I should not be writing this. I know they will be looking for me as soon as this goes live. I had to get the word out despite all the secrecy surrounding the project. I don't know what they'll do to me when they find me, but this has to get out.
I was unemployed vet tech looking for work when I came across a job listing offering a strangely large amount of money. What did I have to loose? I called the number and they gave me a website to go to that took me through an application process and a security clearance form that I had to fill out the last seven years of my life. They said it would be months until the clearance would come through but to my surprise a month later I got a phone call telling me I had been granted Interm Secret clearance and the job would proceed.
I had to go to a building without any name on it downtown and they took my photo for an ID card and a packet of information about where I was to go to the next day.
The next morning I drove to the address with a mix of excitement and apprehension. What about this job required a security clearance? Why had I gotten my interm secret so quickly? I figured I'd soon find out when I pulled up to a gate with a card reader. I swiped my ID and the razor wire topped gate slid open so I could pass. Yeah nothing ominous about that. I drove a mile or so down the road and parked in the parking lot in front of a building that looked like the set of a prison movie. The windows were narrow slits and I could tell from a distance that the door was very heavy duty. Thinking back a few minutes ago wasn't the top of that razor wire fence angled in as if to keep something in rather than people out?
I got out and approached the heavy door. I spotted the card reader and used my ID on it and it flashed green and there was a loud clunking sound from the door as it unlocked. I had to put some muscle behind it to get it to open and then it shut behind me followed by another loud clunk as the locks reengaged.
I turned to see a thick armored window with a guard staring me down.
"First day huh?" he asked me as he looked at his screen.
"Yeah," I said a bit nervously.
"Sit tight, your department head will be coming to pick you up and take you to your in-brief," he said.
"What uh, what is this place?" I asked.
"All that will be answered by the briefing so have a seat and relax. You're likely in the safest spot in the facility," he said.
I looked at the inner door and noticed it was just as thick and heavy as the outer one. I was essentially sitting in an armored booth so he was technically right about it being safe.
When my boss arrived he was wearing scrubs and had his ID card clipped to the bottom of the V of the top.
"So, you're my new tech?" he asked.
"Yes, Sir," I replied.
"Good, hopefully you follow instructions better than the last one," he said. "I'm Dr. Tanner. You can call me 'Sir' or 'Doctor'."
"Sir, can you tell me what I'll be doing here?" I asked.
"All in due time. First you need to complete the safety briefing. It is not a joke. Take a look at the windows and doors if you need convincing. The government doesn't spend this kind of money unless it's very necessary, and it is. You'll understand the need for it when I introduce you to our charges. I'm not going to tell you yet because I enjoy the look on people's faces when they get their first peak of what we're doing here," he said. "Now, for the safety briefing. Follow me."
He began to open the inner door when he stopped and looked back at me. "Do you have any electronic devices on you?"
"No Sir, the security documents instructed me to leave my phone and anything with a digital memory in the car," I said.
"Excellent, you're already demonstrating that you can follow directions," he said. Was that a hint of a smile I saw?
He lead me down the hallway to a room on the left and used his card to unlock and open the door. After I walked inside what appeared to be a conference room he followed me inside and let the door shut.
I immediately noticed the back of the door wasn't the usual thing one would expect to see. It had a big lever in the middle that looked like it operated bolts to secure the door shut. I started to wonder what the hell I had gotten myself into. I expected to be working with maybe the facility's guard dogs. This kind of security was on a level I hadn't experienced before.
"Good, you're observant, another plus," the doctor said.
He walked over to the table and picked up a recorder and pressed play. A trilling alarm sound came for it and he let it play for a few seconds before cutting it off.
"If you hear that sound along with flashing red lights you are to go to the nearest safe room, such as this one and use this lever to bolt the door," He walked over and pressed a button by the windows and the thick glass became opaque.
"And you are to opaque the windows with the control in the room so nothing can see in," he said and then pointed to a door on the other wall that had 'Emergency Supplies' written on it. "There you will find food, water, and other necessities if you happen to be locked down for an extended period of time. There is also a radio already set to the control room frequency. If the phone is not working pull the tab on the back of the radio so the battery makes contact and reports in with the information posted on the back of the door. That's basically who you are, where you are, and if there are any threats you know of near you. Otherwise sit tight unless told otherwise."
"Threats?" I asked.
"Our charges are out of containment or an external threat," the doctor replied.
"What's so dangerous that we need bunker rooms like this?" I asked.
"All in due time," he replied. "Have you ever used a tranquilizer gun?"
"No," I responded.
"No matter, you'd need to qualify on the two types we use anyway with the security team," he said.
"Why do we need tranquilizer guns?" I asked.
"The animals we work with are dangerous. They're sedated before they get to us and one of our tasks is to make sure they stay sedated until they're returned to the enclosure. If one wakes up and slips a restraint you are not going to want to go near it to give an injection. That's why we have tranq guns," The doctor said.
"That makes perfect sense to me," I said. My curiosity was burning wondering what we were working with. Had to be something like large predators to require this much security. A grizzly would be a plausible reason why the doors had the extra bars. The force they could produce could snap the usual latches.
"Good because it's time for my favorite part. Showing the new guy what we work with," the doctor said and led the way deeper into the facility and up a set of stars to a room labeled 'observation deck'.
"The windows are to remain frosted by the electronic controls there whenever the room is not in use. They cannot see in but they seem to know someone is watching them and it upsets them. It's best for everyone if they are not upset," He reached over and pressed the button and the electronic frosting cleared.
That's the moment where my brain completely derailed and I questioned my own sanity.
"W-Werewolves?" I asked.
"No, at least not at this facility. These are a lesser known cryptid called Dogmen, kind of like Bigfoot."
"Wait, is Bigfoot real?" I asked.
"Yes, but not nearly as widespread as 'sightings' would make you think," he said.
"If these exist, what else is real?" I asked him.
"That's beyond your need to know," he said sternly, but then his face softened. "I'll lend you a book later that contains everything we've confirmed and studied. After all, if you continue with this job you will have the opportunity to work with them in the future, and it's best you know what you're getting into," he said. "One benefit they probably haven't gotten around to telling you yet is that they will pay for your education. You can become a full veterinarian working with the most interesting creatures that exist," he said. "Not a bad gig, huh?"
"Except for the part where I'm working with large dangerous creatures," I said.
"Large, intelligent, dangerous creatures," he replied. "And that is why we have procedures and rules. Things like always having more sedative staged to inject if a patient starts to wake up, having them restrained at all times, and if they do wake up you have the tranq guns to put them back under without risking yourself," he said and tapped the control to frost over the glass again.
Our next stop was back in the conference room where there were now a couple of binders.
"Now for the boring part. Study these because you'll have to pass a test on them later. It's those procedures I mentioned. It covers everything from handling the animals, dosages we use, and why we can't leave after dark."
"Wait, we can't leave after dark?" I asked, a bit alarmed.
"There are dogmen in the woods surrounding this facility. The fence does a decent job of keeping them out but they do get in and they're not happy we have some of their kind captive. They're fairly shy during the day and become active at night so it's for your own safety that once the sun sets you stay here. We have secure rooms just for the occasion, and scrubs are not short in supply if you need a change of clothing. We have a mess hall staffed 24/7 by some excellent cooks. People who can do this job are rare so they take care of us. Now get to reading, you'll have to pass a test before you're allowed to work. I'll come pick you up for lunch."
I did as he said and spent the next few hours reading with a break for the promised lunch that was beef stroganoff and actually really good. I went for seconds. Then it was back to memorizing policy and procedures till I was finally done and managed a passing score on the test. That was followed by some time at an indoor range getting qualified on the tranq guns.
The doctor reviewed my test and nodded. "Excellent, you're a fast learner. We've rescheduled some things for tomorrow so we'll have the extra help. You head home and get a good night's rest. I'll see you in the morning in the veterinary section, just follow the signs it's easy to find," the doctor said.
I did as he said and drove home. I couldn't help but be a good deal more vigilant as I looked at the woods on the way out. Dogmen were out there and no one in the area except us knew. There were the cryptid hunters but they didn't know for sure like I did from seeing a pack close up.
Needless to say I didn't get a whole lot of sleep that night. My mind was racing with the possibilities of what was real from all of the stories.
In the morning I made breakfast and sat for a bit having to give myself a reality check that yesterday wasn't just a dream, so I finally picked up my keys and headed out. I drove down the lonely road and passed through the gate without incident. I parked my car and made my way through the security checkpoints and began following the signs to the Veterinarian department. As the doctor had said, it wasn't difficult to find.
There were three entrances all like airlocks that were long enough for a gurney. It didn't take long to figure out the purpose. If you had dangerous animals inside you wanted at least one door containment so they couldn't get past you and into the larger facility.
I went inside through the airlock like doors one at a time and found myself in a very familiar veterinary clinic though one that was very well stocked.
It was then that I met my other coworker, I'll call him Mike, who was sitting on a stool reading a magazine.
"Hey, you must be the new guy. I'm Mike," he said and I introduced myself.
"So, your first big day. You excited, or terrified?" Mike asked.
"A bit of both," I said honestly.
"Relax, by the time they get to us they've been pumped with enough drugs to drop an elephant. We take samples and the guards take them back out. Then we run the usual tests like any other animal. It's easy money," Mike said. "We're never in any danger."
"What about all of the procedures?" I asked.
"There's what's written down on paper and then there's what is practical and works. If we followed the checklist for every dogman that's brought in here it would just take us twice as long, and twice as long that it can wake up," Mike said. "So relax, I'll show you what you really have to do to streamline things."
What was I to say? He'd obviously been doing this for a long time and if his system worked who was I to question it?
Our first patient of the day made me the most nervous. The security team wheeled in a restrained female on a gurney right into the middle of our space then they backed out. Being the new guy I did the basics by checking heart rate, breathing, and looking into the eyes to make sure she was out cold. Everything was normal based on the numbers I had memorized.
Mike watched me, corrected my stethoscope placement a little and started drawing blood as soon as I was done. The moment he was done he buzzed the guards to take her back out while he labeled the samples.
"Less time they're in here the better so label your samples and fill out the papers once they're taken out," Mike said. "No need to have a dangerous animal laying around while we fill out forms."
"What about the extra sedative we're supposed to have ready?" I asked.
"The tranq guns are right there. Much safer to back off out of reach and just shoot them with another dose," Mike said. I couldn't fault his logic.
We had four more patients that day all went as smoothly as the first and I was beginning to relax. It was our last patient of the day when things went wrong.
It started normally with the guards rolling the male into our space and I took vitals and checked the eyes.
"Hey, I have some dilation here. I don't think he's under enough. Where's the sedative?" I asked.
"Don't worry about it. I'll be done before he realizes what happened," Mike said and undid one of the restraints a little so he could get to the vein. It was at that point things went horribly wrong. As soon as Mike inserted the needle the male woke up and jabbed it's hand upward catching Mike in the throat and spraying blood everywhere. I moved forward out of instinct to try and tighten the restraint when I felt a searing pain across my face and my right eye went red.
I stumbled back. Oh God had I lost my eye? I shook myself out of it long enough to badge through a door and throw the bolts before pressing the intercom button. "Creature out of containment in veterinary. I think Mike is dead. I'm hurt and need a medic!" I said before blacking out.
I don't know how long it was but when I woke up I was in a hospital room and the Veterinarian was sitting beside my bed.
"You're safe, you're in a hospital and just out of cosmetic surgery. You'll have some scars but it'll look like the result of a big cat. Your eye is fine."
"Mike?" I asked.
"Dead before any help would get to him. We have video of the whole thing including you questioning him multiple times on matters of procedure. Don't let someone senior intimidate you into not being safe. You have a month's paid leave to recuperate." he said.
So here I am. I need some advice. Should I go back to work after my leave is done or turn in my resignation? It won't take them much to figure out who I am if they find this post. I also don't know what they'll do to me if they do.

This megathread is about the ongoing conflict between HYBE and the management of sub-label ADOR.
DO NOT make new posts related to this story to the subreddit. If you have new information/articles, add them to the comments below so they can be integrated into the main post.
THIS POST MAY BE LOCKED OR UNLOCKED AT VARYING TIMES based on what the moderators are able to manage during their shifts. Please be patient with us while we work to balance keeping up with the queue and our own lives.
DISCLAIMER ABOUT SOURCES: We prefer to focus on official statements from companies or other vetted sources. There will be widespread speculation and rumor-heavy articles, but until presented in an official capacity we consider them unsubstantiated. As Mods, all we can do is compile and summarize, but we are not investigators or journalists.

Summary of Previous Megathreads

MEGATHREADS ONE and TWO and THREE covered events from April 22nd to the 26th

• HYBE initiated an audit of sub-label ADOR and uncovered indications of a scheme to break ADOR away from HYBE. ADOR's CEO Min Hee Jin claimed it was a witch-hunt in response to her internal complaints that new group ILLIT's visual concept was copying what she had designed for NewJeans among other frustrations and held a press conference

MEGATHREAD FOUR provides a SUMMARY of all events so far and up to the 30th

• Various conspiracies spread online over the last weekend in April. HYBE labels BIGHIT Music and SOURCE Music released statements vowing to take legal action to protect their artists against slander and groundless rumors. A court hearing was held on the 30th to determine a schedule for ADOR's board meeting.

MEGATHREAD FIVE covered the first half of May.

• ADOR's board meeting was held. The shareholders' meeting at the end of May was scheduled. Claims fired back and forth around HYBE continuing their audit and obtaining a personal laptop from an ADOR employee over potential embezzlement concerns. Min Hee Jin filed an injuction against HYBE. A letter from the parents of NewJeans with complaints of the group's treatment was made public, which HYBE later rebutted. HYBE requested an investigation of ADOR's VP selling HYBE shares a week before the audit.

MEGATHREAD SIX primarily covered the Injunction Hearing on May 17th.

• The Injunction Hearing was held to determine if HYBE would be able to exercise their voting rights to remove CEO Min Hee Jin from her position at the shareholders' meeting to be held on May 31st. Each side presented their cases to the court. MHJ/ADOR presented arguments to support her necessity to NewJeans and that HYBE's audit was invalid. HYBE's side presented arguments with information gained from the audit to protect their ability to dismiss MHJ for nefarious misconduct.
  
• After the hearing, emails between MHJ and HYBE in the lead up to the audit announcement over internal complaints were made public. It was also confirmed the NewJeans members had submitted petitions for the injunction hearing. An ex-reporteYouTuber 'leaked' Kakaotalk messages that were allegedly presented by HYBE to the court, but objected to by ADOR's side. The messages included MHJ privately using sexist/abusive language to disparage the NewJeans members and a staff member who had made a sexual harassment complaint against ADOR VP L (all alleged).
  

Articles / Timeline

240519

• The parents of NewJeans members were also confirmed to have submitted petitions for the injunction hearing. They did so via a lawyer, which sparked speculation they were preparing legal action against HYBE, but the lawyer clarified he only assisted with submitting the petitions. (Source: Edaily Starin)
  
• Min Hee Jin personally made an extensive statement for the first time since the press conference. She responded to issues brought up during the injunction hearing, primarily refuting claims about scheming with potential business partners. She also claimed the chat messages disparaging NewJeans were edited together without context. (Source: Star News)
  
• Korea JoongAng Daily: ADOR CEO Min Hee-jin denies trashing NewJeans, holding takeover talks
  
• HYBE countered Min Hee Jin's statement and criticized her emotional appeals often referring to the ADOR artists inappropriately as well as refuting the claim of editing the chat messages together. They affirmed the evidence they had collected amounted to clear grounds for dismissing MHJ from the company. (Source: OSEN)
  

240520

• A morning press conference was held where the Seoul Metropolitan Police Commissioner gave an update on the progress of their investigation regarding 'breach of trust'. They completed their analysis of submitted evidence and the investigation will proceed within the next week. (Source: SPOTV News)

Looking ahead:

• May 24: The last day for ADOHYBE to present further evidence related to the injunction. The court is supposed to make a final ruling on the injunction by the 31st.
  
• May 31: The extraordinary shareholders' meeting to potentially oust and replace Min Hee Jin as ADOR CEO.
  

Link back to MEGATHREADS ONE and TWO and THREE and FOUR and FIVE and SIX

GROUND RULES IN COMMENTS

If you have come to this subreddit to discuss anything, you are choosing to participate in a moderated space with rules of conduct enforced by human beings. All users are subject to the discretion of moderators to manage this space even if it's in ways you don't agree with.

• Do not Insult users, fans, or artists. Don't denigrate a certain demographic of people (age, gender, nationality, etc). NO harassing, threatening, or wishing harm on anyone.
• Do not incite fanwars, reference old tribal resentments between different fandoms, or assume the worst of fellow users.
• Do not bring wild conspiracies from somewhere else on social media that have no clear or substantiated sources.
• Do not accuse users with a different opinion from you of being a bot or paid shill.
• Refrain from linking to or discussing other subreddits. Do not encourage brigading in any way. Allow other subreddits and their mods to run their communities how they see fit.
• DO mention your sources and any use of AI/machine translation resources for quoting Korean articles.

THE MODS KNOW there will be bots, trolls, bad actors, and oblivious new users coming to the subreddit. We will do what we can to mitigate the impact of them. But you alone are responsible for your own behavior. Express your opinion or arguments without breaking our conduct rules or we will be obligated to remove your comments.

