something was wrong but not having the language for it. I was too young to understand and by the time I got older and had the capacity to communicate what was happening to me, the manipulation ran so deep that I didn’t think words like “abuse” applied to my situation. I so deeply believed that I was bad and terrible and every other horrible thing they called me that I thought it was my fault. The physical stuff had subsided, so isn’t it my fault that they yell?
I figured out how to keep myself safe eventually. Stay out of the way. Stay in your room. Don’t make noise. Don’t cross their paths. Don’t have any wants or needs. If you overhear slamming or yelling, hold your breath, make yourself smaller, pray it subsides before they remember you’re there. It didn’t always work, but I did my best. The only way I got through was counting down the years until I finished high school and I could get out. Though sometimes that number provided more dismay than comfort.
It wasn’t until I graduated high school that I realized what it was. My parents split up at the end of my senior year and it was the first time I heard someone else use the word. My mother. I remember when the word “abuse” passed her lips. Some part of me found it to be obvious, another part of me was destroyed. Nothing was the same after that. I had already experienced such a tumultuous upbringing and now I had to re-experience it under the lens of abuse. It was like it happened twice.
The first year was really strange. My father was overly nice, overly welcoming, trying to forge a connection we’d never had. My mother was apologetic, trying to rebuild something that never was. My father was afraid I’d testify and my mother… I suppose she felt guilty for never stepping in. I don’t know what I felt. Confused. Angry. Hurt. I knew my parents had been strict and unkind, but downright abusive? It made sense but I didn’t want it to.
My anxiety was really bad. With my father out of the house, all of my repressed memories started coming back to me. I was having nightmares every night. I started having panic attacks. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. Every minute awake was spent in an anxiety attack (with the occasional panic attack) and every minute asleep was filled with nightmares. This went on for about two months. I lost about 30 pounds.
This was also during quarantine, so my family was stuck at home together. My mother and I didn’t have the kind of relationship where we could talk to one another so she assumed I was completely fine. My siblings were always welcome to come to her so she knew they were having a hard time with it, so her attention and compassion went to them. When I started having panic attacks, I talked to her, hoping for some kind of help or support. Instead I was brushed off.
Summe fall of that year was when things started to deteriorate once more. My mother was angry and I was the recipient. Every word that left her mouth about me was negative, whether it was to me or to someone else. My mere presence and existence were enough to set her off. Just like as a child, it was all on me. Everyone’s anger, everyone’s moods, all of the fighting and yelling. It was all on me again. But I was angry too. I had just realized my father had abused me my entire life and that my mother had stood by while it happened. Not only that, but she was a participant my whole childhood. I know it’s not fair to blame her. If my father was like that with my siblings and I, I can only imagine what else was going on. But I was a child. She was an adult. As a woman, I have so much empathy for her. As her child, I didn’t know how to forgive her, especially when she was continuing the cycle even after my dad left.
The year I was 19 was filled with constant anger and flights, I always had to be on guard, ready for anything. Her threatening to kick me out was nothing new, but now that I was old enough to be on my own, it felt so much more real. It also felt so unjustified. I’d yell back when I was being yelled at. I was bad about keeping up with my chores. But there wasn’t a single instance that felt worthy of throwing me aside. Yet she held shelter and stability over my head every chance she got. I was attending community college classes and working part time, saving up as much as I could in case she followed through.
We lost our house that year, moved to an apartment. Tensions only grew worse. My mom was more stressed out than ever and I was more of a target than ever. I worked two jobs, attended classes. I was never home, never asked for anything, paid for all of my own things, never engaged with her. And yet…
I was 21 when it finally happened, after years of being threatened with it. I was a semester away from finishing my degree, still working two jobs, still staying out of the way. My older brother and I were told my mother and sister were moving at the end of the week and we were not welcome to join. The lease on our current apartment ended in two months and we were welcome to stay if we covered the bills, but after that, we were on our own. No help.
My brother was 24, two years into a full time job, tens of thousands of dollars saved away. While still obviously a horrible situation, he’d be okay. But me? I know 21 is an adult but I was still in school. Yes I worked two jobs but they were still part time, and almost all of my income was spent on school, gas, groceries, and bills. At this point, I was a few months into no contact with my father. When my mother told me this, we didn’t speak for months. We eventually got back in touch, but it's not a proper connection.
The hardest part was that I was alone. There was no family I could stay with, no friends able to take me in, no one to help me find a place or help me understand my finances and my options. The tuition for my last semester of school was $5,000. I would be student teaching in the mornings and working all afternoon and weekends. I’d have to make enough money to fully cover all of my bills and necessities while spending 20 hours a week student teaching, completely unpaid, on top of all of my other classes. I didn’t have much in savings since I had to spend most of my income to get by, which meant I couldn’t afford a security deposit or movers or furniture or first/ last month's rent. I lived in an expensive area where even a studio was $2,000/ month minimum, and that’s before utilities and everything else. I didn’t see how I could make it work. I didn't know anyone I could room with and moving with strangers was a last resort. I spent those two months trying to figure it out, trying to accept the very real, tangible possibility of homelessness.
Eventually, I found a place. My grandparents help me with part of my rent. I work three jobs. I had to drop out of school. I’m not in touch with my parents. I’m 22 now. Being on my own, I feel a bit better. Not having to live in constant fight or flight, not having basic necessities held over your head, not being hated and terrorized just for existing… It's so peaceful. I’m stressed about money and my future, but it feels so much more approachable now. I hate my circumstances but for the first time in my life, I have a will to keep going.
That being said, it’s also so difficult. Seeing people my age close to their families, having a home and people to go back to, getting to graduate college supported by loved ones (financially or otherwise), only just now starting their adult lives… It's hard. A better person would be happy for them, and deep down I am, but I’m also so jealous. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to finish my degree. I don’t want to take out loans with no way to pay them back. Yes I’m working three jobs, but the cost of living is so immense, just about every cent goes to bills, rent, and necessities. I don’t see a way out but I want to find one. I don’t want my parents to get to rob me of my dreams in life when they’ve already taken so much from me. I’ll never be the person I could’ve been if I grew up with love and support, but I don’t want that to stop me.
I know this is an impossibly long post. I just needed to vent and get things off of my chest. But if anyone reading this has any advice, I’d love to hear it. I know 22 is an adult, I know I should be more put together than this, people are in my situation so much younger and they figure it out, but I just feel so lost. I want to finish school. I don’t want to barely get by while working 3 jobs. I want a family. I don’t know what to do.

1. How to discern one's genuine emotions? I have come to notice that most of my emotions, apart from laughter or fear, seem unnatural or deliberate to me. Often, I observe a glaring display of artificiality in these emotions when I feel discomfort or internal irritation during their expression. It's as if I speak from someone else's perspective, unable to remove this facade until I find myself in a comfortable setting alone. Behaving naturally around people is indeed quite challenging. I have long observed that my brain seems to be divided into an "emotional brain" and an "intellectual brain" or something along those lines. I often converse with my "second part" and it feels as if I am talking to another person (albeit without any discomfort at all). During one of my sensory overloads, I remembered the moment when my "second part" spontaneously recalled and shared with me some significant aspects that I cannot describe in a few words, but it really helped me back then. My imagination is highly developed, so reading Warrior Cats, maintaining my characters in my mind with a separate folder dedicated to arts in the gallery, almost felt like watching a movie. Returning to the question, could my ability to freely fantasize and skillfully deceive shift my true personality so much that my artificial emotions almost feel real? How can one discern this apart from physical sensations?
   
2. I suspect that I am also a bearer of Pathological Avoidance of Demands, a trait common in individuals with ASD. However, there are occasional moments when I react calmly to a request. I have not yet delved into this topic sufficiently, but in my quest for answers, I have found nothing yet.
   
3. Based on point 1, I find it difficult to determine whether I am suppressing my emotions or indeed not feeling them as strongly. I have always been regarded as an extremely calm individual, yet sensory overload has often occurred to me. I have a very high pain threshold and can suppress myself when feeling stressed in order to remain composed. I am more inclined to doubt that I may have alexithymia, but I am also curious whether memorizing emotional reactions can hide this trait. Are there more precise characteristics by which one can distinguish alexithymia from low emotional expressiveness?
   
4. Fatigue and ennui. There are often moments when I feel a certain emptiness inside myself (which, along with a number of other criteria, I have long suspected to be Quiet BPD), without even the desire to interact with my special interests in any way. In other words, I quickly tire of any activity and start to feel bored, as if I have been squeezed like a lemon. I must say that I do not fit under any criteria for ADHD (or, at least, have not noticed such until now).
   
5. Returning to points 1 and 3, I have always found social restrictions such as "you cannot joke about a deceased person, it is inappropriate," "you cannot wear furry-cat-ears in public, it is weird," to be incomprehensible. These constant reminders of "strangeness" later turned into my indecision, when I wanted to do what I wanted, not because of society's opinion, but because I would experience stress due to undue attention from others. I do not understand why something is considered bad. I have viewed things from a philosophical perspective all my life and have seen both the positives and negatives in everything, but I have not considered certain things absolutely bad/unacceptable. Oftentimes, I did not understand why my questions or statements were seen as rude/personal.
   
6. Stress from emotions, not events. I have noticed that when I was scolded or someone passed away, I experienced stress from the sounds and emotions of people, while the event itself felt completely mundane. Oftentimes, music helped me to experience the "appropriate" emotions. If I do not have music and the right "atmosphere," I will not be able to feel certain emotions to a sufficient degree or at all.
   

Please share your experiences/knowledge, I would be very grateful and also, I think it would be useful for people who are also looking for answers to similar questions!

As I look through many different posts in this forum, I can't help but notice a recurring theme where people are saying that the 2024 Pats defense will "take a step back" because "Bill the GOAT" is gone, and this honestly does not make sense to me at all.
Don't get me wrong, that 2023 defense was a very good unit without doubt (fewest yards allowed per rush attempt in the league), but they were still prone to making dumb/costly mistakes and had bad performances that a supposed "elite" defense SHOULD NOT be putting out. Please bear with me as I list all the 2023 games and what went (or didn't go) wrong for the defense in those games;
Eagles Week 1 - No complaints here, they played GREAT against the defending NFC champs, they just got unlucky with the Slay pick-six, Zeke fumbling away short field position to set up the Eagles only touchdown, and Jake Elliott nailing all 4 of his LONG field goals. Dolphins Week 2 - Defense did a solid, not good job limiting Tua and the passing game, but proceeded to let Mostert BULLY them on the ground by allowing 120+ yards on just 18 carries and 2 TDs. Jets Week 3 - Again, no real big complaints. A wet, miserable game where both offenses struggled and both defenses had field days, plus Judon got a safety. Although Dugger almost ruined everything on that final hail mary when he swatted the ball RIGHT TO R. Cobb, who thankfully slipped on the turf and couldn't get it. Cowboys Week 4 - A game we all want to forget about. I really don't remember anything about the defense in this game other than that they allowed 17 points and both Judon and Gonzalez got hurt. I'm sure there were ACTUAL defensive lowlights from that game but it's not worth going back and looking. Saints Week 5 - The other HORRIBLE game we'd all love to wipe from our memory. Only thing worth noting is that the defense struggled WAY MORE against both the pass and run in this game than they did against the Cowboys for some reason. Raiders Week 6 - Raiders rookie tight end Michael Mayer would end his rookie season with 304 receiving yards, he had nearly a third of that total in THIS GAME ALONE. On all 5 of his catches, there wasn't a single defender within like 15 yards of him, enough said with that crap. Bills Week 7 - We can all probably agree that this was our favorite game of the season, and while the defense did good, it still isn't safe, because they allowed that flukey Diggs touchdown where Jackson and Bryant failed miserably to tackle him and allowed that 4th down conversion near the end that eventually allowed Buffalo to score the go-ahead touchdown before the Pats game-winning drive. Dolphins Week 8 - Abysmal officiating aside, the defense allowed every 4th down Miami attempted to be converted as well as those 2 big wide-open touchdown passes, the one to Hill is slightly embarrassing, but the one to Waddle is pathetic and totally inexcusable. Commanders Week 9 - Within the 2-minute warning of the first half, Commanders had the ball at midfield on 3rd and 23 and the Pats defense had a chance to get the offense the ball back to potentially add to the lead the Pats had before halftime, but they proceeded to CHOKE HARD by allowing Howell to SCRAMBLE for a first down, keeping the ball in the hands of the Commies, and while they would force an interception in the endzone, it was too late at that point to try and get points. They also (along with special teams) kept committing stupid penalties that took away time of possession. Colts Week 10 - The first of a 3-game stretch where because the other team couldn't score more than 10, everyone was convinced that the Pats defense was "elite", when in actuality it was more of complete ineptitude displayed by the opposing team's offenses. In this game, Gardner Minshew wasn't sacked ONCE, and if I recall correctly he was only pressured or hit one time by Barmore and that was it. This failure to bring down the QB allowed Minshew to tear the Pats weak AF secondary a new one at least a couple of times. Additionally, this has nothing to do with the defense, but at one point Bill stupidly had the punt team do an all-out blitz in an attempt to block a punt, which failed because it ended up being a good punt with no return man on the field to get it, costing them lots of field position. Giants Week 12 - The Giants won 3 straight games with undrafted QB Tommy Devito as the starter. He had a 100+ passer rating in all of those games, where he went against the ATROCIOUS defenses of Washington and Green Bay, and the "elite" defense of New England. I know the Pats offense was trash in that game, but if the defense still allows Devito to have a good performance SOMEWHAT similar to the one he had against the Commanders league-worst defense, that is a problem. Chargers Week 13 - The final game where the final score is deceiving as hell. The Pats rushing defense was unstoppable without question, but the passing defense was lowkey BAD. The secondary got very lucky when Herbert's receivers dropped 4 or 5 great passes from him. Herbert very well could have had over 300 yards passing that day if those drops didn't happen. Again, 6-0 is more telling of the bad offense from both teams as opposed to good defense. Steelers Week 14 - Not too much to say. They played against Trubisky, and limited him to less than 200 yards passing, picked him off and held VERY strong in the red zone, although they almost blew it at the end. Chiefs Week 15 - Intercepting Mahomes twice in the same game is certainly something to be proud about, but he still threw for over 300+ yards when the entire Chiefs offense was a chaotic mess at that point. Broncos Week 16 - I was already a fan of Barmore, but he played GODLY in this game. With 3 sacks in a single quarter and pretty much singlehandedly preventing the Broncos from scoring at the 1 after Zappe immediately fumbled at the start made me love the man even more. However, the defense still allowed the Broncos to come back from a double-digit deficit near the end, but still held strong for the win. Bills Week 17 - The defense was basically set up to fail 3 times in a row when Zappe threw those horrible picks, giving up extremely short field position and a free 6 points to Douglas. Credit to the defense though, the only RZ touchdowns they allowed were the 2 Allen tush pushes, but they still gave up that deep ball to Kincaid. Jets Week 18 - The dreadful snow game where the defense had absolutely no answer for Breece Hall, but honestly, who even cared at that point?
Two other things that contradict the defense being "elite" in 2023 was that one, they didn't score a single defensive touchdown all year long, and two, they had maybe the 6th or 7th fewest forced turnovers in the league, which honestly doesn't sound elite to me.
With all this being said, I genuinely don't see a reason to think the defense will regress next year just because Bill is no longer coaching. The defense's strongest units in 2023, by far, were the linebackers and the line. Who coached those units? Mayo and Covington. Who is the new head coach and new defensive coordinator? Mayo and Covington. So the defense will still be very strong in those areas, mix that in with Judon and Gonzo returning (and hopefully staying healthy), Barmore developing into a star, and Pepper and Dugger finding rhythm as one of the best safety duos in the league, I'd say, if anything, the defense will AT LEAST be just as good as it was last season, and we as a fanbase should be VERY OPTIMISTIC for what the defense can do next year.
Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

During the height of my high regard for the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU), among the movies of which I had been a major fan were the Captain America releases. At least two of them. The third film in this mini franchise - 2016's "CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR" proved to be a major disappointment for me. However, when I heard that Disney and Marvel Films had plans to air a miniseries about the characters Sam Wilson aka the Falcon and James "Bucky" Barnes aka the Winter Soldier, I must admit that I felt a renewed interest in the franchise again.
When I said a renewal of the MCU franchise, I meant it. Aside from a few movies like "ANT-MAN", "BLACK PANTHER", "CAPTAIN MARVEL" and "ETERNALS"; the MCU had become a major disappointment for me ever since the release of 2015's "THE AVENGERS: AGE OF ULTRON". One might ask . . . what about the MCU television productions that aired on the Disney Plus streaming channel? Aside from one production that I somewhat liked and one that I loved, most of them have been disappointing to me. Unfortunately, I have to include this follow-up to the Captain America movies, "THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER".
Set six months after 2019's "THE AVENGERS: ENDGAME", "THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER" followed former war veteran/Avenger Sam Wilson, who has resumed working the for the U.S. government, while using his role as the Falcon. When the government recruits Sam to track down and deal with a group of enhanced anarchists known as "the Flag Smashers", former World War II veteran/HYDRA tool/Avenger James "Bucky" Buchannan aka the Winter Soldier decides to join Sam in his mission, due to his lingering guilt as a former HYDRA assassin and their shared experiences as Steve Rogers' close friends and battling Thanos and his army.
Since "THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER" had aired on the DisneyPlus channel in six episodes, I had seriously considered ranking the episodes. But like Season three of the Marvel Netflix series, "DAREDEVIL", the more I watched "THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLIDER", the more it disappointed me. Aside from complaints about its pacing, the limited series had received a great deal of praise from critics and fans alike. Because of this, I believe it was one of the most overrated productions in the MCU history. People had seemed so focused on little moments and scenes that very few had noticed how the series' narrative seemed to be all over the map. For example:
~\Sam Wilson~* - This limited series is supposed to be a follow up to the events of "ENDGAME" in which Sam had received the Captain America shield from an aging Steve Rogers, a sign for him to take up the latter's costumed role. Was this an attempt by Marvel Films/Disney to make Sam a more relevant character? If so, why? Why did a MCU character have to replace Steve as the new Captain America to be more relevant? Why not allow Sam to continue as the Falcon, only push his role to the forefront as one of the franchise's new leading characters? Some might accuse me of not wanting a black man as Captain America, a topic that was brought up in the series. Frankly, I never wanted another character - regardless of race, gender or ethnicity - to become the new Captain America. That includes Bucky Barnes. Allow Steve Rogers to fade into the background and let Sam (as the Falcon) shine as one of the franchise's new leads. However, the die has been cast. One can only sit back and see if moviegoers are willing to accept Sam as the new Captain America.
Perhaps the MCU had to make Sam the new Captain America in order to make him more relevant. Why would I say that? The showrunner for "THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER", Malcolm Spellman, came dangerously close to shoving Sam into the role of the second lead or worst, a role he has been since his debut in 2014's "CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER" - a supporting character. During the series' first three or four episodes, someone other than Sam (either Bucky Barnes or Helmut Zemo - two white men) made decisions that allowed the plot to move forward, not Sam. He was simply regulated to being an observer or reactor. The series even managed to undermine Sam's decision not to support the Sokovia Accords in "CIVIL WAR". In thee 2016, Sam became the first Avenger to speak out against the Accords and declare his intentions not to sign it. Yet, according to Bucky in this series, Sam had merely followed Steve's example in rejecting the Accords. And Spellman did nothing to allow Sam to correct this misconception.
~\James "Bucky" Barnes~* - One of the few aspects of "CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR" I found enjoyable proved to be the interactions between Sam Wilson and Bucky Buchannan. Despite their lingering jealousy and competition over the role as "Steve Rogers' best friend", the pair's interactions proved to be very entertaining, thanks to the screen chemistry between Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan. Unfortunately, Mackie and Stan could not save "CIVIL WAR" for me. Nor could they save "THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER", due to its problematic writing. A good deal of that writing surrounded Bucky's character. I have so many questions about his role in this series. For example:
-Why would any official of the Joint Counter Terrorist Center allow Bucky to visit and question Helmut Zemo, the man responsible for the U.N. conference bombing in Vienna, in "CIVIL WAR"? That made very little sense to me. Surely the JCTC authorities remembered how Zemo managed to brainwash Bucky into making his own prison break in "CIVIL WAR"? Also, Bucky was on parole for his activities as a brainwashed HYDRA assassin. Yet, the JCTC had allowed him to visit Zemo? Surely, the showrunner could have allowed Sam, who was serving the U.S. government again, to be the one to visit and question Zemo?
-How on earth did Bucky managed to evade being arrested and charged for helping Zemo escape from the JCTC? The U.S. and other governments should have been suspicious of Bucky after learning about his visit to Zemo.
-Bucky came off as an arrogant school jock, who thought he was entitled to get his way - especially in his interactions with Sam. I found it hilarious that many fans had criticized John Walker aka Captain America aka U.S. Agent for such toxic behavior. Yet, they had turned a blind eye to Bucky's own behavior. And so did the series - up until the last two episodes. Why did the showrunner allow Bucky to get away with this behavior toward Sam for so long without any complaints from the latter?
-I did not care how Bucky had bullied his way into Sam's mission without the latter's consent. What I found even more annoying was the U.S. government's decision to allow Bucky to join Sam's mission after that ludicrous "therapy session" they were forced to attend together.
~\Racism -~* A good number of MCU fans had complained about the inclusion of racism in "THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER". I had no problems with this direction, considering the story was about Sam, an African-American man, becoming the new Captain America. However, I had a good deal of problems with how the production explored the topic of racism.
The story of Isaiah Bradley, Marvel's second Captain America, had originated in the comics. In the MCU, he was a Korea War veteran whom the United States Army used as one of several unwilling African-American test subjects for their version of the Super Soldier serum. I realize that both Marvel Comics and the MCU had attempted to use Bradley's experience as a metaphor for the Tuskegee Syphilis Study. The problem is that I cannot see the U.S. government and the Army - both racist organizations in the early 1950s - be willing to risk the possibility of creating a non-white super soldier. Despite the recent desegregation of the Armed Forces in the late 1940s. And both the government and the Army had been more than willing to use white soldiers in other experiments.
After saving a group of black American super soldiers from a prison camp, Bradly was imprisoned by the U.S. government for thirty years. I saw nothing wrong with this twist in the character's narrative, until I remembered two things - Bradley had been able to free his fellow soldiers without anyone's help; and nearly sixty years later, Steve Rogers managed to break into the Raft and free those Avengers who had refused to sign the Sokovia Accord. Why was Bradley unable to free himself from prison? This is the man who had defeated the Winter Soldier by breaking the latter's metal arm. And he was not powerful enough to make a prison break, let alone evade capture?
I had assumed Sam's difficulty in becoming the new Captain America would stem from the government's reluctance to recruit a black man for the position. That would explain their decision to recruit the blond-haired John Walker instead. But the series never really made it clear whether political racism had played a role in Walker's recruitment. The series also had James "Rhodey" Rhodes had paid Sam a visit, emphasizing the importance of the new Captain America being black. As it turned out, Sam's own insecurities about becoming Captain America had more to do with him not initially assuming the role. There was also that interesting scene outside Bradley's Baltimore home where the police arrested Sam during verbal argument with Bucky. Although the cops backed away when they recognized Sam as an Avenger, they ended up arresting the parolee Bucky for missing his required therapy appointment. This scene was supposed to be a case of racial profiling. But . . . we might as well be honest. In the real world, the police would not have backed down from hassling Sam. What I found more disturbing was the production's handling of Bucky's arrest. Once the police discovers that Sam was an Avenger; they turned to arrest Bucky for failing to show up for his missing his therapy session. Not only did the police arrest Bucky with a more gentle behavior, they did so, accompanied by Henry Jackman's mournful score, something that did not accompany the moment of Sam being arrested. Were the audiences expected to notice the hypocrisy and racism in the police's handling of the two men? Expected to feel sympathy for Bucky? Or both?
The last episode featured a scene of two black kids playing with toy Captain America shields. Someone had commented that the shields (especially in the hands of non-white children) represented hope to the future of race relations in the United States. Why? How? This country had a biracial president for EIGHT YEARS. Yet, U.S. racial policies have remained problematic even to this day. I can say the same for other countries. The so-called symbolism of this scene only reminded me of how human beings put so much faith in imagery and symbolism. And this strikes me as a FALSE FAITH. Why was taking up the mantle of a costumed hero that had been previously occupied by a white man, the only way for Sam Wilson to become relevant within the MCU franchise? What was wrong with him being "the Falcon"? Sam becoming the next Captain America was not going to save the U.S. in regard to race relations - not in real life and not in the fictional world of the MCU. Looking back on the series, the series' only scenario that seemed to expose racism in a realistic manner, proved to be Sam's failure to acquire a bank loan for his family's fishing boat in Louisiana.
~\Sharon Carter~* - I am certain many MCU fans are aware of this. One of Marvel Comics' most iconic couples happened to be Steve Rogers aka Captain America and Sharon Carter aka Agent 13. She also happened to be the great-niece of Peggy Carter, Steve's love interest during World War II. Portrayed by Emily VanCamp, Sharon was first introduced as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in "CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER" as a potential love interest for Steve. Despite Sharon's appearance in the following Captain America movie, "CIVIL WAR", their romance never really developed. Many blamed the lack of chemistry between VanCamp and Chris Evans. I never had a problem with their screen chemistry. I had a problem with the lack of relationship development between Sharon and Steve. And I blame Kevin Feige's decision to transform the third Captain America film into a third (and badly written) pseudo Avengers movie. The change in the film's narrative, along with Sharon's failure to appear in "THE AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR" and "ENDGAME", left no opportunity for Sharon and Steve to become the romantic pair they had been in the comics. Instead, Sharon became a fugitive from the U.S. government after helping Steve and Sam hunt down Bucky, moved to Madripoor, a city-state with no U.S. extradition and became an embittered criminal known as "the Power Broker".
After "CIVIL WAR", nearly five years had passed before Sharon appeared in another MCU production - namely this series. And what happened? The franchise, with Spellman, ended up completely destroying her character by transforming her into the villain known as Power Broker, the criminal leader of an Indonesian city-state called Madripoor. After helping Steve and Sam acquire their suits and equipment in order to go after Bucky in "CIVIL WAR", Sharon lost her job with the C.I.A. and became a fugitive. She eventually moved to Madripoor, a city-state with no U.S. extradition, to evade capture, survived Thanos' Snap and became an embittered criminal nicknamed "the Power Broker" in order to survive the new world.
What really pissed me off about Sharon's arc between "CIVIL WAR" and "THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER" is that her development into a major villain all happened OFF SCREEN. Off screen. Apparently, screenwriters for "INFINITY WAR" had written a draft that included Sharon in the movie. But according to Christopher Markus, he and Stephen McFeeley could not imagine scenes featuring Steve and Sharon trying to make it work in an apartment, because the 2018 movie did not have time to focus on their personal life. Why did Marvel simply fail to allow Sharon to be part of Steve's vigilante team - like Sam and Natasha Romanoff? I mean . . . good fucking grief! And why did Malcolm Spellman believe the only way Sharon could be interesting was to become a villain in "THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER"? This was his idea of improving Sharon's character?
~\Helmut Zemo aka Baron Zemo~* - Why did Malcolm Spellman, Kevin Feige and the MCU thought it necessary to bring back Helmut Zemo, the Sokovian-born villain from "CIVIL WAR"? What role did he play in "THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER"? I realize that Bucky, of all people, visited the incarcerated Zemo to acquire information on who had created the super-soldier serum that empowered the Flag Smashers. But why did he believe Zemo could provide the answer? Because he thought HYDRA was involved? Bucky or Sam could have searched for information from sources other than Zemo, who had been incarcerated for . . . what? Eight years? Eight years. Zemo managed to become something of a crowd-pleaser, thanks to Daniel Brühl's performance. Otherwise, I found his presence in this series unnecessary.
~\The Big Bad~* - Why on earth did it take this series so long to finally reveal the main villain's identity? At first, the series hinted the Flag Smashers, led by Karli Morgenthau. However, the series tossed other potential candidates for the Big Bad before viewers - John Walker, Helmut Zemo and yes, Sharon Carter. But in the end, Morgenthau and her group proved to be the main villains.
The Flag Smashers were a group of empowered people who believed the world was a better place between Thanos' Snap and the Blip (resurrection of those who had died during the Snap), when Humans around the world managed to unite and form a borderless society, one in which people helped others without any thought to nationalism and bias. Thanks to the Avengers, the world resumed its conflicts between nationalities and other groups. In other words, the borders returned.
Frankly, I have nothing against this ideal. Only Ms. Morgenthau and her followers resorted to violence and terrorism to achieve their goals. Does this sound familiar? It should. The Flag Smashers proved to be another example of characters with a progressive goal, resorting to extremism and becoming villains. This seemed to be a growing trend within the franchise, which I believe began with Erik "Killmonger" Stevens aka Prince N'Jadaka in 2018's "BLACK PANTHER". Since then, the MCU has not looked back at its growing roster of progressive villains. Perhaps I should not have been surprised. The franchise's ambiguous portrayal of an unconstitutional document like the Sokovia Accords, should have been the wake-up call. It seemed as if Kevin Feige, Marvel Films and Disney Studios had finally exposed themselves for the faux progressives they pretend to be. Frankly, this form of villainy has become tiresome to me.
After writing this article, I had considered ranking the six episodes featured in "THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER" anyway. But I decided against it. My dislike of the series made it impossible for me to even bother. Being a fan of the first two Captain America movies, I had truly hoped this series would redeem the franchise. Unfortunately, it proved to be just as disappointing as "CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR". Pity. Perhaps the fourth film, "CAPTAIN AMERICA: BRAVE NEW WORLD" will do the trick. I hope so.

For context, this house we are living in was built in the 1960’s, has been renovated a few times and the previous home owners did a lot of DIY stuff which we’ve had to remove and fix up because it was so bad. One of those DIY fix ups was the laundry room / bathroom in the basement.
So in 2021 we decided to completely renovate the basement laundry room and bathroom. It was designed so poorly, it was run down and we never used the shower down there since we bought the house in 2009 (design flaws, leaks, just broken in general).
We tore the ceiling because there were old tiles from what I assume was at least the 1980’s, and we found something quite unsettling. There were a pile of letters to Santa from many different little girls, dated back to the 80’s, hand written on the same style paper. The letters were very innocent, asking for toys and various items little girls would want.
We then found a few pairs of underwear which were very clearly belonging to children presumably between the ages of 8-12. They were small, pink, and full of flowers and hearts, it cannot be mistaken for underwear belonging to any adult.
If my memory is serving me correctly, there were some items like nail polish and lipsticks marketed towards young girls. Everything was found in a dark blue duffle bag.
I was extremely upset. Due to my own trauma I didn’t allow myself to process what I had found, and I simply went upstairs and went about my day. Now a few years have passed and I have begun to think about it here and there, and felt like I wanted to just get it out there into the world. I am so uncomfortable by it.
Oddly enough, we knew of the people who used to live here, and I went to high school with their son. So I assume it was his father who had these items, he was a teacher, and I can’t remember if this is reality or if I’m making it up but some letters were addressed to him as “Mr. ____ “ saying Merry Christmas.
Protect your kids, trust your gut if something feels off about an individual, especially those in positions of authority or power over others. There are some incredibly creepy people out there, please stay safe.
And if you were me, would you have done/said something?

Hi gainers,
I have just finished running Super Squats by Randall J. Strossen and wanted to share my results. There are plenty of discussions of this program out there already, but I figured sharing my experience with the program can't hurt and can hopefully be interesting, or maybe even useful to someone. This was my first time running a "proper" program (i.e. one designed by a prefessional) and it has been by far the most productive training block I have done so far. Since I am a beginner, I'm not calling this a review (I don't have the training experience to offer any kind of expert opinion). This post is meant rather to show my results as a beginner on the program and to share some of my thoughts about it.
[Before, 82kgs, 10 April 2024](https://imgur.com/a/super-squats-before-82kg-10-04-2024-PvPBvIl). NSFW. Pics taken the day after the first workout.
[After, 86kgs, 18 May 2024](https://imgur.com/a/loPa07y). NSFW. Pics taken the day after the last workout.
Background:
M30, 6'2", no athletic background. Typical denizen of this sub in that I could always eat loads and not put on weight blah blah blah. Worked out in my teens with weights in my room but never maintained a consistent schedule long enough to see significant results. Fast forward to 2 years ago when I started doing bodyweight workouts at home and making an effort to gain weight. Had some success and then started going to the gym at the start of this year. Did a 4 day/week UppeLower split with some success. My weight had fluctuated between a very skinny 67kgs to around 73kgs throughout my twenties. Prior to running Super Squats I had already bulked from 74kgs at the start of December to 82kgs at the start of April (I started taking creatine in January which definitely contributed to this weight gain).
The Program:
Super Squats is a book, which is short (less than 100 pages) and contains everything you need to run the program. Although the book was written in 1989, the routine it outlines is based on old-school squatting programs utilized by strongmen from the 1920s onwards. A chapter is devoted to this history of squats, the "master exercise". There are a couple of anachronisms (my favourite is referring to the hamstrings as "thigh biceps") but overall it is well-written and presented.
The program itself is a six week full-body routine, with the choice to run it 2 or 3 days per week. I won't spell out the whole program here (just buy the book), but the core of the routine is, of course, a single set of twenty heavy squats, with the trainee taking at least three deep breaths between each rep. The squats are supersetted with a set of light pullovers or Rader chest pulls to stretch the rib cage. The starting weight for the squats is a weight you can do for 10 reps (and yes, you really do twenty reps with that weight) and the program stipulates that you must add at least 5lbs/2.5kgs every single workout. The program is fairly light on volume (especially if you run it 2 days per week like I did) but what it lacks in volume, it more than makes up in intensity.
There is no way around it: heavy, high-rep squats are deeply, profoundly, brutally unpleasant. There is no stipulation for rep cadence or how long the set should take, you can take as long as you like, but completing 20 reps with good form will require having the bar on your back for at least 3-4 minutes. From week 2 onwards, the single set of squats always took me more than 5 minutes (and it always felt much longer).
Performing warm-up sets slowly and deliberately was crucially important. Before I even got to the warm-up sets I performed a few reps of touchdown-squats on a box, and a few more of goblet squats with a light kettlebell, opening my hips against a resistance band to prime my glutes and quads.
Super Squats is the embodiment of "mind over matter". The book has a whole section on mindset and positive visualization to help trainees to manage the seemingly impossible task of squatting a 10-rep weight for 20 reps. It sounds stupid, but by the second half of the program, I had gotten into a ritual of giving the bar a firm slap, as a jockey would slap his racehorse, before I started the set, cementing my effort to view the bar not as an enemy to overcome but as a friend helping me to achieve my goals.
Reps 11 and 12 were usually the hardest. By the time I got to ten reps my legs were already trembling. My whole body was drenched in sweat, the weight of the bar impossibly heavy resting on my traps, crushing my whole body into the ground. Time had slowed to a crawl, and the thought that I was only half way would be enough to sap my resolve if I let it. Once I got to rep 13, comfortably more than halfway, I no longer had to think about breathing. I was sucking in great lungfuls of air automatically and heaving them out so hard I sprayed the mirror in front of me with droplets of spit (yes, of course I wiped it down afterwards). Once I got to rep 17 I knew I had the set in the bag. No matter how tortuous those last three reps, no matter how long they took, no matter how many heaving breaths I had to take, I could do 3 more reps.
During week 2 I had what I think is the closest I've ever had to an out-of-body experience. It was as if I was watching someone else perform the agonizing reps while I talked myself through the rest of the set: "Breathe, good, deeper, you've got this, next rep, nice. Keep going".
Breathing is the key. The book talks at length about the importance of deep breathing throughout the set. Pretty quickly, I found that deep breathing was the only way to keep from passing out or collapsing mid set, though as I said, deep breathing becomes automatic about halfway through the set (there's simply no other way to stay upright with the weight on your back). A very helpful tip from the book is to suck in an extra gulp of air on top of your already full lungs for each of the last reps.
If all this sounds a bit exaggerated, try the program and see for yourself. But I'm not trying to put anyone off with this description, quite the opposite! The great thing about Super Squats is that the difficulty of the squats is directly proportional to the feeling of giddy elation upon completing the set. I always felt great after the set, and rode the feeling of accomplishment for the rest of the day. The program really pushes you beyond the boundaries of what you think you can do.
My Progress:
I started the squats at quite a low weight of just 40kg. The book recommends erring on the side of starting too light, and then adding more weight if needed, so that is what I did. Remember, the program stipulates a minimum increase of 5lbs/2.5kgs per workout, but there's nothing saying you can't add more. Once I realized the weight was too light (I managed 21 reps for the first workout) I simply increased the weight by 10kgs on the second workout and continued with the 2.5kg increases from there.
Before starting Super Squats I had had a two week break from training due to illness, so I started with too-low weights (I exceeded the target rep range on all exercises). So I increased the weight by 5-10kgs depending on the exercise for the second workout. The program has varying set numbers and rep ranges for different exercises. As a general rule, I increased the weight once I could hit the target rep range for the first two sets of each exercise, but I did not stick to this rule every workout.
The only thing I stuck to was the minimum increase of 2.5kgs for the squats every workout. I managed this consistently until the final week, when I failed on the eccentric of the tenth rep with a weight of 77.5kgs (a 5kg increase on the previous workout). My legs just gave way and I could not get back up. I did two more sets to make sure that I at least performed more total reps than the previous workout. Then, in the last workout, I amazed myself by succesfully performing all 20 reps with the same weight. Definitely the hardest set I have ever done, and I was completely finished afterwards, but the highlight of the program for sure.
Other ups and downs: I lost reps on Bench and Bent-over Rows on both workouts of week five, but got them back in week six and set new PRs on both. A good reminder that progress is rarely linear. My left knee started hurting in the last week, but thankfully the pain hasn't persisted. I guess my form might have broken down a bit too much in one of the last workouts.
Diet:
The book's diet advice is very simple: lots of calories and protein, with the majority coming from healthy whole food sources. Nothing surprising there. The book has two recommendations in addition to meals for achieving these goals: milk and shakes. The book doesn't use the GOMAD acronym, but that's basically what it boils down to: a recommended minimum of 2 quarts (about 2 litres) per day in addition to meals and snacks, with a recommendation to increase to up to a gallon (nearly 4 litres) per day if you can.
I was somewhat surprised to see that the book recommends home-made mass gainer shakes for trainees who struggle to eat enough solid food (the book refers to them as "blender bombs" which I think sounds much cooler).
I am not vegetarian, but I don't eat meat very often. I live with my fiancee, who doesn't like meat, and since we eat dinner, the main meal of the day, together, we eat a lot of plant-based meat substitutes. I did, however, eat meat more often than usual during the program. My typical diet looks something like this:
Breakfast: Usually muesli, with seeds, fruit (apple or banana), yoghurt, and a scoop of unflavoured whey protein.
Lunch: Usually eggs, fried or scrambled in butter, served with wilted spinach on wholemeal toast or with pasta and pesto. If not eggs then leftovers from last night's dinner. My local supermarkets do a rangle of reasonably healthy frozen meals and during the program I ate these a couple of times per week, always going for chicken dishes with plenty of vegetables.
Dinner: Something based around the aforementioned meat substitutes. Favourites include spaghetti bolognese (with plenty of cheese of course), chili with black beans, sour cream and guacomole served with rice, and burgers with fries for a "junk"/"dirty" option.
I don't count calories but I do roughly track protein, aiming for 2g per kg bodyweight and topping up with whey protein as needed.
During Super Squats, I upped my creatine dosage from 3.5g/day to 5g/day, added extra snacks to the above diet (nuts, dark chocolate etc.) and also milk and shakes as the book suggests. For the first three weeks I had a daily shake consisting of whey protein, milk, cocoa powder, banana, peanut butter and oats. The shakes helped with weight gain, but they proved unsustainable, as they led to some, er, digestive issues. Ok, they gave me explosive diarrhoea. See [this review of Super Squats](https://empire-barbell.com/2021/07/23/super-squats-review-of-the-legendary-20-rep-squat-program/) in which the author recounts ingesting a shake according to the book's recipe before starting a work shift and shitting himself during the shift, lol.
I hadn't really drank milk for several years prior to the program (I tend to prefer oat milk with my muesli) but I did increase my milk consumption slowly over the six weeks. For most of the duration I drank a couple of glasses per day, totalling only about 500ml -1 litre. Only in the last week did I make a serious effort to drink at least 2 litres per day. Turns out it's really easy to drink a lot of milk, and a very cost-efficient way to get lots of extra calories and protein. Who knew haha.
Rest and Recovery:
I've been having trouble sleeping lately, which was the reason I opted to do the program 2 days per week from the beginning (the book recommends starting with 3 days and dropping down to 2 if you find you can't recover sufficiently between workouts). I was a very deep sleeper as a child but those days are long gone and these days the slightest noise seems to be enough to wake me. My fiancee gets up early for work during the week (her alarm goes off at 4:45am), ivariably waking me before it does her, and we have a cat, who tends, as cats do, to go crazy in the small hours (her new favourite thing is scratching frantically on the closet doors). I've tired everything I can think of short of getting rid of the cat, which I'm not willing to do for the sake of gains. Hopefully she will mellow as she gets older. If nothing else, I guess it's good practice for when we become parents lol. Suffice to say it's rare that I get an uninterrupted 8 hours of sleep.
I tried to do everything within my power to get as good sleep as I could (making an effort to get to bed earlier, playing with the cat to tire her out, etc.). I still made good gains despite overall poor sleep, but there were definitely some days when I could have gotten to bed earlier.
What I liked about the program:
Super Squats is a simple, easy-to follow program which is practically guranteed to lead to growth. The non-negotiable nature of progression from workout to workout gives a strong incentive to eat enough and get enough rest. I seriously can't see how someone could follow this program, increasing the weight as prescribed, and not grow.
Another thing I liked was making significant progress over a short timeframe while only training 2 days per week, leaving more time for life outside the gym.
By far the biggest benefit of the program, hower, is the lessons it imparts and the mental toughness it inculcates. Lessons you can only learn by standing under the crushing weight of the bar for 20 reps. Put simply, you are capable of more than you think you are, and this program teaches you that in a way that words never could. I feel that I now inderstand intensity as a training variable far more deeply than I did before the program. After running Super Squats I understand why it is so often recommended to beginners.
What I didn't like about the program:
The individual workouts took far too long. This was by far the biggest thing I disliked about the program. The book claims that the Basic Routine should take less than an hour to complete, but I found that I rarely completed a workout in less than 90 minutes, and several times it took me a full 2 hours. Granted, this was partly due to training in a busy McGym, where waiting for equipment is often a factor, and I feel like I spend half my life searching for locking collars, but even so, the long workouts were grinding. Another big factor is just how exhausted you are after that set of squats. I often felt like I was moving in slo-mo, with the stiff-legged deadlifts (themselves no easy exercise) and calf and ab work still to get through.
The other main negative factor was how daunting the squats are. I rarely looked forward to workouts, and often actively dreaded them. I really had to psyche myself up to go to the gym on this program, despite knowing that I would feel great after my workout. That next set of squats was always looming ahead menacingly.
What I would do differently:
The biggest thing I would change is doing the milk properly from the beginning. By "doing the milk" I mean drinking at least the recommended 2 quarts per day. I would also probably leave the shakes out, and make an effort to eat cleaner. I kind of gave myself free reign to cut corners and do what it takes to gain on the program (spooning peanut butter from the jar and ice cream from the tub, eating "junk" meals like burgers and fries or frozen pizzas a couple of times a week, etc.).
I would have chosen a different abs exercise. I did hollow-body crunches, but since these can't be loaded (as far as I know) I had to resort to adding extra reps and then an extra set to add progressive overload. It would have been smarter and more time-efficient to simply choose a weighted abs exercise and increase the load each workout.
I could have been more diligent about consistenly increasing weight/reps on all exercises other than the squats. I feel my progress on the other lifts could have been better.
The book does not mention cardio, and in fact states that trainees should move as little as possible outside of training to allow for maximum recovery. I will definitely add some light cardio in the form of walking the next time I run the program (thanks to u/MythicalStrength for pointing out that since the program is based on old-school principles, it is likely assumed that pretty much everyone would have been doing a fair bit of walking before lifestyles became so sedentary in developed countries). Over the weekend between weeks five and six my mother came to visit, and in the course of showing her around my city I did a lot of walking that weekend (15k steps each day). I think this may have contributed to the failure on the first workout of week 6 by eating into my recovery. Ideally, I would just do, say, a 30-40 minute walk on off days throughout the program.
Most of all, I would trust the process. Of course this is easy to say with hindsight, but there was a point in weeks 3-4 where I got quite demotivated, felt like I coudn't notice the program working (of course not - visual changes take longer than a couple of weeks!) and felt quite tired out from all the eating, so I ended up eating a bit less for about a week in the middle of the program, which quite possibly contributed to the strength losses in week 5. Again, progress isn't linear, but if you stick to the program over six weeks it will pay off.
Conclusion/Next Steps:
Running Super Squats over the last six weeks has been without a doubt the most physically and mentally challenging thing I have ever done, but the payoff has been well worth it. 4kgs gained in 6 weeks and invaluable lessons learned. I'm going to have to go clothes shopping and replace most of my wardrobe. Shirts and T-shirts that were loose are now tight, and my old slim-fit T-shirts now look comically small. Even my straight-leg jeans are now tight fitting (my fiancee said the other day, "Those jeans are a bit tight on you now, huh? But your bum looks great!").
Being on the taller side, I still have quite a lot of frame to fill out, and I still have a lot to learn about training. I will definitely be running Super Squats again in future. I am especially interested in running the Abbreviated Program, consisting of only the squats, pullovers/Rader chest pulls, bench, and bent-over rows. This would solve the problem of workouts being too long, but I imagine it would be extremely challenging, since you should increase the weight on all exercises each workout, not just the squats. With bench and bent-over rows offering less overall muscle fibre recruitment than squats, and 2.5kgs being the smallest weight increase logistically possible (in my gym, anyway), I imagine that this would be challenging in the extreme.
The book suggests running a strength-building training block after the 20-rep squat program, consisting of more sets with lower rep ranges. It even suggests alternating between six weeks on the 20-rep squat program and six on the strength-building program, extending Super Squats well past the initial six weeks. While this approach is intriguing, I want to try something different, and I would rather have more training days in the week in return for shorter individual workouts.
I've ordered a copy of 5/3/1 and will probably run 531 for Beginners, and then see which template I run after that. I have my eye on the BBB Beefcake 3 Month Challenge, but I'll see when I get there. For now, I'm going to dial back on the eating, to around maintenance levels, for at least a couple of weeks (I need a break from stuffing myself all day).
In the meantime, I can't recommend Super Squats enough! You will surprise yourself on this program.
Well, that turned into a huge wall of text. Thanks very much for taking the time to read if you got this far!