If you'd like to listen to me read this story click here.
“From Lieutenant Bren, UEF Shepherd
“To Captain Sassen, KCS Victory
“Captain, I continue to learn many things about the humans. Again, their sense of community is their strength. Their Shaa is strong, although they do not have a similar word and concept in their language, as I learned recently. I would like to continue this assignment beyond the previous estimated time. Please consider an extension, send to the council if necessary. I would also like to ask the council to review the request I have submitted to share some aspects of faster than light technology. Their current methodology is primitive, unstable, and, to a certain extent, dangerous. They are very close to discovering standard spacetime warping, and for that reason I don’t believe it will violate our technology sharing guidelines. Further details are in the formal request I submitted.
Bren paused, he knew protocols were against this request, but the humans were so close, he hoped the council would consider it. The council could make exceptions if he could show them that the humans demonstrated a non aggressive attitude. He remembered one more thing to add to his letter.
“Klaan philosophy regarding the deceased is an important part of our culture. While many are matter of fact about it, the rituals and sacraments have allowed us to function more efficiently as a society. I have learned about some human rituals, and their essence of Shaa. Two days ago we came across our thirteenth ship…”
Two Days ago
“Captain, the ship is on course, and seems to be functioning properly. However, the radiation emanating from the ship is at lethal levels. It’s highly unlikely anyone survived.” Captain Gardner looked at Commander Klein, taking a deep breath before speaking.
“Commander, prepare to scuttle the ship. Full honors. We don’t want to send a dirty bomb across space.” Commander Klein acknowledged the Captain, calling Bren over to his workstation.
“Bren, can you come look through this information?” Bren approached Klein’s station and looked over his shoulder. Klein pointed at the screen. “These readings, that seems to be the deceased passengers, correct?” Bren nodded then pointed at another reading. Klein agreed curiously. “That’s the one I don’t get. It looks like the life sign of a hibernating human, but it’s distorted.”
Gardner turned to Klein. “Is there a problem?”
Klein looked at Bren, then back to Gardner, “Sir, I think we’ll need to investigate, I can’t confirm that everyone is deceased.”
“How many people Mr. Klein?”
Klein and Bren conferred and Bren answered. “That’s the problem sir, we read 36 pods, most of which are non functioning.” Klein finished the thought.
“Most of the pods appear to be unused. The others are not allowing clear readings. Possibly due to the radiation?” They had encountered several ships with various levels of radiation exposure, likely due to a nearby nuclear blast. This one was the heaviest they had encountered. Klein continued. “This ship had to have gone right through an active explosion. The radiation is still intense.”
Gardner grimaced, while they had protections against radiation poisoning, it was tedious. Any items retrieved required scrubbing with radiation protocols. Patients needed extra medication beyond the standard inoculations, which protected against various types of radiation, mostly radiation found in space. But, they had to be sure. “OK commander, only you and one other, make it quick.” Bren volunteered himself.
“Captain, I am better protected against this type of radiation, I could join the Commander.”
Gardner thought a moment. “OK, just the two of you. Take every precaution.”
Markings on the side identified the ship as North Korean. That explained the radiation as a still unknown saboteur had detonated all of North Korea’s nuclear weapons at once. Sadly, the entire country was reduced to rubble. Although humanity had created effective radiation treatments, cleaning North Korea was taking longer, due to the massive amount of radiation released all at once. Some Koreans had survived, but North Korea, as a country, no longer existed. South Korea was now just Korea, having taken on refugees and stewardship over the cleanup. The reunification of Korea was a Pyrrhic resolution.
Bren and Klein entered the ship. Although it looked shoddily built, it was one of the few ships they had encountered that was fully functional. As they moved to the cargo area the problem became obvious. Crew members littered the area, some partially in their pods. The radiation had knocked them out before they could enter the pods. Bren scanned the area. “They are dead sir, it looks like 33 humans.”
Klein looked at them, some on the floor, some climbing into pods. He recalled the anomalous readings. “So there are three more pods?” Bren continued scanning, stepping carefully over the bodies.
“Commander, the readings on these hibernation pods is unusual, there appear to be several different metals in use, there is no consistency.” As they made their way into the depths of the cargo area they found three pods, hidden away behind stacks of cargo, still functioning. Bren approached them. He scanned, then turned to Klein excitedly.
“Sir, these three are alive, they are quite sick, but the pods appear to have shielded them enough to survive the radiation.” Klein stumbled into the area, looking at Bren’s scanner.
“If we wake them they won’t survive long.” Bren agreed. Klein pushed a button on the arm of his protective suit and called Gardner. “Sir, we have three survivors, They won’t survive long once they are brought out. We will need shielded gurneys to move them directly to the medical bay. Please send three patient pods and four rescue team members to facilitate the rescue.”
Bren and Klein checked their exposure time as they waited for the others to arrive.
Once the rescue team had arrived they cleared out the three crew members quickly, heading straight to the medical bay. Klein and Bren were ordered to undergo more extensive medical tests and spent the night there.
Early in the morning, Bren was explaining Klaan humor to Klein. Klein was not impressed. “So, simple mistakes are funny?”
Bren smiled, “Yes, inverting variables in a navigational equation can be quite satisfying.” Klein looked unsure as Bren added, “But the real humor comes in absurd endeavors, which can take several days or weeks to develop. The payoff is substantial.” Klein was about to speak when they were surprised to see one of the Koreans stir. He looked around, confused, and then startled to see Klein and an alien. Bren had accessed the Korean language program and spoke to him in perfect Korean.
“Do not be afraid. You are on an Earth ship, The Shepherd. Earth is a different world than when you left. I assure you, you are safe here.” The Korean calmed a bit, looking for his comrades. Bren continued, “I am sorry to tell you that only the three of you survived. You have extreme radiation sickness but medical advances have created effective treatments and you are all expected to recover.”
The Korean asked, “What happened?”
Bren turned to Klein, “He wants to know what happened.” They were interrupted by the arrival of Captain Gardner and an Ensign.
“Bren, this is Ensign Choi, she speaks Korean and will be the liaison for these men.” Choi immediately went to the Korean man and began talking. Bren watched as the man apparently learned that his country was gone. The look on his face touched Bren deeply. He appeared to be in physical pain upon hearing the news.
Gardner turned to Klein and Bren, “Are you cleared to resume duties?” Klein nodded and Gardner continued. “I had hoped to avoid a conflict but you may recall the previous rescue of the ship Justice 4.”
Klein grimaced. Just a day before finding the Korean ship they had rescued a ship that was clearly affiliated with the Justice Party. Although it was never confirmed, the Justice Party claimed responsibility for the three nuclear warheads that decimated Los Angeles to start the war.
The Freedom Party quickly formed in response, but since there were no geographical divides the initial stages of the war were particularly gruesome. Political strongholds of each party were destroyed by nuclear weapons, killing members of both parties, as well as the undeclared; more than half of the country that claimed no connection to either party. The complication was certainly due to the fact that a Freedom Party ship’s passengers were already on board. Gardner confirmed Klein’s assumption.
“We assigned quarters to the passengers of the ship, Justice 4, and initially there was no problem, until someone saw an insignia on someone’s shirt. The Justice group refused to be quartered on the same floor.”
Klein grimaced. “The Freedom passengers were on level three, right? Just move the Justice to two?” Gardner smiled.
“The Freedom passengers decided that they wanted to be above them, so they refused to stay on three if the Justice moved to two.”
Klein scoffed, “We’re in space, there is no above and below, we may be sideways now for all we know.” Gardner agreed and as the three men entered the passenger common area, the leaders of each group swarmed them.
As multiple men chattered and made demands at once Gardner raised his hand and finally got them to calm down. “We came across a heavily irradiated ship and we want to allow the surviving crew to be involved in the Honor ceremony when we scuttle the ship. They are in the medical bay. We could be here for a few days depending on their recovery time. That means you all can’t stay here in this room. You will need to accept room assignments.”
The men all began shouting again when Bren stepped forward, raising both hands which, somehow, stopped everyone immediately. Bren spoke.
“Captain, I may have a solution.” Gardner looked hopeful.
“Go ahead Lieutenant.”
Bren lowered his hands. “My people have a method for solving disputes that goes back several thousand years. It is specifically designed for this sort of post war dispute.”
Everyone was rapt as Bren continued. He smiled and stuck his arms out to the side, palms up. He spoke loudly in a commanding voice, “Feats of Strength!” As he said ‘strength’ he raised his arms over his head and clasped his hands together. Shaking them with a determined grimace. The men pumped up their chests and murmured agreement. Gardner looked at Bren curiously. “Feats of Strength?”
Bren nodded, “Yes, although that is rarely the form it takes. We stopped fighting to the death centuries ago.” The men seemed a little less enthused.
Gardner asked, “What does this entail?”
Bren smiled, “We choose a contest, and since it is a test of strength, we add,” he paused, searching for the correct word, “complications, as we go.” He looked around, and sensing no objections, continued. “I would suggest… bowling!”
Gardner and Klein stifled laughs as Bren looked each group straight on and asked, “Are you prepared to compete for your pride?” Hesitantly each group agreed. Bren went on, “I will administer the contest, the rules are simple, I can add any difficulties I choose.”
The leader of one group looked at Bren, confused, “Difficulty?”
Bren nodded, “For example, we could start by bowling with the non dominant hand. Perhaps with eyes closed, or while… singing.” As the men started to take Bren less seriously he puffed up and seemed to get taller. “You have accepted the challenge, do you agree to go forward?” The men looked at each other, unsure, but finally nodded and started to get excited.
Bren stated one more rule, “The final outcome is that the winners will be allowed to choose their quarters,” the men nodded and mumbled until Bren cut them off, “But the winners must also host the defeated team to a feast in their home.” He looked around and felt he had everyone’s attention. “There is no human term for this, but the Klaan call it Shaa. It is the knowledge that everyone on the planet is connected. In our case, on this ship. We are all part of one physical organism, collectively called the Shaa-a-ren.”
The men looked around, slightly less excited but committed to the contest. Bren stood straight, and addressed the room. “Each team will choose four champions. The contest will start in sixteen hours. Spread the word, in the original Feats of Strength great crowds cheered on their warriors.”
With that the groups of passengers separated into huddles, deciding on their champions. Gardner turned to Bren. “Feats of Strength? Shaa-a-ren?” Bren looked at Klein and the Captain.
“Yes sir, the rules are adaptable, but Shaa is a sacred concept to the Klaan. I assure you, this method of conflict resolution has an excellent record on Klaan.” Klein and Gardner shared a curious look, when Bren noted excitedly, “We will need to prepare the bowling lanes for an audience. The crowd is a critical part of this event! Captain?”
Gardner shrugged, “Commander Klein, let the crew know that they are invited to a Klaan Feats of Strength event.” Klein shook his head as he walked toward the bridge to deliver the invitation.
In the medical bay Gardner, Klein, and Choi spoke to the three Korean men. Gardner had offered them several option for disposal of the irradiated ship. Choi translated for the Captain. “They said they are not overly concerned with the ship’s disposal. They only ask to be able to watch as it’s done.” One man, who identified himself as Colonel Han spoke. “Captain, we do believe you when you say things are different. We also hope you understand that the official stance of our country,” he paused, as the country no longer existed, “The stance is one of no religion. However, there is a thread of Buddhism among us, and a prayer service to commemorate the men who did not survive is kindly requested before the ship is scuttled.”
Gardner nodded and asked Choi if she could make arrangements. Colonel Han spoke again. “Captain, is it possible to finish in time for the contest? Your Mr. Bren extended a personal invitation.”
Gardner was surprised, but agreed.
The next day Choi, Han, Gardner and the other Korean men stood on the bridge, watching a large monitor. The Shepherd had shut down the ship’s engines and shined lights on the ship. Choi had arranged the prayer ceremony, and the three men seemed at peace with the situation. Gardner looked at Colonel Han, who looked at his companions and nodded to the Captain.
“Commander Klein, you may proceed.” Klein stood, as did the rest of the crew. Captain Gardner spoke. “It is with great respect that we send these 33 passengers and their ship to space. This ship served them well, and now all will be committed to the great expanse.”
Klein blew a military whistle and launched two missiles. The missiles flew directly to their target, detonating and turning the ship to dust, to scatter among the backdrop of the stars. Gardner spoke again.
“Your lives will be remembered as your final destination has been reached. Godspeed.” He saluted and the crew followed his salute. The Korean men somberly saluted. The crew held their salute until Choi had ushered the Koreans off the bridge. The crew resumed their duties silently for a moment until Gardner spoke once again.
“If you have arranged to go to the Feats of Strength event, you are relieved, once the skeleton crew is in place.” A few crew members entered to man the bridge as several others headed to Bren’s event.
Bren quieted the crowd. Klein was surprised at the turnout. The crew of both ships sat intermingled with Shepherd crew. Choi ushered in the Koreans, stoic, but seemingly looking forward to the distraction the contest would provide. Chairs, benches, and cargo containers had been constructed into makeshift bleachers, and they were packed. Food and beverages had been prepared and in general, it was a festive atmosphere. Bren entered the center of the space and raised his hands, facing his palms out, and turning in a circle.
“My friends, you have accepted me into your ship and crew and I am grateful. It is with that gratitude that I happily share the Klaan tradition of… FEATS OF STRENGTH!” The crowd cheered and Gardner looked around, wondering if he should have assigned security for the event.
Bren lowered his hands and the crowd silenced. He spoke again in a low voice. “Shaa is a Klaan belief that we are all connected. That the people assembled here are all part of one single living organism. We are all a part of Shaa-a-ren. We are each other. We are one. We are Shaa.”
He smiled and waited as the crowd seemingly held its breath. Then he clasped his hands over his head and shouted, “LET THE GAMES BEGIN!” The crowd roared as the eight men prepared to bowl. Bren explained the rules. “The standard rules of bowling and scoring apply. The automated system will keep score. I will add rules as we go. The first additional rule is that all bowlers are required to throw the ball with both hands. Team Justice won the random generated decision to go first. Proceed.”
As expected, bowling with both hands was awkward, and the bowlers threw gutterballs and generally left a lot of pins standing. No one was bowling well, but the men were laughing at each other anyway. After two frames Bren stood and spoke. “Time for a new rule! You must bowl with your non-dominant hand!” The bowlers grunted and grimaced. Bren was excited, the concept of a dominant hand was new to him. Human brains fascinated him and when he learned of right or left handedness he had spent hours asking people to use their non-dominant hand for daily tasks.
The teams bowled slightly better than before, but neither team was lighting up the scoreboards. Only one strike had been thrown, and truthfully, it was a mistake. Something went wonky with the magnetic system and changed the ball’s trajectory.
The crowd was cheering when a bowler knocked down three or four pins, and the teams were getting irritated, so Bren changed it up again. “Starting now, you must do two complete turns before throwing the ball.”
As the bowlers made themselves dizzy, the crowd’s excitement escalated. The bowlers had begun cheering each other on, regardless of which team they were on. The difficulties Bren was introducing made the two teams bond over the challenges. The crowd was eating it up. Even the Korean men were enjoying the show. Finally they reached the final round. Team Justice was up by seven points, it was anybody’s game.
Bren stood and called for quiet. “I would like to thank you all for joining us tonight. I hope you have felt the Shaa. You are all part of the Shaa-a-ren here on the Shepherd. Even as you go on to other ships or planets, this connection is now a part of you all.” Bren looked at the Koreans and bowed deeply, speaking in Korean. “You have lost much, your crew, your country, perhaps family. However, today you have gained Shaa and we are happy to have you here in this Shaa-a-ren.” He bowed again and the Korean men bowed deeply back to him. Bren turned to the crowd.
“For the final round, we have the ultimate test. Each team will switch lanes and complete the other team’s final score. However! A gutterball counts as a strike, so you cannot intentionally throw the game. You can choose to bowl with both hands, or your non-dominant hand.”
The teams switched lanes and began, with Team Justice putting up several points for Team Freedom. By the time they reached the last ball the game was tied. The men looked at each other, then conferred. They nodded and each stepped up to the lane, carefully throwing simultaneous - and very intentional - gutterballs. Bren raised his hands, quite pleased with himself.
“The game has ended in a tie!” He called the teams to him. “It seems that the outcome has not solved our problem. How would you like to choose the winning team?” Bren smiled, fairly certain he knew the answer.
The captain of Team Justice spoke. “We will both stay on deck three.”
The captain of Team Freedom joined him. “And we would like to host all of you for a feast on deck three tomorrow!”
The crowd erupted in cheers. Captain Gardner spied Bren speaking with the Korean men, they seemed to be thanking him. Choi moved to the Captain. “Bren knew exactly what to say to them. This Shaa business really made a difference.” Gardner smiled and watched as the men walked to the food and beverage stations and joined in the celebration. Gardner went to Bren, who was now talking to Klein.
“Lieutenant Bren, I must commend you. Your Feats of Strength and Shaa-a-ren was an unqualified success.”
Bren smiled. “Captain, Shaa is a very trusted solution to many problems.” He held his hands out, palms up and fingers sticking up. “We are all digits on the same hand. Once the men started to bond over their shared experience they began to feel the depth of connection. Shaa-a-ren connects us all, sometimes you just need to reach out and feel it.” Klein nodded, holding out his hands as Bren had done. Bren smiled again. “Commander, you have now experienced Klaan humor, in its long form. How often did you laugh as the men dizzied themselves and fell, or threw bad balls, left difficult splits, or danced with their opponents?”
Klein looked at Bren curiously. “You did this all just to…” He looked at the Captain in shock and finished the thought. “… To tell me a joke?”
Bren smiled, “It was a happy coincidence. Shaa-a-ren is very real, as is Klaan humor.” He hummed a tune as he walked away. Klein and Gardner looked at each other, questioning what had actually taken place tonight. Gardner shook his head as he patted Klein on the back, blending into the celebration.
“It doesn’t matter Mr. Klein, it worked.”

Choosing the best gift for your girlfriend or wife on your anniversary involves considering her tastes, interests, and the significance of your relationship. Here are some thoughtful and personalized ideas to inspire you:

1. Personalized Jewelry

• Why? Jewelry is a classic gift, and personalizing it adds a sentimental touch.
• Examples: Custom-made necklace with her initials or your anniversary date, a bracelet with a meaningful charm, or a ring with an engraved message.

2. A Romantic Getaway

• Why? Quality time together in a beautiful setting can create lasting memories.
• Examples: A weekend at a cozy cabin, a beach resort, or a city you both love. Make sure to plan activities she enjoys.

3. Customized Photo Book or Frame

• Why? It's a heartfelt way to celebrate your journey together.
• Examples: A professionally bound photo book with pictures from your time together or a digital photo frame loaded with your favorite moments.

4. Experience-Based Gifts

• Why? Experiences can be more memorable than material items.
• Examples: Cooking classes, wine tasting, a hot air balloon ride, concert tickets, or a couple’s spa day.

5. Handwritten Love Letters

• Why? A deeply personal and timeless gesture.
• Examples: A beautifully written letter or a series of notes expressing your love and appreciation. Consider placing them in a decorative box or jar for her to open throughout the year.

6. Tech Gadgets

• Why? Practical and often appreciated, especially if she enjoys technology.
• Examples: A smartwatch, a high-quality pair of headphones, or a tablet. Ensure it’s something she’s mentioned wanting.

7. Fashion and Accessories

• Why? A stylish gift she can wear and think of you.
• Examples: A designer handbag, a silk scarf, or a pair of elegant shoes. Choose items that match her style and preferences.

8. Books or Subscription Services

• Why? Perfect for a girlfriend or wife who loves to read or explore new hobbies.
• Examples: A collection of her favorite author’s works, a book subscription service, or a subscription to a monthly box of items related to her interests (e.g., beauty products, gourmet snacks).

9. Art or Home Decor

• Why? Something beautiful for her personal space can be cherished for years.
• Examples: A painting or print by her favorite artist, a custom illustration of a special place, or a piece of unique home decor.

10. DIY Gifts

• Why? Handmade gifts show effort and personal investment.
• Examples: A scrapbook, a knitted item, or a piece of furniture you made yourself. These are especially meaningful because of the time and love you put into creating them.

Tips for Choosing the Best Gift:

• Listen for Clues: Pay attention to hints she may drop about things she likes or wants.
• Consider Her Hobbies: Gifts related to her interests show that you value what she enjoys.
• Make it Personal: The more personal the gift, the more special it will be. Even a simple gift can be extraordinary if it has a personal touch.
• Plan Ahead: Give yourself enough time to choose and prepare the perfect gift. Last-minute purchases can often feel rushed or thoughtless.

Ultimately, the best gift is one that comes from the heart and shows your appreciation and love for her.

Johann Gottlieb Fichte

19 May 1762 – 29 January 1814
J. G. Fichte and a priori Providentialism
Part of a Series on the Philosophy of History
Sunday 19 May 2024 is the 262nd anniversary of the birth of Johann Gottlieb Fichte (19 May 1762 – 29 January 1814), who was born in Rammenau, Saxony, then part of the Holy Roman Empire, on this day in 1762.
Fichte is often remembered in histories of philosophy as an immediate successor to Kant in the German idealist tradition. While still a young man Fichte wrote and anonymously published Attempt at a Critique of All Revelation. This was in 1792 when Fichte was 30 years old. Many believed that Kant had written this work, given Kant’s earlier critiques of pure reason, practical reason, and judgment, so when Kant denied authorship and identified Fichte as the actual author, Fichte experienced the philosophical equivalent of being an overnight sensation.
But Fichte’s life was an unsheltered as Kant’s life was sheltered. He was a born trouble-maker and was willing to touch the third rail of Enlightenment politics by writing and speaking openly about matters of religion, as revealed by his work on revelation. Fichte is sometimes called inflexible and rigid, though we could also say (a little more charitably) that he was principled and not inclined to compromise. Partly as a result of this temperament, Fichte became embroiled in a controversy in German intellectual life remembered as the Atheismusstriet, or Atheism Controversy.
During this controversy Friedrich Jacobi published an open letter against Fichte in which Jacobi coined the term “nihilism” to describe what he took to be Fichte’s position:

“Truly, my dear Fichte, I would not be vexed if you, or anyone else, were to call Chimerism the view I oppose to the Idealism that I chide for Nihilism. I have paraded my not-knowing in all my writings; in my non-knowledge I have prided myself so to be with knowledge, so perfectly and completely, that I am certainly allowed to be contemptuous of the mere doubter.—I have wrestled for truth with zeal and fervour since childhood as few others; as few others have I experienced my powerlessness—and my heart has grown tender for that—yea, very tender, my dear Fichte—and my voice so gentle! Just as I have deep compassion for myself, as human being, so I have it for others. I am patient without effort; but that I am truly patient without effort costs me a lot. The earth will be light above me—it won’t be long.”

Nihilism was to go on to have quite a career as an idea after Jacobi’s letter. While for Jacobi, the nihilism he attributed to Fichte was the inevitable outcome of reason, nihilism did not remain centered on Jacobi’s critique of Kantian philosophy, but came to signify belief in nothing at all.
Fichte’s controversial stance created a problem for the authorities at the University of Jena, where Fichte was employed at the time. Fichte wouldn’t budge, and this was one of the episodes responsible for his reputation for inflexibility, so the University of Jena dismissed him in 1799. At this point, with little to his name and few prospects, Fichte walked from Jena to Berlin—Google Maps says it takes 55 hours to complete this walk—and eventually he became part of the philosophical scene in Berlin.
Fichte attempted, semi-successfully, to support himself with popular books and lectures. For a philosopher coming from a background of Kantian philosophy—the most technical philosophy of its day—this was a bold project, but he gamely attempted to bring his interpretation of Kantianism to the masses. One of the outcomes of this effort was Fichte’s short book The Vocation of Man (1800). Fichte’s academic work was riddled with jargon, but The Vocation of Man is written in plain language and was intended for a popular audience. However, it’s still a demanding philosophical argument. In it, Fichte articulated a conception of human destiny that is universalistic, rationalistic, teleological, and even infinitistic:

“Let us not ask of history if man, on the whole, have yet become purely moral. To a more extended, comprehensive, energetic freedom he has certainly attained; but hitherto it has been an almost necessary result of his position, that this freedom has been applied chiefly to evil purposes. Neither let us ask whether the aesthetic and intellectual culture of the ancient world, concentrated on a few points, may not have excelled in degree that of modern times! It might happen that we should receive a humiliating answer, and that in this respect the human race has not advanced, but rather seemed to retrograde, in its riper years. But let us ask of history at what period the existing culture has been most widely diffused, and distributed among the greatest number of individuals; and we shall doubtless find that from the beginning of history down to our own day, the few light-points of Civilization have spread themselves abroad from their centre, that one individual after another, and one nation after another, has been embraced within their circle, and that this wider outspread of culture is proceeding under our own eyes. And this is the first point to be attained in the endless path on which humanity must advance.”

Notice that Fichte implies a distinction between two kinds of progress: there is progress toward the highest degree of excellence, and here humanity may have backslid, but there is also progress toward broadly distributed high culture, and here Fichte thinks that his time definitely surpassed previous history. Fichte also says that progress, by which he means moral progress, is an endless path, and we have already seen that it is possible for humanity to experience retrograde moral progress, so the pathway to man becoming purely moral, as Fichte sees it, is endless, it can incorporate reversals, and it can be striving to new heights or to wider diffusion.
This and many other passages point to the infinite perfectibility of man, which shows us the extent to which Fichte had imbibed the ideals of the French Revolution—or, we might say, he had imbibed the ideals of the French philosophers who were instrumental in laying the foundations of the French revolution, and were later arguably co-opted by the revolution, as in the case of Condorcet, who wrote this paean to the infinite perfectibility of man while on the run from the revolutionary gendarme. But the infinite perfectibility of man as Fichte imagines it is a teleology with a real history: things can go wrong, we can get sidetracked, we might pursue one form of moral excellence or another, and so on.
And Fichte also transmuted the French concept of the infinite perfectibility of man in the image of German idealism, producing a kind of philosophical spiritualism. Part of this transmutation of ideals came about because of the direction that Fichte saw the French revolution take as it developed. Many philosophers at the time initially supported the ideals of the French Revolution, but came to see it in a different light after the Terror and the Napoleonic Wars. Fichte as well.
Seeking to rally his countrymen after defeats inflicted by Napoleon, Fichte gave a series of public lectures later published as Addresses to the German Nation. This was more than a half century before the unification of Germany as a nation-state. In the twentieth century this work was savaged by George Santayana in his book Egotism in German Philosophy, which I mentioned in my episode on Wars and Rumors of Wars. Santayana called Fichte “an uncompromising puritan” and in Santayana’s fever dream of German expansionism he imagined Fichte as the source of it all:

“…Fichte gives us prophetic glimpses of an idealistic Germany conquering the world. The state does not aim at self-preservation, still less is it concerned to come to the aid of those members of the human family that lag behind the movement of the day. The dominion of unorganised physical force must be abolished by a force obedient to reason and spirit. True life consists in refashioning human relations after a model innate in the mind. The glorious destiny of Germany is to bring forth and establish the world anew. Natural freedom is a disgraceful thing, a mere medley of sensual and intellectual impulses without any principle of order. It is for the Germans to decide whether a providential progress exists by becoming themselves the providence that shall bring progress about, or whether on the contrary every higher thought is folly. If they should fail, history would never blame them, for in that case there would be no more history.”