Came here due to following The Click on YouTube LOL so I'd try my luck posting. Might be a bit long, so TLDR at the bottom. Technically I posted this before on pettyrevenge, but my friend told me that I should also post a copy here, so here we are. And as a side note, I'm not from the US, so yeah.
This happened during my college days in the 2000s. I majored in Business Admin and one of my classes we had to take for the core subjects was Business Management, which I shared with a few of my friends who took the same major and a few other acquaintances who were in a different major but took them as part of their elective courses.
One of the acquaintances, whom I'll call Gina (not real name) was one of those that really had to stick her nose into other people's businesses. If she sense someone talking about something juicy (in her eyes), she would quickly insert herself into the conversation and insist the person to spill the tea for her, regardless if she knew the topic of discussion or not. Not only that, she has absolutely no inside voice whenever she joins a conversation. She adopts this "loud and proud" attitude and would just talk and respond loudly during the conversation that you can sometimes even hear her outside of the room.
Even when the topic in question is just a general discussion of a course subject that she didn't even take the class of, she'd insist on joining the conversation and either 1) spout out absolute nonsense and be completely oblivious that she had said anything wrong or 2) steer the conversation to finally talk about something she is familiar with. Not only that, she's the type of person who has to one-up you at any topic, e.g. "You got a Nobel prize? I got knighted by the Queen!" type of attitude.
It got to the point where she sometimes try to butt into private conversations or people talking about personal matters and insist on hearing about it and also give unsolicited advice even though she knows fuck all about the issue, and if you try to dismiss her, she will loudly chastise you for not including her into the conversation and not being a good friend for doing so. As an Asian ingrained in polite Asian culture (remember, I'm not from the US), we would either just smile and nod and tolerate her presence or try to make an excuse to leave the room to continue our discussion elsewhere away from her earshot, and our dear ol' oblivious Gina would move on to the next grapevine to grab the next gossip.
One day, I was talking to one of my friends Jordan (who takes the same major as me, also not real name) about a family crisis at home. IIRC, I think it had something to do with their father facing possible jailtime for embezzlement and that they might face potential dropout from college because their father was the main breadwinner and the one paying for college tuition and their mother might not be able to cover it in the future once their father is officially convicted. As usual, Gina saw how intense our faces were while we were talking despite us using hushed tones, and plopped herself next to us to get the scoop.
I tried dismissing her, saying that this is a private matter and that she shouldn't get involved. But of course, she took offense and loudly chastised me in front of the whole class for being "anti-social, leaving her out, that's not what friends do, all I want is to help, I just want to know, what's so wrong about that?" Everyone heard her but decided not to interfere (again, polite Asian culture), but we could still see that all eyes are on us to see how this drama unfold and how we're going to deal with her. Jordan's face became visible distraught and uncomfortable both by the prying eyes and Gina's endless loud chastising, and it was obvious if Gina didn't shut up, all hell would break loose.
Then it suddenly clicked to me on one of Gina's quirks: she was the type that had no patience for foreign films or TV shows. She would only watch movies or TV shows if they were in English, Mandarin or Cantonese (like famous Hong Kong movies and/or TV shows). Anything other than those three languages, she would NOT touch them, even if the show comes with subtitles, because she doesn't have the brain capacity to read subtitles AND watch the show at the same time, and even more so when it comes to anime.
During that time, the Three Kings of Anime (Bleach, Naruto and One Piece) were the rage and while I'm not a die-hard fan, I'm kept up to date with the storyline thanks to being a backseat audience whenever my now husband (then boyfriend) watched those three shows every week when it came out. And we knew for a fact that she actively avoids anything to do with anime because she has no patience to watch them and is completely ignorant of anime fandoms, and from there, the nerdy gears in my head turned the cogwheels to sprout out my demon horns into imaginary existence.
I gave my friend a "I got this" look, pretended to sigh in defeat and said, "Fine~ We were talking about how we could get our hands on the One Piece."
"One Piece?" Gina's eyes began to show intrigue, and a bit of smugness thinking that she had wore me down.
"Oh yeah, didn't you know? It's a family treasure heirloom in Jordan's family for generations!"
I proceeded to basically tell Gina the plot of One Piece anime, but replacing the anime characters' names with Jordan's and their family. How Golden Roger was their ancestor who used to be a pirate in his heyday and had kept a stash of treasure hidden somewhere in the far corners of the Earth, and that a treasure map has become Jordan's family heirloom and passed down from generation to generation, and now that Jordan's grandfather had recently bequeathed the map to them in his will, they were trying to discuss with me the best way to travel to find this One Piece. I spun tale after tale (may have even included Naruto and Bleach plots into the mix) to keep her intrigued, all the while everyone in the classroom (those in the know, anyways) were just trying very hard to keep a straight face at my fanciful tale. Even Jordan played along and added their own spin into the plot to keep the conversation going, and dear ol' oblivious Gina just lapped it all up.
We kept it up for almost 2 weeks as Gina kept coming back for more of Jordan's "family lore", in which we kept feeding her more anime plots (at the same time, it gave Jordan a bit of stress relief and distraction from their own real family crisis). Until one day, at the campus cafeteria, we saw Gina with another group of her friends about two tables away from us and we could hear her talking in her usual loud self about Jordan's "family lore" (yeah, if a story is juicy enough, she would tend to spread around to anyone who would listen; another bad habit of hers).
One of her friends, whom we know is an anime fan, suddenly called her out, "Hey! I thought you said you don't watch anime!"
Gina, with an obvious disgust on her face, said, "Of course not. I wouldn't touch them even with a ten-foot pole! Don't lump me with your lot."
"Really? Then why does your story sound like the anime plots of One Piece, Bleach and Naruto?"
Gina went dead silent for almost a full 2 minute to let everything sink in before she VERY SLOWLY turned towards us sitting two tables away and gave us the world's deadliest death stare, in which we just grinned and comically shrugged at her before walking out of the cafeteria laughing our heads off.
We're not sure how, but she soon realized on that fateful day when we started telling her the "family lore", everyone in class was in on it because no one came forward to stop or correct us. She completely stopped talking to everyone in class and no longer butt in on conversations after that because she couldn't trust anyone at that point, and by mid-semester, she dropped out of this class altogether. From what I heard, she picked a different elective class to go to because she was so traumatized with paranoia by the fact that "if OP lied about her conversation with Jordan, what else are others lying about in their conversation??" in her mind.
Eh, good riddance either way.
TLDR: Entitled classmate wants in on everyone's drama regardless of their privacy or relevance, so I gave her fictional drama to stew on, and she got embarrassed for being told the drama ain't real.
P/S: If The Click sees this, that'll absolutely make my day LOL

It was half past nine when my shift at the diner ended. It’s not any place specifically you’d know, though you’d be forgiven for confusing it for a Waffle House given the abundance of cheap, greasy food and drunk clientele. The only thing distinguishing our location was that our doors closed at ten.
It was a cold night in October. The winds felt out of place for the fall season with the sharp way they bit into my skin. Usually, the low temperatures in Grant tended to hover around the mid-fifties. Tonight felt particularly frigid even bundled up in the warm confines of my jacket.
I hurried through the lot outside the diner, passing by several vehicles. When I made it to my car at the far end, I was quick to put the key in the ignition.
My car was a special edition Subaru Legacy. The only thing special about it was that it was only by the grace of God that my radiator and engine were still operational given the car was a little over two decades old.
When you turn the key, the engine would knock. My father said it was indicative of worn-out bearings. Could be an engine getting ready to declare sayonara before it crapped out one final time and departed for car heaven or perhaps car hell given its rough condition.
I knew little about that though; all I knew was that as a poor college student I was having a difficult enough time as is scrambling to make ends meet with a part time job at a diner. Regardless, whatever the solution, the answer involved money. Money I, notably, didn’t have.
The smart thing to do would be to purchase another used car; though in this economy that sort of thing is far easier said than done.
An even harder task than figuring out the financing for a replacement vehicle was getting this stubborn thing to turn. The engine threatened to exhibit life but would stop short of properly starting.
It was about the fifth round when my engine found the energy to fight the good fight on this frigid night. The engine knocked fiercely, reverberating inside the hood for a few seconds before the noise steadied itself.
I sighed in relief and backed out of my parking spot in the back of the lot.
As I left, I couldn’t help but notice something out of the corner of my eye. A man, a very rugged specimen of the male sex adorning a blue baseball cap and a grizzly beard, was approaching my vehicle at a brisk pace. Where I was the only one stationed at the back of the lot, it seemed odd he was coming my way.
I turned my head to acknowledge him. That’s when he began to break out into a full-on run.
My heart raced almost as fast as my car. I slammed the pedal down and sped out of the lot, the tires screeched loudly along the pavement as I veered to a sharp right.
​
I was lucky the road didn’t carry heavy traffic around this time of night. Where my eyes were focused on him, I was damn near lucky I hadn’t plowed directly into someone.
I sped along the highway and tried to rationalize why this lumberjack looking fellow had charged me. News reports of human trafficking came to mind, but it wasn’t really anything you heard much about in a place as remote as Grant Alabama.
For crying out loud, we physically were so remote one of the miniature cities within Grant was called Bucksnort. We were about as far from the Big Apple, or any real semblance of civilization, one could get.
After a minute of driving, I slowed down, especially when I heard something in the engine rattle. This car wasn’t designed for no races or wild chases. Not with the amount of age it carried.
Besides, I was alone. Safe.
At least that’s what I thought before I heard the blaring of a truck horn. An eighteen-wheeler was coming up behind me. Given I was the only other soul visible on this lonely two lane stretch of highway, it was clear they were honking at me.
I prayed to God and kept moving.
The big rig followed closely. We went down the road for two miles when suddenly my vision was obscured in a bright light.
The trucker was flashing his high beams. I could barely see when he hit me with them. I nearly swerved off the road when he did it.
After a few seconds the mounted flood lights on his vehicle relented and the blinding rays ceased their assault on my eyes.
I moved my car to the right lane to let him pass. He had no intention of doing so. His signal made that clear when he merged behind me.
Drops of rain began to pour from the sky lightly tapping my windshield.
Plop…plop, plop…plop.
My car didn’t handle well with slick roads. Fortunately, I wasn’t too far from home. Maybe another seven miles.
The fiery orange glow flooded the cabin of my car and I yelped.
I fumbled in my purse. One hand on the wheel, one digging desperately for my phone. With my visibility being periodically robbed, I was already a hazard on the road. Might as well risk compounding the issue if it meant I could get in contact with the police.
When the high beams vanished, I managed to pull out my phone and dial 911.
​
The operator answered after two rings. “911, what’s your emergency?” The man that answered the call sounded bored out of his mind, like he’d rather be anywhere else on a Saturday night.
I didn’t care if he was bored, entertained, playing with himself. As long as he could send someone out that’s all I cared about in the end.
“There’s a maniac tailgating me,” I said.
The operator’s voice clipped. Though from what I could understand of the roboticized sound coming out from his end of the line, I could tell from his tone he remained unenthused. “Ma’am, you’ve called an emergency line.”
​
“Y-you don’t understand! I was leaving work and this man started chasing me. I-I think he’s trying to hurt me.”
The operator fell silent for a few seconds. For a moment, between the rainy weather and the flaky signal, I thought I’d lost him. His voice reemerged seconds later. “Where are you?”
I rattled off the highway number I was driving on and told him my home address.
“I’ll get an officer dispatched in the area. ETA should be around ten minutes.”
Ten minutes. Six hundred seconds. Toss whatever metric you wanted to use to measure it out, with that big rig riding close behind me and the driver intermittently blinding me when they felt like getting their rocks off, it might as well have spanned an eternity. I was going to be lucky I didn’t crash into a guardrail or land myself in a ditch.
“Make that around fifteen minutes,” the operator clarified, his crackled voice twisting the knife deeper into me with his update.
I made the turn off the two-lane highway. I didn’t signal when I did it. I was hoping the sudden movement would have had my unwanted friend in the big rig blow past me.
“Ma’am?”
For a moment, I believed it worked. No more blinding lights. The only sound was the operator fishing for a response and the pitter patter of rain on my windshield.
My sigh of relief became a choking noise lodged inside my throat as I saw the eighteen-wheeler backing up. It didn’t turn on a dime, but he was moving fast enough.
The road up ahead winded with hairpin curves. I didn’t know how long I’d have until those lights were upon me. Till he was upon me.
The phone clicked and the call abruptly ended.
I cursed under my breath while my engine knocked like an irate person trying to beat down a door. My Subaru was rapidly approaching its limit. I had to think fast.
These were my options: I could risk speeding and hoped the engine would hold out till I made it to the house, or I could continue driving at a steady pace. If the first option proved successful, he might not see where my vehicle would vanish. If it didn’t, my car might leave me stranded. That’s assuming I didn’t wreck myself taking a turn too fast.
The other option would be safer, but I’d be visible to him. Though with some of these curves I feared if he hit me with the high beams again, I’d be at risk of crashing. Where the area of road ascended, one wrong turn would mean a long journey down.
It would mean certain death.
Taking a sharp intake of breath, I pulled out my phone and called my husband. The only answer I got was his voicemail urging me to leave a message at the tone.
“Billy, there’s a lunatic after me. I’ve called the cops. Please…please be ready. I’m only two minutes away.”
It wasn’t the most inspiring call to action. My husband wasn’t Billy Badass. He was more like Billy the Stamp Collector. Benign hobbies. Soft spoken. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.
Still, I was counting on his presence to deter Mr. High Beams behind me. It was a desperate ploy, but it was all I could think of on such short notice.
I made the turn into the dirt trail that led to my driveway. As I was pulling in the porch light flickered to life. Maybe. It might have been those high beams. They illuminated my cab in a flood of light once more obscuring my vision.
The door to the house opened and a figure ran out of the entryway. My husband from what I could discern of the silhouette. Our dog Jasper, a black schnauzer with more bark than bite, darted out the door. I couldn’t see the little guy, but I heard him.
I stopped the car and shoved open the door. I bolted out of the seat, nearly tripping over my own feet with my frantic departure.
Jasper started barking up a storm, even before the big rig came to a standstill.
The door of it opened and the bearded man stepped out of the vehicle.
Strangely, my dog paid the trucker little mind. Jasper’s eyes remained fixated on my Subaru. He began to snarl.
“Get away from the car,” the man bellowed. He pulled out a gun and pointed it at an angle, almost like he was aiming at my vehicle.
Was this how my life was going to end? Shot dead when I was at the finish line, where I was supposed to be safe?
My husband Billy babbled. “S-sir, please. You don’t have to do this.”
The trucker shook his head. As he did, the sound of sirens began to blare in the distance. He didn’t answer us. Instead, he lowered his gun into his holster and stood still as a statue all while my dog continued snarling and barking at our vehicle.
When the police came, guns drawn, he remained calm.
“I’m not the one you want,” he said. “The car. Search the car.”
Even to this day, I still remember in vivid detail what happened. When the police opened the rear driver door, there was a gaunt looking man back there crouched in the floorboard with a knife clenched in his hand. The wide, manic look lingering in his eyes remained far colder than the frigid winds blowing around us.
The trucker explained later that he saw the man inside my vehicle wielding the blade. He must’ve snuck inside before my shift ended. Once the driver realized what was going on, he’d tried to intervene.
Every time the person in the backseat had attempted to overpower me, to harm me, the trucker turned on his high beams. It scared my unknown passenger. The sight of the light made him hide.
The police hadn’t offered much in the way of details concerning who my stowaway was; given the six inches worth of blade he held, not much imagination was needed to map out what the strange man planned to do to me.
I learned on that cold, lonely October night to never judge a situation wholly by appearances. I was grateful to that truck driver. If it weren’t for his persistence, I would probably not be alive today to share my story.

I I guess I'm looking for validation that this is textbook, and I am looking at this correctly. I guess that is the effect of being gaslit - you don’t know your reality is really your reality. But I am here, and asking for help, because I will need to see him for the next 12 years (our kids go to the same school). This will be in passing and at events, but I am traumatized, still recovering, and just scared. I am looking for some insights because I spent about 2 months trying to fit my story into a box of emotional and narcissistic abuse…. But it's not that....I see that now. If you are able to share tidbits of knowledge, or point me in the direction of more clarity, I would appreciate it so much. Thank you so so much.
I am going to write out the cliff notes. I imagine a lot of you can fill in the parts I leave out as from what I read on here, it’s typical.
I met him walking my kid to school. He walked the same way every day. Over time, we became friends, and I learned he was trying to leave his marriage. Once he did, the relationship happened fast – too fast. He seemed so 100 percent sure of me and it was odd. I often looked disheveled walking to school and tired….I am not sure what he saw in me. But, I felt sure of him too, but wanted to go slower. I tried to slow it down, but at the same time, didn't. I am responsible for that. I felt like a hamster on a wheel after a few weeks and was able to tell him that I need the weekdays for myself, for my work, and for my kid. He seemed to respect that.
But he often romanticized the first few weeks together....even in the last days.
Quickly, I started to notice the emotional dysregulation. There was a lot going on for him: moving out, going through the divorce, parenting, work….so I understood it. I was also still getting to know him. Then severe trauma responses and triggers started happening. They would lead to these large child-like reactions with a lot of tears and anger. I didn't understand it but knew enough to know he had trauma to work through, and perhaps was feeling it for the first time. Each time this happened, there was nothing I could say to help or get him out of it, he would blame me a lot and say I was the cause, and he expected me (without saying it) to be there for him 110% even though I couldn’t. And truthfully, I didn’t want to….I wanted him to be able to handle that for himself or realize it was an issue. I didn't have the tools to deal with it and suggested he try deeper therapy. He agreed.
When he first met with the therapist, she told him it is like a virus takes over his brain and he is convinced in those moments. That was music to my ears at the time. But that is the last time I felt that way.
After a few months of this cycle continuing, I started detoriating. First my mental health, and then my physical health. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like we couldn’t go a few days without him reacting to something small. I wrote in my journal many times “there's no amount of validation I can give this person.”
I didn't point it to excessive adoration and validation, I could not see that really, but if he texted me 5 things and I responded to all 4 logistical ones and ended with "love you too" I was chastised. If I was driving and did not respond to an “i love you,” I was called out for it. At the end of October, I told him I needed the weekend to clean my apartment. It happened to be 60 degrees that day and of course, I would have preferred to be outside, but I am an adult and could not blow off my commitment to myself to clean. That day he messaged me 18 times that me missed me. He kept inviting me out. I kept asking him to stop, because clearly I would prefer to do something else than clean, but needed to. The missing was excessive. I didn’t even know what he meant. We lived next door to eachother. That night, I had to work, and he was upset with me because to him, it was optional and I should have chose to see him.
There were so many moments when he wanted so much comfort I couldn't provide. We were both single parents. That kind of affection goes to my kid....and I couldn't give it to him in that way. He would even want the affection when he hurt me.
He would see my daughter freak out at me and then say that I don’t love her enough, and he would joke they are the same….
It wasn’t a joke?
As time went on, and his therapy went on, and he felt validated by the therapist, the blame came on more and never left. It started in August, and even when I'd get an apology, it would be for the impact (what I'm responsible for) and not his intent. He'd argue with me over seeing his intent clearly. I'd say I don't care about your intent, you're killing me. It didn’t matter, nothing did.
I never felt like we could repair any incidents. As the blame went on, I really questioned myself. I wondered if he was right. What if I don't love enough? What if I don't receive love well? I've been in therapy for 20 years and know I have limitations but I'm not an asshole…
I felt coerced a lot of the time.
I felt he wanted me to change a lot....he wanted me to be less blunt, more loving, more balanced, work less even though he was awful with money, have sex when sick, injured or mentally dead from the day, always be happy to see him, don't be affected by the trauma responses and don't try to talk to him about it, don't take space and if I do, prepare for some kind of punishment, love him and miss him endlessly, do everything together, if I am dysregulated, he wanted me to regulate with him….
I noticed I started taking precautions to keep myself dafe. I didn’t realize I was setting boundaries to prevent the abuse but I was. I’d say I was busy when I wasn’t. I wouldn’t accept or ask him to get me from the airport, knowing I would not be 100% happy after a flight and that would cause a fight (as it did). I didn’t ask for help, and when I did ask for help, I would expect the help to not happen. I did not communicate anything he did “wrong” (like, you said you would drop off quarters for laundry on monday….do you have them?)
There were a lot of moments we would have deep conversations and I felt like we were getting somewhere, that he heard me.
I'll fast forward to the end because this is already way longer than I wanted….and it’s sad that I know it could be so much longer.
In the last month, he reacted and blamed me for everything. There were at least 5 major incidents. After the last one, I told him I was done. It was really bad and left me spending $50 to uber home in the snow, when I could barley walk as is (I had a herniated disc in my back and could barley walk). That month, I lost health insurance, and after begging for time to just take care of the injury, he told me we need intensive couples counseling. I had asked to just continue our therapist until we could change. That wasn't enough. The next weekend he asked me to go to a Gottman weekend. I said I couldn't leave my kid to do that right now and needed to take care of my help.
After that snow episode, that was really bad, laced with blame in the unpacking, I said I'm done, I can't do it. I was crying uncontrollably. I was scared. I really did not know who I was speaking to. After an hour, right when I needed to leave, he snapped out of whatever mindset he was in and told me he'd do anything, that he would work on anything, to please stay. I had to go, I could not think anymore. So in desperation, the only thing I asked for was to go alone on a trip with my daughter. He was scheduled to come with us. I said I needed time just with her. He agreed.
And honestly, he held up his end of the bargain....until he didn't.
3 days before the trip everything fell apart. I worked 12 hours that day and at the end of the day, went to pour water in a cup at home. It was the only time we had together before I left for the week. He hugged me from behind while I was pouring the water (....remember herniated disc in my back). I asked him to please stop and just let me have a second to pour the water.
He said "there's no turning back from this" and got his stuff to leave. I was floored. I was so upset because I knew where this was going - the blame game. He left, wouldn't come back, and then continued to blame me for the next 2 days about how I was an asshole the days before, only spent time with him out of obligation (not true), and rewrote history. I had a stomach bug all weekend and could not eat, but still tried to hang out as much as I reasonably could, and that was not enough.
The water incident was Wednesday, Thursday he had therapy and reinforced the blame, and I ended up leaving without saying goodbye. It was a week. I wanted to believe this relationship could survive a week. But I was clear with him days before: I am working up until I need to leave Friday so I can have real time off with my kid. He was upset I did not find him to say goodbye, even though he made no attempt to make peace earlier. But of course, my fault.
That night, he claimed down. Was nice. But it was a trap. After 12 hours of him being nice in text he said he was only doing it hoping I felt remorse and realized how wrong I was. He told me over and over he wouldn't see it differently. He said he read the transcript of our texts to 2 therapists and his friends and it’s clear: I am wrong. May be important to name here that we are both in our late 30’s.
I said that I want to work this out and I'll talk when we can actually discuss it and I'm willing to hear his side but not willing to blindly take all responsibility. He nailed me on every response, telling me how wrong my response was and what I should have done differently.
I was with my kid and could not talk. When I said "why are you doing this now, you know I can’t really respond" he told me to stop avoiding.
That night, he ghosted me for the first time in the relationship and I panicked. I called him a few times. No answer.
The next day, despite him never doing that to me before, he called me controlling for calling.
At 7am the next morning he told me our relationship was over in a text. This man, who 7 days before was professing his love and understanding of me ended the engagement in a text. This of course continued with a back and forth. I asked him to please stop. To please pause and talk to me when i'm back in 5 days. He told me to fight for the relationship or it was over. I said “I am just waking up with my 7 year old, in a hotel, please stop.” I asked him to attend couples therapy in 3 days to talk this out. He said “you accept all responsibility and change your behavior or we are done.” I asked if he was willing to talk and he said the problem was my perception and that it's wrong, so unless I change we are done. I knew this wasn't ok but I was so blindsided I did not know what to do. He agreed to go to couples therapy Thursday. We barley talked. There were a few more messages of him telling me he needs to know I can live a drama free life and celebrate his love and see it all as beautiful (almost verbatim). At this point, all I wanted to do is keep the dial down. I pushed back saying, “I cannot teach my daughter that someone can just tell her that her emotions and feelings are wrong, I hope you will be willing to talk and we can get on the same page.”
He agreed to go to couples therapy, and then didn't show up. He texted me 10 minutes before saying he was not going. I begged and pleaded. But he had the couples therapist to tell me he wasn't going to go. He had her tell me. I lost it. I lost my mind. I had been reeling for days. Not sleeping. Putting on a fake smile all day with my kid while I was dying inside. Staying up late to cry, process, read, figure out wtf was going on…
I called him about 10 times and of course, he told me it was inappropriate. He then picked up and gave me 10 minutes. He again wanted me to take all responsibility for everything. I was so shaken, I just fawned. I said ok. When I'm back I hope we can talk but if you want me to accept blame for now, fine.
Everything was calmer for 2 days until we were heading back and he texted me something along the lines of "don't fool me" I was like wtf? He said "there's no turning back. There's no other chances." I was like wait what? And then it was "don't make me look like a fool" I had no idea what was going on. I was like "um what is this?" He essentially was reinforcing his stance: I am to blame for everything in the present and past. If I try to talk to him about his side I'm wrong. I need to repent and one wrong move (defined by him) is a misstep and there's no room for error (his words). I was like....I will be in a relationship based in reality, and I will own my part and parts, but i will not be in something that i'm to blame for everything. That is not healthy. I have also been in abusive relationships before.
He then stopped messaging me. Didn't care that we got into flight issues. Didn't care we made the flight back. That night he came over and was a victim. Claimed in the 5 days I was gone he found himself. That he wasn't focused at work because of me and now he is. He wanted to try to be together. I had no idea what reality I was in. We slept together. He left. And told me we'd talk the next day. All of this felt so weird but I was just hoping he would snap out of this and back to reality and we would be able to talk. But I also knew this had to end at this point.
The next day, he didn't answer me all day. This was the opposite of behavior I ever experienced from him. Did not respond to texts or pick up the phone. We had a training appointment and he had the trainer tell me he wasn't coming. I broke down in tears. I begged him to just answer a text. He didn't. He drove by me while walking the dog and did not stop. I emailed him, expressing my confusion, telling him this is not what we agreed to. He blocked me. That night I got an email from him letting me know he was moving 10 min away. He lived next door in another apt building. He actually assured me the day before he “was not going anywhere.” In that email, he listed out the calls and texts I sent and how inappropriate it was. He never said we were done. He said taking space, needing space…so in my head I was confused but see it now.
I was inconsolable. I didn’t respond.
But here is the issue I am still in: I needed to see him dropping his kid at school the next day. I will need to see him for the next 12 years unless I move.
The following Friday he stood next to me at a school event. I purposely stood in the back to have space and be able to leave if I needed to. He went next to me. When I told him he should sit, he said he didn't want to make it obvious to his ex wife. I asked him to speak that Friday. He said ok but he was moving. I cried instantly. Already? I said ok.
On Saturday am, I saw the truck pull up and left the house. I called him that Saturday. I was blocked.
The next wednesday he asked me for a series of logistics in a text. None of which I handled yet. Wanting me to cancel flights and settle up money spent together. No mention or responsibility for all the money wasted on tickets we will never use. But then…in the text, asked for my engagement ring back.
I responded to logistics. Not the ring
He then called me 3 hours later because something went really wrong in his legal case. He wanted me to understand and validate him. I did....I just turned off my feelings for a moment. At the end he said, so about the flights. Can you handle it? "If i cancel it for you and your son i also have to do it for me and my kid. It's all on the same reservation" "well if you can go and not make sexual advances on me then we can try to go together.” I was like wtf? I could not have sex for months due to my injury. But he wanted to. Was this way of setting up blame that if we DID sleep together I would be to blame? I was like “I will cancel it for all of us.”
He then ran down more logistics and I said honestly you didn't seem done. I don't understand what you're doing. He said "im done" i hung up the phone.
He asked me for the ring again that night in a text. I said no, I need time to process this.
Everything since then has been a transaction. If i have a genuine emotion, he gets upset that i have it at all. He continues to sit next to me at school events because he claims he does not want his ex-wife to think we are done (this is insane to me….). I realize now that if it is a “good” interaction he is happy. If I am sad, then it is a “bad” one.
He never told his son we broke up, and shamed me for telling my daughter.
Recently he asked me a question and I was annoyed, and he said "can you not be mad at me?" I said “no, I can't not be mad at you…”
In the last 3 months, he’s said "I don't want to confuse things" has come up a lot. I don’t know if he is saying that to me or himself.
I have been so stuck trying to understand how I could not take space at all from him, to being totally discarded. I know he went back to spending, and drinking, but I don’t think he is seeing anyone.
He only responds when he wants to. He ignores other things. I never was able to get an MRI for my back because the claim went through a DR he set up for me and he never sent me the info when I asked.
I got the money back he owed me, but still lost so much money.
He told me he missed me one time.
I don’t know who this person is.
I will have to see him for the next 12 years while the kids are in school unless I move. I am not going to move just to avoid him, but I need to heal so I can be strong enough. I don’t know if he is going to try to come back. I have been in therapy and am getting clearer about what brought me into this in the first place.
Any clarity you can help me with, on this, and what may come from here, would be really helpful. It will help me direct some of my searches and begin to piece things together to process in therapy. I have severe anxiety when I run into him at school.
I have never had to heal from something like this before. At first, I thought it was healing from a narcissistic discard….this feels like so much more.
Does it sound like he will want to come back?
Is there ever closure?

Hey guys, my name is Rosslyn and I live in Virginia. I have been raised here my whole life and I grew up with stories of all sorts of cryptids around here. Last night, however, was different.
My husband, Charlie, and I were out on a drive to his hometown in North Carolina. This place has maybe 2000 people if not less inhabiting, and it’s almost an hour from the nearest hospital. Growing up was odd here, he would tell me. He always said that you were never truly alone, but I always thought it was just the ghosts of hundreds of those who have passed roaming and curiously passing by. I’ve seen a few shadows here and there and i can say I’ve never felt alone, but also I’ve never felt threatened.
This time, we were driving there around 10 pm. There is this spot we like to sit at, and sometimes we need some time away to relax and enjoy each others company. The drive isn’t longer than 2 hours, and we like to take the scenic route around when it’s empty. He had mentioned how he knew this road he used to love to sit at, and at the end of it is a culdasac of trees. When we approached, we were both silent but now I know we were both experiencing the same feeling of “I’m not alone right now.”
That’s when I saw it. Behind the trees, lurking to not be seen, was a tall and gangly figure. I remember feeling petrified and when I caught it’s eyes, I glanced away. I told him to leave right then and there and later explained what i had saw.
As we continued to drive to his old neighborhood, we both continued to feel followed. His streets seemed to have a cast of darkness not typical on these nights. We turned to our usually spot and parked, at this point I had described to him what I had seen and we rolled down the windows to listen.
Silence. Fleeting crickets. Silence. I looked at him and felt that trickling fear of being watched. Again.
We hightailed it out of there and began our journey home, both of us at that point realizing that we are being hunted down. My husband knows how to take these roads and curves, but I can only imagine what would have happened if he took a curve too tight and we hit a tree.
At some point I glanced out of the window into the dark field next to us and I saw it running on all fours. I could feel it’s anger, I was NOT supposed to have seen it. At this point, I told my husband and he maneuvered us to a small little area with civilization; IE a hotel a few fast food places and a Walmart. He decided oddly to turn into the Walmart and park.
Wrong idea. We quickly realized we were being searched for and created a plan to escape. We both knew what was going on and we both knew we narrowly escaped death at that time. Looking into the eyes of your apex predator is feeling you’ll never forget.
we ended up escaping to home and i tried to lay down to forget it all, but quickly realized I am not okay. When I close my eyes, all I could see was it’s face staring back at me. The long white ashy snout with dark hollow eyes and a piercing grey middle to them. It was a tall and stood on both legs, it had a hunch and was terrifying skinny.
It was hungry.
My husband later mentioned he doesn’t know quite why, but the reason he turned down that street in the first place was he felt ‘called’ to go. I felt the same and I know that had we stepped out the car, had I not accidentally caught a glimpse into it’s eyes, we would be dead.
So that brings me to now, this morning. I just woke up after being haunted in my dreams of his eyes and face and I’m asking for help. My husband thinks I’m marked and that I can never return, but I don’t know enough to fully understand what’s happened to me.
Thank you for reading and please give me knowledge or advice on this situation. May 19, 2024

I am a guy who had relapsed after a 90 days of nofap, a few months ago. Once the streak was broken the demons which I thought had gone forever returned stronger than ever. Since then, it had been a constant cycle of relapse and minor streaks. Many of you here would be familiar with how it feels whenever you try to resist an urge. Mind keeps saying, 'one last time, plsss' and you would try to reason with it, which often results in the mind's victory and hence a relapse. You try to bring up an argument or a reason as to why you shouldn't do it next time which is almost always defeated by mind's 'it will be the last time' excuse.
Frustrating. It pulls you into a constant loop of sadness, regret and at the same a fear that you will never go back to that 'improvement phase' (if you have got a good streak before).
I will tell you how I managed to beat it. So after a relapse, I was reflecting myself on where I went wrong. I was trying to convince my mind over and over that I must not break the streak again. But... Inwardly I felt hopeless. I felt like I wasn't communicating with my mind in the correct way, you know maybe not giving it a proper reason to quit porn addiction and go nofap. So I watched some podcasts on nofap. I learned something about how our mind works during an addiction from Dr.K's lectures. I realised that communication with mind is much more important than I thought. Perhaps my library would have...
Coincidentally it was the day I had to return my book. So, I went to library in search for a book on human brain, addictions or something that would help me communicate with it properly?
It's here, it's inside here
My mind kept telling me.
And the first thing which caught my eye was a book with a brain's picture. A blue-black coloured book.
'Telepsychics Tapping your Hidden Subconscious powers'
By Dr Joseph Murphy.
I know his name might be familiar to you. He is the author of 'The power of your subconscious mind'.
This is his lesser known book. I read the back for a bit, uninterested, because it wasn't time for playing with Telekinesis(for some reason that's how I read the title of the book) when I wanted to quit porn addiction. I read a few lines of the back and thought, 'Yep. Totally another superstitious book.'
I kept it back into the rack and realised that I had misread the title. So I read a random page inside to see what Telepsychics is and under a points to remember section it read:
'Telepsychics means communication with your psyche...'
... Jackpot.
Mind was telling me,
This is it. This is the answer.
I borrowed the book and I will be honest here. I couldn't read it for some days due to some prior engagements but when I finally did, everything changed.
Everything made so much sense. What it destroyed was my false image of God, whom I thought to be a man up in the skies watching over us. The author is Christian hence there are some Pslams and other quotes, here and there in the book. I am not a Christian but I understood what he was trying to convey.
We all have failed to reason with mind because our target itself it wrong.
What we should have focused on was our subconscious mind not the conscious mind.
Following this book, I crafted my own prayer which I read three times in the morning after waking up and three times before I turn in at night.
Now today, I am back to that 'improvement mode' again, people. Something which seemed impossible before.
'Prayer is nothing more than communication with your subconscious mind.'
Hence, I suggest you to make one tailored for you, for your circumstances and based on what you want. I use an image of myself celebrating no fap after 1000 days, when I say the corresponding prayer line.
Brothers and Sisters who are all trying to break out of the loop, please give this old book a try. I know this post is very long but I felt like I should help you people who are trying hard everyday to become a nofap, a formula.
The reason the tag is 'victory' is not because of the current streak. But just the fact that I got back to 'I'm moving towards my best self' phase.
PS: The reason some of you have never experienced that phase is because you might have applied improvement to your porn addiction situation only. As a guy, it feels best if you wrap your life around a purpose you love and want to work for everyday. Maybe try improving more areas of your life during your streak to understand what I am saying about the 'feel good' improvement phase. I am not saying you will attract 100 women everywhere you go 💔 but it will feel better to connect with people when you are in that phase. You feel good interacting with someone because you feel positive, motivated and at peace. People often reflect all that positiveness back at you. I think that's all this confidence theory you hear from no fap journey is all about. I will tell you a story of a daring thing I did during my earlier 90 days which is kind of similar to the exaggerated results people tell you. That is if anyone wishes me to tell it 😅(fat chance).
For those who read it till here. Have a great day! All my blessings to you!

Hey guys, my name is Rosslyn and I live in Virginia. I have been raised here my whole life and I grew up with stories of all sorts of cryptids around here. Last night, however, was different.
My husband, Charlie, and I were out on a drive to his hometown in North Carolina. This place has maybe 2000 people if not less inhabiting, and it’s almost an hour from the nearest hospital. Growing up was odd here, he would tell me. He always said that you were never truly alone, but I always thought it was just the ghosts of hundreds of those who have passed roaming and curiously passing by. I’ve seen a few shadows here and there and i can say I’ve never felt alone, but also I’ve never felt threatened.
This time, we were driving there around 10 pm. There is this spot we like to sit at, and sometimes we need some time away to relax and enjoy each others company. The drive isn’t longer than 2 hours, and we like to take the scenic route around when it’s empty. He had mentioned how he knew this road he used to love to sit at, and at the end of it is a culdasac of trees. When we approached, we were both silent but now I know we were both experiencing the same feeling of “I’m not alone right now.”
That’s when I saw it. Behind the trees, lurking to not be seen, was a tall and gangly figure. I remember feeling petrified and when I caught it’s eyes, I glanced away. I told him to leave right then and there and later explained what i had saw.
As we continued to drive to his old neighborhood, we both continued to feel followed. His streets seemed to have a cast of darkness not typical on these nights. We turned to our usually spot and parked, at this point I had described to him what I had seen and we rolled down the windows to listen.
Silence. Fleeting crickets. Silence. I looked at him and felt that trickling fear of being watched. Again.
We hightailed it out of there and began our journey home, both of us at that point realizing that we are being hunted down. My husband knows how to take these roads and curves, but I can only imagine what would have happened if he took a curve too tight and we hit a tree.
At some point I glanced out of the window into the dark field next to us and I saw it running on all fours. I could feel it’s anger, I was NOT supposed to have seen it. At this point, I told my husband and he maneuvered us to a small little area with civilization; IE a hotel a few fast food places and a Walmart. He decided oddly to turn into the Walmart and park.
Wrong idea. We quickly realized we were being searched for and created a plan to escape. We both knew what was going on and we both knew we narrowly escaped death at that time. Looking into the eyes of your apex predator is feeling you’ll never forget.
we ended up escaping to home and i tried to lay down to forget it all, but quickly realized I am not okay. When I close my eyes, all I could see was it’s face staring back at me. The long white ashy snout with dark hollow eyes and a piercing grey middle to them. It was a tall and stood on both legs, it had a hunch and was terrifying skinny.
It was hungry.
My husband later mentioned he doesn’t know quite why, but the reason he turned down that street in the first place was he felt ‘called’ to go. I felt the same and I know that had we stepped out the car, had I not accidentally caught a glimpse into it’s eyes, we would be dead.
So that brings me to now, this morning. I just woke up after being haunted in my dreams of his eyes and face and I’m asking for help. My husband thinks I’m marked and that I can never return, but I don’t know enough to fully understand what’s happened to me.
Thank you for reading and please give me guidance if you can. May 19, 2024

Today I want to tell my story of how I self-advocated and what I did to achieve that goal. I'm telling my story to help those who are in a similar position to what I was in and to inspire those to self-advocate.
To recap from my earlier posts. I have ADHD and fell under the "multiple disabilities" characterization. My high school teacher claimed that I have autism (Not diagnosed). I personally don't believe I have autism or at the very least I have a high functioning autism. Throughout most of my school career, I was in a self-contained classroom with kids with severe disabilities. Even if I was in the general population I had a paraprofessional or peer tutor. I never believed that I should have been in that position. As a consequence, I never really learned any social skills, I was segregated, and felt like that people didn't want anything to do with me because I was sped. The reason why I ended up in this position was probably a combination of me having the "multiple disabilities'' characterization and me testing low in three year revaluation tests. If you want more info on this then feel free to search my profile. This is an alt account and is primarily used to ask questions about special ed so It's really easy to find stuff about me.
Before I get into my story I just want to make it clear that I'm not against special ed. There's good and bad people in every profession. I believed I was in danger for myself and for my future. I don't believe that my teacher was evil and had the best of intentions but he was putting me in a position that was hurting me and I had to act. If you have any questions or feedback feel free to let me know in the comments. Another thing is that this post has been really hard to make. It opened up some old wounds and as a result took several days to write.
Here's my story: So in late middle school I was tired of the placement that I was in. I was tired of not having friends, Not being able to socialize with my peers, not being able to date. I also was thinking about what my life will look like after high school, I was concerned that I was going to never have friends, Never be in a relationship, and not have the social skills to make those friends. I was generally very concerned for my future. So I decided that for my 8th grade year (2017-2018) I would do my absolute best for both my behavior and academics. Throughout the year nothing changed. I was hoping that me doing well would show that I didn't need any support but at the end of the year I still had paraprofessionals in most of my classes and was being pulled out for tests. In the summer between middle school and high school all I can think about is I want high school to be different. I wanted friends, I wanted a relationship, and I had dreams of me in the student council. When I got into high school I had peer tutors along with paraprofessionals (Peer Tutors are general ed students who sign up as an elective to help special needs kids. They basically serve the role as paraprofessionals with less responsibility). I did everything again and had the exact same result. In January of 2019 (freshmen year) I decided that my current strategy wasn't working. They also started making the peer tutors fill out behavioral checklists for their student(s) by grading them on how well they behaved/followed directions and gave them badges that say "peer tutor" which made me feel singled out. Because of that the peer tutors felt more like babysitters then someone that is an equal. So I went to my special ed teacher and asked him to remove the paraprofessional and the peer tutors. He told me no and said that I needed them. I changed my strategy again and I was going to ask for the Peer Tutors to be gone first, then focus on removing the paraprofessionals. I was more concerned about the peer tutors over the paraprofessionals because I was concerned that since they were part of the student body that this was going to affect me when I was running for the student council. I was worried that they'd tell others I was special needs then people would think I was incompetent. So every 2 weeks I would ask him again to remove them and each time he would give me a different excuse on why I couldn't be alone. Here's some of the excuses he gave me: "The peer tutors need to be there to collect data", "You need to prove that you can do the work yourself", "It's not up to me. It's the general education teacher that decides if you need a peer tutor or an aide", "Peer Tutors are supposed to represent a trainer for a job. If you refuse training then you're going to get fired". I brought it up again during my yearly IEP which took place in March. Once again my teacher said no, bringing up another excuse. As far as I can remember, my parents were neutral about the aide situation. Later one peer tutor was removed, what happened is that the peer tutor moved to a different town and they didn't bother on sending a substitute. A win is a win so I celebrated it. At the end of my freshman year I was pretty much defeated and didn't achieve the goal of being 100% independent. Over the summer I took a look at my situation and decided that my current plan is not working. I knew that when my sophomore year of high school starts I will have aides and peer tutors in classes. I knew that if I wanted to get what I wanted I would have to do something big. I knew that I would have to put up a fight, and put in a lot more effort. Over the summer I developed a war mindset inspired by two quotes from Sun Tzu:
"Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win”
“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”
I knew that I can't be going into sophomore year blind, so I started drafting a plan. I created a Google doc outlining my goals and what I wanted to accomplish. I knew that I won't be able to win every battle and that I need to choose which fight is worth fighting for. I thought to myself, “Well the peer tutors we're given training on the first day of school and probably have strategies to deal with poor behavior but what about planned well organized protests?” So I began researching strategies on how paraprofessionals/peer tutors dealt with negative behavior and reverse engineered those tactics. I read forms, I Watched YouTube videos and found as much information that I could find. For the peer tutors I didn't know too much about them. I didn't know if it was something that only my school did or if other schools did it. I did some research and found out that other schools had a peer tutor program and some have uploaded training videos on YouTube. Some peer tutors told me that they did babysitting and did nanny work so I looked up babysitting tips. I reverse engineered all of those tactics and came up with strategies to counter those techniques and put all that information that I learned into a google doc that I can use for future reference. During this time I also researched how to become a better negotiator and started learning a little bit of psychology. The plan was to first negotiate and if that doesn't work I will protest and make demands and negotiate. Over the summer I got really good at negotiating and practiced a lot on my father and my sister (they were totally oblivious). To this day I use those negotiating tactics. After I created my document and was satisfied with all the information, I went to bed that night and knew that I have already won and that my sophomore year will be my last year that I 1-1 peer tutor or aide.
Fast forward to the first day of school, as expected I had peer tutors and aides assigned to me in classes. My sped teacher had a chalkboard On the back wall full of sticky notes that had everyone's schedules and a name of someone was assigned to that student for each class. This time around I only had one peer tutor outside of the special ed classes. This is a big improvement over the three I had before but I still have my original goal of having none. For the paraprofessionals I had 2 in Gen classes.The goal was to first remove the peer tutors then the paraprofessionals. Even though this seems to be an improvement I continued with the plan. Since this was the first day, the peer tutors were in another classroom learning policies and other stuff they needed to know so I was alone for the day. I walked over to my special ed teacher and ask him one final time to remove the peer tutor he says no and then I asked him to let me be alone for 2 weeks so I can prove I don't need help and he still denies me. I then tell him that I will allow the peer tutor for 2 weeks and after that she needs to go. My teacher doesn't respond. (To add context the peer tutor that I had, she was a peer tutor in my math class in the prior semester so I already know who she was. We used to talk a lot and was surprised when I saw that she was assigned to me.)
For 2 weeks she mostly left me alone with her occasionally checking up on me. For those 2 weeks I purposely close my self off and adopted a body language that would subconsciously discourage her from approaching me. I did this by keeping my head low and staying as focused as possible. The only thing she did was confront me when I start packing up 2 minutes before the bell rings. She tells me that I shouldn't be packing up and to pull my stuff out again. I tell her no and hold my ground. She writes in my planner that I packed my stuff up early and refuse to pull it out. That happened like 2 or 3 times. On Thursday on the second week my class was tasked to create a PowerPoint. FYI this was a mythology class, while I was doing this PowerPoint I decided instead of manually trying to type in the locations and people from this mythology which the names were very long and complicated. I decided would be easier just to copy and paste them in. My peer tutor sees me doing this and doesn't say anything. At the end of class she writes that I plagiarized in my planner and tells my special ed teacher in person what happened. My sped teacher pulls me out of class (I had his math class right after mythology) and starts telling me that my peer tutor has seen me copy and pasting paragraphs and goes on this lecturing on why plagiarizing is bad. I explained to him that I wasn't copying paragraphs It was only copying names and locations and explain my reason for it. He didn't believe me but he didn't make me retake the assignment. After that I was pissed off and the next day I confronted her about it. I forgot what her reasoning for not telling me was but I told her that she needs to look into things before she makes false reports. After that incident, I decided to wait a week before I ask my teacher to remove her. Also during those first 3 weeks I turned down help from peer tutors and paras if possible In the special ed classroom. I did this to prevent sending any mix signals. I personally didn't mind if I had to work with a peer tutopara or not In the actual sped classroom. I only cared if it was in any of the general education classes. I just thought it would look contradictory if I was accepting help in the sped class and then requesting peer tutors to be removed from my gen classes.
At the beginning of the fourth week I went to school early and went to my sped teacher's class before first hour starts and then I again asked him to remove the peer tutor and the paraprofessionals. He says no again and brings up that I was being academically dishonest by plagiarizing. I tell my side of the story once again on what happened and he still doesn't believe me. At this point I leave and more pissed off. At this point negotiations didn't work so I started small protests by preventing the peer tutors from filling out my planer and the behavioral checklist. Most of them didn't care since there was other students they can fill out and they only need to fill out one to be graded for the day. One peer tutor gave me the puppy dog eye treatment and I eventually cave and let her fill it out. I still let the one peer tutor that was assigned to me in the gen class due to me being the only student and my intention wasn't to ruin, her grade. During the fourth week I began brainstorming ideas on how I can do a massive protest.
On Thursday of the fourth week of school, a walk into the mythology class and it started out like any other day. Class started and my teacher starts talking. I pull up my phone to respond to some messages and my peer tutor sees me. She asks me to hand my phone over to her and I tell her no. She tells me that I can't be on my phone and I tell her okay but I'm still not giving it to you. She then pulls out her phone and puts it on the table. She then tells me to put my phone on the table. I tell her no again. A few minutes past and the teacher finishes up talking. She passes the assignment and immediately my peer tutor begins to try and help by reading the questions. I slide the packet over closer to me and start ignoring her. I was hoping that she will get the hint and leave me alone. She doesn't so put on my hoodie and tried to mentally block her out. I don't remember what she said during all this since I was blocking it out but I do remember her touching me and the general ed teacher coming over and start assisting the peer tutor. It was a lot of pressure and I was actually about to give up because it was too much. But they both gaved up before I did and I was very relieved. After that, the class was pretty much quiet. The peer tutor wrote an entire paragraph on what happened. I walked to my math class and sat down. I then see my peer tutor walking into class and ask for my sped teacher. I already knew it was about me. I see them talk for 2 minutes and sure enough I see my teacher calling me over. I walked outside the classroom and me and the teacher begin to go at it. We end up saying the same things we have said before. However, my teacher this time mentioned that if I keep up my behavior that he's going to call in a meeting with my parents. The rest of math class was pretty much the same. However, my English class with the same teacher he went on a rant about using accommodations seeing that he had a disability growing up which was tourette's and he were love to have a peer tutor. I was quiet for the whole class since I was already exhausted because of everything else that had already happened. For the rest of the weekend, I've been coming up with plans on how I would be able to pull off a massive protest.
Now for the good news. On the fifth week of school, I noticed that my peer tutor was missing. My teacher pulled me aside again and told me that he decided that he was going to pull her for 2 weeks to see how well I would do without her. I told him thank you, that's what I wanted since the beginning of the school year. After those 2 weeks he didn't reinstate her and I didn't have a peer tutor or paraprofessionals in gen classes since. The deal moving forward was as long as I had a D or better he wasn't going to send any support unless I asked for it. My relationship with that sped teacher also had improved significantly. Later in my Junior year of high school I ran in my school's election and won. I was given the social media position.
In hindsight, I'm glad I didn't have to pull off a big protest. But the same time I wish that this situation could have ended in a different way.
Everything that I just told you is only the tip of the iceberg. There's so much detail that I had to leave out just to make this story shorter. Lot of it I'm still processing even though I found great strength in myself fighting back against a system that I believe was ruining my life. That war mindset hasn't left my mentality yet. I'm still dealing with the consequences of me being in special ed. Everything I told you happened 5 years ago and I'm still living through it like it just happened. I'm mentally recovering and eventually I will recover. Right now I'm in therapy and I'm writing down everything I can in a Google doc to process everything emotionally. Maybe one day I'll give that story to a writer and make a book out of it.
If you have any questions feel free ask them, I would love to answer them.