Many others also have seen Fichte’s work through the lens of the wars of their time, which were the world wars of the twentieth century, rather than through the lens of the wars of Fichte’s time, which were the Napoleonic Wars.
Fichte knew that he was putting his life on the line by publicly speaking out against the French, as he at one time referenced the fate of Johann Philipp Palm. Palm, a book seller, was connected to a pamphlet, Germany in Its Deep Humiliation (Deutschland in seiner tiefsten Erniedrigung), that angered Napoleon. Napoleon ordered his subordinates to try and execute Palm within twenty-four hours. Palm was tried on 26 August 1806 by a French military tribunal, found guilty, and shot within hours of the verdict. Four other book sellers also were tried were not executed. Fichte knew that the same thing could happen to him in publicly speaking out on behalf of the German people. We can see from incidents such as this that Fichte was in the thick of the history of his own time, sometimes riding the wave and sometimes making waves.
Roberta Picardi notes both the derivation and dependence of Fichte’s views from Kant, as well as Fichte’s divergence from Kant:

“Fichte explores the epistemic status and method of history with an aim which is clearly taken from Kant: the purpose of introducing a systematic and scientific method in the infinite field of the empiricism, of which history is a part, together with experimental physics. As we can read in The Characteristics of the Present Age he wants to obtain ‘a sure progress according to rule instead of an uncertain groping in the dark’ from history, i. e., instead of the ‘Herumptappen’ (this is the German word for ‘groping’) that in the second Preface to the Critique of Pure Reason Kant contrasts with the ‘secure path of a science’.”

But the secure path of science isn’t always all that secure, given that there are multiple scientific pathways, and not all pathways lead to the same end. This is the distinction within Fichte’s philosophy of history noted by Angelica Nuzzo:

“Fichte builds his idea of a philosophy of history upon a paradoxical argument. He pushes to the extreme the claim of the bare factual nature of history as a realm of irrational, not-conceptual, and thoroughly contingent reality. Yet he also maintains that philosophical knowledge of history is possible—although neither as deductive, nor conceptual, nor genetic knowledge. Against the fictitious notion of historical Wahrscheinlichkeit (plausibility, probability), Fichte holds on to the notion of ‘historical truth’ and to its ‘logic.’ Despite its radically empirical character, history can be construed a priori.”

Some of the flavor of Fichte’s a priori approach to history can be gained from his primary work on the philosophy of history Characteristics of the Present Age (Der Grundzüge des gegewärtigen Zeitalters, 1806), in which he decomposes history into Five Principal Epochs, based not on historical contingencies, but rather upon human destiny and moral development:

“…we endeavoured to pre-figure the whole Earthly Life of Man by a comprehension of its purpose;— to perceive why our Race had to begin its Existence here, and by this means to describe the whole present Life of humankind:—this is what we wished to do,—it was our first task. There are, according to this view, Five Principal Epochs of Earthly Life, each of which, although taking its rise in the life of the individual, must yet, in order to become an Epoch in the Life of the Race, gradually lay hold of and interpenetrate all Men; and to that end must endure throughout long periods of time, so that the great Whole of Life is spread out into Ages, which sometimes seem to cross, sometimes to run parallel with each other:—1st, The Epoch of the unlimited dominion of Reason as Instinct: —the State of Innocence of the Human Race. 2nd, The Epoch in which Reason as Instinct is changed into an external ruling Authority;—the Age of positive Systems of life and doctrine, which never go back to their ultimate foundations, and hence have no power to convince but on the contrary merely desire to compel, and which demand blind faith and unconditional obedience:—the State of progressive Sin. 3rd, The Epoch of Liberation,—directly from the external ruling Authority—indirectly from the power of Reason as Instinct, and generally from Reason in any form;—the Age of absolute indifference towards all truth, and of entire and unrestrained licentiousness:—the State of completed Sinfulness. 4th, The Epoch of Reason as Knowledge;—the Age in which Truth is looked upon as the highest, and loved before all other things:—the State of progressive Justification. 5th, The Epoch of Reason as Art;—the Age in which Humanity with more sure and unerring hand builds itself up into a fitting image and representative of Reason:—the State of completed Justification and Sanctification. Thus, the whole progress which, upon this view, Humanity makes here below, is only a retrogression to the point on which it stood at first, and has nothing in view save that return to its original condition. But Humanity must make this journey on its own feet; by its own strength it must bring itself back to that state in which it was once before without its own coöperation, and which, for that very purpose, it must first of all leave.”

We can call Fichte’s Five Principal Epochs a “stadial” philosophy of history, since “stadial” refers to stages. In this passage we gain an appreciation of the necessity of the five stages of history as a developmental process that cannot be gotten around: there is no royal road to the end of the history.
In the Second Lecture from Fichte’s Some Lectures Concerning the Scholar’s Vocation, he makes explicit both the a priori developmental history of humanity and the utopian picture of the ultimate end of human development:

“…a very great man has said, life in the state is not one of man’s absolute aims. The state is, instead, only a means for establishing a perfect society, a means which exists only under specific circumstances. Like all those human institutions which are mere means, the state aims at abolishing itself. The goal of all government is to make government superfluous. Though the time has certainly not yet come, nor do I know how many myriads or myriads of myriads of years it may take (here we are not at all concerned with applicability in life, but only with justifying a speculative proposition), there will certainly be a point in the a priori foreordained career of the human species when all civic bonds will become superfluous.”

The editor says in a footnote that the “great man” mentioned was probably an allusion to Kant’s Idea of History from a Cosmopolitan Point of View. We saw in my episode on Kant how Kant saw the teleology of humanity as establishing the perfect civil constitution, though I also speculated that, if we take Kant’s later writings on history in the context of his early pre-critical work on natural history, this Kantian teleology for humanity is nested within a larger cosmological teleology. By my reading, then, Kant is actually the more naturalistic position, while Fichte is the more anthropocentric, and his ideal is a purely spiritual ideal, even an a priori idea. For example, Fichte isn’t in the least interested to even give an estimate of the period of time that will be required for humanity to abolish all government, but he only points out that this is the ultimate end.
Marx also predicted the withering away of the state after communism had been achieved, and Marx, too, emphasized definite stages in human development that would lead to this outcome. With Kant, Fichte, and Marx all predicting the end of formal human governments we might take this prediction as a distinctive feature of a certain class of philosophies of history. Toynbee, too, saw not exactly the end of the state, but the end of universal civilizations, which would cede their place to universal churches, which sounds to me a lot like Kant, Fichte, and Marx anticipating the ultimate abolition of government in a perfect society.
This we can understand as a kind of inverse teleology, in which it is not (or not only) the advent of some future eventuality that is foreseen, but the abolition of some present state-of-affairs in the future as the goal of human development. For Kant, Fichte, Marx, and Toynbee, there is a dual teleological movement, in which some novel state-of-affairs is to unfold, while a present state of affairs is to give way and disappear as the new order comes to replace it. We could call this a stadial philosophy of history, but it is as much a substitutional philosophy of history: one social order is substituted for another; familiar institutions are to be replaced by novel institutions that take their place.
As far as the new institutions are expected to be an improvement over the old, this is also a melioristic philosophy of history. All progressivist philosophies of history are also melioristic, but we can distinguish between gradualistic meliorism, in which iterated reform eventually converges on a perfect society, which could be a finite or an infinitistic process, and stadial meliorism, in which there is a replacement rather than reform of a social order, and this replacement is an improvement.
For a non-stadial, non-teleological philosophy of history, we can turn to Leopold von Ranke, who was critical of Fichte’s five epochs:

“One of the ideas with which philosophy again and again confronts history as an irrefutable claim is that mankind is on an uninterrupted road to progress, in a steady development toward perfection. Fichte, one of the foremost philosophers in this field, assumes five epochs, a world plan as he says – reason ruling through instinct, reason ruling through law, emancipation from the authority of reason, reason as science, and reason as art. If this or a similar scheme were to any extent true, then general history would have to follow the road of progress which the human race followed in the indicated direction from one age to the next. The sole subject matter of history would then be the development of such concepts as they appear and manifest themselves in the world of phenomena. But this is by no means the case. For one thing, the philosophers themselves have extraordinarily varied opinions about the nature and selection of these supposedly ruling ideas. But they very wisely focus only on a few peoples in world history while considering the lives of all the rest as nothing, as a mere supplement. Otherwise it could not be hidden for a moment that from the beginning to this day the peoples of the world have been in the most varied conditions.”

We saw earlier that Fichte by no means argued for an uninterrupted road to progress, but we can set that aside as being of secondary importance. The antagonism between Fichte and Ranke runs deeper. Ranke is often associated with the emergence of historicism, and sometimes he is identified as the source of historicism. Ranke even was willing to express his historicism in theological terms when we said that all ages are equidistant from God. With this view of history as consisting of co-equal periods each with their own integrity it would be difficult, though not impossible, to argue for progress. In Characteristics of the Present Age Fichte rejects the view that an age can be assessed on its own terms:

“Should our view of the Present Age prove to have been a view taken from the standing-point of this Age itself, should the eye which has taken this view have been itself a product of the Age which it has surveyed, then has the Age borne witness to itself and such testimony must be set aside.”

Fichte, then, needs some criterion for his view of the present age other than the present age itself, and he finds it in religion:

“…what has been the nature of this theory, considered in its essential elements, and to what chief department of human thought it has belonged? I answer:—It was a Religious Theory; all our contemplations were Religious contemplations, and our view of things, and the eye which embraced that view, were Religious.”

Fichte goes one better and actually gives a definition of religion in the next paragraph:

“RELIGION consists in regarding and recognising all Earthly Life as a necessary development of the one, original, perfectly good and perfectly blessed Divine Life.”

Both Ranke and Fichte, then, invoke theological sanction for their conception of history, though this conception is starkly different, with Ranke taking each age to be sufficient unto itself, and no less related to the divine than any other age, while Fichte took each age to be dependent upon a larger framework for its meaning. While Ranke the historian insists on the individual uniqueness of each age, while Fichte the philosopher sees each age in relation to the whole of which it is a part. It is the task of Fichte’s Characteristics of the Present Age to provide for his contemporaries this larger framework so that they can understand their place in history, which for Fichte means understanding their place in the moral development of humanity.
Even Fichte’s conception of religion and moral development is strikingly abstract, as we find a little further on in the last chapter of Characteristics of the Present Age: “…Religion is nothing external,—it never clothes itself in any outward manifestation.” And, “…True Religion does not manifest itself outwardly, and does not impel man to any course of external conduct which he would not otherwise have adopted, but that it only completes his true Inward Being and dignity.” This is not necessary an orthodox position, and we’ve already seen how Fichte got himself in trouble with authorities with his views on religion.
It would seem strange to call Fichte’s philosophy of history a providential philosophy of history, as it seems to have little in common with, say, St. Augustine, but by Fichte’s own account, his is a pervasively religious perspective, and his philosophy of history is an account of humanity’s progress toward moral perfection. This progress is a purely inward fulfillment, without any observational consequences, again, by Fichte’s own account. I’ve run into this view in one other thinker, and that is Simone Weil. In my episode on Weil I quoted her criticism of providentialism of a kind that I called vulgar providentialism:

“Divine Providence is not a disturbing influence, an anomaly in the ordering of the world; it is itself the order of the world; or rather it is the regulating principle of this universe. It is eternal Wisdom, unique, spread across the whole universe in a sovereign network of relations.”

I think Fichte would have agreed with this, and with the examples of both Fichte and Weil we can see that there is a place within the conceptual space of philosophy of history for what we could call a pure providential philosophy of history, or, if you like, an a priori providentialism.
Ranke’s criticism of Fichte is predicated upon the necessity of a vulgar providentialism that is reflected in the empirical world. But if, as Fichte said, religion is nothing external, and it does not impel man to any course of external conduct, neither should it impel any course of external conduct on the world. This also resolves the paradoxical argument that Angelica Nuzzo found at the heart of Fichte’s philosophy of history, since the bare factual nature of history can be distinguished from the providentialism that can be construed a priori.

Video Presentation

https://youtu.be/T8eIxZi0LrM
https://www.instagram.com/p/C7LPoSKNdPB/
https://odysee.com/@Geopolicraticus:7/j.-g.-fichte-and-a-priori:6

Podcast Edition

https://spotifyanchor-web.app.link/e/73G2BY64JJb
https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/a31b8276-53cd-4723-b6ad-a39c8faa4572/episodes/306a6446-d4d7-4e24-a447-c89fd310d7a2/today-in-philosophy-of-history-j-g-fichte-and-a-priori-providentialism
https://www.iheart.com/podcast/269-today-in-philosophy-of-his-146507578/episode/j-g-fichte-and-a-priori-177816272/
​

I'm a float nurse and I was working nights on a medicine unit. At 0645 I got ready for report. I was sitting at the nurse's station writing notes and I realised 0700 had come and gone and no one came to get report from me. I looked around and the day shift nurses were scattered around the unit at their computers... I checked the assignments and had to go find the nurses and ask if they wanted report. It was 0720 before I left. Is that weird? I always assumed you don't touch a chart until TOA has happened. What if something happened to a patient at 0700 before these nurses had assumed care? 🤔 I'm new and I've found myself on the wrong side of other nurses before, so I plan to just ignore it and do my own due diligence, but am I overreacting for thinking this is bad practice?

DISCLAIMER: I am new to this. I am not trying to incite violence between secular groups of Christianity. I am simply seeking advice and help from others who have learned in their walk with God. I am curious and want to learn. I have a lot of questions and only want people to reply who have good intentions to help me understand than to talk down on my faith. This is going to be a long post. I thank you in advance for your patience.
So I’ve recently found my way back to God in a way I never have before. I reached an incredibly low point of my life and He was there when nothing else was. While I grew up protestant and going to church I fell out for a long time. I never really read scripture outside of Sunday school when my family would go, and my brother is a non believer entirely now. I struggled with doubt and fell in and out with my faith repeatedly as my life grew more complex. My father died violently and young a few years ago but he was a believer and I questioned how could my God let this happen. I devoted my life to science and medicine and lost sight of my faith in that in combination with all of this. Yet now, I realized my actions had grown so sinful I needed to make a change and I decided to seek God. Now, for the first time in my life I’m reading my Bible, truly, chronologically. My fiancée is supportive of me and the relationship I’m trying to build with Him but I need some guidance.
I’m towards the end of the Books of Moses but I’ve come to a few conclusions I never have before and not all of them are altogether comforting. The Bible teaches us that Jesus is all powerful, loving, and forgiving. Yet what they don’t teach on Sundays that God, in by that, He (Jesus) is also terrifying. He names himself Jealous in Exodus. He is wrathful. He kills for disobedience and I know I have certainly broken more than one of his over 600 laws in the Old Testament. I’ve repented before the Lord, I’ve changed my life, changed my habits and while I struggle to stick to that change I try each and every day and have decided to put forth an effort to build my relationship with God. But I’m still plagued with questions now more than ever, yet now they’re in a sense of I want to understand rather than doubt.
Am I to follow Jesus or know my God? I pray to God in the name of the Son, but who is my relationship with the Son or the Father? Which is God if not both in combination with the Holy Spirit? When I pray which aspect am I praying to? Jesus taught us to pray to our Heavenly Father in his name but I’ve always called myself a follower of Christ. Yet now in my reading I feel as though my relationship should be directed to the Father though I know I can only know him through the Son? I want to have a stronger relationship with Him, but I feel as though I’m failing through sheer ignorance. I want to be hungry for His word, but I feel lesser that I’m almost burnt out or feeling desperate from the OT. I try to pray but I don’t think I’m very good at it and never know what to say aside from the Lord’s Prayer.
But now with all of this I’m learning that the Catholic Church is the church left behind in Jesus’ wake so should I not be a Catholic if I’m truly to follow Scripture to the letter? But the Bible also doesn’t mention intercession with reverence to saints? I thought I was only ever to pray to God and anything else was heresy? Or for another example, if I repent to the Lord why should I need to go to confession to do so? Catholicism teaches to have a relationship with Mary but shouldn’t that be reserved for Jesus Christ? My heart tells me I should be a Catholic based on what I’ve read but so many practices seem contradictory to how I was raised im not sure anymore.
I understand at the end of the day that my faith is to trust and believe that Jesus Christ is my lord and savior, that through him and him alone is the way the truth and the life and that without him I am nothing. But I guess my question is how do I know which denomination to pick? There are many contemporary practices of some Protestant churches that seem to contradict the Bible in some ways but there are also Catholic teachings that seem foreign or strange to me. Purgatory? Saint worship seems almost like pseudo idolatry? The pope being infallible and a line to the disciples ? I’m confused and right now altogether frightened by the God I am coming to know in my study and want to do my best to Follow his word but don’t know how best to do so.
I just want to do the right thing and feel as though these questions are best suited for a Priest but I’m Not sure how to have that conversation with one or how to even set up a time to discuss all of this.
Thank you for taking the time to read all of this, for your patience with me and my questions, your sincerity, and your input.
May God bless you.

*Do Not message or add me just to unfriend me or ghost me. * Greetings future partner ❤️ I'm still searching for you. I have to be honest and say that I am losing hope trying to find you.Please be somewhere. I want my search for a partner to be over. I'm seeking adventure in my life with someone I can call a forever partner. I'm tired of the loneliness and the sheltered lifestyle that I've lived. It would mean a lot of you could read through this post so that I could make sure we are compatible. Even if we start off as friends that would be fine.
Here's to new beginnings and new connections. PLEASE make sure you READ through the WHOLE POST also please be respectful when messaging me * *If you're the type to be impatient, block, or ghost easily, then save both of us the trouble and DO NOT message me! I'm not trying to come off as mean but I'd much rather you not message me if you're the type of person to do that. If something isn't working just let me know. We're all adults.
Greetings, I am seeking a long term relationship monogamous with the end goal being matrimony. I am not one for playing around and being used casually as it doesn’t suit me personally. Ideally I'd prefer a man that has his life already in place so that I can be able to share life with him and for him to take care of me. I would expect my future man to have a fiscally stable job and be able to support me and our future family. I wouldn’t be opposed to being a housewife. There are few reasons why I would like to work or work part time: 1) Being abandoned with nothing, 2) I want to feel fulfilled and not bored. Happy to discuss possible dynamics, I'm flexible. I would love a synergistic partnership where we are both able to mold our minds and fill our hearts with warm affection. I will be there to support you throughout your journey and celebrate every moment with you. I want you to be proud of you just as you are with me. I want to show you that you are truly cared for and appreciated by gestures of love such as massages and other forms of entertainment. I would expect the same from you as well. Even if we are both working adults we can still make our relationship work in the best way possible. I have seen this come out well for people who are dedicated and willing to make their relationships work. For a strong relationship to occur I would expect effective (transparent) communication from you. If you are going to be busy just be honest and let me know you won’t be able to talk to me.Also, if you need your space both mentally and physically let me know. I understand that we all have our lives to attend to but it is incredibly important for people in a relationship to be transparent when circumstances arise in a timely manner in order to avoid future conflict. If this relationship isn’t going to work I would expect you to tell me and not ghost or block me before giving me a reason why. We are all adults so I would expect nothing but maturity. Starting out I don’t want the pressure of sex to be pushed onto me. I’d rather let time tell in all of its glory.
Now onto my true introduction
My name is Angie and I'm from Georgia in the United States. I've been lonely for quite some time and find it hard to find a soulmate in IRL. What I'm looking for is someone who I can connect with and have wholesome conversations with. I want to be able to treat my future soulmate well just as much as they do me. The biggest part of a long lasting relationship is the ability to communicate openly without worry. I'd love it if my significant other has a dark sense of humor and continues to crack me up non-stop. As cheesy as it may sound I long for those late night calls and cute texts. I want for us to drive out the very best in each other; become our support system. A little bit about me is that I grew up in Florida and not too long ago moved to Georgia. I'm currently in college to become an RN but I'm also passionate about cosmetic chemistry and nutrition so I may seek to build my own business in the future. I'm passionate about science and theoretical applications especially within the medical field. I'd appreciate it if my partner is open minded about varying topics and welcomes healthy conversations. Appearance wise I'm open to seeing if we have a connection and feel as long as you are well groomed and practice basic hygiene you are good. Although, I must say that attraction is key in a relationship so I will have to go off on that as well. To add on, I enjoy playing video games, exercising (I've been slacking off lately), cooking and baking (vegan), playing board games, reading, exploring nature, playing sports (basketball and soccer) for fun, and trying new experiences. I hope to save up and travel someday. It would be nice for my partner to be able to set up our travel itinerary.
My Physical Description:
I am a black woman who’s twenty five years old (almost 26 in December) with Afro-Carribean, Japanese and Swedish ancestry. I’d still consider myself black presenting since that’s more along the lines of what I appear as phenotypically. I have dark brown curly hair (Mainly 3c type curls) and brown eyes. I am 5 '4 on the thicker spectrum (not at all obese but thick boned and have thunder thighs). I am trying to exercise more to become fit. I used to weight lift when I was younger but since then have lost lean muscle mass. Having a partner that is willing to work out together sometimes is rather rewarding. A man who has drive and appeal is incredibly sexy. I would also like to point out that I am curvy and noticeable in certain aspects (I’ll leave it up to you to decide).
*You have to be MINIMUM 21 to date me *
If distance will be a problem and you aren't willing to make it work then DON'T MESSAGE ME!!
If you will be too busy to pursue a relationship then DO NOT contact me!! * *Again, No ghosters or blockers!! Seeking a person who seeks a relationship with God and/or is open to one Must be free from venerial diseases and must be willing to get tested(will discuss) Bonus points if you're vegan Ideally I would like someone that is taller than me (I’m 5’4) I prefer a man that is fit or trying to be. I'd prefer someone who is fiscally stable and able to support the both of us* A big red flag for me is smokers. It isn't good for your health nor is it sexy to me.* It's important for me to point out that I want children in the future and need someone who may want that as well. If you're interested in how I look and want to know more about me, message me. Although I don’t make it a huge deal, I do prefer White and East Asian men. But I do love all types of men and welcome them. As stated before I emphasize communication and would prefer you to be honest and say if something is wrong instead of ghosting or blocking without stating the reason. Fair warning if I can be socially awkward sometimes and don't know what to talk about so please be patient with me as I'm learning to be better conversation wise