Today I want to tell my story of how I self-advocated and what I did to achieve that goal. I'm telling my story to help those who are in a similar position to what I was in and to inspire those to self-advocate.
To recap from my earlier posts. I have ADHD and fell under the "multiple disabilities" characterization. My high school teacher claimed that I have autism (Not diagnosed). I personally don't believe I have autism or at the very least I have a high functioning autism. Throughout most of my school career, I was in a self-contained classroom with kids with severe disabilities. Even if I was in the general population I had a paraprofessional or peer tutor. I never believed that I should have been in that position. As a consequence, I never really learned any social skills, I was segregated, and felt like that people didn't want anything to do with me because I was sped. The reason why I ended up in this position was probably a combination of me having the "multiple disabilities'' characterization and me testing low in three year revaluation tests. If you want more info on this then feel free to search my profile. This is an alt account and is primarily used to ask questions about special ed so It's really easy to find stuff about me.
Before I get into my story I just want to make it clear that I'm not against special ed. There's good and bad people in every profession. I believed I was in danger for myself and for my future. I don't believe that my teacher was evil and had the best of intentions but he was putting me in a position that was hurting me and I had to act. If you have any questions or feedback feel free to let me know in the comments. Another thing is that this post has been really hard to make. It opened up some old wounds and as a result took several days to write.
Here's my story: So in late middle school I was tired of the placement that I was in. I was tired of not having friends, Not being able to socialize with my peers, not being able to date. I also was thinking about what my life will look like after high school, I was concerned that I was going to never have friends, Never be in a relationship, and not have the social skills to make those friends. I was generally very concerned for my future. So I decided that for my 8th grade year (2017-2018) I would do my absolute best for both my behavior and academics. Throughout the year nothing changed. I was hoping that me doing well would show that I didn't need any support but at the end of the year I still had paraprofessionals in most of my classes and was being pulled out for tests. In the summer between middle school and high school all I can think about is I want high school to be different. I wanted friends, I wanted a relationship, and I had dreams of me in the student council. When I got into high school I had peer tutors along with paraprofessionals (Peer Tutors are general ed students who sign up as an elective to help special needs kids. They basically serve the role as paraprofessionals with less responsibility). I did everything again and had the exact same result. In January of 2019 (freshmen year) I decided that my current strategy wasn't working. They also started making the peer tutors fill out behavioral checklists for their student(s) by grading them on how well they behaved/followed directions and gave them badges that say "peer tutor" which made me feel singled out. Because of that the peer tutors felt more like babysitters then someone that is an equal. So I went to my special ed teacher and asked him to remove the paraprofessional and the peer tutors. He told me no and said that I needed them. I changed my strategy again and I was going to ask for the Peer Tutors to be gone first, then focus on removing the paraprofessionals. I was more concerned about the peer tutors over the paraprofessionals because I was concerned that since they were part of the student body that this was going to affect me when I was running for the student council. I was worried that they'd tell others I was special needs then people would think I was incompetent. So every 2 weeks I would ask him again to remove them and each time he would give me a different excuse on why I couldn't be alone. Here's some of the excuses he gave me: "The peer tutors need to be there to collect data", "You need to prove that you can do the work yourself", "It's not up to me. It's the general education teacher that decides if you need a peer tutor or an aide", "Peer Tutors are supposed to represent a trainer for a job. If you refuse training then you're going to get fired". I brought it up again during my yearly IEP which took place in March. Once again my teacher said no, bringing up another excuse. As far as I can remember, my parents were neutral about the aide situation. Later one peer tutor was removed, what happened is that the peer tutor moved to a different town and they didn't bother on sending a substitute. A win is a win so I celebrated it. At the end of my freshman year I was pretty much defeated and didn't achieve the goal of being 100% independent. Over the summer I took a look at my situation and decided that my current plan is not working. I knew that when my sophomore year of high school starts I will have aides and peer tutors in classes. I knew that if I wanted to get what I wanted I would have to do something big. I knew that I would have to put up a fight, and put in a lot more effort. Over the summer I developed a war mindset inspired by two quotes from Sun Tzu:
"Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win”
“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”
I knew that I can't be going into sophomore year blind, so I started drafting a plan. I created a Google doc outlining my goals and what I wanted to accomplish. I knew that I won't be able to win every battle and that I need to choose which fight is worth fighting for. I thought to myself, “Well the peer tutors we're given training on the first day of school and probably have strategies to deal with poor behavior but what about planned well organized protests?” So I began researching strategies on how paraprofessionals/peer tutors dealt with negative behavior and reverse engineered those tactics. I read forms, I Watched YouTube videos and found as much information that I could find. For the peer tutors I didn't know too much about them. I didn't know if it was something that only my school did or if other schools did it. I did some research and found out that other schools had a peer tutor program and some have uploaded training videos on YouTube. Some peer tutors told me that they did babysitting and did nanny work so I looked up babysitting tips. I reverse engineered all of those tactics and came up with strategies to counter those techniques and put all that information that I learned into a google doc that I can use for future reference. During this time I also researched how to become a better negotiator and started learning a little bit of psychology. The plan was to first negotiate and if that doesn't work I will protest and make demands and negotiate. Over the summer I got really good at negotiating and practiced a lot on my father and my sister (they were totally oblivious). To this day I use those negotiating tactics. After I created my document and was satisfied with all the information, I went to bed that night and knew that I have already won and that my sophomore year will be my last year that I 1-1 peer tutor or aide.
Fast forward to the first day of school, as expected I had peer tutors and aides assigned to me in classes. My sped teacher had a chalkboard On the back wall full of sticky notes that had everyone's schedules and a name of someone was assigned to that student for each class. This time around I only had one peer tutor outside of the special ed classes. This is a big improvement over the three I had before but I still have my original goal of having none. For the paraprofessionals I had 2 in Gen classes.The goal was to first remove the peer tutors then the paraprofessionals. Even though this seems to be an improvement I continued with the plan. Since this was the first day, the peer tutors were in another classroom learning policies and other stuff they needed to know so I was alone for the day. I walked over to my special ed teacher and ask him one final time to remove the peer tutor he says no and then I asked him to let me be alone for 2 weeks so I can prove I don't need help and he still denies me. I then tell him that I will allow the peer tutor for 2 weeks and after that she needs to go. My teacher doesn't respond. (To add context the peer tutor that I had, she was a peer tutor in my math class in the prior semester so I already know who she was. We used to talk a lot and was surprised when I saw that she was assigned to me.)
For 2 weeks she mostly left me alone with her occasionally checking up on me. For those 2 weeks I purposely close my self off and adopted a body language that would subconsciously discourage her from approaching me. I did this by keeping my head low and staying as focused as possible. The only thing she did was confront me when I start packing up 2 minutes before the bell rings. She tells me that I shouldn't be packing up and to pull my stuff out again. I tell her no and hold my ground. She writes in my planner that I packed my stuff up early and refuse to pull it out. That happened like 2 or 3 times. On Thursday on the second week my class was tasked to create a PowerPoint. FYI this was a mythology class, while I was doing this PowerPoint I decided instead of manually trying to type in the locations and people from this mythology which the names were very long and complicated. I decided would be easier just to copy and paste them in. My peer tutor sees me doing this and doesn't say anything. At the end of class she writes that I plagiarized in my planner and tells my special ed teacher in person what happened. My sped teacher pulls me out of class (I had his math class right after mythology) and starts telling me that my peer tutor has seen me copy and pasting paragraphs and goes on this lecturing on why plagiarizing is bad. I explained to him that I wasn't copying paragraphs It was only copying names and locations and explain my reason for it. He didn't believe me but he didn't make me retake the assignment. After that I was pissed off and the next day I confronted her about it. I forgot what her reasoning for not telling me was but I told her that she needs to look into things before she makes false reports. After that incident, I decided to wait a week before I ask my teacher to remove her. Also during those first 3 weeks I turned down help from peer tutors and paras if possible In the special ed classroom. I did this to prevent sending any mix signals. I personally didn't mind if I had to work with a peer tutopara or not In the actual sped classroom. I only cared if it was in any of the general education classes. I just thought it would look contradictory if I was accepting help in the sped class and then requesting peer tutors to be removed from my gen classes.
At the beginning of the fourth week I went to school early and went to my sped teacher's class before first hour starts and then I again asked him to remove the peer tutor and the paraprofessionals. He says no again and brings up that I was being academically dishonest by plagiarizing. I tell my side of the story once again on what happened and he still doesn't believe me. At this point I leave and more pissed off. At this point negotiations didn't work so I started small protests by preventing the peer tutors from filling out my planer and the behavioral checklist. Most of them didn't care since there was other students they can fill out and they only need to fill out one to be graded for the day. One peer tutor gave me the puppy dog eye treatment and I eventually cave and let her fill it out. I still let the one peer tutor that was assigned to me in the gen class due to me being the only student and my intention wasn't to ruin, her grade. During the fourth week I began brainstorming ideas on how I can do a massive protest.
On Thursday of the fourth week of school, a walk into the mythology class and it started out like any other day. Class started and my teacher starts talking. I pull up my phone to respond to some messages and my peer tutor sees me. She asks me to hand my phone over to her and I tell her no. She tells me that I can't be on my phone and I tell her okay but I'm still not giving it to you. She then pulls out her phone and puts it on the table. She then tells me to put my phone on the table. I tell her no again. A few minutes past and the teacher finishes up talking. She passes the assignment and immediately my peer tutor begins to try and help by reading the questions. I slide the packet over closer to me and start ignoring her. I was hoping that she will get the hint and leave me alone. She doesn't so put on my hoodie and tried to mentally block her out. I don't remember what she said during all this since I was blocking it out but I do remember her touching me and the general ed teacher coming over and start assisting the peer tutor. It was a lot of pressure and I was actually about to give up because it was too much. But they both gaved up before I did and I was very relieved. After that, the class was pretty much quiet. The peer tutor wrote an entire paragraph on what happened. I walked to my math class and sat down. I then see my peer tutor walking into class and ask for my sped teacher. I already knew it was about me. I see them talk for 2 minutes and sure enough I see my teacher calling me over. I walked outside the classroom and me and the teacher begin to go at it. We end up saying the same things we have said before. However, my teacher this time mentioned that if I keep up my behavior that he's going to call in a meeting with my parents. The rest of math class was pretty much the same. However, my English class with the same teacher he went on a rant about using accommodations seeing that he had a disability growing up which was tourette's and he were love to have a peer tutor. I was quiet for the whole class since I was already exhausted because of everything else that had already happened. For the rest of the weekend, I've been coming up with plans on how I would be able to pull off a massive protest.
Now for the good news. On the fifth week of school, I noticed that my peer tutor was missing. My teacher pulled me aside again and told me that he decided that he was going to pull her for 2 weeks to see how well I would do without her. I told him thank you, that's what I wanted since the beginning of the school year. After those 2 weeks he didn't reinstate her and I didn't have a peer tutor or paraprofessionals in gen classes since. The deal moving forward was as long as I had a D or better he wasn't going to send any support unless I asked for it. My relationship with that sped teacher also had improved significantly. Later in my Junior year of high school I ran in my school's election and won. I was given the social media position.
In hindsight, I'm glad I didn't have to pull off a big protest. But the same time I wish that this situation could have ended in a different way.
Everything that I just told you is only the tip of the iceberg. There's so much detail that I had to leave out just to make this story shorter. Lot of it I'm still processing even though I found great strength in myself fighting back against a system that I believe was ruining my life. That war mindset hasn't left my mentality yet. I'm still dealing with the consequences of me being in special ed. Everything I told you happened 5 years ago and I'm still living through it like it just happened. I'm mentally recovering and eventually I will recover. Right now I'm in therapy and I'm writing down everything I can in a Google doc to process everything emotionally. Maybe one day I'll give that story to a writer and make a book out of it.
If you have any questions feel free ask them, I would love to answer them.