• Do Not message me just to ghost or block me! Think it through before you message me!! I don't want to get emotionally hurt again.*

Greetings future partner ❤️ I'm still searching for you. I have to be honest and say that I am losing hope trying to find you.Please be somewhere. I want my search for a partner to be over. I'm seeking adventure in my life with someone I can call a forever partner. I'm tired of the loneliness and the sheltered lifestyle that I've lived. It would mean a lot of you could read through this post so that I could make sure we are compatible. Even if we start off as friends that would be fine.
Here's to new beginnings and new connections. PLEASE make sure you READ through the WHOLE POST also please be respectful when messaging me * *If you're the type to be impatient, block, or ghost easily, then save both of us the trouble and DO NOT message me! I'm not trying to come off as mean but I'd much rather you not message me if you're the type of person to do that. If something isn't working just let me know. We're all adults.
Greetings, I am seeking a long term relationship monogamous with the end goal being matrimony. I am not one for playing around and being used casually as it doesn’t suit me personally. Ideally I'd prefer a man that has his life already in place so that I can be able to share life with him and for him to take care of me. I would expect my future man to have a fiscally stable job and be able to support me and our future family. I wouldn’t be opposed to being a housewife. There are few reasons why I would like to work or work part time: 1) Being abandoned with nothing, 2) I want to feel fulfilled and not bored. Happy to discuss possible dynamics, I'm flexible. I would love a synergistic partnership where we are both able to mold our minds and fill our hearts with warm affection. I will be there to support you throughout your journey and celebrate every moment with you. I want you to be proud of you just as you are with me. I want to show you that you are truly cared for and appreciated by gestures of love such as massages and other forms of entertainment. I would expect the same from you as well. Even if we are both working adults we can still make our relationship work in the best way possible. I have seen this come out well for people who are dedicated and willing to make their relationships work. For a strong relationship to occur I would expect effective (transparent) communication from you. If you are going to be busy just be honest and let me know you won’t be able to talk to me.Also, if you need your space both mentally and physically let me know. I understand that we all have our lives to attend to but it is incredibly important for people in a relationship to be transparent when circumstances arise in a timely manner in order to avoid future conflict. If this relationship isn’t going to work I would expect you to tell me and not ghost or block me before giving me a reason why. We are all adults so I would expect nothing but maturity. Starting out I don’t want the pressure of sex to be pushed onto me. I’d rather let time tell in all of its glory.
Now onto my true introduction
My name is Angie and I'm from Georgia in the United States. I've been lonely for quite some time and find it hard to find a soulmate in IRL. What I'm looking for is someone who I can connect with and have wholesome conversations with. I want to be able to treat my future soulmate well just as much as they do me. The biggest part of a long lasting relationship is the ability to communicate openly without worry. I'd love it if my significant other has a dark sense of humor and continues to crack me up non-stop. As cheesy as it may sound I long for those late night calls and cute texts. I want for us to drive out the very best in each other; become our support system. A little bit about me is that I grew up in Florida and not too long ago moved to Georgia. I'm currently in college to become an RN but I'm also passionate about cosmetic chemistry and nutrition so I may seek to build my own business in the future. I'm passionate about science and theoretical applications especially within the medical field. I'd appreciate it if my partner is open minded about varying topics and welcomes healthy conversations. Appearance wise I'm open to seeing if we have a connection and feel as long as you are well groomed and practice basic hygiene you are good. Although, I must say that attraction is key in a relationship so I will have to go off on that as well. To add on, I enjoy playing video games, exercising (I've been slacking off lately), cooking and baking (vegan), playing board games, reading, exploring nature, playing sports (basketball and soccer) for fun, and trying new experiences. I hope to save up and travel someday. It would be nice for my partner to be able to set up our travel itinerary.
My Physical Description:
I am a black woman who’s twenty five years old (almost 26 in December) with Afro-Carribean, Japanese and Swedish ancestry. I’d still consider myself black presenting since that’s more along the lines of what I appear as phenotypically. I have dark brown curly hair (Mainly 3c type curls) and brown eyes. I am 5 '4 on the thicker spectrum (not at all obese but thick boned and have thunder thighs). I am trying to exercise more to become fit. I used to weight lift when I was younger but since then have lost lean muscle mass. Having a partner that is willing to work out together sometimes is rather rewarding. A man who has drive and appeal is incredibly sexy. I would also like to point out that I am curvy and noticeable in certain aspects (I’ll leave it up to you to decide).
*You have to be MINIMUM 21 to date me *
If distance is an issue and you aren't willing to commit then DON'T MESSAGE ME!!
If you will be too busy to pursue a relationship then DO NOT contact me!! * *Again, No ghosters or blockers!! Seeking a person who seeks a relationship with God and/or is open to one MUST be free from venerial diseases (must be willing to get tested) Bonus points if you're vegan Ideally I would like someone that is taller than me (I’m 5’4) I prefer a man that is fit or trying to be. I'd prefer someone who is fiscally stable and able to support the both of us* A big red flag for me is smokers. It isn't good for your health nor is it sexy to me.* It's important for me to point out that I want children in the future and need someone who may want that as well. If you're interested in how I look and want to know more about me, message me. Although I don’t make it a huge deal, I do prefer White and East Asian men. But I do love all types of men and welcome them. As stated before I emphasize communication and would prefer you to be honest and say if something is wrong instead of ghosting or blocking without stating the reason. Fair warning if I can be socially awkward sometimes and don't know what to talk about so please be patient with me as I'm learning to be better conversation wise

The Boys - https://drive.google.com/file/d/1iAmuSv8zeemGE-E4YZpBk9E3P5ZTiWc7/view [Suggestion from Dragon-King-of-Death (Thank You)]]

• {Lovable Dork (200cp)}: For some reason people will find you lovable and easily trust you. For example, a person who just met you on a park bench a few days ago will trust you enough to tell you about their deepest insecurities and issues.
• {Chosen By God (400cp)}: •Vought International spouts nonsense about their heroes being Chosen by God. Unlike them, you might actually be Chosen by God. You’ve (probably) never met him, but with the rate that you have fortuitous encounters, you’re pretty sure that someone is looking out for you. You’ll meet important people and find it easy to obtain important items. And if you have powers, they are not the by-product of Compound V. This perk also acts as a Capstone Booster.
• {Super PR (600cp)}: The hardest part of being a hero is not the villains, it’s the public. But don’t worry, thanks to this perk it’s no longer a problem for you. Most people will see you as a heroic figure and an inspiration. This public image of you won’t deteriorate unless there is irrefutable proof of your shortcomings or crimes. You can tone this down if you want to. Supes who have purchased this perk can choose to replace the Deep in the Seven. (Chosen By God): Your public image recovers very quickly even when there is irrefutable proof of your shortcomings or crimes. People quickly forget about scandals and even truly heinous actions will eventually be dismissed as a 'phase' you were going through.

Generic Harry Potter Fanfiction - https://drive.google.com/file/d/1GX7oeYt88WKpYCTwbdE-s6ypNIvNkWw7/view?usp=sharing [Suggestion From Massive_Awareness_63 (Thank You)]

• Friend Maker - ​You’re a nice guy, Jumper. Whatever else people take away from meeting you, this is something just about everyone who has so much as exchanged a few words with you agrees on. You’re polite, somehow make time for everyone, and have an easy smile. Getting people to like you and let you join their social groups and clubs is a matter of trivial effort, staying in any groups you’re already part of is easier still. Even your worst detractors will have to dig very deep to find bad things to say about you.
• Legendary Healer - ​You are a good person, Jumper. And this reflects in your magic. You are a healer without peer, being a master at all aspects of it. From potioneering, to tricks of transfiguration, whatever it takes to heal another person is something you are an expert at already. But a talent for healing is well and good. However, there are gifts and abilities of any and all types in the world. Necromancy, Parsel-Magic, Blood Magic, etc. While several are benign and helpful, a lot of them seem like they can only ever be used for evil. Not by you, though. You have the ability to use any and all gifts and powers you have for good and benign purposes. Blood magic can be used as a healing tool, powers that can rip the land asunder can be used to divert floods and prevent earthquakes, an ability to eat souls can be used to instead remove any curses or maladies lain on a soul, and so on. You have the unique ability to share this ability with others, allowing good people born with “bad powers” to use their powers for good pursuits without issue.
• Heart of Gold - ​It’s a curious thing you do, alternating between horrific evil and lighthearted whimsy as you are. One day you might be bathing in the blood of a thousand innocents, the other day you might be saving orphans from a fire. What this means for you is that no amount of foul and/or corruptive influence, magical or not, can actually hold a hope of corrupting or subverting you, always sliding off like so much dreck. Unless, that is, you want to be evil for some reason. Additionally enemies you have will be highly likely to think that you could be “redeemed” (either for good or evil, it works both ways!) and therefore will probably try to capture you first and are unlikely to try to kill you outright unless you’ve proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that you won’t join them. Finally you possess both an incredibly sinister villain laugh and a hearty “good guy” laugh as well, and can chew the scenery and be as hammy as you want while still being taken completely seriously instead of being seen as a lame try-hard.

Exalted Outcast - https://drive.google.com/file/d/1XgV07ZoFyIShkVruey8UW2W-G9IHIDT3/view?usp=sharing [Suggestion From Sundarapandiyan1 (Thank You)]

• I will never love you...

... for I do not understand what love means. If you wish to serve me and give me the things I desire, I am willing to tolerate your presence. Much like Valentin, you are as beautiful as longing itself. People will come to you, and compete for your attention. And when they don’t have it, when you invoke love in others and do not return it, it becomes devotion. Perhaps the lack of reciprocal feelings only makes it stronger, as the pursuit of you becomes an abstract ideal. Regardless, many will find themselves eager to please you with little expectation for you to care in return. Even those not bewitched will be touched by your queerly enchanting mien and grace. Truly few could refuse you or bar your way. Few is not none. While your enrapturing nature is even stronger than Valentin’s, don’t forget that his nature didn’t save him in the end.
Narnia - https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1qb0_OLhDrDZ1lIUlBqa3A4azA/view?usp=sharing&resourcekey=0-0B2v1IAAqocxpzk1r88_-A [Suggestion From Dragon-King-of-Death (Thank You)]

• Heart of a Child [400], Discount Drop-In

Once a friend to Narnia, always a friend to Narnia. You possess a sense of childlike wonder and excitement that can never be completely extinguished, no matter how many years you live or how many horrors you witness. No matter how much you may change over the years, there will always remain some core that is essentially you. This also improves your resistance to telepathic influence, magical curses of despair, and other similar effects.
Mark Antony - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xqV1SMWGoBxdZwsSkSRODHkScyMaeFHpfK1Hcp3-wAo/edit [Suggestion From Sundarapandiyan1 (Thank You)]

• Sins of the father: Your predecessors' mistakes don't influence people's opinion about you. Your actions influence people's opinion about you.
• Leader of men: You're a great leader, charismatic and kind, able to bring hundreds of people together as a single force.

Netflix Locke And Key - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1MTWjE8wT4v9PNiZJO1GcCcbYHtJlzDIFCJuD9aDe1WM/edit

• Rocky Road (400 CP): There are some who like to remain broken, some who are forced to remain broken, some who have no idea they are broken and some who are there to fix the broken. Some who are there to give a warm smile and a comforting presence free of judgement, who are patient and kind, who can see the baggage of others and the ways to help not because of manipulation or gain but simply because they wish to help, people who can see the ways of helping others forget their problems and become themselves again, who can heal decade long wounds and mental scars like it’s nothing.
  
• Near Identity Key (400 CP): Not a very good name I admit but when the only thing limiting you from becoming an entirely new person is your face I can’t think of a name quite so close to the truth. I mean what can you call someone who can don an entire persona and throw them away when done, who can craft emotions and subconscious tells, subtle nuances like one would craft with leggo’s, who can change their accent, the depths of their voice, their stride like one would change their clothes. One who can become anyone.
  

The Magicians - https://drive.google.com/file/d/1o28lYPEyTZ4NHgFxAriLTD_5uAv5XgHh/view?usp=sharing [Personal Fav, Mainly For The Pocket World]

• Good Deeds (200 CP)

And who said the nice guy finishes last? By performing good deeds, you can increase your power in direct relation to how much good you did, increasing your pools of internal energy. People will also take much more of a liking to you than they otherwise would have, with you giving off more a good vibe.

• Lovable Character (600 CP)

People just don’t seem very capable at holding a grudge at you, nor do they seem to account for the amount of times you’ve back-stabbed them when hanging out with you or asking for your aid, with things going so well that they can almost treat you like a friend if you interact with them long enough. It’s almost like your popularity among your theoretical audience causes you to become a constant in the story. In addition, once per Jump - or ten years, whichever passes faster - you may return from the dead, appearing the next day in an undisclosed, safe location.
Generic Fantasy Otome Academy - https://drive.google.com/file/d/1QisYlMEsDgAVYJxyQGW21Tk_YEDCCcTm/view?usp=sharing

• Confide in Me (400cp)

I suppose you’re just a good listener. Some people will only open their hearts to family, or to a precious pet... but everyone is willing to speak frankly and honestly to you if they have anything they want to confide. This doesn’t mean they’ll spontaneously admit to crimes, unless they’re guilty and want to let it out, but they will be willing to talk freely and will instinctively believe that you will keep their secrets, even if they know you’ve shared those of others. But if you do prove indiscreet with someone’s private matters, they won’t trust you with them again.

• Not So Helpless Ingenue (400cp)

There’s a very thin line between ‘sweet & innocent’ and ‘hopelessly naive’. You dance blithely back and forth across that line, or at least you do to all outside observers. Somehow, you’re able to maintain your sense of innocent wonder, boundless optimism, and simple joie-de-vivre without sacrificing any of your cunning, wisdom, or practicality. Those who see you but do not know you well will probably assume you’re sweetness and light (if they’re not a cynical individual) or a complete naïf (if they’re of the more pragmatic persuasion), and thus underestimate you, but in truth? You always know when someone is trying to manipulate you or lead you astray.

Time: Saturday, May 25th @ 5PM EST
Catch: You were supposed to wake up to go on with your usual day after a satisfying day of playing D&D. But you find yourself in an unfamiliar setting, surrounded by total darkness. This world is different from your own, and the body you are in is not yours either. There are several others around you in the same situation, confused as to what’s going on. Where is this place, and how can you go back?
Character Creation:

• Level 5
• Any race in officially printed books except for Warforged and Autognome (basically no machinery races)
• Any class except Cleric, Paladin, and Artificer (due to the homebrew world and plot)
• Background should be of the original owner of the body
• Standard starting equipment + tarnished metal mask
• Point Buy or Roll for Stat (Roll two sets and pick one)

The session will focus primarily on roleplay with some combat and expected to last 3-5 hours depending on the players. The party will be 4 to 5 players. The session will be held over Discord (voice-only) and Roll20 for battle map. 18+ only due to heavy subjects in the plot. If you're interested, please send me a message over Reddit with your discord name :)
Introduction: Hello, my name is Blau. I'm a fairly new DM who has only run this particular oneshot couple of times. As a player, I have been in weekly campaigns since the beginning of this year. I want to practice DMing with the world I have created, so please be patient while I fumble through my notes.

My name is Dr. Smith, not my real name of course, but for purposes of storytelling it will have to suffice. I have been practicing medicine at an Asian country as a general practitioner. I'm relatively new and I practice at a small village, not too far from civilization, half a day's travel by car and a few hours by boat from the country's capital, but very rural nonetheless, complete with superstitious beliefs and customs. I decided to stay here when I first graduated and passed the licensure exam for two reasons: first, I have a place to stay here, my family's ancestral home (although none of my direct relatives have lived there for years), said ancestors being one of the first people to settle in the area and second, because my family had always been the physicians in this small community as far as anyone remembers. Me, my grandfather and his father before him all went to the city to study medicine and went back here to practice it, like there was a pull, a calling, to sacrifice the convenient, fast-paced city life for the quiet and serene. My mother hated the idea, as clingy as she is to me, saying things like she wanted me to always be around where she could protect me, but you can't really help it when purpose calls. To be honest, it feels good providing a wide range of services to the honest people of our small, humble town, no greater feeling than helping the less privelaged, educating them and dispelling preconceived notions and old wives tales which are aplenty in my country, especially here.
I still recall how everything began. I made a makeshift clinic at one of the rooms of my ancestral home, it used to be my grandfather's office, but it felt old, antique, and perhaps too... professional, nothing wrong with that, but I wanted my patients to feel a more homely setting. So, I rearranged a bit, removed the imposing self portrait of my great-grandfather wearing his white coat that hang on the wall and transferred it to a more private area of the house. I changed the dim, barely functioning lights into brighter, more modern ones, removed the exceedingly extravagant chandelier and equipped the room with materials and equipment that I deemed necessary for my practice. I retained the wooden floors, but outfitted the walls with charts and more colorful decorations, in anticipation for the occasional pediatric patient. It was beginning to look less like an old abandoned house where teenagers went for the spooks and more like a place of healing and betterment, a clean place offering a clean mind...or so I hope.
"Your grandfather would have a heart attack if he wasn't dead already, seeing what you've done with his old clinic" quipped Martha, our housekeeper. All I know about Martha is that my grandfather hired her as a young teen and she has been here since then, she babysat and raised my mother as her own, and even took care of me as a toddler. Considering her age, she mostly supervises the younger and more capable help rather than doing tasks herself. None of them stay at the house, but they get called upon when me or any of my relatives were expected. Most of the family consider her as one of our own at this point.
"Well i'm sure great grandpa on the other hand enjoys the change of view" I replied jokingly. "Besides, I bet the patients would appreciate not being treated in such a dark, gloomy room."
"You know how your grandfather was..." she replies, that the idea of a dark, gloomy, old man liking dark, gloomy, old places was a no brainer. "...but everything aside, it is so nice to see you again, have you been feeling better? What did your mother think of you staying here?" she said with what I felt as outmost sincerity, "I used to chase and carry you around this estate and now look at you, about to carry out your family's legacy as a physician yourself" she continued, with a hint of pride from her tone.
I smiled. I myself couldn't think of a reason why a well respected man, revered even, by this town and it's people for everything he has done would act nonchalant and depressed, always with a jaded look in his eyes and stay in an equally dim and depressing part of his house, I've always known him to be like that, but was he always?
"I am better now. It's good to see you too, I'm glad you're staying healthy, and mom sure did not like it but well...she told me to say hi on her behalf" I told Martha. She beams up and smiles on my mother's mention.
"Well...I took the liberty of digging up your grandfather's documents, records and his patient charts, I doubt many of them still live but I thought maybe you'd like to have a look, I placed them around your desk but I can relocate them if you want me to"
"No, that's perfect. That's something I actually intended to do, i'll give it a read, thank you" I replied. I know some of those patients were either old or probably dead to be honest, but seeing data as well as the cases my grandfather had to deal with might help me in the future.
"The villagers already know Dr. Smith's grandson is here, they know you're a doctor, so expect to have a patient one of these days, perhaps as soon as you give the word that your clinic is open" Martha said, as she walks out of the room smiling and slightly waving, signalling a goodbye.
"I'm not even surprised" I think to myself. Places like these, words spreads like wildfire on topics like these, the idea of someone from a known family, coming back from the city, not to mention deciding to stay indefinitely, like the whole village needed notification, like the village demands explanation.
Hours passed and as I was satisfied with my new setup for the clinic, I took a break, sitting down and looking at the mountain of paperwork and folders placed on and around my desk. I picked one, thinking to myself that I might as well have a look now, with nothing else of note to do.
Patient #010438 Name redacted 43/Female
History of present illness: Patient had 3 day history of undocumented fever, dysuria, and bilateral flank pain Did not seek consult, no medications taken
Past Medical History Unremarkable
Personal and Social History Unremarkable
OB history illegible
Physical Examination BP 110/80 HR 102 RR 20
Nonhyperemic tonsils No murmurs Clear breath sounds Nontender abdomen (+) Kidney punch test
Noted a signature of the patient claiming she was not pregnant as a form of waiver
"Jesus grandpa, couldn't your history and physical exam get any lazier?" I thought to myself. Seeing pertinent history not asked and multiple organ systems ignored on physical examination. Given, some of the writing were already faded, the quality of the paper had deteriorated greatly, and plenty of details already illegible, all in all the documents weren't that bad. It sure doesn't help though that he writes like someone in the middle of a warzone practicing heiroglyphs.
I skimmed through more of the documents and patient files, most of the cases are relatively benign, majority are outpatient visits, some are emergency cases and there are the rare ones requiring transfer to a more developed town hours from here with better services and equipment. Time passed and as I lay down the last folder in a pile, I noticed a moderately sized box, probably the size of a briefcase, placed on the floor, dusty but obviously ornate. It piqued my interest although in my mind, I was pretty sure it was nothing but more documents, I decided to give it a look.
I picked a stack up and I started to read:
Patient #00512c Name redacted 32/Female
"Weird" I thought, it was numbered differently, and definitely none of the other documents were lettered. I continued reading:
History of present illness: This is a case of a 32 year old female who came in on date redacted due to a chief complaint of multiple hematomas, abrasions, burn wounds and lacerations on her face, trunk and extremeties..."
"Trauma? An accident? Possible abuse?" I contemplated.
"...patient allegedly noticed easy bruisability 2 weeks prior to consult, followed by alleged spontaneous appearance of abrasions and lacerations 2-3 days from onset of bruising, supposedly waking the patient at night due to the sudden sharp and searing pain, initially small cuts 3-5cm widest on her extremeties and face but eventually progressing to deep cuts measuring approximately 10-50cm on her back, chest, abdomen and lower extremeties. 1 week prior to consult, patient started noticing burning sensations on her skin, causing extreme pain and leaving reddish burn marks on her body, patient also experienced lack of appetite and inability to sleep due to loud voices and..."
"Spontaneous appearance? Easy bruising could be a lot of things, but for it to occur with 'spontaneous' abrasions and lacerations? Not to mention burn marks?" I thought out loud, having doubts about the credibility of the use of the word "spontaneous". Surely it was not an accident, considering it started 2 weeks ago with noted progression. "It could be a hematologic problem with the bruising, but that wouldn't explain the sudden appearance of cuts...maybe accompanied by a dermatologic one, the patient is prone to breaks in the skin? But then again the burn marks...the voices..." I analyzed. I was leaning towards abuse, where the cuts and bruises were inflicted by someone else and the abused, whether in some form of fear or coping, decides that it was "spontaneous" rather than inflicted, but why bother lying to yourself, perhaps the one who did it to her is a partner? Or a loved one? It made sense, someone progressively becoming more aggressive with her as time went by, becoming more and more extreme, from bruises to eventually burning.
It could a combination of illnesses to be honest, one on top of another, perhaps an overly sensitive or extremely dry skin that breaks and peels until it bleeds, an allergic reaction prompting the patient to unconciously scratch till her skin became red and lichenified, voices due to lack of sleep or a mental disorder. But looking at my grandfather's physical examination of her, none of the findings solidifies the possibility of those i've mentioned. Truth be told I also partially allowed myself to tunnel vision on the prospect of an abuse, to the point I've skipped some of the chart's contents that I deemed weren't important and tried to look for information to support my claim, or perhaps to disprove it, rookie mistake, but well, I am a rookie then.
"Patient is widowed, lives alone at a secluded area near redacted, only goes out to buy some necessities from redacted but has very minimal interaction from anyone in the village"
Okay then, either she is hiding the fact someone was with her, who is abusing her like I initially thought of, or it's self harm. "I'm pretty sure grandpa considered everything that went through my mind right now. Let me check his initial impression" I thought, with a tinge of annoyance, considering I felt that the patient lied to my grandfather, and was lying to me, decades after the fact.