What’s in the closet, Kirsty?
He knew I hid a secret.
I smiled, tried to look confused.
He waited, crossing his arms.
I worried that he'd already seen. He had.
What else could he think about the pile?
His wife’s a cheater. She has another life. Another husband. Children.
He’d never believe the truth: I’m not a cheater; there’s no other life; no other man; I don’t know who the children are who visit me at night.
But I did have a secret. And maybe it’s fair to say another life, even if was smaller and against my will.
I should have destroyed those frames, burned the photos within. Now it looked like I saved them, cherished them. The truth couldn’t be farther. I feared to touch anything to do with… whatever they are…with one exception.
“It started last Halloween,” I said to George, my husband, my real husband.
He stopped packing for a moment, working out the impossibility of this statement. “I’m taking the girls to my parents.” He resumed the tossing of shirts, pants, etc. into our big suitcase.
“It’s true,” I said, but weakly. The children in the picture are at least six and four respectively. They were born six months ago.
“They’re not… my kids,” I said of the boys in the photos. They’re not kids is what I almost said.
George stopped and squeezed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Kirsty,” he said slowly, “there are baby pictures. I saw them.”
“That’s-”
He quickly raised his finger, exasperated, angry, done.
“The first picture is you holding a newborn, and…” He swallowed painfully, his throat gone dry. It always does when he’s upset. “And the father in that picture, with his arm around you, isn’t me.”
When I couldn't deny it, he nodded like he knew all along our marriage would end.
We were happy. We really were. George and I had managed to overcome the typical breakdown that often comes with raising children. Only since last Halloween had distance been made by me.
I should have told him as soon as it started.
“Girls!” he called as I followed him down the stairs to the front hall of our lovely home. We’d scrimped and sacrificed to buy and keep this place, our dream by the lake. He’d been so proud. I couldn’t tell him I wanted to leave the first night sleeping there.
Cara and Ella protested through play, ignoring the adults, continuing to jump on an old box they’d long since flattened. Rays from the western sun placed my daughters into an inspired, hallowed light, and I started to cry. He was going to take my babies away.
George opened the door, intending, I’m sure, to drop the suitcase in the car before returning to physically carry the girls out.
But he hesitated in the doorway.
“George?”
The suitcase fell with a solid thud on the floor. “There’s no way,” he said.
“What?”
“There’s no way,” he said, with emphasis on the last word, “you would have had time for…this…”
Not defining "this" as cheating was progress. “Yes!”
He glared, quieting my desperate enthusiasm. I wasn’t off the hook. “Tell me. The truth.”
“I can’t.”
He reached for the suitcase.
“No, not because I don’t want to,” I protested. “I don’t know what’s happening!” I sat on the carpeted steps and stared through blurred vision at my trembling hands. The shriek I’d filled the house with - “happening!” - had put a halt to the box's obliteration. Cara and Ella hesitated for a few seconds before leaping into action.
Cara, the oldest, six, punched her dad in the buttocks. “You have to be nice!”
Ella, four, sat beside me and patted my trembling hands. “It’s okay, mummy.”
Such lovely daughters. Nothing like the boys in those photos when they were this age.
George grasped Cara's wrists and gently walked her back into the house, using his foot to kick the suitcase from the swing of the front door.
"It's alright, girls," he said with weak resolve. "Go and play."
"No!" Cara shouted. She kicked at her father and he pulled her close into a bearhug. Gradually, the girls calmed and were convinced to return to the box in the front room.
"Kirsty," George said, "you have to tell me." He sat down on the step beside me. "Please." I would do anything to take away the hurt in his eyes. "Please."
"I can't. But… I can write it down. Maybe." I took out my phone. We shared Google Drive. When I made a new document, he reluctantly started his phone. The man was a dream. He watched his screen, and waited patiently for my words to appear.
Without preamble, I returned to the awful moment when it all began: a strange and disturbing dream. Words came like an infection from beneath a torn scab. The wound had been opened. Nothing could stop this now.
Sex with another man has never been a desire of mine. I love George. He loves me.
Plus, the man in my dream was a stranger, and not particularly handsome. He has a plain face set to unwavering boredom and unkempt male pattern baldness. Our dream sex felt obligatory, just something we had to do.
I awoke on the wrong side of midnight. November 1st and I was craving ice cream instead of the girls' gathered candy. The freezer left by the previous homeowners came with unopened ice cream. Freezer burned or not, I wanted some.
After retrieving a spoon from the kitchen, I intended to destroy a brick of neopolitan. He waited in his flannel pajamas, barefoot on the concrete floor. His arms were crossed.
"Cravings?" he said.
I dropped the spoon. It clattered down the basement steps. Before I could run away, he disappeared like someone had erased him from head to foot in one clean sweep.
Had to be a dream. That's what I told myself. The spoon stayed in the basement until daylight. Ghost or nightmare, there was laundry to do the next day.
I crossed the concrete floor fast and only felt safer when I'd closed the door to the more modern laundry room. Never thought builder's grade tiles and track lights would make me feel anything but sad.
His voice caught me sorting.
"Kirsty!"
I dropped the cup of detergent all over the floor.
"Shit."
I came out of the laundry room, figuring George had been looking for me in uncharacteristically rude fashion. He hated speaking between rooms. Shouting throughout the house was highly impolite. It must have been important, I figured.
As soon as I stepped onto the bare concrete, however, deep sadness, the kind that seems to physically leech the strength from your body, dominated the room.
"Hello?" I don't know why I said that. The basement is a low ceilinged rectangle. There are no hiding spots except for the laundry room I'd come from. After a deep breath, I walked briskly to the stairs.
"Any day now," a raspy voice breathed into my ear. I jolted and slipped forward, falling and clipping my chin off a step. It made my teeth click painfully. Nobody there, of course. I ran upstairs and George had gone outside with the girls to play hide and seek.
I wanted to tell him. He looked so happy. It's hard to convey in words the kind of smile he showed me through the window. Imagine contentment mixed with unreserved joy and hope. Yes, it's difficult to picture. So few of us can ever have such a moment. Sort of like finding a natural view completely untouched by humanity. Beyond rare and precious.
I’m rambling now to avoid writing about what followed. The point is I couldn’t tell him. I hoped it’d go away and stop.
But, of course, it didn’t, and things got much worse.
I awoke in a great deal of pain. Having already given birth to children, the feeling was familiar. Despite getting up and gasping, George continued to snore in our bed. He’s a deep sleeper, but a quick and early riser. I’ve never heard him complain about getting out of bed either, especially when there’s an emergency.
I might have woken him up but I was disoriented and confused. Part of me believed I was still pregnant with Ella. It wasn’t until I’d gone all the way to the kitchen to avoid waking up the girls, that my brain caught up: Girls. Plural. Ella was asleep in her bed upstairs.
“Ohhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiiiiit.” I knew the signs of labour. This couldn’t be happening. “Ohhhhhhhhh.”
I was definitely going to wake everyone up if this continued.
My phone was upstairs by my bedside table. We don’t have a landline. I should have called 911. I should have woken up George.
Instead, I went downstairs where I could vocalize pain without disturbing anyone. Such a pathetically passive response. But that’s how I was raised. Keep it down, don't you frown.
His hands seized mine as soon as I descended the last step. Serious and bald without dignity is how to best describe his physical appearance. Cold and cruel is what he is. The lights turned off and, in the perfect darkness of the basement, he was all that I could see.
He produces a red light from his body somehow but his touch is literally frosty.
"Kristy, it's time," he said. No joy there. Just straight facts. Something was coming. I was going to give birth to it. In the dull red glow of his being, the first boy came.
"His name is Hadad," the man said, placing a large, infant boy with a lot of hair and, I swear, a hint of beard, on the bare concrete. Hadad looked like a three month old they use as newborns on TV. He didn't cry. He hardly seemed to breathe as his dark eyes roamed the darkness. His light resembled the man's, a less intense red.
I felt another contraction, and winced.
"She comes next," the man said.
I felt so weak. "Who are you?" I asked him.
At last, he smiled and I wished he hadn't. It made me feel small, insignificant, and beneath his concern. "You know who I am," he said. "I'm your husband."
Pain wracked my entire body. Something didn't feel right. The birth of Cara and Ella had been without difficulty.
"Push," my "husband" ordered. "She is upset with you, and will kill you if you don't get her out now."
"It has to be a nightmare," I told him. Sweat poured in streams down my face. The unborn "she" in question writhed and damaged my insides. I screamed. I couldn't help it.
"Push!"
I obeyed and the second boy spilled onto the bare concrete, coated in blood and dust.
"It's a boy," I said.
The man looked displeased. "The body is male. She is Hebat. No wonder she is angry." Like the other infant, Hebat appeared aware of her surroundings and had far too much motor control for a newborn. The light pouring from her body was dull silver. Her eye sockets were two pits of concentrated despair. I had to look away.
The babies were pressed into my arms.
The man stretched out beside me. "Open your eyes and smile." I resisted. "Do it. Now." What choice did I have? The flash from his cell blinded me. They were all gone by the time my sight recovered. Only the sweat remained as evidence of the ordeal.
It had to have been a hallucination. Some very bad food poisoning maybe. The source could be as simple as an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. I had been stress eating since we'd moved in. I stood up and took some comfort in a Charles Dickens' reference.
"More of gravy than of grave about you," I said. My words seemed consumed by the dreadful weight of the air. "Whatever you are."
Whatever you are: something bad in any case. At best, I'd hallucinated prolonged and traumatic labour and needed medical attention. Yet, when I limped up the basement stairs, all thoughts of waking George vanished. There on the kitchen island sat a propped frame containing the photograph taken only moments ago.
The man looked happy. Only Hadad appeared in this picture, which meant another one was somewhere. I didn't panic. I worried more about what George would think if he saw the photos. I had to find them all.
Hebat and his father and I were mounted in a dark wood frame by the master bedroom. It'd be the first thing anyone saw if they woke up. I plucked it off the wall and, together with the first photo, tucked it under some blankets in the dresser we'd shoved in the small walk-in closet.
You might not believe this, but I went straight to sleep after. I climbed under the blanket in my sweaty pajamas, shut my eyes, and didn't have enough time to deny what had happened. I was unconscious until morning.
George placed a coffee on my nightstand. That's what I remember. He rubbed my feet while I slowly awoke. The girls were watching TV downstairs, munching on apple slices. There was forty minutes still before we had to seriously consider getting ready to take Cara to school.
George would drop her off on his way to work downtown. He chose his hours and always chose convenience for his wife and kids. Ella and I planned to spend the morning gardening. Then we would nap much of the afternoon away until George and Cara returned. A life so perfect is so very rare.
I didn't want to spoil things with a very convincing nightmare. Besides, I felt fine. Not so good that I wanted to look in the dresser to see if those photos really were there, but not ill. So I remained silent again.
November started fine. Idyllic days and nights filled with laughter and joy and television. Just as I started to believe in the dream we'd made, they came again.
The wail of a child's hunger is a powerful call for a parent. When it's a chorus, even of two, it cannot be ignored. Only I awoke to Hadad and Hebat's cries for their "mother" from the basement.
Half asleep, I drifted into the kitchen and searched for their milk bottles. When no bottles could be found, I remembered they were newborns. Milk swelled in my breasts and made my nipples ache. Just like when Cara or Ella would awaken in the night. It was a relief to feed them.
But what the fuck was I doing?
I was acting like the man in the basement and the devil babies were mine. It'd been less than a week since Halloween and that horrible nightmare illusion. I had already taken on the beleaguered newborn mother role without question.
Their cries intensified and flayed the weak resistance of exhausted reasoning.
Don't wake George. Don't wake my babies, my real babies.
"What took you so long?" the man critized, his voice monotone, the question unrhetorical.
"I… was sleeping. I went to the fridge first." Under his severe gaze, I stopped in the midst of the dark room. Hadad had quieted. Hebat cooed as if laughing at her own joke. I couldn't see them because the lights were off. They liked the dark better. Somehow I knew that about them and him.
"You should sleep down here," he said. "A mother should always be close to her babies."
The statement was nonsense but not altogether wrong. I wanted to be close to my babies, the daughters sleeping in bliss upstairs, away from the evil fermentation in the basement.
"Kirsty," he said. "Are you listening?" His hand touched the small of my back. The gentleness surprised me. I squawked and flinched away. "What’s wrong with you? They're hungry." He pressed on my shoulders until I sat on the cold floor.
They came from the shadows, already walking. I wanted to go, but I knew he wouldn't allow it. He pulled my cat t-shirt off over my head and their fierce mouths suckled, relieving the pressure of excess breast milk quickly. It felt physically good and psychologically alien.
I looked down at them once and immediately regretted it. Their emanated light had intensified to a point where perception of them hurt.
Each time I blinked my eyes were drawn to some isolated part of their bodies. The vision got closer to the point of disgust. Everything is gross if you're close enough. There is no beauty under a microscope. If you think there is then you're not using the right magnification.
Hebat's eye drew me in. At first, I saw the dark sphere, and then the strands of her eyelashes. Her gravity kept pulling until the creatures that live in eyelashes were revealed: Demodex folliculorum. I looked the microscopic horrors up.
The babies had more parasites than any child should. They wanted to show me and could somehow do so.
I asked him about it. "Why are they showing me these worms?"
He smiled, contemptuously as usual. "Trying to impress mother. Neither of them understand your horror and insignificance. You are the ant who knows they're an ant. Lucky you. They think you will be proud of the life their corporeal forms produce and host. Give them a few hours. It will pass."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"I'm not sure what you mean. We're married. Now, prepare to smile." His cell reappeared and I noted the lack of features; it might have been a singed rectangle of spent firewood. He frowned when I failed to smile. "Smile, Kirsty. These are your children."
I managed to stave off the tears and hold the babies close. The smile was more difficult. In the inevitable aftermath of their sudden disappearance, the frames depicted an exhausted, wrinkly woman smiling painfully. It took a second to recognize myself.
The things in the basement sapped my strength. I looked dehydrated, beleaguered. The scale in the bathroom said I'd dropped six pounds. I'd weighed myself the morning before.
"Whoa, you've lost weight," George noted, thinking I'd be pleased. "This place has been so good for us, eh?'
To produce another smile proved as draining as the previous night. "Y-yes," I stuttered too late for him to ignore.
"Hey," he said, touching my forearm.
I flinched.
"Whoa, you okay? What's wrong?"
I should have told him. "Nothing. Bad sleep. A nightmare. I'll be fine."
A lie is an agreement. George wanted to agree, I think. He wanted life to be fine because he was happy for once. We struggled so hard before we came to Bridal Veil Lake. It was supposed to be our dream.
Guilty if I told him the truth. Guilty because I didn't. I began to resent his happiness, though he had done nothing but be the wonderful man he'd always been.
To Cara and Ella I became a body in motion, No brain left to guide them away from harm or answer their questions about nature and the universe.
"I don't know." That's what I told them often.
So they began to treat me like a kind of butler.
"Can I have some juice, please?"
"Sure, sweetheart."
"Mommy, can I have a snack?"
"Of course." And I'd run off to fetch it.
"Cookies."
"Yes, dear."
When Christmas came, I had two and they induced the same level of joy. Visiting the basement to feed and nurture Hebat and Hadad became a nightly occurrence. I'd learned to awaken, if I could get to sleep at all, and go quietly.
He berated me severely if I missed a night, and there were subtle threats made casually.
"I may have to squash you yet," he said, his tone as deep and cold as always.
"It won't happen again," I promised. "They’re getting big." In fact, they were no longer infants. Both had grown to the approximate age of six or seven in a few months. Still, they never spoke. Their dark eyes watched me as they ate food from the kitchen upstairs, food I'd hidden from my family.
"More meat," the man demanded.
"Of course." And I ran to the freezer and gave them frozen sausages in the package. They never complained or demanded the food be prepared a different way. No objections from my "husband" either.
Hebat tore the styrofoam and plastic wrap away and flattened the row of sausages stuck together between powerful molars. Hadad contented itself with licking them like a popsicle.
I'd stay until the photo. Then they'd release me by vanishing. Always with an exhausted breath, I'd trudge up the stairs and search for the frames and hide them in the same place.
They only smiled in the pictures. At no other time did they express any kind of emotion unless indifference counts.
My own children and husband weren't doing much better. Their concerns about my fatigue and ruminating slowly ceased as I repeated the excuse: I’m just tired. It'll pass.
Of course, I did not know when the nightmare would stop.
"When will it end?" I asked him one night, while Hebat and Hadad exercised like they had a mission.
"What do you mean?" he said.
I was surprised he answered. He usually didn't. "This. This. When can I go back to normal and not come down every night? I'm so very tired."
He frowned and I thought some punishment must be coming. Instead, he looked more confused. "I don't understand. You aren't happy? Your children grow into power and strength and will take their place in the world. They will be great and you - you, of all the tiny things, made that happen. Ask yourself what you want out of life, and see if Hebat and Haddad aren't your answer."
Too many words, all at once, for an exhausted mother. I didn't speak for the rest of the night. The infernal trio vanished, and the latter moments of the ritual I carried out with his challenge in mind.
I want my children to be strong, happy, and safe.
"Juice," Cara demanded the next morning, a Saturday, while she watched cartoons.
"Get it yourself!" I hissed, from tired to angry in a second.
"But I can't," Cara accurately pointed out. She didn't look away from the TV. Looking at me wasn't safe, and she knew it. Her and Ella held hands and sat a little straighter. It broke my heart. What had I done?
George came downstairs, attracted by my shouting. "What’s going on?"
Empathy became sadness, and the constant burden rekindled to anger swiftly. "Just children treating me like a servant."
He smiled. "Ah, yes, and how are the royal princesses this morning?"
His levity irked me. "You would know if you didn't sleep in so much."
The smile vanished from his face, and instead of the fight I seemed to want, he mumbled a quiet apology and joined the girls. They climbed onto him as he wrapped them into a cuddle.
"What are we watching?" George restarted his smile, his calm, for the girls. I hated myself. It had to end. Tonight.
After another dreary day of going through the motions, and the girls and George had fallen asleep, I went to the kitchen and chose the knife I thought sharpest.
"Kirsty," he said, his voice a whisper rising from the depths of the house.
"Coming," I whispered back.
"Mom," said another voice, a girl's, and I knew that Hebat had, at last, found herself and the wholeness of her being had been corrected.
I started to cry. I went downstairs and there she was with her brother and her father. He looked tired but some of the grimness had cracked to allow the first real contentment I've ever seen him express.
"Is that for the cake?" he asked. "We already have one."
I remembered the sharp knife. "Meat," I said. "There’s ham in the freezer."
He nodded, seeming to accept the answer.
"Mom," Hebat said, "Do you think I'm…" She gestured to herself, her face, and her body, and I understood the question, born from doubt and a desire to be validated.
I pulled her close. "You are the most beautiful girl in the whole world." We cried together. Hadad cut into a poorly made, asymmetrical cake by the light of his aura. No one cared that he did so on the floor. I brought out the ham from the fridge and we ate slices with our hands.
"It's almost done," he said. "They’re nearly grown. They are strong, and they are happy. You've done a good job, Kirsty." He watched our children fight to smear icing on each other's faces. "I'm sorry if I was mean. Or cold. I've never done this before." And he meant raising children. "It was the hardest, scariest thing anyone can try. I shouldn't have blamed you for… Hebat… It wasn't your fault."
Before I could pat his hand, he and the kids vanished. Darkness so familiar couldn't extinguish a new fear. I went upstairs and found the last frame. I held my daughter in the photo, my beautiful Hebat. He must have taken the photo without my notice.
I took it upstairs but couldn't bring myself to hide it.
I didn't see that one, George wrote into the document.
I forgot he was watching.
He typed again: Are you saying there is something in the basement?
Yes, I replied.
He stirred in the living room. I hadn't moved from the stairs, but I could tell by his stomping how angry he'd become. All of his negative, violent traits he saved for those in the world who would harm his family. George the Protector was fearsome to behold.
But he had no chance against my other husband.
"Come out! Come out you coward!" George bellowed. At first, nothing happened. The moment before calamity, even when the specific consequences aren't known, is still in slow motion. He carried on shouting. The girls rushed into the hall and didn’t hesitate to investigate.
"No!" I shouted. "Cara! Ella!"
Their feet padded down the steps. A violent commotion followed, screams and raging voices, both deep and childishly shrill.
The most unsettling quiet followed.
I chewed through the fear and the horror tearing me apart and finally moved.
No evidence of violence could be seen from the top of the stairs. The concrete looked bare and dusty and the light revealed nothing more. They were gone, all of them.
"Hebat," I whispered. "Cara? George?"
Him, I thought of, the nameless husband and felt no hint of his presence. He'd always been there. I know that now. It had nothing to do with the house. His absence was felt more than his insidious presence. Yet, I felt no relief. George and the girls were gone. I sat on the floor and cried for all my missing children.
When I finally emerged from the basement, the whole house had been filled with night. Their photos were everywhere. The others were upstairs. I gathered them on the kitchen island. How could I explain any of this to the police?
I needed help. I called my parents. It took twenty minutes before my father picked up.
"Kirsty? What's wrong?"
"Dad," I whimpered. "George is gone. Cara. Ella."
"What? What did you say?"
"They’re gone, dad. George. The girls are gone."
I heard his bed springs protest as he rolled out of bed. My mom said something I couldn't hear, and he shushed her.
"Kirsty," he said, "are you alright? Are you hurt? Are you in danger?"
Why was it so hard to understand? "Dad. George is gone."
"Kirsty, who the hell is George?"
It was my turn to be confused. "He's my- you know him. My husband…"
"Kirsty," he said very slowly, "are you on drugs? Did you take something?"
"No. Are you?"
"Excuse me?"
I hung up.
I have their photos. I have all of their photos. That's what I brought to George's parents before the sun rose. They wouldn't open the door and spoke to me through an intercom.
"George is gone," I said.
"We'll call the police."
"This is your son. These are your granddaughters."
I heard my mother-in-law say, "Who is she?"
"We don't have a son," my father-in-law said. "Go away."
I left.
Back to the house. Our dream sat empty and I live there, but none of the people in my family photos are my family.
I remember but the world never does. My parents think I'm ill and that I used AI to create the family I apparently never had.
How did I buy the house without a job or income? With deep concern for my mental health, they showed me a news story. I had won the lottery the day I turned eighteen.
His influence there, payment for services rendered.
A lie is an agreement.
What had I agreed to? I'm afraid I know the answer: I never wanted a family.
God help me. God help them.
I don't know what to do with these pictures.