1 Trauma, to consider physical abuse versus self harm;

"Alright, now we're getting somewhere" I said to myself, with a bit of pride having the same thought process as a physician with decades more experience than I do.

2 To consider mental disorder, probably psychotic - premature dementia

I chuckled. Premature dementia, didn't think i'd see that term, I thought everyone including those from his time would have used schizophrenia already, then again medicine and medical knowledge isn't as easily passed around as it is now. Psychiatry as a science would be relatively new during his time compared to other disciplines so the fact he considered it based on the patient hearing "voices"? Bravo gramps.
"Well...", I thought to myself, "...plenty of things to consider and rule out, let me check what else is there." A bit of cockiness on picking my grandfather's brain out and feeling good about my train of thought, a practice consult and so far, I'm on my way to a perfect score...

3. To consider possession probably secondary to malevolent spirit

.................
I gave the document a stern look, unmoving, unblinking, emotionless. Time has stopped, and I haven't noticed. My brain trying to digest the information, the same way my stomach would probably digest a block of steel...it's just not possible. I read one of my grandfather's diagnosis again:

3 To consider possession probably secondary to malevolent spirit

I never been one for faith. Evidence is everything. Science is everything. You can replicate it, you can prove it. Most importantly...It. Makes. Sense. I look at beliefs not based on evidence and feel nothing but skepticism if not disdain. Why won't people listen to expert opinion? Why won't people believe in facts? Why explain the unknown in such convoluted ways, requiring submission of oneself when the only thing the truth requires is but comprehension. I looked at that diagnosis feeling disappointment.
Then I felt anger. "Grandpa, what the fuck is wrong with you?!" I thought to myself. Here is a woman, full of bruises, cuts and burns all over her body, claiming that she has been suffering for weeks, barely eats or sleeps, was having auditory hallucinations, in dire need of medical, if not emotional and psychological support and one of the things that comes across your mind is possession.
I tried to calm my mind, these are records of the past anyway, I thought. Maybe it was a resignation born out of incompetence. Maybe grandpa wasn't as good of a doctor as I thought he was, that the shortcomings of his knowledge and limited technology of his time prompted him to adopt a more...liberal viewpoint to medicine. Maybe he was just superstitious himself. Maybe the people of this place had leaked some of their local beliefs into his psyche. Maybe isolation changed the man. Or maybe...just maybe...there's something to it.
I've never been one for faith. That goes for my faith in science as well. To just say that something is stupid because it doesn't align with standard, accepted scientific belief is just as detrimental as its counterpart.
I decided to investigate further when I heard the entrance to the room open with force. One of the maids leaning onto the wall by the entrance, still grasping the doorknob and evidently out of breath.
"Sir...ma'am Martha...calling...for you...says...it's...it's...an emergency..." She says in between breaths.
I quickly stood up, feeling sorry for the woman, she just ran, obviously gasping for air as she arrived at the clinic and now has to lead me back to wherever she came from with the same urgency. At first I was worried something might have happened with Martha, what the maid said didn't really give much clarity, but upon arriving at the main hall I noticed Martha, standing beside a middle aged man and woman, carrying a child, no more than 10 years old. I notice the clear panic and worry on both of their eyes as the man held the boy, who was uncontrollably shaking.
"I know you're not taking any patients yet and I was considering the time, but nobody knows what to do so I..." Martha explains, quite concerned while I ordered the parents to put the child flat on the ground, with me assessing the situation. The first thing I noticed was that the child was burning hot, "possibly febrile seizure? No, too old" I thought. I asked both the parents important details while I ordered the other maid to time the duration of the child's seizure. All the while thinking of possible diseases that may present as such, "Seizure disorder? Epilepsy? Meningitis? Encephalitis?" Eventually the shaking stopped, much to the parents' relief, and I ordered them to carry the boy as we made our way back to the clinic.
"Was this the first time it ever happened?" I inquired, as I put the child on one of the beds in the clinic, securing the corners with additional pillows, noticing the sunken face and apparent exhaustion from the boy, possibly due to the ongoing fever and the recent seizure episode. Once secured, I face the parents and continued my inquiries, I eventually explained everything, elaborating on what I believe happened, I explained that for now, lowering the fever and investigating the source were what we could address, the battery of tests I plan to do (disappointingly, most of them cannot be done here, and I would have to accompany them to a hospital on another town as soon as first light breaks), and the medications and management I plan to give. Everything proceeded as planned and I asked both parents to relax and take a breather, offering them a seat and asking the help to give them water.
Things eventually settled, little Johnny's fever subsided and color came back to him. Nowhere near clear, he can worsen anytime, but that was the best that we could do at that time. The parents were still worried, understandably so, but to an extent reassured, we have a plan after all. Martha, as well as Diane (the help from earlier), now at a calmer state. We discussed the plan, how we would travel, who would accompany us and what we would bring. Eventually, our conversations became relaxed, started to shift to other things, trivial matters, such as were they lived in the village, the date and time of my arrival, recent gossip, where Martha was more than happy to share.
"I was worried the evil spirits might have gotten my baby..." Said the mother nonchalantly, as we talked about the occurrence on a lighter note. "...that's how they got Mrs. Johnson's middle child. That poor boy was never the same after."
I smiled. Not wanting to immediately correct them and sound like an uptight individual. It's part of our culture afterall, old belief systems and a way for people to cope with loss or difficulty, who was I to deny them that. I won't approach these people the hardheaded way, but I will slowly show them the realities and truths of the things they may not understand, well, at least with regards to their health.
"Well, little Johnny is safe here, we'll do what we can" pointing to their son.
Only, their son wasn't where he was supposed to be. I look at the parents, I look at both Martha and Diane, everyone who looked at where I pointed were just as shocked as I was, a split second of silence before panic ensued. Suddenly, everyone stood up on high alert and was looking everywhere. Under covers, under the bed, corners of the room, the desk, behind curtains, hell, I saw Diane look at one of the damn drawers, as if a 10 year old would fit there.
Suddenly I heard loud vomiting, retching, followed by sounds of splashing. I follow where the sounds came from and see a large pool of black, tarry liquid at a corner of my room. I slowly trace where it was coming from and there he was...little Johnny...standing...upside down...on the ceiling.
I hear everyone in the room scream, I was probably screaming too, I couldn't remember. I do remember little Johnny screaming with us though, extremely high pitched and mockingly, with bloodshot eyes, upside down, while black liquid poured from his mouth, covering his face and dripping from his hair. How was that even possible, screaming while liters of unknown fluid dripped from his mouth? I don't know.
Then he laughed, although I was pretty sure that wasn't his voice. It was deep and guttural, it cannot be the boy's voice, it cannot be any boy's voice.
Time seemed to move in slow motion, I was noticing every detail, every expression from everyone's face, I can feel the seconds hand on my wall clock move, the slow dripping of the viscous dark liquid from little Johnny, I can feel every drop of sweat on my body. I could not cope with what i'm experiencing, was it a trick of the mind, an organized prank, have I gone mad...again? So I did the only thing I know how to do...
I tried to diagnose.
"Maybe it was dengue shock all along!" I thought to myself. "Vomiting blood, paleness, fever, an episode of seizure and definitely change in sensorium" I reasoned to myself. I was coping, and I was coping hard. I was ready to drown on my self absorbtion when a booming voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
"YOU DUMB FUCK, WILL ANY ILLNESS EXPLAIN WHY YOUR FUCKING PATIENT IS HANGING UPSIDE DOWN ON THE FUCKING CEILING?" Said little Johnny, or at least whoever was speaking on his behalf, because from where I'm standing, I can clearly see that the boy was not mouthing any of the words he said.
"YOU'RE A FUCKING FAILURE, DOCTORS LIKE YOU SHOULD KILL THEMSELVES! HAHAHAHA" he laughed, I never knew laughs could sound like that, as if the words were nails, and his voice box a chalkboard.
"OH WAIT, YOU FAILED AT THAT TOO DOC! FUCKING PATHETIC!"
Of all the things that were happening...a young boy hanging upside down, a mother crying on the floor hysterically, a father staring at his son, eyes wide open and mouth agape, Martha and Diane, both crying while sharing a rosary, in the act of what I assume to be prayer...the thing that snapped me out of my trance was the words that came from little Johnny. Knowledge nobody but the closest to me should know. A secret I planned to leave behind when I left the city, a wound I intended to forget as I started anew.
Visions of my memories came flashing back...medical school...overwhelming duty...familial expectations...failure...depression...my attempt...a bottle of medications...my mother...crying...on my bedside...
"LEAVE MY SON ALONE!" Johnny's father screamed. Starling everyone in the room.
Nothing matters, the past is in the past, I am better now, and that boy needs help, more than anything.
"YOUR SON? WHY DON'T WE ASK THAT CRYING WHORE IF JOHNNY REALLY IS YOUR SON" The voice says, laughing.
At that point the mother stops crying, looks up towards johnny, then towards his husband, in a state of shock. Like what the voice said is crazier than whatever was happening at the moment.
"THE ONLY REASON THAT WHORE STUCK WITH YOU WAS BECAUSE JOHNNY'S REAAAAAAAL FATHER WOULD NOT TAKE HER!" The entity says, continuing the hysteric laughter.
We were being played. It was toying with us. And from the look on the mother's face...it seems like little Johnny did not even need to lie to do it.
Then, to everyone's horror..."It" started to run.
It ran across the ceiling in a rabid frenzy, erratic and forceful, running and jumping, hopping sideways then going on all fours, still attached to the ceiling, splashing bile and blood all over the room, all the while making a "hihihi" sound...childish and terrifying. It ran and ran, repeating the same erratic change in movements, repeating the same eerie giggle until it reached the window, stopping and standing straight, it stared outside for what felt like forever...then all of a sudden...johnny just fell, like whatever was attaching him to the ceiling just gave, headfirst into the floor, giving a very audible cracking sound.
I heard a gasp from johnny's mother. I can at least detect some miniscule chest expansion, but that cracking sound cannot be anything good. As if thinking the same thing, Martha, who was the nearest to where Johnny fell, while still clinging tightly to Diane's rosary, approached the boy.
"Johnny?" She said softly, all the while approaching an inch at a time.
As she was almost at arms length of the boy's body, she gives the mother a knowing look, confirming that he was breathing. Martha suddenly produces a piece of cloth from one of the pockets of her uniform, possibly to pack the bleeding from the head. She intended to put the cloth on top of the boy's head, but looked towards my direction, urging me forward, perhaps for me to place it properly. I walk towards the boy, takes the cloth from Martha and as I fold the cloth to circle Johnny's cranium with Martha's help, the boy immediately sat up, looks at Martha and smiles ear to ear...literally ear to ear.
"GET YOUR WRINKLY HANDS OFF ME YOU DUSTY OLD FUCK!" He barks at her, Martha screams in fear and I was taken aback.
That was all the time Johnny needed to stand and jump towards the window, breaking it and running towards the mountainside. I hear his father scream his name, quickly breaking more glass so he could fit, and immediately giving chase. The mother was still on the floor, wailing towards the direction of her child and husband. Martha, in shock, still holding the cloth she intended to wrap johnny with.
It took me a while to notice Diane shaking me vigorously. "Doctor!" She screams. "Doctor Smith! What should we do!?" She voices out, with obvious desperation.
I ignored her.
I feel scared, but taking all into consideration, I predominantly feel tired. Defeated. Insulted.
I have nothing more to give in the face of whatever that thing that took Johnny was.
I slowly walk towards my desk, I open my drawer, I take a piece of paper and I pull out my pen.
Patient #00001a Name redacted 10/M
I write, giving no thoughts to the people on the same room as me, those left behind by little Johnny and his father. "Did he catch up to him? Was the boy alright now?...is his father alright?" I wonder. I'll find out soon enough, I figured, rumors spread like wildfire around here anyways.
I continued to write with resignment, absorbed in my own little world, consumed by the horror I witnessed, the breaking of my spirit, of my beliefs, the questioning of my knowledge. I want to escape it, deny it, but that's not what should be done to the truth. So I surrendered.

1 To consider possession probably secondary to malevolent spirit

END

Welcome back once more, for our final discussion of Armadale. I apologize again for the discussion being late. Last week, my excuse was that I had to spend time with my sister's family, including a labradoodle. This week, I am dog-sitting my mother's beagle, who has separation anxiety and gas. I am horribly sleep-deprived because this dog insists on sleeping next to my bed every night, snoring loudly and farting. Speaking of people breathing in poison in their sleep, let's get to the recap:
Allan has just set off for the Adriatic, with his cash converted to gold, obviously the result of Manuel's suggestions. Lydia and Ozias have been transferred to Turin by Ozias's employer, and Lydia pretends to have gotten a letter from her mother, asking her to come home, so she has an excuse to go back to London. Once there, she checks the newspaper for any articles or obituaries indicating that Allan has died. She also finds Mother Oldershaw's new address, but decides not to visit her.
After a few days, she finally gets the news she's been hoping for. Allan's yacht sunk off the southern coast of Italy, and everyone on board perished. Her next step is to write to Bashwood:
My dearest Bashwood,
I desire you... I mean, I desire to *meet with you... to apologize for my previous behavior towards you. I have foolishly made the mistake of marrying an immature child. If only I had married a real man (realness not necessarily extending to his teeth and hair)!*
Please, do not show this letter to anyone. Let us meet clandestinely.
Sincerely,
Lydia Armadale (note the last name)
Lydia then considers the marriage certificate, and realizes a glaring flaw in her plan: Ozias's handwriting looks nothing like Allan's. In a panic, she decides that her only option is to get advice from Mother Oldershaw. Unfortunately, Mother Oldershaw appears to have found God, and no longer wants anything to do with Lydia's plans. (Of course, she refuses to give Lydia the signed paper that she was going to use to extort money from Lydia if her plans succeeded.)
While leaving Oldershaw's, Lydia runs into Dr. Downward... excuse me, Dr. Le Doux, totally legitimate sanitarium owner. She realizes that he may be able to advise her, and asks to meet him later at the sanitarium. The sanitarium is basically what you'd expect a 19th-century sanitarium to be: creepy old house with shelves containing jars of preserved "creatures," a "galvanic apparatus" for providing electric shocks, etc. No patients yet, though.
Lydia tells the doctor her story, leaving out the worst details (he doesn't know that she's the reason the yacht sunk, or that her husband goes by the fake name "Ozias Midwinter"). Downward agrees to assist her by claiming to be a witness to the marriage... for a fee of six hundred pounds. Lydia agrees, and he assists her in sending a letter to Thorpe Ambrose, claiming to be Allan's widow.
The next day, Lydia gets a visit from Bashwood, who delivers the news that Neelie is beside herself with grief, and Mr. Darch is handling the matter of the inheritance, which was going to go to Allan's cousin, before Lydia announced her claim.
Bashwood returns a few days later with a shocking letter from Yugoslavia: Allan is alive! This is where I'd normally try to write a funny version of the letter, but nothing I could possibly write would be funnier than the actual letter's opening line: "I have been the victim of a rascally attempt at robbery and murder." Yes, "rascally." Oh, Allan, never change. One of the would-be murderers took pity on Allan and didn't securely board up his cabin, so he was able to escape instead of sinking with the yacht.
Lydia turns to Downward for help.
Downward: What if we trap Allan in the sanitarium?
Lydia: And murder him?
Downward: WTF, no. We get him to agree to not press legal charges against us.
Lydia: And then we murder him?
Downward: I have so many regrets about teaming up with you
Lydia: How do we catch him?
Downward: You could get Bashwood to lurk around the train station and intercept him before anyone else sees him. Have him tell Allan that Miss Milroy was sent here because she was driven insane by her grief for him.
Lydia: Can we murder Allan and Miss Milroy?
Downward: I am running an unlicensed sanitarium under a false name, and even I think you're unhinged.
Lydia: Gwilty as charged
Downward: But wait, what if he doesn't agree immediately, and we have to keep him here for months? What if I have actual patients at the time, and they report us?
Lydia: What if...
Downward: ...please don't say "murder"
Lydia: ...what if he had an accident?
Downward: Oh. Well, if it was an "accident," that would be okay. I don't know how an accident could happen, though, if you aren't an inmate here.
Lydia: I'll think about it
Meanwhile, Bashwood keeps vigil at the train station, until one day he sees... Ozias, who is searching for Lydia because she's stopped writing to him. While they talk to each other, Bashwood can't contain his shock at hearing that Lydia is Ozias's wife, and accidentally calls her "Mrs. Armadale," which understandably makes Ozias suspicious, so he follows Bashwood to see where he goes, which of course leads him straight to Lydia. Lydia pretends she was never married to Ozias, and Ozias faints from the shock.
Lydia heads straight to the sanitarium, tells Downward she's going to be an inmate, and asks for a sleeping draught. Downward prepares the draught, but first places yellow liquid in a purple flask. He then informs Lydia of what he thinks they should say at the inquest after Allan dies: The two of them knew he hadn't drowned, but when he arrived in England, they decided to trap him in the sanitarium because, shortly after his marriage to Lydia, Allan had starting having a delusion that he was engaged to Neelie. Once in the sanitarium, Downward diagnosed Allan with an incurable and fatal brain ailment, and that's what killed him.
Downward has scheduled a "Visitors' Day" so that people will witness Lydia as an inmate in the asylum. The visitors are mostly women, because life as a woman in Victorian England was so boring, they had nothing better to do than go to sanitariums to gawk at the mentally ill people and see where they will eventually live when the hysteria finally drives them mad. (I am only barely paraphrasing. The actual quote is "In the miserable monotony of the lives led by a large section of the middle classes of England, anything is welcome to the women which offers them any sort of harmless refuge from the established tyranny of the principle that all human happiness begins and ends at home.")
Downward shows them around the sanitarium and explains how it will be run, including only allowing novels that make people feel comfortable. (I assumed this was an intentional satire of Wilkie's critics, and the notes in the Oxford World's Classics edition confirmed this.)
But then Downward gave a sales pitch that damn near sold me on his sanitarium. "I throw up impregnable moral intrenchments between Worry and You. ... Will ten minutes’ irritation from a barking dog or a screeching child undo every atom of good done to a nervous sufferer by a month’s medical treatment? There isn’t a competent doctor in England who will venture to deny it!" Considering I almost couldn't post last week's discussion because of a few hours' exposure to two loud children and a labradoodle, I'm about ready to self-diagnose with hysteria and deranged lunacy.
He also explains that while the bedrooms lack fireplaces, they're heated with hot water. This impressed me because I've read about Victorian insane asylums not having fireplaces in the bedrooms (since the inmates might burn themselves), but I always assumed this meant that the inmates were cold in the winter. But wait... the bedroom also has secret controls that let him open, close, and lock the window and door from the outside, and a vent that lets him pump gas into the room. Whaaat? I rescind my diagnosis of hysteria and deranged lunacy. I want nothing to do with this.
After the tour is finished, Downward demonstrates to Lydia how to prepare the poison, and then breaks the bottle so that his assistant (who doesn't know about the purple flask) will think there's no more of that chemical in the house.
Meanwhile, Ozias is stalking Bashwood at the train station. He thinks Lydia is cheating on him, and Bashwood is waiting for Lydia's lover. But then he sees Bashwood with Allan. After confronting the two of them, he learns Bashwood's story about having to take Allan to Neelie in the sanitarium. Realizing that Lydia is probably still behind Bashwood's actions, Ozias insists on going with the two of them. On arriving at the sanitarium, Allan is informed that Neelie cannot see him until the morning, but he and Ozias are welcome to spend the night: Allan in Room Four, and Ozias in Room Three.
Lydia sets Bashwood up to spy on Allan's door from a room with a grate in its door. She tells him to make sure Allan stays in his room all night. Later, watching from the grate, Bashwood observes Ozias leave his room and examine the fumigating apparatus connected to Allan's room. Then Ozias stuffs his handkerchief in the grate, blocking Bashwood's view, before going into Allan's room and convincing Allan to switch rooms with him.
Later that night, Lydia returns and asks Bashwood if anything happened. Too afraid to tell her about the handkerchief, he tells her nothing happened, and she dismisses him to bed. After almost convincing herself to not go through with it, she then starts the process of pouring the poison at five minute intervals. While waiting for one of the intervals to pass, she notices Ozias's handkerchief and realizes that Bashwood lied to her. She checks in Room Three, and finds Allan asleep where Ozias should be.
In a panic, Lydia rushes into Room Four and drags the unconscious Ozias out. She then continues to pour the poison, writes a last letter to Ozias, and locks herself in the room.
We end with an epilogue that rapidly ties up all the random loose ends. Lydia has been buried in a nearly unmarked grave. The doctor is apparently still running his sanitarium. Allan and Neelie will be married in the spring. Mrs. Milroy doesn't have much longer to live, but she's undergone a personality change for some reason and she and the Major are happy for once. Ozias is recovering and living with Allan. Mother Oldershaw is a religious speaker, apparently. Bashwood has gone insane. Manuel drowned.
But wait, one last thing: Wilkie has something to say to us. He wants us to know that he intended the dream to be left up to interpretation. Thanks for handing me a discussion question like that, Wilkie. He also shares a weird-ass story about how, after he'd finished the rough draft and while the story was in the middle of serialization, several people were poisoned in their sleep on a boat called The Armadale. Okay, Wilkie. Thank you for that incredibly weird anecdote.