[First] [Previous] [Next]
Edited by WaveOfWire
- - - - -
Two days… It had been two days that Tracy had gone to sleep while Harrison was working, only to come back in the morning to see him still in the workshop. She knew he was damn productive, sure, but that really couldn’t be healthy. Apparently, it had something to do with the weird bowl of orange… soup… that Cera gave him. No way was it just caffeine; any amount of the stuff would have been filtered out of his system by now. He mentioned a tingling feeling too…
Damn, she did not know enough about drugs to even start assuming what that massive alien had Harrison fucked up on. At least the scanner said he was ‘fine’—if you ignore the other glaring issues the machine brought up. Plus, he said he didn’t mind it. Either way, he managed to complete the weaving component and a few other electrical backbones of the fabricator last night, so the project was practically done, and after seeing the engineer work himself half to death, she was dead-set on finishing it.
She was currently tits-deep into the upper manufacturing portion of the towering machine. It took a tall step-stool—on top of the nearby desk—for her to push her small shoulders through the even smaller access panels high on the everything-printer. It was difficult to fit her torso in, but she managed, holding a flashlight between her teeth as she fiddled with a stubborn series of mechanical ‘hands.’ Nothing new. The situation reminded her of the ‘shop back on Mars; it had the same ever-present scent of copper and industrial sealant. All that was missing was her dad’s ancient tunes blasting through some shitty speakers… Hold on…
The modular component in her grip was successfully attached with a resonating thock. Tracy squirmed out of the dim wire-filled crevice, trying her best to not rip her only tank-top on any bolts or corners, and getting a face-full of the bright flood-lights illuminating the workshop. She scowled and blocked out the searing light with a hand, but she was a bit too late to avoid going half-blind.
“Are the mechanical manipulators in?” Harrison grunted, poking his head out underneath the printer’s floor-adjacent maintenance hatch. She looked down at him as she tried to blink off the spots in her vision. His hair was messy, barely kept in line by his habit of combing through it with his fingers. The areas around his eyes were dark and sunken… Guess that’s what two all-nighters did to a man. He’d be seeing the hat man or start hallucinating if he didn’t get any sleep soon… but then again, the two of them were so close to finishing the fabricator…
“You bet.” She gave him a thumbs up, slamming the panel cover closed. “Feel free to test it.”
He nodded and slid back underneath the machine. “Gotcha”
She gently stepped off the stool and slid off the side of the desk, stretching herself out. If her piss-poor sitting posture or her tank-top puppies hadn’t already fucked her spine up, bending over backward to build this fabricator sure as hell would. She sat down next to the panel where Harrison resided, resting her back against the fabrication tower. Her excited voice broke the muffled noises of the engineer’s work. “So… Harrison?”
“Hmm—”
“—Mind if I play some music?”
The sounds from the hatch stopped, followed by his muffled, shocked tone echoing from beneath the fabricator. “You have music!?”
She smirked at seeing the expression on his face when his head popped out again. “I sure do… Did you seriously not download any to your data pad?”
He slipped out from beneath the fabricator fully, huffing as he took a knee beside her. The scent of melded rubber, wire, and his liquid labor reached her nose not-so-unpleasantly. “You would not believe how much of a pain it is to repair an entire barracks without it… So, yeah, I didn’t.”
“Sooooooooo, whatcha wanna listen to? I’ve got almost everything on here—besides the super niche, of course.” She pulled her data pad out, swiping to the massive music folder
“You wouldn’t like the kinda music I listen to; It’s ancient.”
She gave him a lighthearted, annoyed glare. “Welcome to the club… Now what’ll it be?”
“It’s Old Earth kind of ancient… but alright” He looked up at the ceiling in thought, lips pursed. “Do you have anything from Styx or Sweet?”
She stared at him incredulously, her smirk turning into a fully-fledged smile. “Oh my God. You are an absolute dork! You actually listen to Golden Age music?”
His brows raised, accusatory. “And you somehow know exactly who those bands were and what age of Old Earth music they came from?”
She smugly leaned in closer. “That’s because I’m just as much of a nerd with that kinda music as you apparently are.” She quickly looked upward, addressing the workshop AI. “Sebas, connect nearby speakers to my data pad’s audio.” Tracy elbowed the engineer lightly as the PA system chirped its affirmation. “Now, Mr. Golden Age music, which albums do ya want me to queue up?”
- - - - -
The two of them listened to music for hours, tossing on songs they liked as they came to mind while they worked. Harrison had a ton of recommendations that spanned all over the Golden Ages and some twenty-first century classics. She didn’t even know half of them, but she was vibing either way, adding on her own taste by intermingling some older rock tracks and newer electronic beats. The playlist was steadily built up as the day went on. Thank God her dad showed her a vast array of tunes; she might not have been able to keep up with the engineer if her old man hadn't.
It made the work go by so fast, their conversations blurring as they jumped from topic to topic. They discussed whatever came to mind—old hobbies, old jobs, and old interests. A lot was left behind in Sol… At least she knew that the only other human on the planet was more interesting than a soulless workaholic. It turned out that he was a pretty big history buff, and he apparently read a lot about the colonization of the Sol system and the various wars of independence thereafter. Curious, she asked where the interest stemmed from, and he explained that his grandfather was an admiral in the Slavic-Europan deep-ice submarine fleet, which explained how Harrison’s mother was able to afford to immigrate to Mars from Europa.
He could also play an acoustic guitar, and, unfortunately for Tracy, he wasn’t even the slightest bit interested in printing one out, citing that it was a waste of time and material that would be better used elsewhere. That didn’t stop her from writing a note on her data pad to do so later, though. She hadn’t seen someone play one of those in years—the last time was probably in some old music video from the early twenty-second century. What a shame. She would have liked to hear some of the Europan songs his grandmother taught him.
On the bright side, the man seemed to take an interest in her odd hobbies. He brought up the folder of 3D models that she accidentally uploaded to the inter-module system and asked where she got the inspiration for what was in it. Boy, was he not ready for her ‘WarHalberd40k’ lore dump. Props to the guy for not standing up and leaving the workshop throughout her rambling. He even asked questions about the different factions and their weapons, which she was more than happy to talk about.
She also ended up going over the other franchises and hobbies she was interested in, such as robotics and the like. The only interruptions to their chat were the occasional Akula or Craftsman asking for insight regarding the various tasks he had allotted to them, or Shar coming in to check up on Harrison between guard shifts.
The new dynamic of the group was pretty interesting, to say the least. Tracy hadn’t been out to interact with the whole lot of Malkrin, but she definitely noticed how they treated the engineer. They’d started to look up to him in a way ever since he started showing off technology. In a little over two days, the man had shown them that he could provide the materials for a brick house, fine clothing—especially by the alien’s standards—armor, and delicious food. That wasn’t even mentioning the other benefits the technician heard a few of the ‘banished’ talking about over their meals: heating, electric lights, and other assorted machines.
She’d be feeling pretty happy about herself if she was in his position, having so many look up to him and be grateful at the same time. He seemed to view it a lot more robotically, however, only striving to get the basics done. Luckily for him, his basics were their luxury.
That wasn’t all there was to the topic; the engineer lamented about how the colony was going through food just as quickly as materials. The meals weren’t the direct issue he had, more that he had to start focusing on long-term resource harvesting rather than directly preparing for a literal horde of monsters—which wasn’t exactly ideal. It was a good thing that they just so happened to take on an influx of Malkrin then…
Either way, they finally finished the ‘totally legal modification’ for the fabricator, meaning they could at least partially address the latter half of his worries. The whole process of ripping out an old printer and replacing the parts for a new one felt a lot easier than she imagined… even if it took her at least forty-eight hours to complete it… with help from Harrison. Maybe that was why it felt so easy… She supposed the colony overseers didn’t choose the man for no reason, so his skills made sense.
“So… what do we want to print out first?” Tracy questioned, having finished testing the last major component.
The engineer stretched his arms up into the air and rotated his shoulders, then pulled back the desk’s chair and took a seat. “I’ve had just one thing in mind since the start of this whole project.”
Her brows raised in a mix of excitement and curiosity. She leaned forward, looking at the computer monitor from over his shoulder. “Oh? What’s that, then?”
A smirk formed along his cheek, the computer mouse rapidly clicking through the blueprint folder. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about what kind of firearm we need since I started dabbling in belt-fed weapon systems.” He opened one final file, a short loading bar preceding the exploded assembly view of… “An M2 Browning machine gun. It’s more than powerful enough to kill in one shot, while also being capable of fully-automatic fire, with a capacity of however many rounds we want in a belt-box.”
“Uh…huh…” She gave a skeptical nod and took a step back, not exactly sold on the idea. “It looks ancient. It’s kinetic, right? Why aren’t we using energy-based weapons? Don’t we have a gunpowder shortage coming up?”
He moved his chair off to the side to look back at her. “We just can’t; Simple as. We’ll need who knows how many more AI cores before we can get started on that level of equipment, Trace,” he huffed, returning his gaze to the specifications of the firearm. “This isn’t the most ‘modern’ weapon we can make, but its twenty-first century counterpart helps with an improved design… somewhat. And, as I said before, it should be more than capable of killing a bug in one shot, so Shar can just tap-fire it to save ammunition.”
Her head tilted quizzically. “Shar?”
“Yup,” he returned confidently. “It’s the perfect weapon for her.”
She raised a brow. “How so?”
He held his hand up, counting his reasons on his fingers. “She’s always on the front line with a shield, she can absolutely handle the weight and recoil, her four arms make reloading it simple, plus she’ll need something with range and power that isn’t a spear. So, why not? And, if for some reason, she doesn’t want to use it, we can just convert it into a turret—which is something I was planning on doing anyways with however more M2s we print out later.”
“I doubt she’ll say no to any gun you give her,” Tracy chuckled while shaking her head, inadvertently causing her bangs to cover her eyes.
“Fair enough,” he conceded with a bob of his head. “What do you think, then? What kinda weapons do you have in mind?”
She reapplied her goggles into an impromptu hairband, feeling a smirk cross her face. “Thought you’d never ask. What purpose do we need these guns to fulfill? Hordes I’m guessing?”
“That’s the idea, yeah. That doesn’t mean they all need to be machine guns, though.” He tapped the belt-fed shotgun beside him.
“Well, lemme see what we’re working with first.” She suddenly stepped forward, leaning over Harrison’s seat to access the keyboard and mouse. Her arms briefly rubbed against him, forcing him to roll his chair backward. She suppressed a giggle at seeing his incredulous frown.
Her eyes quickly traced the hundreds of individual files, clicking through all sorts of folders, each arranged from pre-twenty-first century ‘antiques,’ to more modern iterations of kinetics and particle weaponry. There was… a lot on there—almost too much to reasonably comb through. Why? Did the colony overseers just say ‘fuck it’ and put whatever they could find on here? Were they expecting the pioneers to make a museum of everything?
She sighed, standing up straight and facing Harrison. “Y’know, I’m actually impressed you managed to find that M2-whatever in there…”
He shifted in his seat, resting an elbow on the desk. “Yup, there’s a lot. I’m almost tempted to just make several of those machine guns and just call it a day, but I feel like that’d be too much of a strain on resources, no?”
“I don’t really know enough about how you fight those spider-crab things, or how to get more gunpowder, so… maybe?” She shrugged, biting her cheek in contemplation. “You might just wanna make a few smaller caliber weapons… like, uh… those old kinetic service rifles. If your pump-action shotgun works fine, I’m sure some normal guns would work just fine for now, right?”
He hardily gripped his firearm, hauling it up to his lap. “Depends on what you mean by ‘smaller caliber.’ The whole reason why the KS-23 here works—” he pulled out a massive shell from the ammo belt, displaying it on his palm. “—is because the twenty-three-millimeter round has enough energy transfer to mess up any bug's shell and insides. I’d say the smallest rounds we could use would be point-two-forty-three caliber to get any similar results.”
Brief flickers of grungy orange shells and gnashing teeth marred Tracy’s sight. She forcibly suppressed them, distracting herself with dry humor and a strained laugh. “Guess those fuckers can really take a punch, huh?”
He shook his head somberly. “I couldn’t imagine going up against them without a gun… Anyway, I like your idea of a standard rifle for now. Then, when we have some product lines up, we can go a little more in depth into personal weapons.”
“So are you gonna take one?” She hopped up on the desk, letting her legs swing off the side.
“Don’t think so, no. I’ll stick with my shotty.” The internals of the heavily modified weapon rattled as he held it up and inspected it. “Doesn’t mean I’ll keep it as is. I’m thinking of printing a laser aiming module so I can point-fire it accurately, and maybe a melee-oriented muzzle brake or a lighter chassis to reduce weight… Not sure though.”
She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, her cheeks in her palms. “Melee-oriented? Oooooh, like a chain-sword or something?”
His short chuckle coerced a smirk to her face. “No, not like that. More something to use as a bludgeoning tool. Right before the blood-moon, I ended up getting just as much use out of this shotgun as a hammer than as a… well, a shotgun.”
“That’s pretty fuckin’ metal. So are you just gonna make the barrel into a giant bayonet?”
He nodded. “Not exactly a bayonet, but something more like a door-breaching break.”
A short silence settled on their conversation, the faint sounds of the fabricator’s hum and distant woodwork coming to light. Right, there was an outside world… She’d been too caught up talking to Harrison for however many hours it had been. She wondered how successful the fisherwomen were in collecting, and how things had been for the others working on the wood storage shack. Maybe it was already completed? The sun peered through the cargo bay door, proving that it was only about midday. What else would they work on today?
“Hey,” she ventured.
“Hm?” the engineer hummed, his eyes focused on the monitor beside the technician.
She scooted closer to his keyboard. “What’re we doing after this?”
“What do you mean?”
She leaned backward, propping herself up on two hands. “Project wise; what’s the next big thing?”
“Uhmmm…” he muttered, interacting with the computer for a few more seconds before finally meeting her gaze. “Well, I’ve just allocated the fabricator to print out the M2, three FALs—wood furniture, of course—then there’s the magazines and ammunition, so we’ve got a lot of time to kill. The next big thing is definitely going to be metal procurement, and— Oh, right!” Harrison stopped mid-sentence, reaching into his backpack and pulling out several finger-sized metallic cubes, a sudden fire in his eyes. “Okay, so a while ago, during an encounter with three colossi, Shar and Akula found a cave with some ‘surface’ metal deposits. I took a piece off to analyze, but never got the chance to until last night. Anyway, we don’t have any machines to examine the ore, so I made use of the recycler and broke it down to its baser components.”
She nodded along, seeing where he was going with his explanation. “I’m guessing those shiny cubes are the metals from the ore?”
“Sure is. So, as it turns out, we have a pretty damn close supply of not only iron, but also, zinc, sulfur, and a small amount of cadmium. I talked with Sebas about it and did a little research. We believe it’s something akin to sphalerite, given its composition and looks, which implies it’s a sedimentary exhalative deposit. That means there must have been some volcanic…”
Harrison continued talking about underwater deposits and ancient rock formations, bringing up some theories brought forward by the now 4-AI-core-powered Sebas, delving into the current land mass’ history and possible ore output. A lot of it went over the tradewoman’s head, but she still listened intently… Honestly, she could have listened to the man talk about finding metals for hours. It was sort of like the podcasts she used to listen to while completing colonist training, but even more personal and somehow easier to get lost in…
“…find some other minerals further down like silver, but it also might be an active lava zone. Again, these are all theories and this world could just throw the fundamentals of geology away as it does for physics. Anyway, sorry for going on for so long about that, just thought it’d be important for getting some metals in the future.”
“No, no,” Tracy assured, alleviating him of concern with a wave of her hand. “If there’s anything the colony overseers emphasized, it was farming and mineral acquisition. Don’t worry.” She smiled, pointing a thumb to herself. “I just wanna know how I can help.”
“Actually, I’ve a few things only you can do. I’d like to make use of your impressive drone-making expertise for a few applications, if you don’t mind.”
The task of keeping eye contact slipped into an impossible feat in the span of a singular second, planting a pang of embarrassment on her reddened face, forcing her to inspect her fidgeting hands. “I-I wouldn’t say ‘impressive’… b-but what do you have in mind?”
She could see him raise a brow out of the corner of her vision. “Well, after what you’ve shown me with the reconnaissance flyers, I’d like your help in setting up a more permanent ‘net’ of them to scour the meadow and parts of the nearby forest to look out for any approaching hordes. I don’t want to be snuck up on… again…”
‘Again.’
She noted his small frown and sunken eyes, both a little more exaggerated than they already were. It wasn’t like she’d deny his request, but the pangs of empathy over their shared situation all but solidified her resolve. It was the least she could do. She could help him. She would help him.
The technician exhaled slowly, taking on a more serious and understanding tone than before. “I… can do that. For sure. What else?”
“I appreciate it.” He gave a wane smile. “I’ll help you with whatever you need for the project. For the other drones, I’m thinking about a small exploration vehicle to map out caves around us and mark any minerals, as well as a submersible to look for potassium deposits in the ocean.”
“So… search bots?” She crossed her arms, confidence growing; those were her specialty. “Depending on how long the fabricators take and what kind of base drones are in the blueprint folders, I should be able to get those done in no time. All I need to know are the search cues for potassium and how many drones you want.”
He quickly shuffled a few folders on the computer, turning the monitor for her to see some scientific documents with various images and walls upon walls of text. “There’re plenty of resources for that on here for what to look for, and there’s always Sebas, so feel free to ask him since he can just sort through the data for you anyway. If you can, I’d like it if you could focus on the submersible after the reconnaissance drones.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll be right on it, then.” She gave him a thumbs up, slipping off his desk and toward her own.
“I’ll bring you lunch in a bit. Imma go check on the others,” he called.
Her stomach grumbled at the mention, her head turning to give him an appreciative smile. “Oh! Thanks!”
\= = = = =
Avian creatures chirped from their perches in the trees nearby. The wind softly rustled red leaves as grass gently gave way to calculated footfalls. A warm sun laid its light on Shar’khee’s neck. It was surprisingly pleasant, were one to take the time to notice. The mainland was a confusing place for the paladin, with its disparate representations of nature contrasting so heavily. Some days were filled with blood and ravenous beasts, while others were left within the domain of simplicity and beauty. She was content to have the latter, yet it felt like a facade veiling the former—a soft exterior covering the maliciously spiked interior. Never could she leave herself to carelessness, no matter how welcoming it might be.
Hence why she worked to ensure the safety of the star-sent’s castles and their inhabitants, her days largely spent patrolling for any roaming swarms that may wish to cause them harm. She typically used the routine to think, but today offered little in the way of solitude. This time, she was accompanied by the previously banished guardswoman, and was tasked with instructing the new one, though the specifics of what such lessons should entail were vague. Still, Shar’khee did all that she could so as not to disappoint Harrison, so she could only attempt to meet his expectations of her.
She told the yellow-skinned female of the threats that the settlement faced, how one was to defeat them, and what to expect from the beasts. The guardswoman was directed to practice her form with the spear in both thrusts and throwing for some time afterward, proving herself to be well-built. Such was expected of her profession after all.
It was pleasing to have another capable of patrolling the settlement’s outskirts for swarms, as it would greatly impact how effectively the colony could react to such a threat. If her routine was to suffer for the colony’s well-being, she was happy to show the new one her patrol route and note what to look out for.
The guardswoman was not a perfect student, however. Shar’khee never addressed it directly, but the yellow-skinned female obviously discredited the danger posed by the abhorrent, not-so-subtly shrugging off any warnings.
…That was until they stumbled upon the ‘hyena-boars,’ as Harrison called them.
The beasts resided in a clearing not too far from the castles, carelessly meandering across the sea of tall grass. Shar’khee quickly crouched, dragging the guardswoman down with her. Once she assessed that the creatures were not an imminent danger, she decided it would be an excellent opportunity to show the new one how to properly engage a threat. She was about to propose the idea, yet her speech was silenced just as swiftly.
Orange flashes darted through the trees around the glade. Taloned feet and gnashing teeth tore across the ground toward the unsuspecting beasts at the center. It was much too late for them. They were slow. Surrounded. Unaware. It was as quick as it was vicious, the forest’s reds turning a deeper crimson hue in a moment's notice underneath the abhorrent’s brutality.
Gangly monstrosities gnawed and ripped at the dead creatures, brief glimpses of raw flesh and white bone protruding from the small spaces between the clumped-up beasts. Repulsive wet splatters of blood and gore overlapped the calm noises of the forest, the grisly scene serenaded by the softest of nature’s symphonies. It was a sickening juxtaposition.
Shar’khee bit back the unease and steeled herself. They were within twenty paces—close enough to smell the abhorrent’s vile stench of rot and bile, yet far enough so as not to be noticed. She briefly considered backing away and retreating, her focus bouncing between the different avenues of escape, or how to cover her footst—
Crack.
Several sets of feral, eyeless maws snapped in their direction, the blood dripping off freshly dampened teeth. The guardswoman gasped, Shar’khee’s gaze following to see the mistake: a singular broken branch crinkled as a yellow-colored foot raised off the splintering twig.
The paladin exhaled sharply and smoothly stood up, brandishing two spears and her shield. Her glare settled on the still crouching guardswoman. “You are to stay behind my shield and let them appr—ch. Rem—ber what I have told you. Aim for their maws when you thrust y—r lance.”
The other female nodded, shakily pulling out her own weapons with unsteady placement hampering her grip. There was an obvious nervousness to her gaze. Hesitance. That would not do.
Shar’khee faced the prowling abhorrent her knuckles shifting hue as she prepared for their advance, for there was no chance that they wouldn’t. True to her experience, the stalking turned to a gallop with several clicks of grotesque tongues, the swarm bolting toward her as one. She snarled and slammed her bulwark into the ground, letting the approaching beasts skewer themselves amongst its spikes.
There were only ten—a paltry amount. She had defended against magnitudes more, and yet she still stood. What is more, they were mindless. Uncoordinated. They would be but stains in the cloth she used to clean her armor. Perhaps, if they were fortunate, they might leave a furrow in her shield to remember them by. Her arms tensed as the first leapt.
One by one, the abhorrent fell, their repulsive green blood splattering under her thrusts. Each awaiting corpse tore across the grove’s grass, lunging to their deaths with gaping maws and unfeeling hunger, yet she did not yield. Their shells were crushed by her shield and impaled by her Goddess-blessed spears, becoming but one more smear across their surface. Ten motionless lumps lay before her, seeping their ichor into the soil, none having passed the barrier she became. Dead, just as the Creator intended. She remained vigilant for a few moments longer, watching for any more of the disgusting creatures.
None showed themselves, finally allowing blood to flow to her fingers once again. The shield’s heavy presence weighed down her back, the blood flicked off of her spears before she returned them to their place.
“Are y–u well?” Shar’khee addressed the frozen Malkrin, wiping away the splatter on her bracers. The guardswoman stared at the small pile of deceased creatures, her heavy breaths and widened eyes moving from the spear from her singular kill. The paladin huffed. “We are fort—ate that there were so few.”
“F-Few? God help us…” Her horrified, stunned gaze slowly met the paladin’s. “Y-You said there were hundreds on the crimson nights? H-How do you… They were s-so fast.”*
”As I h–ve warned,” Shar’khee affirmed.
“You are a paladin! You all exaggerate your feats… I thought it was just a facade!”
“I have no r—son to lie,” she returned tersely, shrugging off the insult to her station and shaking her head. “The mainl—d is far more dangerous than ten gnash—g beasts; more so than that of your island hamlet. Pick yourself up. We m—t inform the others of this incursion.”
The yellow-skinned female snarled, furrowing her brows at the ground in frustration. At whom…? Shar’khee? Herself? Regardless, the female promptly gathered her composure, pushing air through clenched jaws. A step forward had her feet splash in the small pool of blood, the Malkrin nodding toward the paladin to continue back to the castles.
“…for the village.”
Shar’khee paused in her stride and faced her, frowning at the determination and anger leaking through the intent. “W—t was that?”
Her question was returned with honesty, a huffed voice marred by vexation. “Paladin, how am I to defend my village-mates as I am now?”
“‘As you are now?’ What do you m—n?”
The guardswoman stared down at her spear, wood creaking under her grip. “I have faltered before what you deem a paltry threat, and the thought of an even greater one sows dread deep within my bones. I wish… I wish to be better prepared to defend those of my village. I cannot help but see their faces on those of the furred creature in the clearing, and yet, even if I am so close, I am just as unable to protect them.”
Shar’khee stared down the yellow female, a long gaze taking in a rare showing of sincerity. “Y—r fears are one we all share, new one. Do not be ashamed of them. All t—t matters is that you do not let them rem—n mere fear, but make them your strength. So tell me, do you wish to impr—e? To ensure they do not fall while you are support—g them?”
The yellow-skinned female released a shuddering breath that bled off the worst of her indecision, a newly invoked flame flaring within her visage. “I do, paladin. I seek to protect and to be of use.”
“Then, if you wish to make y—rself resilient in the face of all that opposes us, it would be my undertak—g to forge you anew. Fortunately, Harrison has ordered such already, and his guidance shall prove ever useful, should you pursue it.”
The guardswoman shuffled in place at the star-sent’s mention, her eyes slipping downwards. “He is of a great many resources, but I would rather receive your teachings than those of a craftsman… or that of a male, deity-sent he might be.”
She placed a palm on the female’s shoulder. “He is far more than you might ever k—w. Regardless of if you ac—pt his guidance, I commend your conviction. However—” Her hand gripped tighter, though not enough to instill hostility. “—understand that you are protecting more than just your vi—age-mates.”
The new one nodded, staring up at the paladin with stallwart resolve. “Of course. I shall be in your tutelage, then.”
Shar’khee smiled. “T—n let us begin.”
\= = = = =
Akula was becoming increasingly certain that she knew how her parents once felt. The green-skinned fisherwoman was currently rotating between the many tasks placed upon her, guiding the newcomers through the minutia of their tasks so they might live up to the potential Harrison saw within them. She was gratified to have her own talents recognized by the Creator, but it also placed a great many responsibilities in her talons. Of course, she handled each new addition with finesse befitting her heritage, never once balking from the increasing demands. If anything, she felt validated; it was required of her as a female anyway, was it not? The more feminine-appropriate labor and management one undertakes, the higher authority they were granted.
It began with a simple assignment to oversee the chef’s introduction to the star-sent’s provided cooking appliances. As fascinating and convenient as utilities were, she held no interest in preparing any more food than she already had, but teaching another to operate the machines would alleviate such requirements of her. She reluctantly accepted the task when it was proposed, especially considering the fact that Harrison was much too busy with his other projects to bother with something as benign as cooking. His work was more valuable elsewhere.
The task itself went well, and the pink-skinned chef was quick to pick up on the use of the various kitchen devices, as well as the smoker. A grin had grown when she considered the possibility of all males understanding such domestic things readily, yet her mirth at removing the masculine job required of her was short-lived. Despite the newly initiated Malkrin’s success, Harrison had Akula frequently return to oversee the numerous cooking operations being conducted. That was in tandem with the back-to-back fishing trips made by both herself and the newly acquired females.
…Which was something else the green-skinned cycle-worshipper was ordered to oversee.
She had left the chef to his devices after producing another batch of partially seasoned meals, returning to the Creator with hopes of a break. He applauded her efforts with a nod and tersely spoken appreciation, then quickly pushed two spearguns into her hand and directed her to the ocean, where the twins were ‘working with jack shit,’ as the busy male said. She was to give the fisherwomen the tools and make sure they were used properly, and offer additional assistance in acquiring ‘enough fish to have us fed for a little bit.’
So, she left to complete the given task, feeling somewhat appreciative that her speargun was of superior quality to those she would be delivering—the newcomers were only afforded the lesser, roped-bolt version. It was only natural that she was in possession of their greatest assets, of course; the star-sent saw her as the only one capable of wielding such fantastic ammunition, showing trust that was rightfully placed in her. That did not mean the gray-skinned females were unsatisfied with their own gifts, however. The twins were swiftly caught up on the ‘manual of arms’ and sent to work, somehow managing to keep up with Akula in spite of their land-based origins. The two were fast enough to outpace the cycle-worshipper in sheer speed, but their lack of numerous winters spent traversing deeper waters meant they required frequent rests, breaking the ocean’s surface after every third captured fish or so.
Still, she had to appreciate their dedication to their task. They never complained about Akula pushing them further to reach the star-sent’s vague objective. Such a task was entrusted to her—and by proxy, the other two—and thus it would be completed, no matter how much her comfortable bed… couch called her tiring muscles.
The group of three hauled net after full net of fresh meat to the chef—and sewist, who later joined him—forcing him to relegate much of the catch to long-term storage as the kitchen simply could not deal with the surplus. At least three-quarters of the fish were put to slow cook in the now Malkrin-sized smoker. The craftsman had upgraded it with a kit provided by Harrison, who had recycled much of the dining room and workshop furniture to accommodate it. The Creator’s showcased urgency to gather materials was clearly not unfounded… It was admirable how he used what little he had left to ensure food would not be scarce. Additionally, the apparatus exuded an excellent scent for all the survivors to enjoy, the earthy aroma drawing in some of the other Malkrin for their breaks or meals.
Those were not the end of the cycle-worshiper’s tasks, however. She was also required to report on Shar’khee’s progress in training the guardswoman—helping to recycle the small swarm of abhorrent they cleared earlier—as well as the wood storage building’s progress. Indeed, she was advising and assisting however and wherever applicable. To say she was seen all around the settlement would be an understatement.
Nevertheless, she was appreciative to see her efforts bearing fruit by sundown. The processing of their meals from sea to plate was quite efficient, and those that Akula taught were now well-practiced in their duties. The twin fisherwomen dove from wave to wave, bringing fish back to the barracks, where the cook and sewist swiftly worked to transfer the meat to pans and smoker hooks alike. Then, the remnants of the Sea Goddess’ aquatic gifts would be subsequently recycled and given purpose anew as biofuel or perhaps future fertilizer.
The endless onslaught of duties and responsibilities had enlightened her, in a way. She could see where Harrison came from now; having a working project go from one point to another without input nor difficulty was a sight to behold, and it made her swell with pride. It was a surmountable feat to teach the barbaric ground-worshippers to do something properly.
…Well, they were not horrible Malkrin, so perhaps simply calling them ‘uninitiated’ was a more apt descriptor…
No matter the tribulations faced, and no matter how draining her new authority might be, her rest at the end of the day would be one that was well-earned, and it would be had with a sense of satisfaction. She deserved it, and perhaps that extended to the rest of the settlement as well.
- - - - -
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Next time on Total Drama Anomaly Island - Mine! Mine! Mine!

He is begin accused of rape and Afterlife of more things. The woman post, who is accusing is very long but interesting. Source: https://www.instagram.com/p/C7EylYDgjSX/?igsh=eXF1MTY5aGpndGV4
I translate here:
"What happened, CARMINE MRAK CONTE? Have you already forgotten how you drugged and raped a woman? Have you already forgotten how you touched someone without their consent? I know I’m not the first woman to go through something like this and I wish I were the last. It was so painful when I woke up and saw blood between my legs when I walked. Have you already forgotten how you begged for forgiveness through messages when I sent you the medical prescriptions for the tears you caused me? You won’t get away with what you did to me. Today, I decided not to stay silent anymore! I have all the necessary evidence of my rape. Real-time locations, photos with your team, medical prescriptions from the doctor who attended me and who is a witness to my sexual abuse, photos from the hotel where we all stayed. Today, everyone will know the sexual abuser you are! To give a little context on how I met you all. I had some doubts about the party you held, "AFTERLIFE". I wanted to know the real meaning behind the visuals you used and the message behind them... that was and was my only intention. So I was contacting you for a while on Instagram until on February 26, 2023, you played at a party in CDMX, and that's where I met "TALE OF US". They were staying at the Four Seasons, and I happened to be in CDMX, so we met for dinner and then went to that party. I never imagined what I was getting into...
They were in Argentina for a few days, to be precise from April 4 to April 8, 2023 and they invited me on those days.
On April 7, at the end of the AFTERLIFE party, Carmine Mrak's animal, because I can't find any other way to call that person, drugged me and sexually abused me.
I had lost consciousness and didn't even drink alcohol.
I woke up and I was torn, it hurt a lot when I walked, I couldn't sit down.
I asked him what had happened and he told me "why" I told him what I felt and he told me "ahh it's just that you wanted more, that's how you asked for it."
Without remembering anything, in pain I just thought and said: I can't believe the sinism of this monster.
I told him that I wanted to return to Mexico that I couldn't stand the pain, he told me "it's okay, sorry."
I couldn't even rest on the plane, I was crying without understanding why that had happened to me.
Arriving in Guadalajara I had to go to the emergency room and they told me that I had to sue whoever had done that to me because I was not alone.
What I experienced I wouldn't wish on anyone else...
Returning to the topic of when I met them in CDMX and the doubts I had, finishing the party in CDMX I asked Carmine Mrak about his doubts about Afterlife.
I asked him if it was about TRANSHUMANISM and he just opened his eyes, looked at me and said:
"TRANSHUMANISM, YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT, OF COURSE IT'S ALL ABOUT TRANSHUMANISM THAT IS THE NEXT STEP OF HUMAN EVOLUTION"
For those who don't know what it is, it's about
(improve humanity through technology by questioning humanity's own limits such as the prolongation of life).
That's what you're led to believe... that you can change, master, and override natural events like old age, guilt, suffering, and even death.
They believe they can leave the human body aside by transferring all the information each individual contains into a computer! That is why in its visuals there are cables connecting to the human, robots carrying humans on their legs and they dying while the robot opens its face and a smoke that comes out of the human is passed to the robot.
That is not something that is very far from reality... there are already people who call themselves
"Cyborgs" and you can find videos and documentaries of them where they have already implanted chips in their bodies to control some things in their environment.
Here comes the worst part, this can cause inequalities between countries and continents, increasing the digital divide and the possibility of social conflicts. On the other hand, the debate regarding moral, judicial and ethical laws arises, generating social confusion.
Organ cloning, nanotechnology, prosthetic implants with AI in some cases seem good for humans But surprise! It also has its disadvantages. First of all, and that is more than enough to worry me, is: Man can lose all of his human identity.
One day I noticed a tattoo of a cross on his hand to which I asked: Do you believe in Jesus? And he answered: "No, that was before when I was young, now I like the devil more."
He asked me: do you like the little devil? He immediately showed me his tattoos on both arms with demons and horns, he told me that those little devils had already given him everything he wanted, fame, money, power, I told him that since I was little I watched beings that tormented me and my bad episodes, He said that this was a gift, and to master it.
I constantly repeated the word "Incubus" for those who don't know this means "yaser"
'lie down' engender a demon' inside a woman the victims live the experience like a dream without being able to wake up from it.
This Being can also take the form of a handsome man, sometimes even making its victims fall in love with it. While all this happens, it consumes the energy of the seduced woman.
When it is the incubus who tries to extend the life of his lover, she enjoys health, physical and emotional well-being; An incubus in love can be equally beneficial and dangerous.
Well, I already knew a little about their intention and I was more alert... little by little they began to introduce me to people from their personal circle: managers, producers, backup singers, musicians, even audio engineers, and what I saw and heard was not true. they would believe.
One day Carmine tells me "I want to see what's in your mind"
Tell me some words and I will put them into the artificial intelligence software.
I start to tell him to see "a path, a sun, lines, a sky." Mrak tells me how basic it is to look at what I'm creating... "it's literally the doors to the underworld" and starts laughing.
People here tell me they are crazy "Look at the codes, what they talk about" And they were just words like
"armageddon" "demon" "darkness" "evil" "death" etc.
I was just observing, that had been my intention from the beginning. Little by little I discovered more things that made me sick not only of them, but of everything they do, their work team, the real intention of their parties, how they made fun of other artists... they are not good people .
I imagine many remember one of his last visuals at Afterlife in Tulum about a guy parting the sea with a cane.
(That's the part in the Bible where Moses extends his arm over the sea for everyone to walk)
Exodus 14:21-22
All of these things are against religion and well, I am also very fighting against fanaticism. I will not be the most devout but I believe in repentance and I have faith in God.
I also remembered something with your visuals that I had read in the Bible and this is the verse:
"As you saw, iron mixed with clay will be mixed through human alliances, but they will not be united with each other as iron is not mixed with clay" Daniel 2:43
(We are the mud) that's why the visuals of the trees flooding with metal.
The giant doors representing the portals, everything has a meaning, I understood everything.
I knew what their message was, their objective and the evil rituals of these puppets.
Their afterlife logo represents the upturned cross.
Have you seen the actors' strikes in Hollywood? It's incredible how this is affecting everyone and if you are a musician and you are reading this you should think about questioning who you are supporting, what you want to do with your project and what you can do to achieve change because they are going to replace you in couple of minutes.
When I discovered this I felt disgusted inside! All those parties that I attended years ago in Tulum and in some parts of Mexico believing that everything was good vibes, ecstatic, happy together with my friends without knowing what we were dancing to and what we were contributing to.
Now I feel sorry for all those people I see giving their energy and soul to these satanic parties.
They think that everything is light, love and peace but they don't have the slightest idea of ​​everything these puppets represent. How sad to see all those artists wanting to be part of this label.
I ask for support from the music industry, from all the women who have experienced something similar to all the people who support the women's movement, share so that everyone knows how shitty these people are and what they did to me, how they manipulate and use their festivals as rituals.
Let's raise awareness, I know that many of you see the subliminal messages that they publish, it is not really your imagination if something is happening.
Stop supporting so much evil, the world doesn't need any more of that.
Stop supporting A RAPIST like him.
If I don't raise my voice it could be another woman who ends up suffering like I did."
What do you think?