[ First / Previous ]
Memory Transcription Subject: Hileen, Krakotl Fugitive Recovery Agent
Date [standardized human time]: November 28th, 2136
It'd been a while since I sat in Marlig's office for a talk face-to-face. Given the agency's secluded location at the edge of the downtown region, it was a chore to drop by when it wasn't for business, but I'd deemed the matter at hand to be worth my time.
I passed by Nampi at her desk on my way to the door and she gave me a coy glare as I carried on. Trying to ignore her risible ear waggle, I turned the corner to the door with my boss’s name painted on the glass panel where I could hear the frantic crumpling of paper.
Quietly, I entered Marlig's office without prompt as I knew he hated to be spooked by knocking. My mentor was surprisingly spry for a bird at his age, sorting through papers with one wing and an eye while using his talons with the other to set away the papers he had splayed out.
“Hileen!” he chirped. “Glad you could make it in today. I was just finishing up my paperwork. Take a seat.”
It was always nice to hear him drop the professional motif for a more grandfatherly attitude when speaking in person. I did as he suggested and took a seat while he grumbled to himself over the sorting. My eye caught a few of the old contracts he was rifling through and saw that some dated back to his days as an agent.
Eventually, he left some sitting out as he sequestered the rest back into their files, sorted by a dichotomy that only he and Nampi could comprehend fully. He motioned with a wing for me to peruse and I turned the first one to face me to find it was my first contract, signed by me in a sloppy fashion. “This takes me back a couple of years.”
“Slick bastard thought he could get away on a forklift but you showed him! Certainly more exciting than my first day!”
“Mm-hmm. And it was when I nearly got impaled that you had the idea to commission all of us utility vests.”
He chuckled, “I really should’ve done so sooner. Cuts and scratches were already a risk, but a forklift was a new one!”
I flipped through the pages of each report, finding that Marlig's notes were filled with praises of my work. There were highs and lows, but I was flattered to find that the grizzled krakotl held my performance in such high regard.
“Flawless interception!” read one footnote about me catching a runner. “Couldn't have done it better myself!”
Marlig waited patiently as I browsed quickly through each page, realizing more and more how the notes also marked improvements in my work. How I found it easier to talk down a rowdy client, or apprehend them in the case that they were beyond helping on my part. Flowery language plastered most pages with him fawning over my work as a doting father would to his prodigal child.
The trend took a sharp turn as the notes became fewer and more critical the closer the dates reached to the present. I brushed the others aside with a wing to peruse the final paper. “And this…”
“Is Tac. Your latest contract. The most recent in a line of declining performance since the interview. This has become a pattern, Hileen, and its consequences are beginning to reach beyond yourself. Paji and Vesek resigned recently for personal reasons, which leaves us even less hands on deck than before. That's four people to cover the entire municipal region, and maybe even beyond, should needs arise. Three, if we include this little probation I have you on.”
“What was I supposed to do? Marlig, these ‘jobs’ you've got us working on overstep the contracts we were signed on with. Our job is to make sure people obey their court-mandated duties, not drag them off to the facilities ourselves!”
“... So the trip we took to the facilities did bother you.”
A sigh clicked in my throat as he reminded me. “Is that what happens to the people we take in, Marlig? Is that what would've happened to your wife?”
His feathers ruffled.
“That's what happens to those who are too dangerous to the general public to be left roaming free. Not everyone we deal with winds up there, but everyone can be subject to it. Miskela sued for her exoneration and proved in court that she was not diseased. I brought you there to show you how it helps the people, but I see now that it was a mistake. I understand why you were so perturbed, really, but it's how things have been for centuries. It's how we've protected ourselves from the dangers out there.”
“You were willing to let Barsul be interned there, too.”
Marlig flinched and sighed as he swept the papers towards himself once I'd signaled I was done. He turned one eye to me while he sorted them.
“There's no room for favoritism, girl. I negotiated for him to be allowed to walk free, and look where that got me. That boy - your neighbor - suffered the consequences of my nepotism. So too would the girl, had nobody intervened.”
“Like Richard.”
“The human, yes. Or you. Or the police. Where does this sudden obsession with humans come from, anyway? I get notifications of you talking about the acceptance of them all the time on forums.”
“Does it even need explaining?”
“Well, I guess not, no, but it's certainly an about-face from the way you used to talk about them with me beforehand.”
“People can change, for better or worse. Which one I fall under remains to be seen.”
Marlig stroked at the plumage on his neck as he finished his sorting. “I hope it's the former, for your sake. Was there any reason you came to talk, or were you just checking that I hadn't gone senile?”
“Well, I was hoping to borrow your secretary for the evening.”
He perked up while his eyes narrowed and he laced his fingers together with curiosity. “You… want to spend an evening with Nampi?”
“It's not what you're insinuating, but yes.”
“I was insinuating nothing,” he warbled coyly. “Go ahead and take her, and make sure to split the bill at dinner.”
“Pain-in-the-ass geezer. I'll keep in touch if your friend causes any more trouble.”
“Keep in touch regardless. Miskela and I get lonely in our old age,” he called back. “Take care.”
I stepped out into the hallway and turned toward the desk where I could hear the secretary's claws tapping furtively at her keyboard. Nampi sat silently with her ears and tail in a relaxed position that implied a bored demeanor. There was barely any response as I stood before her, waiting politely for her acknowledgment that never came.
Hesitantly, I cleared my throat.
An ear raised in acknowledgement, but her focus remained on the screen of her computer. “Mhm?”
“Do you…?”
Her ear rotated toward me, though she still maintained a passive attitude as she continued to glare mindlessly at the monitor.
“Are you free this evening?”
“Well, I'm quite booked, I believe. Why do you ask?”
I was surprised at her curt, dry tone. She hadn't spoken with me like this since we first got to know one another.
“Well,” I started. “I realized something. Every time we went out, whether it was clubbing, or dinner, or even walking around the parks, you always footed the bill. And so…”
Slowly, her other ear perked up and I saw her keystrokes slow down as she listened in.
“I wanted to return the favor?”
Her lips smacked as she opened her mouth, though paused before she spoke. “How could you possibly do that?”
“With a little gesture of friendship.”
Nampi's horizontal pupil turned up toward me and her tail twitched.
I continued, “So that belt you're wearing? It's the same belt you've worn since we first met. And I know you're the pragmatic type who'd never spend a credit more than she needs to, except for all the times you do"- her ears twitched in indignance -"I wanted to see about getting you a little something… extra?”
Her paws raised from the keyboard and she leaned in, resting her snout on her palms. “Go on.”
The bubbly venlil's tail sold out her collected facade as it twitched with anticipation. She was cornered and she didn't even know it yet.
“Well, I found just the place on the other side of town where we can start. It's a place almost as rich and indulgent as yourself.”
“The Platinum Paw? I mean3”
Her ears folded back in embarrassment as she cracked. She wasn't cut out for acting anyway.
“So that's what it's called! Jeez, I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was called. Now what do you say? We go over there and find you something nice—”
I hadn’t even finished my thought before Nampi had grabbed her bag and was out the door, giving me a playful tail flick that said come and get me.

The place I suggested was in a shopping center on the opposite side of town, though easily accessible because of its proximity to the transport rails. Nampi had insisted on grabbing something to eat beforehand and so now gleefully bit into a bundle of stalks that had been “grilled” as explained from the food truck we'd stopped at.
Her tail flicked back and forth with her usual enthusiasm as we entered the massive complex of stores. The roofless plan allowed the natural, orange sun to flood the upper levels while artificial lighting illuminated the ground level wherever the light couldn't reach.
The place was built in the last decade by the previous City Magister in a bid for popularity, though ultimately for naught as he would lose the vote following a scandal involving an iftali priestess and a carved bar of soap. I had to say that despite being sick in the head, he sure had a great sense of decor.
Nampi snacked away, joining me in admiring the scenery as we continued to the place I’d planned out for us. Aimless chatter all melded together into a single, thrumming murmur as pedestrians navigated the many levels and stores offered in the place.
A troupe of children passed by us, held in a chain of tails and arms as they were escorted by a pair of venlil who I assumed were students and teachers on a school trip. I caught a whiff of a sweet, aromatic breeze and found it to come from a perfume shop on the same level as us; naturally, venlil were not to be found inside.
We passed a fountain where a couple sat on the edge, their tails twined together as they giggled and flirted. I turned and caught Nampi watching them as well, though she awkwardly returned to sucking the remains of her meal from her claws when we made eye contact. Her ears lifted when I raised a wing to signal to the store we were going to stop at first.
“Platinum Paw, The Greatest Fashion Emporium For Everyone!”
The title alone was painfully cliche, taken to the tenth power by the brightly lit store taking up three department slots. Despite the flashy exterior, though, it was the best place to shop for belts, brooches, and bracelets alike. Customers who looked like they earned my yearly salary in a week browsed the higher end brands while I brought my friend to the section I wanted to show her.
Her ears were held up as we stood together next to a shelf chock full of fashionable bags and bandoliers of every variety.
“Pick one,” I told her.
Nampi's ears shot to a straight pose in surprise, “Any?”
“Within reason. I've got a few extra credits to blow and I know nobody better to spend it on.”
With an inviting headtilt, I let Nampi peruse the shelves at her leisure. Her lips pursed together and her tail flicked with glee as she fingered at every piece that caught her eye. I chuckled at her outburst of enthusiasm while turning to find my own items to gloss over.
A breeze from outside nipped at my beak while I considered what I’d like to purchase. The place dripped with an atmosphere of faux hospitality, from the bright blue-stained floorboards to the radio prattling off advertisements in a sickeningly sweet tone to the faint, fruity aroma of scented cleaner. It was oppressive as only a fissan-owned company could be to the senses.
What I wouldn’t pay to see how a human would fare in such an environment.
I knew they were social creatures at least, but I had no doubt that the predatory senses of a human, so honed to hunting, would get overstimulated in this center of gaudy indulgence. Knowing I was something of a predator myself made me sympathize provided that even I had to squint to keep the pale lights inside from searing my eyes. I could only imagine how the arboreal eyes of a Terran would fare. I was so lost in thought imagining how lost the Terrans would be that I could almost ignore the obnoxious giggling and metallic rattling coming from behind me.
Risking a peek at the source, into my sight came a pair of venlil, one a male carrying a pair of bags as well as a couple more strapped to his belt. The bored expression in his eyes was not one of a man who was in high spirits. The other venlil was a woman who was the source of the noise.
Her mottled gray pelt was accented by a tasteful belt design, free of almost any practical functions but not flashy or excessive in garnishment either. At least, that’s what I would say, were it not for the braid of beads that dangled on the belt, jingling with each bounce of the lively woman’s stride. It was clear that such a gaudy accessory was intended to draw attention to her, though why was a mystery. Certainly, the shiny braids seemed designed as decoration first and practical second.
She turned about and I faced back to my browsing before she could catch me staring. Nampi was nowhere in sight, though I figured she was somewhere behind the shelf, sifting through every accessory on the section I'd suggested.
Clink.
Something pelted to my immediate right. I tilted my head to spot a tree nut shell clattering to the floor. Without being able to guess where it came from, I had to wonder what could've launched it over this way. Even with my keen eyesight, nobody in the crowd seemed to be a suspect.
Clink.
Another shell pelted my vicinity, ricocheting off of the floor and hitting the shelf I was standing next to. I ruffled my feathers in frustration - clearly, someone was trying to get my attention, though I couldn't make out who it was. Out of the corner of my vision, the woman from before eyed me curiously as I looked about, though I wasn't interested in engaging with her.
Thwack.
One more shell came flying and, unfortunately, the aim on this one was true, nailing me on the beak. Irritated, I stormed out of the store to find the source of the instigator. I scanned over the bodies to find anyone who could've been responsible for this indignity, eventually concluding that it came from the dining area across the walkway.
Whoever was responsible was in for an earful and I was already structuring which of the offender's family members would be acceptable as fodder for stray words. As I approached, I found the tables were mostly empty save for one, which made my heart begin to drop as I met eyes with the only occupant. Suddenly, I was much less inclined to hurl insults.
“Oh, hi there!” Qitel called out in a sickly sweet tone. “Come, take a seat! We have much to discuss!”
The Exterminator clutched a bag of tree nuts in his claws, a pile of discarded shells already gathered on the table next to him. He grabbed another as I approached, effortlessly prying the shell in half between two claws and tossed the contents into his mouth. “Good protein, these,” he commented as I sat down.
“Must be for that good arm you've got there,” I mumbled. I caught sight of a couple of bags beneath his chair, seemingly from one of the tech stores contained within the center.
“Bah, it's guesswork. So how are you? I haven't heard from you since we worked together!”
“I was just spending time with a friend, shopping and enjoying my time off.”
“Your time off? Oh, am I interrupting something?”
His snide tone irked me, though now wasn’t the time for interjections. “You are, Qitel,” I replied with no shortage of vitriol in my tone. “But I see no harm in chatting for a bit.”
“Good, because I have some merchandise”- he reached into his belt pocket and deposited a couple of items onto the table -“and you’re just the person to look into it, human sympathizer.”
I drew a terse breath in shock, but my worries were quelled when I considered that if Qitel had the power to do anything about it, he would’ve done so instead of approaching me so discreetly. A glance down at the item on the table showed that he was presenting what looked to be a tracker as well as a personal drive. “Found in the garbage,” he told me.
“The guild resorts to dumpster diving when they already have such a bloated budget now?”
“No, featherbrain, I have decided to keep this for myself. These items were found together, sealed in a plastic pouch, and placed in a garbage bin. The city has bans against electronics being placed into public bins, and so I was curious why this wound up in there. Managed to get my coworker, a techie, to crack it open and…”
Qitel reached into his belt again, glowering at me with the same condescending gaze he’d given me when I first saw his face. He seemed to revel in digging for the item as slowly as possible to waste my time. Finally, he found whatever he was looking for and revealed it as a printed piece of paper, folded into eighths. The snobby yotul threw the unfurled paper on the table and rolled it toward me.
I craned my neck to look at the parchment, though I was immediately perplexed by the text on it; it appeared to be some sort of form, going by the boxes with words on the inside, followed by blank lines. “Found on the drive, here,” Qitel told me, jabbing a claw to the storage. “Translator shows it as Terran writing.”
Drawing my holopad from my satchel, I held it over the paper with the translator to get an understanding. Surely enough, the language on it came up positive as a variant of Terran writing and I was affirmed in it being a form of some sort based on the wording of the text. The boxes seemed like an odd sort of job application, asking for the typical name, contacts, and prior work experiences, but quickly took a strange turn as it began asking for where their home on Earth was prior to arrival, what family they had on Venlil Prime if any, and where they worked, implying that they were seeking individuals who were already employed.
I knew little about human employment methods, but I didn’t imagine that sourcing individuals from other jobs was the most efficient way to gain a workforce. Terran service industries already dotted the planet while many humans also found work in local environments. So what was the angle that the creator of this application was going for?
Most concerningly was that the paper had no insignia, identifying marks, or noted address to return the form to. “And where did you find it again?”
“In the garbage, alongside this intact tracker that was activated at the time of recovery. Y’know, when I was dumpster diving. Text on the document showed it was addressed to one ‘Choctaw Nexus’.”
“A pseudonym of some sort?”
“Clearly. Short sorting through the archives shows the first name traces back to the group out east - perhaps you've heard about them. How the name and the items we have here are connected is beyond my understanding, but-”
“Well, this has been an absolutely riveting discussion about your collection of trash, Qitel,” I told him as I stood up to leave. “But this really sounds like an issue to be resolved by your fellow guildsmen.”
The sound of another shell splitting rang out as I turned away.
“I'm not through talking with you, predator.”
The sting as a piece nailed me in the back of the head prompted me to whirl back around, sticking my beak in the insolent yotul's snout. “Perhaps you've forgotten, little man,” I cooed in an equally bittersweet tone to the one he gave me before. “The krakotl never had a problem with settling issues the old-fashioned way before the interview. Try me and find out why I'm in the line of work I am.”
“Oh, we wouldn't want that in such a"- he waved his paw to a group of passersby who had stopped to gawk at my display -”public forum. Please, contain yourself.”
I had to force the feathers on my back to settle and I raised my head away from him. “What else is it you wanted, then?”
“Well, I'd appreciate if you took this merchandise off my paws,” he told me as he brushed the electronics and printout toward me.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you're closer to the humans than I'd ever care to be, and may be able to find out who this Choctaw Nexus is. Something about the package just feels… off. And I know when to trust my feelings. Besides, we both know that you know where Tac is, don't we?”
“I don't-”
“We have videographic evidence that you conspired with a human - of the aforementioned squatters, no less - and let the kid escape. You're not as sneaky as you think, and if we find this ‘Choctaw Nexus’ turns out to be a bad actor that can be traced back to them - and by extension, you - well, there’d be no talking down my boss from having you dealt with. By helping me find out who this is, you may yet be able to clear your name of any wrongdoing.”
I clenched my beak tightly to maintain a straight face. Qitel stood up with a flourish and discarded the bag he was carrying in a bin.
“See, the krakotl were never special for using threats and bullying to get results. It's because you were good at killing predators,” he jeered. “Now, if you don't mind, this primitive has appointments to attend to… old lady who got trampled courtesy of the humans and all. You stay out of trouble, Hileen, and stay in touch.”
The self-assured marsupial melded into the crowd in a matter of seconds, leaving me with a table containing dumpster trophies and a pile of shells. Reluctantly, I swept the shells into my wing and dumped them into the bin before gathering the other two items he'd left me and stuffing them into my bag. I'd been gone from Nampi long enough and she would notice my absence before long.
Crossing the walkway again, I could spot from where I stood that Nampi was indeed still in the Platinum Paw. I approached, and soon I found that while she didn't seem to have noticed me stepping away, she was definitely in a soured mood based on the sagging of her ears and tail. With my talons clacking on the floorboards, I hustled to her side and her mood chippered up ever so slightly as she heard me approach.
I chimed in, “Find anything?”
“Everything. I want everything, Red, and I can't decide on what I want. They all just look so great!”
From behind, a voice called out, “Nampi!”
We both jumped at the exclamation and turned about to spot the venlil lady I'd seen before spring from behind the shelf. The man poked his head from behind the shelf too, though less enthusiastically and with yet another bag in his clutches. My friend's eyes widened in surprise with her tail and ears perking up in kind. With a light in her eyes, she exclaimed, “Nalek!”
The two embraced with shrill squeals and laughter as Nalek's accompaniment and I traded awkward glances.
“It's been too long!”
“You never stayed in contact!”
The women exchanged giddy greetings and the pompous stranger turned to me, leering over me as though she was sizing me up.
“Who's your friend here?”
“Oh she's actually my-...”
Nampi paused for a moment, looking back to me.
“Yeah, she's a friend.”
“A friend,” Nalek repeated while her eyes flicked between Nampi and I. “Right.”
Somehow, I get the impression that that was judgemental.
“I'm Hileen, by the way,” I chirped, “if names are to be exchanged.”
“Hileen, that's a lovely name! And such plumage to match, it's a wonder you aren't swarmed by suitors!”
Internally, I groaned at the notion. The idea of being approached by someone to state their interest in me made me queasy, to say the least. Thankfully, I never had that issue growing up as most of the other drakes in school were too busy chasing girls who didn't have a lousy pigmentation mutation such as myself.
“I'm flattered,” I told Nalek before turning to the man whose name had yet to be introduced. “May we get your name?”
“Sask.”
His response was succinct and tonally flat, though there was a brief silence as I expected him to elaborate. Nalek's beads jingled as she lashed him on the calf with her tail.
“I'm Sask, Nalek's fiancée,” he added, throwing her a look to see if she was satisfied.
Nampi gasped with her paws over her snout. “Fiancée! Nalek, you're getting married and you never even told me!”
“Well, I felt a little guilty since it technically broke our pact we made when we were pups. You remember that?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I? ‘Let she who bonds through betrothal first be cast out unto the world for all to admonish her!’”
Sask and I both gave inquisitive expressions. “You two spoke like that as pups?” Sask asked.
“Well, I'm paraphrasing,” Nampi admitted with a playful ear waggle. “But you get the gist.”
“Indeed, they do, sweet Nampi. Now, may I ask what you're doing bringing your avian friend here into this store on this fine claw?”
“Oh, no no, she's the one treating me! Isn't that right, Red?”
I saw her tail twitch and was sure it took restraint not to tickle my neck with it as we stood before her old friend.
“She's been a good friend,” I explained. “So I wanted to reverse the roles for once and treat her to something myself.”
Nampi skipped over to me and wrapped her arm around me, glancing back to her old friend. “See? We'd all be so lucky to have a… friend like her.”
“So I've witnessed. But perhaps you're a bit stuck, as I've seen you prancing up and down these aisles for a while, no? Maybe you don't know what you want?”
“Nalek, you know I've never been good about making my mind up.”
“Some things never change, you ditz. Tell you what: you and Sask go find us a seat and we can catch up all we'd like when we're not taking up aisle space, yes? So shoo! I'll help Hileen here pick one out for you!”
With a bored grunt, Sask made off with the goods he had strapped to himself, followed by Nampi who gave me one more playful tail flick before dashing off into the crowd. I looked back to the mottled snout of Nalek who watched her friend wander off with a wistful glance.
“She was my first, you know.”
“Your what now.”
“Love. Way back when we were growing from pups into young adults back in private education, we explored much together. We saw each other through a lot, including the less savory parts of finding a mate. When Nampi realized it wasn't the boys she was into, she turned to me, and I offered my hand as her stalwart companion… to a point.”
“You weren't interested in her the same way?”
“I'd grown up seeing her as a sister of sorts, so ultimately, when we split it off, we stayed close as friends and she never seemed to be bothered by it. She struggled to find others in school who had the same interests as herself, but she never fussed about it.”
Nalek's claws browsed over a set of pouched bandoliers made with intricate embroidering. “Have you two… spent the night together? Alone?”
Spiritually, I reeled from the inquiry. The whiplash from that question was equitable to being smacked by a human. “Wha- why? How's that pertinent to the subject at hand?”
“That sounds like a ‘yes’ to me,” she purred with a smug glance my way.
I didn't need to begin to list the different ways such a question was violating to our privacy, and yet this woman was treating it like a game.
“Not really your concern, ma'am.”
Nalek chuckled as she picked out one of the bandoliers and inspected it with her claws. “I'd like to think that she and I still have that old connection, despite everything. And to that end, I know that she's no slag and doesn't trust easy. To see her be so vulnerable around you and to talk so highly of someone who's clearly below her income level as a predator…”
She stretched the bandolier out to appreciate the design in its entirety.
“Well, that's something special. Here"- she foisted the accessory into my wings as I stood gobsmacked -"this just screams her name.”
“This is, like, double my budget.”
“Love don't come cheap, darling. You wanna see good things happen, sometimes you've gotta step out of your comfort zone and grasp for it!”
“I'm being lectured by a rich woman on finances.”
“It's a philosophy that goes beyond money, ‘Red.’ The humans have a saying, in their horrendously predatory nomenclature, that contains a kernel of truth: ‘you miss every shot you don't take’.”
Yep, that's definitely a human phrase.
Nalek's steely braid rattled with every flick of the tail as we proceeded through the checkout.
“You want things to change between you and her?” she continued. “Don't just wait for it to happen.”
She let the conversation rest there as we finished the purchase, possibly to let me recuperate mentally from the damage done to my account. Outside, we found our respective partners sitting at a table with Sask looking up in boredom as Nampi chatted away, though she immediately shut up and turned to me with excited flicks of her tail as she saw what I was carrying.
I held it toward her and she happily shot to her feet, effortlessly removing the tags with her claws and clipping it to her belt. Nalek clapped and waggled her tail as the giddy lady did a whirl about to let us admire the accessory. While I'd have preferred one with pockets to give it a more practical use, I decided to let Nalek have the victory as our mutual friend clearly enjoyed it.
The rest of the paw was a blur as the two friends chatted without end until Sask eventually reminded his betrothed that they had a schedule to attend to. Though Nalek offered to call us a taxi home as a gesture of kindness, I saw through her ruse to determine that she was trying to pull a fast one on me - the clever ear flick she gave as we boarded the automated vehicle sold it for me.
We sat in the seats as the vehicle took the express ride home.
Nampi cleared her throat before she spoke, “Thank you for taking some time to spend with me, I know you've had a lot less free time as of late.”
“It's a prison of my own design, if I must be honest. A feedback loop of working a job that doesn't guarantee a paycheck to pay for rent that keeps going up, and thus needing to work more.”
The venlil giggled and chided me, “You really should've stayed in university.”
“There's a lotta 'should haves’ that've led me to this point. No use wondering what could have been.”
“There's always a use for wondering what could have been, Hileen.”
She wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
“Every decision I make, I always wonder what I could've done differently that it'd have turned out better,” she explained as she waved her free paw to the sky. “It's how you grow as a person, Red.”
Her silky pelt felt heavenly in contrast to the chilly air from outside, making it hard to let her words sink in.
“You rich types seem chock full of philosophy. I wonder if I'll become a brooding orator when I get some cash to my name.”
The cab filled with laughter as we veered around the final corner to my neighborhood, as it was the closest stop. The door popped open accompanied by a chime from the drone, signaling for me to depart.
But before my talons could even hit the pavement, I felt Nampi's scrawny arms wrap around my waist and she let out a pitiful mewl again.
“You don't need to get off here,” she told me with a pouty expression. “We can spend the rest of the paw at my place.”
“I'd love it, but I need to water my plants and get the month's bills sorted before they're due. Again.”
One claw at a time, I plucked her paws from around my waist and the childish venlil conceded, giving me another ear waggle as I departed. “I'll see you tomorrow?” I asked her.
“If you still have eyes by then, then you can bet your ass!”
“I still don't gamble.”
“You'll come around to it eventually.”
I shut the door to the taxi and watched as it carted away the one venlil who I ever truly felt on the same wavelength as. Fiddling with the lock felt like more of a chore than usual at this time as I felt a little voice tugging at the back of my head.
“You miss every shot you don't take.”
The lock felt jammed as I began to jiggle it more vigorously with the electric key. Either the RFID or NFC readers were messed up, as the lock refused to accept my key. I looked up and down the street, though Nampi was now long gone for me to rescind my earlier rejection.
“Every decision I make, I wonder what I could've done differently.”
The door rattled as I grew more and more infuriated with the lock. Qitel's smug expression as he threatened me so boldly in public played back in my head, and I wondered what would've happened had I decided to go through with insulting his mother. Better yet, I wondered what could've been had I not backed down in the face of his unflinching confidence.
Bzzt. The lock rejected my key again.
“Raagh! You fucking useless hunk of junk!”
I squawked in anger and kicked against the door, careless of the consequences of having Markol back down here to admonish another of his tenants for causing a ruckus. The walls were surprisingly sturdy for how ineffective the venlil architecture looked on the surface and I reeled back in pain as my leg throbbed.
Click.
I looked to my left to see that it wasn't my door that came open, but that of the twins. The door cracked open ever so slightly, no doubt nudged by the force of my tirade and I sighed. Nobody was expected to be home at this time, with Vili being away and Luka leaving early to get a head start.
Luka had been given a stern talking-to by the landlord for allowing one of those cats into his apartment through neglect, and I was disappointed that he seemed to have not learned his lesson this time. In fact, it seemed he hadn't even thought to lock the door this time.
I took it upon myself to shut the door for him before turning back to my own apartment door. Grasping the key with one talon, I turned it ever so gently, though the lock still refused to give in.
With a bit more force, the torsion applied to the key felt as though it should've snapped it by now. Markol sure didn't waste any expense for the security for this place, doubtlessly as a result of his history in electronic security, but I wished now that he had provided a way in that didn't rely on privately sourced locks.
Considering my options as I stood trapped outside, I realized that I had never gotten around to paying for a new lock for Tadi. I'd considered contacting her to inform her that Tac had made it out of town safely, but that'd involve also telling her that her son was now in the care of humans, as if that was a better outcome to her.
Stepping out front, I realized that there was one more option I hadn't considered: my window. I usually forgot to lock it after I was through letting air circulate and I was silently grateful to myself for this absentmindedness now more than ever. Sticking a foot on the threshold, I lifted myself in a way that'd allow me to have leverage to force the window open.
The window made me fight for every inch, but I felt a strange satisfaction as it slowly opened up into an entrance that I could squeeze my way through. I let out a sigh as my talons clicked against the cool floor and slid the window shut.
I laid my satchel on the couch and turned back to the door, ready to unleash my fury on the disobedient object. But as I reached for the lock to manually open the door, I noted that the lights on the RFID interface both flashed at once, blinking erratically. Red and green flickered without rhyme or reason, indicating that it was both active and inactive.
As pretty as the colors were, I now knew that Markol's locks were not as reliable as he had touted them about: typically, such would not occur unless the device was damaged deliberately, and yet nothing indicated that I'd had uninvited guests. One could pray that those cats didn't secretly know how to cobble together an ECM jammer, but my personal wager was on faulty equipment.
Settling in, I browsed my favorite soaps on the television. For what was intended to be a day of relaxation and show of affection for a friend, I found myself rather wound up over all the things that added up. Couples threw around flowery words and swooned over one another on screen as I felt the tension diffuse. My holopad rang and I turned it over to spot that Nampi was informing me that she'd arrived home safely.
>>> Feels empty here, all alone.
She made sure to drive the point home with a sticker of a venlil making a pouty expression.
Next time, I thought to myself, I'll get it right for you, Nampi.
[ First / Previous ]