[Speaker 1]
How does it feel when you said om? The rajas just disappears. Believe me.
This om is such a beautiful sound. There is no place left for tamas. Rajas just disappears and you are in a beautiful state.
You are in no hurry. Nothing is going away. It is a beautiful tranquil state.
And it is this tranquil state which is sattva guna. A question is often asked as to why the Hindus have so many devatas. So, I need to be all wild up here.
Things won't function otherwise. Okay, so in jyotish, let's have a small recap on the jyotish. Why do we have 12 signs or do we have 13 signs?
Some people are recommending it. Yeah. The 12 full moons that occur in a year.
There are 12 full moons. Sometimes there are 13 full moons. No.
Okay. But generally there are 12 full moons. Correct.
Generally there are 12 full moons. That is why it is the full moon to full moon. The time period is roughly 29 point odd days.
That has been rounded off to 30 days. Right? How much is the time between one full moon to another full moon?
29.5. Right. 29.5 days is rounded off to 30 days. So, what are we talking about?
We are talking about days, about time. We are not talking about space. We are talking about time.
So, the time taken for the sun to move in those 30 days or 30 solar days is supposed to be one Rashi. And that has been equated to space. What is the average motion of the sun?
1 degree per day. Average motion. So, how do you equate the time to space?
You take 30 days multiplied by 1 degree per day. That is how you have 30 degrees for one sign. So, what is our original starting point?
It is time. So, time has been converted into space. Am I being understood?
Time, that is Kala, is converted to space. Now, we have a total circle of 360 degrees. It is simple mathematics.
And we have one sign or what we call one Rashi, one weight. And the word Rashi means one weight, one measure. Rashi is a measure, a weight.
We have that weight of 30 degrees. And we arrived at 30 degrees by 30 days motion of the sun. So, 360 divided by 30 gave us 12 Rashi, 12 measures.
12 steps. If one step is 30 degrees, you know, one step is 30 degrees, the sun can take 12 steps. The sun takes 12 steps to go around.
12 Rashi. Rashi is a measure. Rashi is not a sign.
The word sign means symbol. Rashi is not sign. Rashi is measure.
I can clarify that first concept now. The zodiac signs is translated as Rashi. It is wrong.
Rashi is a measure. So, I thought this small recap in Jyotish would be good because I want to be very clear with you about our basics before we proceed further. Now, that we have 12 Rashi, the question was we needed variables to define life.
Life has to be defined because it is life that is important. We are studying life. We are not studying some stars in the sky.
We are not studying those planets in the sky. We are studying life on earth. Jyotish is a study of life on earth.
It is not a study of the stars in the sky. Astrology is astro, is astral, the stars. Logy is the logic for that.
That is not what we are doing. We are studying Jyotisha, Jyoti, the light of God. And that light of God is there in the hearts of every human being.
It is there in the heart of every animal. It is there in the tree of every living creature. That light of God is in a stone.
We are looking for that light. We are not looking at the stars. That is not Jyotish.
It is a very fundamental difference. Where are we looking? We are using that information to help us.
But that information is not the objective. The objective is the life here on earth. In this planet.
In this life which is full of darkness. We are looking for that spark of light. That is Jyotisha.
The translation of Jyotisha as Vedic and Astrology is totally and completely wrong. Firstly, it is not Vedic. It is a Vedanga.
Secondly, it is not Astrology. Astrology is a part of it. But it is not Astrology in all.
You see my point? This hand is a part of Sanjay. You can say this hand is Sanjay.
But this hand alone cannot define Sanjay. So we were waiting for Sarvani to come and light the lamp. She has come.
One western, you will be surprised. There is one person in the west who did it. Who made a very serious attempt.
He called it the light of life. One person did it. And I admire him for that.
He tried. It is a light. Without that light, there is no Jyotish.
This is crucial for us. So he translated it as the light of life. The life on this planet.
So his translation was very good. It consists of three parts. One is Ganita.
One is Hora Shastra. And one is Samhita. If we say Vedic Astrology, we are kicking Samhita out.
Ganita is having no place at all. I mean it is only Ganita, some little parts of Ganita. Some portion of Hora Shastra.
Not even the full portion of Hora Shastra. Am I clear on what I am saying? Vedic Astrology is only Ganita and some Hora Shastra.
Samhita is totally kicked out. Because when we say Pallipatana or the falling of a lizard. What planet is that?
Is there any planet involved? One, you are walking. You saw a cat pass.
Some planet ran away, no? One cat passed in this direction. What was the time?
What was the color of the cat? What was this? What was that?
Which direction he ran? How big he was? All those things are important.
That whole science, we are throwing away. It is wrong. We are limiting our study.
You see my point? Vastu Shastra, we have thrown it away. Jyotisha includes Vastu Shastra.
Jyotisha includes Sakuna Shastra. Jyotisha includes Ved Mantra. Jyotisha includes Shiva Gyan.
You cannot just pick up Shiva and throw him away and say I am a Jyotisha. You cannot do that. You have to try to understand Shiva.
So you see, Jyotisha is a very huge ocean. We are throwing it away because we don't want to work hard. We have become lazy.
By nature, that is the nature of man. And more it will increase as time passes, as the human life becomes smaller and smaller and smaller. We will have to throw away more and more, more and more.
Why? Because we think that this one lifetime will go away and I will not learn. We think that this one lifetime is all that we live.
Beyond this we will not live anymore. That this knowledge will be destroyed when we die. Knowledge is not destroyed when you die.
Knowledge is retained in the Atma. Atma retains knowledge in the form of Dharma. When that knowledge is retained in the Atma, how can it be destroyed?
Remember, there is a beautiful saying my Gurudev used to say. Everything in this world can be taken away from you. You will lose everything that you have.
One day or the other, everything, a shirt, brother, father, mother, sister, everything will go away. Only one thing will stay with you. The knowledge that you have.
Even after you die, nobody can take that, nobody can steal that, nobody can deprive you of that. It is the only thing that will stay with you. And when you know that that is the only thing that will stay with you, why are you foolishly running after other things?
Why are you not pursuing your mind on this knowledge? It is a very beautiful thing. When you think about it, it is a very beautiful thing.
That it is this Vidya, this knowledge and all that will be retained by us. So, we must work hard to increase the knowledge content within our Atma. To remove that ignorance, the covering of ignorance, those layers of dirt.
It is like a murti, you know, the Atma is like a murti, full of dirt on top. Clean it. Please give up.
Subhad jantam jagannathayate namah. Om. So, we will continue with this for some more time.
Till the others come, I will give them another 10 minutes, till I start my Jyotish. Recap on Jyotish is what we are having. I will just remind you again.
So, we are now clear about the 12 signs. Life. When I see a human being, or I see an animal, or I see a tree, how do I define the object?
What are the things that I need to define the object? Forget those grahas. They don't matter.
If we need them, we will take them. Firstly, there is a physical body that has to be divided. Then the first thing, a form.
Everything that is materially created must have a form. And that form comes because of prithvitatva. It is prithvitatva, or the solid element, that defines the form.
Right? The second is that which causes sustenance. What sustains?
It is that which carries the food. The carrier of food or the sustainer is in a form which is fluid. Because he is changing, yet he has to communicate with the solid.
And that is the liquid. That is the jada tattva. Right?
So, first there is a solid. And this solid defines the form. This form has to be replenished.
Like you know your hair is falling. Your hair grows. You cut your hair.
Again it grows. How come the hair is growing? Somebody is giving him food to grow.
The food that is coming for the hair to grow is jada tattva. It is coming from jada tattva. The giver of food is jada tattva.
It is the sustainer. Then comes that which has to cleanse. When you cut your hair, you throw it away, right?
Something has to cleanse it. Something has to remove the dirty one, the old one, the dead one. All the time.
So, constantly there is creation. Constantly there is sustenance. And constantly there is destruction.
Within your body, cells are being created, cells are being sustained, cells are being destroyed. Constantly this process is going on. The destruction or the dissolution is taking place because of vayu tattva.
Okay? So, we have three tattvas. The prithvi tattva, the jala tattva and the vayu tattva which are creating or defining the form, sustaining the form and destroying the form.
Am I right? Then, there must be one which is the result of sustenance. The purpose of sustenance.
Why are you sustaining something? For what reason he is there? He has to do some karma.
He has to do some action. Even the sea, when you stand next to a sea, you will see the sea is coming in, going out, coming in, going out. Have you seen that?
How the sea dances on the shore? The waves are coming in and the waves are going out as if the sea is doing a mantra. Constantly the samudra is doing a mantra.
You see my point? So, the purpose, the action, something is animating it. Even a sea which is dead is getting animated.
That animation or the movement comes from energy and that is agni tattva. Okay? So, we have four tattvas and there must be one that coordinates all the effort, keeps them all together, ensures that there is perfect friendship and harmony between them, there is great love between all of them, that they work together for a common purpose of existence so that the life continues.
He ensures that life continues. Something is keeping all of them together. Some kind of a magnetic force you may call it, which is binding them, some kind of a glue.
That is akash tattva. What was that? Could somebody take a look at what's happening?
Sounds like a smoke alarm, doesn't it?
[Speaker 2]
So, that is akash tattva.
[Speaker 1]
So, we have five tattvas that we need. The five primary tattvas will define the entire life. The living object is defined by the five tattvas.
A dead object is also like the sea. I was just now talking about the sea and the animation of the sea. Even that is also defined by five tattvas.
Right? After that, what is the next thing? We have the entire creation that runs on the basis of light.
The whole game is like a movie, you know. What is movie all about? It's light.
Different colors of light, different play of light, different images. All images are nothing but light. Pure light, the reflected light and darkness.
Darkness is also part of light. If there is no shadow, you will not appreciate the light. It is all a game.
It's a beautiful drama. This drama is being played by four factors. The sun and the moon and the lunar nodes, Rahu and Ketu.
Because the entire light on earth comes from the sun. In the night, we have light from the moon. And then there are the stages which we call stages without light and stages of intense light.
Which we call the Rahu and the Ketu. So these define Jyotish. The pancha tattva, the luminaries and the givers of light.
For the pancha tattva, we need five grahas only. We don't need more than that. Because there are five variables.
You can use any other variable. If you think there is a better variable than the grahas, you can use that. The five grahas starting from Mercury to Saturn in that order of the five closest to the sun are the ones that we need.
We don't need more than that. So that is our definition of Jyotish. The nava grahas consisting of the pancha tattva, the tattva grahas, there are five tattva grahas and the sun, moon, Rahu, Ketu.
So there are two groups. One group is the pancha tattva grahas and one is sun, moon, Rahu, Ketu.
[Speaker 2]
Can you repeat that order starting from Mercury?
[Speaker 1]
Prithvi tattva, Jala tattva, Prithvi tattva, Mercury. It is very important to understand this. Prithvi tattva, Mercury, the solid form.
Then Jala tattva, Venus, Shukra, then Vayu tattva, Saturn, then Agni tattva, Mars, and then Akash, the one who is making this whole world run around and forcing them to stay together and work together. The definition of God. God is good.
Otherwise he is not God. Right? So that is Jupiter.
The pancha tattva. And after these pancha tattvas, we have the sun, the moon, and Rahu and Ketu. So two groups.
Clear? This is our definition of Jupiter. So now after, since you are all here, as I told you I will make the announcement again.
Sarbani will need more time to complete her part of the paper. And so she will be taking the paper tomorrow after Swi's paper. So you will get a treat as she is handling Diksha initiations which is a tough job.
Very tough job. And Diksha is tough, alright. But seeing Diksha through Jyotish is even more tough.
What is Diksha, types of Diksha, lot of stuff she will be doing. Today I will be troubling you throughout the day. By the time I should be done, your brain should be completely fried.
So, I will be starting today with Graha Devata.

please share your thoughts!!!!!!!
alright, ive finished the game around a month ago but have spent the past month LIVING off of hl memes and ominis content, so i still remember most of the game vividly.
i think theres foreshadowing to a sequel, here's why:

• if you dont turn in sebastian and talk to him, he'll understand your pov on the goblins and listen. if you do hand him in, ominis will talk to him and report that this has only made him angrier (..for whatever reason). this made me curious, because, well, by the time you do this quest it should be almost endgame, hell for some people they do the 'in the shadow of the...' quests AFTER endgame. it just seems an odd detail to add rather than 'oh yeah i talked to sebastian and he understands and hes sorry, the end'. maybe the devs set this up for a conflict point in the future, if you hand him in, for a sequel (or more likely a dlc).

-anne sees what sebastian has done to solomon, and this deathly sick (!!!) girl runs away to... where, exactly? again we get conflict that hasnt been resolved.
-less glaringly important but we get almost nothing about ominis. in the house cup bit hes just sitting down despondently because hes just lost his only friend and has to go back to his abusive family, who used crucio on him. also, ominis is quite vague about said family. leaves an open space that can be filled in with a sequel, because i would actually give my right eye to learn more about the gaunts ;)
-the MOST obvious plot hole - sebastian, in his usual delusions, seems to convieniently forget our emotional undercroft heart-to-heart about 'ill use ancient magic to save anne', before he goes and harnesses the power of a dark relic that causes only desctruction. (i ADORE seb but ominis is just so much better im sorry ;-; )YES i know theres the whole 'theyll become husks with no emotion if you take away pain', but sebastian hasnt been TOLD that. for all he knows, WE are the answer!! but nooo he must control the inferi because he is a teenage edgelord and nobody understands him. so yet again, unresolved conflict that could be saved for another time!!
-another huge plot thing - i personally went mostly goodie-goodie (except the unforgivables because come on!) in my first playthrough as a slytherin (going as an evil gryffindor next, lol). so this means i left the power of the resevoir alone. BUT! i have seen playthroughs where the resevoir is taken for the players own personal gain. is there any difference?... ...literally no. which is just ??? so maybe in additional gameplay, we could learn to 'hone' whatever new skills this grants us (more sequel-worthy than dlc-worthy, imo.)
-more a dlc thing, but quidditch. need i say more?
my thoughts:
there is enough material here to make a worthy sequel.
not only did hl DESTROY its sales expectations (even with the boycott), its been so popular that it has a subreddit with over 300k people (thats where we are now weee), which is kinda insane for a 'spin-off' game.
they would be stupid NOT to make a sequel or dlc, considering the absolute bank they made from this one + they now know what people want, meaning the next game would be even better.
the plot could be-

• you start 6th year as normal. you'd probably be on the train because no special entrance for you! you're slumming it with the normies now. if youve handed sebastian in last game then hes not here and you can skip anything to do with him until i say so.

-if you didnt, seb is still here. he thanks you for all you've done, blah blah blah, and acknowledges the goblins innocence. hes worried sick for his sister who has ran away and wants to find her. you are dumb and havent learned your lesson (duh), so no matter what you say he'll convince you to help once you've found your feet in sixth year.
-ominis walks into your compartment. he looks terrible. you ask him if he's alright and he slips some gaunt lore about his family and on their.. ideas of fun, because come on i have a mad obsession with this dude, and if im the one writing this plot, we're getting ominis angst, suck it up. if youve handed in sebastian, itll just be you two. there'll be a train cutscene and boom, you're at school.
-this is where it gets tricky.
IF youve handed in sebastian. he'll be in prison. youll probably get some angsty moments and npc quotes along the lines of 'he seemed like such a good kid'.
if you HAVENT handed him in, the story gets weird, because a) more awkward time with seb because hes free and 2) he knows the goblins are mostly good. the actual hl doesn't have this big of a rift, so its hard to say what happens. however, its good because it gives us loads of choice, the lack of which in hl caused a lot of complaints.
-if he's in prison, sebastian escapes,(not azkaban, gotta keep with the canon. maybe because he is a minor he is sent to a lesser facility.) still blaming the goblins and holding such a hatred for them now that in his eyes, they escaped punishment and that it's his job to kill them all while extorting the cure for anne OR finding us to cure her.
-if he's free, we can either have a storyline of him NOT learning his lesson and maybe going to prison then instead of after he commits uncle-cide (dark magic go brr, because sister is gone) or some other storyline that would be more about our magic (!) and ominis' story.
-for the latter to happen, we'd have to have taken the resevoir's power. OR we can make up a rowling-worthy excuse of 'well MC was exposed to the resevoir power for too long so even though they left it alone it still diffused into them or something! [happy]'. i honestly dont know, this is why i want YOUR THOUGHTS!!!
-to make the selection pool shallower, lets go with the excuse. this will allow us to have seb's story, our magic story and also some ominis story (i am obsessed.)
-whether seb escapes or is already free matters, but in the end its the same result - hes not in prison. the only difference is that free seb doesnt hate goblins, and isnt on the run, and vice versa for escapee seb. both want to find anne and cure her. both now remember you have the capacity to do so (but they dont know about the taking-away-pain-turns-them-into-living-husks thing).

• we could go with the 'find escapee seb and convince him we're right and he believes us and everything goes back to normal' route, but boring.

-maybe escapee seb finds us, and ropes us into the same 'help-me-find-anne' crap free seb does to us on the train. yes, that means we dont have a choice, but there has to be SOME adventure. the goblin-hatred would def play in somehow - its too specific of a thing to include in the endgame to just leave it be like that! maybe his hatred causes him to do unforgivable things to some innocent goblins and he has a 'mAyBe Im ThE mOnStEr' epiphany moment, who knows. maybe it ties in to something bigger.
-the main story would then be along those lines. im still brainstorming the climax and ending but nobodys gonna read this anyway lmfao
-main quests would consist of lessons, sebastian-is-a-little-too-obsessed-with-anne-quests, and honing our magic.
-side quests would be mainly ominis-centric regarding his family/the gaunts, with a decent lot of poppy and garreth. we've already resolved natty's entire life at this point tbh💀💀💀.
-id like to think there's a happy ending. idk what will happen to escapee sebastian, will he go to prison or not?? this is literally the equivalent of a crackfic in my head, i WAS NOT expecting to write this much when i started writing this.
SO AGAIN GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS. PLEASE. ON EVERYTHING FROM THE PLOT TO MY SEQUEL THEORIES TO FEATURES AND INCONSISTENCIES. THANK YOU!!
nowww some features!:

• quidditch, because yes
• morality systems would be a bit null here considering we're literally helping an escaped convict. but uh, we can try! just, like, dont cast the unforgivables everywhere you go ;)
• friendship systems with all side quest characters. like going from ehhh... to hellooo! with a side character would be awesome. the one thing hogwarts MYSTERY of all things got right was this.
• friendship and enmity systems BETWEEN characters, like, every sebastian needs their ominis ok. plus i want to help ominis bully puffskien dunkein I BEG, you cant tell me they dont have some rivalry going on ;-;

-romance? idk, not a romance person, this is for you sebastian fangirls to figure out for yourselves
-prejudice. literally what made harry potter, harry potter. there is like ONE audio with a negative view towards muggle-borns, and ONE that uses the word mudblood to my knowledge. everyone's just ok with everyone now? do malfoys and other death-eater's grandaddies not go to school here??? hello??????? this could and SHOULD be a topic for discussion in game or maybe even a side quest or side quest chain.
-extra but when/if seb escapes it should be on the daily prophet that ominis will show us in the undercroft or smth, i dunno
inconsistencies with my plot:

• loads of things havent been planned out. this is like a professional crackfic. (still has better plot than the cursed child though lets be honest :3 )
• everyone is easily convinced 'oh ok lets find your sister even though youre a dangerous escaped convict!'. sorry.

-itll be hard to mash everything in. but a half-assed plot is still a plot <:
-since its a continuation of 5th year, we already know many spells. there arent many useful ones left. HOWEVER!!! we can consult the fandom spell page, take offensive spells and stat boost them more than the 5th year ones >:) ALSO YOU LEARN ABOUT DARK ARTS IN 6TH YEAR, SO. ominis is not gonna have a fun time with those ones 💀
-because we'll be searching for anne, like the actual hl game, less school time, :( sorry
-everyones just ok with us disappearing (if seb is an escapee). someone should pull a hermione and go 'hmm, MC starts disappearing shortly after sebastian escapes, and they never say what they're doing.'
probably ominis or poppy because a) favouritsm on my part and b) ominis knows us best and i headcanon poppy as knowing us well and knowing the dark arts and how theyre used a tad bit more than she gets credit for.

• since this wouldve been 5th and 6th year covered, it would be expected for a 7th year to happen. naturally, i have exhausted all my 3 brain cells writing this, so screw it, 7th year doesnt need to exist right now. i havent even figured out all of 6th.

-loads of other things i havent seen, SO

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE SHARE THOUGHTS, THIS TOOK ME AN HOUR TO WRITE AND I ONLY WROTE IT TO SEE WHAT PEOPLE THINK! TYSM. (I SHOULDNT HAVE WRITTEN THIS, I HAVE FINAL EXAMS TOMORROW 💀)

youre all amazing yayayayayaya