Summary

I competed for the first time at the USPA Drug Tested Emerald City Classic hosted by DOP Strength Gym in Kirkland, WA on May 18th, 2024.
Here's my Instagram post with videos of my third attempts and a photo with my participation medal (I was the only 110kg submaster male lifter).
I went 9/9 with no red lights, broke my gym PRs on squat and deadlift, and had an awesome time. I competed in the submaster 110kg class in raw full power, weighed in (24h before) at 105.7 kg, and totaled 545kg. I planned to take very light openers, big jumps for my second attempts (15kg for squat and deadlift, 10kg for bench), and then smaller jumps (7.5kg for squat and deadlift, 5kg for bench) for my thirds, and I stuck to that plan. All of my lifts felt great and moved fast except for my third bench, which was a little bit of a grind. My strategy paid off because I had a much more enjoyable day going 9/9 a little light, compared to how I would have felt if I had missed any of my first or second attempts--which I saw happen to plenty of other lifters.
The gym was a little crowded with 60 lifters in 4 flights but the meet was super well run, with good vibes all around. The meet director was super clear at the rules briefing and the spotteloader crew absolutely hauled ass and the whole meet was over at 3 pm. I also got to see several master's lifters set state and national records, including a 72 year old woman, so that was awesome to watch.
My friend and training partner, who is an experienced master's lifter and meet judge, showed up to handle me and that made a huge difference in my experience. He really helped me a ton with understanding the pace, timing my warmups, loading the bar, chalking my back, cheering me on, telling me when to rest, eat, hydrate, everything. He really did a fantastic job.

Prep

I took Steve DeNovi's free 3x Bench - Conventional Deadlift program and ran Block 3 and the peaking block (10 weeks), with modifications to the accessory selection and split to make it 4 days a week. My weekly split was:

• Mon: Primary squat, OHP, pull ups, bicep curls
• Tue: Primary bench, secondary deadlift (cluster singles), chest supported rows, face pulls, tricep pushdowns
• Thu: Secondary squat, paused squat, tertiary bench (Larsen press), lat pulldowns, DB incline press
• Fri: Primary deadlift, paused deadlift, secondary bench, bent over rows, lateral raises

I really enjoyed this program and got a lot out of it. I felt like the peak timing was just right for my meet.

Squat

Squats felt great in prep. My training max for the first block was 425 lbs and I upped it to 435 for the second block. I didn't feel like I under or overshot any of my prep lifts, my RPEs felt accurate.
There was a little confusion about whether squats would be done on a 25kg squat bar or a 20kg power bar, but they ended up using the 20kg Kabuki power bar. The knurling felt great on my back.

1. 170kg. The main thing in my head was to take my time setting up, which I did, and I think it helped calm my nerves. When I unracked, the bar tilted to the right slightly, but I was able to level it out as I walked out. Stance felt solid, got a strong brace, weight felt light and moved fast.
2. 185kg. Better unrack. Felt lighter than I expected.
3. 192.5kg. Beat my gym PR of 415lbs. My handler said my third looked like it moved better than my second. I felt a cramp in my right inner hamstring as I locked it out though, and it's feeling sore today. I felt in control the whole rep but I think I kinda dive-bombed it and went a little too deep and that over-stretched my hammie. Looking back at the videos, I think I rushed the descent on all my squats, even though I had been practicing a slower descent during prep. Something to work on cleaning up before my next meet.

Bench

I kind of wrote off bench for this meet since I made poor progress in prep. For the first 5 week block my training max was 265 lbs and I felt like I was undershooting, so I increased it to 275 lbs, but once I started hitting singles at 250+ they weren't moving well and my butt started coming off the bench. I fixed that issue late in prep by setting my feet further back. My left shoulder had also been bothering me a bit lately, plus I started getting some tennis elbow on my left from the bent over rows or something. So I went with attempts I knew for sure I could hit, and didn't get too excited for bench. I also really felt that bench was a natural "valley" between the peaks of squat and deadlift, in terms of the energy level of the meet.

1. 100kg. A gimme attempt just to practice the commands for real.
2. 110kg. This was the best bench single I've had lately--setup, foot placement, arch, unrack, controlled descent, pause, and press, everything felt solid and it went up so fast that my friend who was working the scoring table shouted "Put some weight on the bar!"
3. 115kg. Unrack felt great, controlled eccentric and pause felt good, got a fast press command, but I think my back slipped a little on the pad, which was kind of slick, and I didn't get enough leg drive, and forgot to cue bar path, so I pressed it straight up off my chest and hit a sticking point, then my back cramped up and my arms started shaking. I barely got it locked out. I originally wanted to aim for 120kg on my third attempt but now I'm glad I didn't because I for sure would have missed it.

I'm pretty satisfied with just getting 9 white lights on bench because I was so worried about my butt popping up or having a brain fart and jumping the start or rack command, and those things didn't happen.

Deadlift

Deadlifts are my best event (long arms) and the pauses and cluster singles in DeNovi's program really helped dial in my setup and make me stronger off the floor. Having access to a deadlift bar in training was nice, as the whip might have thrown me off if I had only ever trained on a stiff bar. Liquid chalk + hook grip + Kabuki bar = unlimited grip.
Toward the end of prep I changed my setup to get rid of my dynamic "hip pump" wedge and just sink straight into my starting position, set my hook grip, and just patiently "leg press the floor away." This change really paid off because it helped me get the most out of the deadlift bar and made my lockouts a breeze.
I was worried about the back cramp during my third bench interfering with my deadlift, but as I started warming up, my back felt fine, however I was feeling that third squat in my right hamstring. Thankfully the pain subsided once I got warm again.

1. 215kg. Felt light, as it should have, like a last warmup. Not much else to say.
2. 230kg. My handler said "earn your third attempt!" I executed my setup and pull exactly like my first attempt and was surprised by how fast it broke the floor and how easy the lockout was. I heard someone say "that's a good hinge!"
3. 237.5kg. I almost went for 240 but kept it conservative because I was worried about my hamstring. I kinda regret holding back now. I took a couple extra seconds to build up a really hard brace before methodically executing my setup. Just as the bar passed my knees they shook a little, and the crowd started cheering for me, but the bar didn't slow down at all so I knew I had it in the bag for 9/9 and just felt ecstatic.

A spectator walked up to me afterward and gave me a really good compliment--he said my deadlifts looked like a hydraulic machine!

Next steps

Now that this meet's behind me, my main training priority will be getting my bench up. I'm going to reevaluate my approach to frequency, volume, specific vs. hypertrophy work, and my diet.
For squat, I think I'll continue doing pauses and maybe add tempo descent work or something to break my dive-bombing habit because I don't want to pull a hammy with a heavier weight at my next meet.
My deadlift feels locked in, so I'm not going to fix what isn't broken. I want to work in some RDLs in my offseason since I haven't done them in a while, but that's it.
There's another USPA meet at the same venue in late September which is kinda soon but I'm really tempted to do it so I can go in more confident, open a little higher, set some new meet PRs, and get my money's worth with this USPA membership. It's about 17 weeks away now so that's enough time to have a few weeks of offseason before another prep cycle.

https://bgodinspired.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/1716160420.png

Introduction to Living by the Spirit

Have you ever wondered how to live a life that truly shines? A life that overflows with peace, joy, and love amidst a world often marked by chaos? The answer lies deeply rooted in the wisdom of the Bible, particularly in Galatians 5:16. This powerful verse serves as a beacon, guiding us towards a Spirit-led life. Let’s embark on an invigorating journey to unlock the transformative power of living by the Spirit, as encouraged by Galatians 5:16.

What Galatians 5:16 Teaches Us

“So I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.” Galatians 5:16 NIV. This concise yet profound verse holds the key to a victorious Christian life. It draws a clear line between living according to our human desires and living under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. But what does it really mean to walk by the Spirit? Let’s dive deeper into understanding this life-changing principle.

The Battle Between Flesh and Spirit

The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Galatians, highlights a constant battle raging within us: the battle between the flesh and the spirit. The “flesh” represents our sinful human desires, while the “Spirit” signifies the divine presence that guides and empowers us to live righteously. Walking by the Spirit involves yielding to God’s guidance and resisting the temptation to follow our baser instincts.

Practical Steps to Walk by the Spirit

• Start Your Day with Prayer: Commit your actions and decisions to God every morning, asking for the Holy Spirit’s guidance throughout the day.
• Immerse Yourself in God’s Word: The Bible is the ultimate source of wisdom and direction. Make it a daily habit to read and meditate on its truths.
• Stay in Fellowship: Surround yourself with a community of believers who encourage and support your spiritual journey.
• Listen for the Holy Spirit’s Prompting: Cultivate a sensitivity to the Holy Spirit’s voice through quiet time and mindfulness of His presence.

Benefits of Living by the Spirit

Walking by the Spirit transforms our lives in remarkable ways. It leads to freedom from the enslavement of sinful desires, allowing us to experience true joy, peace, and fulfillment in Christ. Additionally, as we align our lives with the Holy Spirit, we become more like Jesus, reflecting His love and grace to the world around us.

Embrace the Spirit-Led Life Today!

Galatians 5:16 is not just a verse; it’s a roadmap to a fulfilling life anchored in spiritual truth. By choosing to walk by the Spirit, we open ourselves to the endless possibilities of God’s grace and power at work within us. Let this powerful truth inspire you to take the first step toward a Spirit-led life today.
There’s no better time than now to experience the profound change that comes from living in alignment with the Holy Spirit. Dive into Scripture, seek fellowship with believers, and listen for the gentle guidance of the Holy Spirit as you journey through life. The rewards are eternal, and the transformation starts with a simple decision to say yes to the Spirit’s leading.

Ready to Transform Your Life?

Embarking on a Spirit-led journey promises a life of purpose, joy, and peace. Whether you’re seeking guidance, encouragement, or strength, the key lies in surrendering to the Holy Spirit and trusting Him to lead the way. If you’re ready to unlock the power of a Spirit-filled life, start by embracing the truths of Galatians 5:16. Let today be the day you choose to walk by the Spirit!
Ready to experience the limitless power of living by the Spirit? Share your thoughts and aspirations with us. Let’s inspire one another to live a life that truly reflects the love and light of Christ!
If you want to want to research more Bible Answers on your own, please try our Bible Answers GPT. It’s easy to get lost in the interesting responses you’ll find… every search is like a new treasure hunt 🙂
Source =

I believed in fairies as a kid. More than believed in them. I think something terrible happened to me, and I've just buried it until now.
Call me a typical emotion-bottling man, but I have never considered therapy. No matter what I went through, no matter how many times I thought to myself, verbatim, that I should talk to someone about this, I just never thought of it as an option. It simply wasn't on my roster. It was just one of those things that existed on a separate plane of existence than I was living in, never to cross paths or interact lest the universe collapse in on itself.
I have no problem with therapy, don't get me wrong. It isn't like I don't understand the overall appeal. I have plenty of friends who swear by it, swear it has helped them tremendously, including my wife. It just wasn't ever something I thought was in my cards.
"I just never really thought about it," I told Alice one evening, when she had brought the topic up once again after dinner.
There was a serene sense of peace wafting through the entire house that day, and I was feeling content. It was a Sunday, and swimming season, so we had dropped Emmie off that morning at the public pool for practice and gone straight to our favorite breakfast place. The rest of the day was filled with all the conversation that had built up over the week, all the topics we couldn't fully dig into with each other while babysitting our eight year old, and lounging, all crammed in between sporadic bursts of housework and paperwork we had to catch up on. It was the perfect day, in my humble opinion. It was a lovely moment of peace in the midst of a chaotic life, as is life with kids. And now the sounds of Mario Kart drifted in from the living room, Emmie's squeals cutting through the cheery music every now and then, causing Alice and I to share small smiles of acknowledgement.
Oh, to be a child again. Still a little drenched from a post-swimming shower, full of chili, eyes glowing with the reflection of a television screen.
"Well, maybe you should." My wife was scooping leftover chili into a Tupperware with a ladle. Her hair had been tied up like it was every day after dinner, as if she planned to run a marathon rather than do the cleaning up. She wasn't looking at me, dialed into the task at hand.
It's crazy how some parts of my memory could be so good, and others nonexistent.
I reached over from where I stood before the dishwasher, sliding my arm around her waist. She gave me a look, like, what?
"I just don't think it's for me, babe," I muttered, resting my mouth on her shoulder as if I was trying to skip her ears and speak right through her skin. "You know those things make me uncomfortable sometimes."
She let out a half groan, half sigh, setting down the container and the ladle and turning to face me, draping her arms over my shoulders.
"Everything makes you uncomfortable, John."
I smiled, letting my hands fall to her hips. I knew her frustrated act was just that, an act, at least for the most part.
"It's good for you," she continued pointedly, reaching up to tap her pointer finger against my forehead as I swayed her back and forth to a nonexistent tune. "Like medicine. And I know for a fact there are some things you need to work through."
I feigned offense. "You think I'm some kind of nut job?"
"Everyone needs therapy," she snarled, pulling out of my arms, but she didn't resist when I reached out and drew her back in. "Not just nut jobs."
And that was how most of those conversations went. Some got a little more heated, ending with a lightly slammed door (so as not to wake our daughter) and a whisper-shout of "this is why you need therapy!"
I feel I'm making it sound bad, but it wasn't. Even our more serious fights never quite felt like fights. They felt like playing. We were like two cats, biting and tackling and swishing our tails, but never baring our teeth to hiss. I never felt genuine, full-bodied anger towards her, and I knew she felt the same. It sounds sappy, but we were just very in love. I sometimes felt that we had never actually left the honeymoon phase.
I'm also making it sound like that conversation was incredibly common, and it wasn't. It came up maybe once every few months. I knew she was just looking out for me. She knew me better than anyone.
We had met through mutual friends, and we had initially bonded over our terrible childhoods. We both had moms who were out of the picture, and over emotional, over compensating dads, although this manifested in vastly different ways. Alice's mother left her father for a D-list rockstar type, following him on his state wide tour. She would sometimes send Alice letters or postcards from the road, although her dad wouldn't always let her keep them if they seemed to be stained with blood or seemed to have made contact with any strange white powders.
Her dad coped with anger. He never laid a hand on her, but his shouting and the sounds of glass bottles smashing against the walls kept her up almost every night. During the days he'd take her out, buy her things, go mini golfing and bowling and to the movies. Anything to seem more fun than her mother.
My mother passed away on my seventh birthday. She was driving home from work, which was at a law firm half an hour away from our house, when it began to rain. She was texting my dad her ETA when she ran a red light and a semi truck T-boned her, completely obliterating her car.
After that, everything changed. My seventh birthday could've been my twenty-first. At night it was the worst. I remember sitting with my dad as he cried, curled up in a sobbing ball on the filthy living room carpet, whimpering like a kicked puppy. He would scream and wail so loud the walls shook. He would say, over and over as if I wasn't hearing him, sometimes mumbling and sometimes shrieking, "She was cut in half. I'm sorry sir, she's gone. No, there's no chance she survived, she was completely cut in half."
The days were almost worse. During the day, when he could decrease the helpless wails into weeping at the very least, his attention turned to me. He tried to get something out of me, almost silently begging me to break down with him. Every other second it was, "How are you feeling, son? Do you understand what's happening? You poor thing, you must be devastated, your mommy is gone... Don't you want to cry?"
But I couldn't indulge, and I didn't want to. I had to wash the sheets, because he'd pissed them again, and I didn't want him to sleep in it and smell like pee when he took me to school the next day. I had to vacuum the carpet, so the next time he curled up on it and begged God to take him too, when he finally stood up, his cheek wouldn't be caked in crumbs and dust.
I don't know if I ever truly mourned. My mother's death was more like an absence, as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and carved a chunk out of my side, or snipped off a limb. I could still feel her, I could still talk to her, but all I got back was a deep ache and a crushing silence.
I hated how people reacted when I told them my mom was dead, and had been since I was a little boy. I hated the looks on their faces when they asked how she died, and when I told them. How their mouths fell open dumbly and their eyebrows twisted and contorted in sympathetic horror. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know," they said, as if there was vomit rising in their throats, and I wanted to say, "Well, you fucking asked, didn't you?"
Alice never reacted like that. In fact, she never really even asked me what happened. We were on our second date, nursing beers while leaning against the pool table a a dingy speakeasy, when she told me about her own mom. It was the first time in a long time I actually felt like the conversation was open, like I could respond and she would listen and care, but not too much. Not an uncomfortable amount. When I told her about my parents she didn't say anything, and her pretty face didn't contort. She leaned over the corner of the pool table and kissed me on the cheek, took my hand.
The day she found out she was pregnant, we promised each other to be better, to not let our child ever have to grieve alone or feel the very specific hopeless terror that only a parent can cause.
So maybe I should have listened to her. Maybe I should have gone to therapy the first time she brought it up, the first time she told me how it had helped her get through her own terrible memories. But if I'm being honest, I didn't think I had anything to get through. I had left it in the past, I had coped so far in my own somewhat crooked way, I didn't want to dig any of that back up. I didn't want to be put back in that place where I was expected to talk, to cry, to open up. It made my skin crawl just thinking about it.
"I was always the therapist," I would say to her with a crooked grin. "And I like it that way."
Then, the dreams started.
I could tell you I don't know what triggered them, I don't know why it was now. But that wouldn't be the truth. I know exactly why I started to remember.
At first, they were brief. Nightmares that I couldn't quite recall or explain, waking up disoriented and a little sick. The rest of my day would feel strange, like I was surrounded by a thick fog. Eventually, they started to wake me up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and screaming, scaring the shit out of my wife. Once I ran to the bathroom and threw up, barely making it to the toilet. That was when the word "therapy" came up again.
It feels like I've been in a coma for twenty years, and I'm just waking up now.
It's so strange how different the world looks to a child.
I believed in fairies as a kid. Laugh it up if you want. When I turned four, my aunt brought me this book - we've all had one, I think. It was one of those huge hardcover books filled with information about something mythical, with little patches of fabric to simulate a mermaid's scales or a dragon's claw.
Mine was about fairies, and it was so real to me. My mom would sit up with me later than she probably should have, reading to me, placing my hand on the textures to feel. I wanted to know everything about them, I became obsessed, and naturally, my parents played along. They bought me toys, books... every year I had a fae themed birthday cake, and any kid who dared to giggle behind their hands weren't invited to next year's celebration.
When I was old enough to use the internet, supervised of course, I began further research. My mom helped me navigate Wikipedia first, and they had plenty of information to sustain me for a while. My interest turned from wings and magical powers to different types of fae from every corner of the earth, mushroom rings and their alleged distaste for iron. While I still wasn't very good at reading, I would just look at the pictures until she got home from work.
When my mom died, the fairy memorabilia began to amp up. My aunt bought me new books, gave them to me wrapped and tied with ribbons with tear filled eyes, and my dad brought them up whenever he thought I needed comforting and felt strong enough to leave the house. "Wanna go look in the forest for fairies, son?"
I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I began to worship the fairies. I was convinced they lived in the forest behind my house, just behind each tree I looked at, hiding from me. I would spend my weekends escaping into the woods with a bucket and a cheap pair of binoculars, positive that this time, this day, I would see one.
At night, when my dad finally passed out in his own puddle of tears and other bodily fluids, I would pray to them. I never believed in God, we weren't a particularly religious family, and besides, I had seen what good He had done for my dad thus far. But I believed in the fairies.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
They never answered.
Until they did.
It was a Friday. I remember now, I'm not sure how I could have forgotten. After school I had sprinted into the shade of the trees before my dad could stop me, gripping the hem of my shirt in my fist, the thin fabric bearing the weight of two handfuls of the shiniest silverware and most colorful buttons I could find in our dusty cabinets.
I had a plan that day. I was going to lure them to me.
My path began in a clearing where I thought a ring of mushrooms may have begun to grow... but even without that, it was just the perfect spot for fairies. I could picture them flitting between the trees, chirping to each other happily, picking wildflowers to weave into flower crowns.
I walked backwards all the way back to my bedroom window, dropping another item every few steps. When I got inside and looked out my window, I could see my trail of shiny things curve through the overgrown grass in our backyard and disappear into the trees.
I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself. Tonight, surely, they would come to me. They would show themselves, and they would help me. But after another few late hours of coddling my father, finally convincing him to drink some water and get in bed, I was exhausted. I completely forgot about my plan. When I got to my room I collapsed on my mattress, not even bothering to undress before I closed my eyes.
Then I heard it. The scratching.
I opened my eyes. The moonlight shining through my bedroom window casted strange shadows across my ceiling, shadows of the swaying grass and the creaking trees.
It was strangely silent, other than the sound. Usually there was lots of noise, or at the very least a few crickets, but not tonight. Tonight, I realized, I couldn't even hear the wind.
I sat up slowly, as if in a dream, and looked toward my window. I couldn't see anything out there, nothing glaringly obvious at least, that could be making that noise.
The scratching turned to a tap. Tap tap tap, like a fingernail against a glass. It had a playful air to it, like someone was saying, look over here!
I stood, rubbing my eyes, and stumbled over. The tapping stopped abruptly when I got to the window and peered outside, out to the dark yard, pitch black if not for the moon's glow. The grass didn't sway, the trees didn't creak. I frowned and unlatched the window, sliding it up above my head.
I was right, there was no wind. Not even a gust. Everything was still outside, like it was frozen. I actually started to believe it was frozen, that time had stopped completely somehow, before I saw it.
My trail of silverware and buttons. Sparkling softly in the moonlight.
Disappearing.
It began where the path met the trees, curving off where I couldn't follow it anymore. A fork disappeared right before my eyes, right on the edge. Just vanished, as if someone who was invisible had picked it up and stuffed it in a pocket very quickly.
Then another went, a spoon. Then a particularly large gold button. Whatever was taking them was doing what I had wanted, it was taking my bait, it was coming to me. And it was as if whatever had tapped at my window had wanted me to see this, wanted to show me.
But something felt very, very wrong.
This wasn't how I had pictured it. There was no twinkling, tiny winged thing at my window, winking at me before dashing back into the safety of the trees. There were no secrets being whispered in my ear, no fairy dust or promises of better things.
Something about this wasn't right. It felt like a mimicry, almost a mockery, of what I had imagined. Like something was trying to give me what I wanted, but was rusty at it.
I didn't want this anymore.
My stomach twisted and my hands shook as I pulled the window back down slowly, watching more glittery things disappear from the grass, growing closer and closer. As soon as it was closed I quickly locked it and pulled the blinds shut, turning my back to the window as if something would happen that I didn't want to see.
Nothing happened. The deafening silence continued for a few seconds as my ears strained to hear anything else happening outside. Then the wind picked up, and the sounds of crickets, muffled by my closed window, filled the night air.
I don't remember when I fell asleep that night, I just know I felt unnerved and jumpy for a while. I woke up the next morning feeling guilty. Had the fairies really come last night? Maybe they had come to talk to me, to bring me gifts, favors, and what had I done? I had closed my window on them. I felt ungrateful. Why had I even been scared? Because it was dark outside? What was I, a baby?
When I opened my window and peered outside, I gasped. The trail of silverware and buttons was completely gone, all the way up to the last one, which I had placed on my windowsill. In its place was a shoe. I didn't know what kind of shoe it was, but it looked sort of nice, fancy. I remember smiling out the window as I opened it, as if they were looking, and taking my gift.
How could I forget that night? How could I have forgotten what happened after? I feel crazy, either like I made it all up or like I've made up everything since then, like my life isn't truly my own.
I remember telling my dad. I remember saying, "Dad, the fairies came last night!" and the absent smile he gave me.
Until I showed him their gift. The shoe. Instantly his face went pale and he snatched it from my hands, staring at me as if I was something unholy.
"Where did you get this, Johnny?"
"The fairies, dad, I told you!"
He didn't respond. Just gave me another long, solemn look, before turning away from me, still holding the present I received close to his chest. I was upset, but I knew better than throwing a tantrum. That would be too much emotion anyways, too uncomfortable. Even back then, I didn't know how to handle those things.
I didn't show him their gifts after that. I didn't want to risk having them taken away. I tried not to be scared of the fairies, even though they always came at night, but I didn't go to my window when they came anymore. I read everywhere that fairies didn't particularly like to be seen, even though this one seemed to want to be. It always began with tapping, but otherwise complete silence that almost felt like it was swallowing me... and eventually the tapping would stop, the silence would pass, and I would fall asleep. In the morning there was always another gift for me, sitting on my window sill. A sparkly gold ring, the other matching shoe, a hat... I smiled when I took every one, wanting them to know I was grateful. And I would leave things for them too, little sweets or shiny things like coins or paperclips that I found on the ground at school.
Things seemed to get better with my dad for a while. He kept to himself more, he was quieter. At night he would cry softly in his room, rather than his uproarious wails that I used to have to quell so the neighbors wouldn't come knocking. During the day, he would talk to me, but more casually. He didn't ask me how I was feeling anymore, or tell me to let it out.
I hoped this was the fairies. I felt invincible, like I had a secret superpower that no one knew about. I was friends with fairies.
Then one night, everything changed.
It started with the tapping, as always. That night I was fast asleep, catching up on well earned rest since the nightly therapy sessions had ceased.
The tapping woke me. It was that loud. It was louder than usual... but it seemed like it stopped abruptly as soon as I raised my head to look.
That was different...
That night, I had left my blinds up and my window open by accident. Since that first night, even though I wasn't scared anymore, I had always closed them... but this time, I must have forgotten.
It was silent outside. It seemed darker than usual. I could almost make out something, a shape, way on the other side of the yard, but it was too dark and I was too far away to tell.
That feeling from that first night retuned. A twisting like a hand reaching into my stomach and mixing things around, a heavy feeling in my chest like someone had stolen all of the air from my room, even though the window was open. The silence seemed to crush me, bearing down on me from every angle, making my ribs hurt.
The feeling that something was very wrong.
I don't remember deciding to stand: looking back, I have no idea why I would do that in my state of fight or flight. I don't know if I consciously chose to. I don't remember walking over, but I remember getting there, my hands on the windowsill and my head poking out into the completely still night air.
There was something there. On the edge of the trees. Right where I had seen that first fork disappear into thin air. I squinted, leaning further into the darkness to try and make out what it was.
When I finally did, the outline taking shape as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to shake uncontrollably. I remember that I tried to scream, but no sound would come. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare.
Two legs stood in front of the trees, facing me. Two legs, a blood-soaked pair of slacks, no shoes on the purple, swollen feet. And a jagged, violent rip in the torso where the rest of my mother's body had been severed from its lower half.
It took me a while to realize that the legs weren't standing on their own. They began to move, jerking clumsily toward the window, like something I couldn't see was struggling to hold them up. I finally forced myself out of my trance and fell to my carpet, vomiting.
I don't remember much else about that night yet. My dad came running when I started crying, I'm sure, but he didn't see what I saw. My mom's legs were gone, or hidden. Because they weren't for him.
They were for me.
We moved after that. Before now if you had asked me why we moved so far away so suddenly, I probably would have mumbled something about the grief, and it being too hard to stay where my mother had died. But I remember why now.
It was because the next morning, when I checked my windowsill, there was a hand. My mother's hand. Purple and stiff, and missing her gold wedding ring. Reaching, fingers rested against the glass, like it was trying to get in.
Like it had been tapping.
I don't want to think about what else it might have brought, had we stayed.
That thing, whatever it was, wasn't my mother, and it wasn't a fairy. I had invited something else with all my praying, with all my naive and innocent beliefs, and with all my bottled up emotions. I had invited it, and I had let it in.
And then I had forgotten everything. Maybe I bottled that up, too.
Now I remember. Now I'm having nightmares, and waking up with that sick feeling in my gut, my eyes jumping to our closed bedroom window.
Because a week ago, my daughter woke me up very early in the morning my jumping on our bed. A week ago, she shook me awake, her eager smile stretching all the way across her face. A week ago, she told me, "Dad, the fairies came last night!"
She showed me a doll, a ballerina, with a pink tutu and beautiful long blonde hair.
And now, with all these terrible memories hitting me like cold water to the face, only one keeps me awake at night.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
It has granted two of my wishes, in its own twisted way. My father grew distant from me and my mother was brought back in pieces.
I'm happy now. But I don't have peace. I don't think I'll ever fully have peace, at least not with a child and a wife to try and provide for, and not with all of these memories.
So what has it come back for?

I genuinely had no idea the depth this season would have. I just finished my second rewatch, watching edits, and reading people's analyses and metas. Nic was right when she said this season was romance because, wow, I’m speechless at just how much there is to their story. It keeps you going back, thinking, and pondering. To the point that I'm not as mad as I was about them splitting up the season. We're really able to take in these four episodes, unpack each scene, each character, and each expression because everything has been so purposeful.
On my second rewatch, it struck me that it wasn't the kiss that awakened Colin's feelings. I wouldn't have thought so until someone mentioned on twitter it wasn't the kiss Colin has a flashback of before he goes to the ball. it was the scene Pen wraps his hand with a cloth. I rewatched the show after that to pay closer attention and wow did so many things stand out to me the second time around. Maybe it was the candle that sparked that memory, but even then, was her wrapping his wound so significant to him that it prompted him to go to the ball, interrupt her dance, cause a scandal, and then chase her carriage?
Colin's behavior towards her has been odd the entire season. First, Penelope not responding to his letters messed him up. It made him realize that although he's always cherished her as a friend, she had a much more profound impact on him, and he didn’t notice until she was no longer there. He tries to talk to her, but she walks away, giving him the cold shoulder. He is left shook.
He sees her at the ball in her stunning dress. He keeps staring at her, so aware of her, constantly tracking her. Then she leaves, running up the stairs and passing him. He leaves his friends behind to go after her, despite their advice not to concern himself with her. They have that moment where he tells her he misses her, but in a much different way than he would have spoken to her last season or the season before that. "If you're going to make it, say it. I miss you." Not "I missed you," but "I miss you."
This distinction is crucial. "I missed you" implies a past tense, a temporary void that has now been filled. "I miss you," however, conveys a present, ongoing longing. It shows that his feelings are current and that her absence affects him deeply and continuously. This moment is pivotal because it reveals a more vulnerable and sincere side of Colin, one that he hasn't shown to others this season.
Colin is showing a different side of himself to everyone this season, including his own family. He's trying to present a more composed and assertive version of himself to the world. Yet, Penelope is the only one with whom he truly feels comfortable enough to be his genuine self. She makes him feel safe, allowing him to drop the mask he wears for others. With her, he can be kind, sensitive, and unguarded.
This sense of security that Penelope provides is significant. It’s clear that Colin values her presence not just as a friend, but as someone who understands him on a deeper level. She brings out the best in him, the parts he might be afraid to show others for fear of appearing weak or overly sentimental. In Penelope’s presence, Colin feels seen and accepted, which is why his declaration of "I miss you" carries such weight. It’s not just that he misses her company; he misses the person he is when he’s with her.
Then he seeks her out and comes to her house, gives her the big speech, and tells her he wants to get into her good graces. They go out, and he tells her to practice on those gentlemen. When she stumbles over her words, he just smiles so fondly at her. At this point, I don’t think he’s aware of his feelings, but I do believe he's starting to realize just how much he likes her. He really, really likes her. And he missed her so much, and being around her again is literally lifting his spirits.
One of my favorite moments is when they are at the market. Colin brings up the story of when they first met, leaning in and saying, "teasing me. Mercilessly, in fact." When he follows with, "I think I know why," it stands out to me because you can just see how different he is when he's with her compared to anyone else this season. Even with his family, his light is dim, and there is a cloud hanging over him. But with Penelope, especially in this scene, it's like a man who finally saw the sun after being stuck in endless rain. At this moment, I don't think he knows he likes her romantically, but he likes her even more than he did before. He notices how she makes him feel. He loves their banter and how clever and witty she is.
Penelope freaks out when he says this because she thinks she knows, and she keeps on walking. They are momentarily covered from each other by the rugs, and then Colin pops out and continues his sentence. Everything about it is so playful and flirtatious, even if unconsciously at this point. He’s just having so much fun, and it’s very different from how he used to interact with her before. That moment when Penelope says, "I should get back," leaning in and adding, "before we are noticed," is significant.
Then we have the moment when Colin says, "I've been eagerly awaiting your visit." By this point, he’s addicted to her. The interactions they had at the market, especially at the end, left a lasting impression on him. I see this as Colin testing his feelings, wondering, "Let me see if that was a fluke or if I actually like her." This moment is crucial because it reveals Colin's internal struggle and growing realization of his deeper feelings for Penelope. He’s no longer simply enjoying her company as a friend; he’s beginning to seek out her presence because it brings him genuine happiness and comfort.
This shift is evident in his behavior. Colin’s eagerness to see Penelope isn’t driven by a sense of duty or friendship; it’s a personal desire. His anticipation of her visit shows that her company has become something he craves. This is no longer about teaching her anything; he just wants to spend time with her, and you cannot convince me otherwise. Colin knows that teaching Penelope how to attract a husband doesn’t look right, as he mentions to Eloise. He is aware that his actions could be misinterpreted, and yet he persists. This indicates a level of emotional investment that goes beyond mere friendship or mentorship.
When Colin invites Penelope to the Bridgerton house and places a hand on her back, it’s a bold move that borders on scandalous. In the societal context of their time, such an action is highly intimate and could easily lead to gossip and speculation. Colin is well aware of this, which is why his decision to proceed regardless is significant. It shows that he’s starting to prioritize his personal feelings and desires over societal expectations and norms.
In Season 2, when he grabbed her hand and took her into a secluded room, he genuinely saw her as just a friend and didn’t see anything wrong with what he was doing. But this scene is different. Colin is aware that his feelings towards her are changing, and he doesn’t care about the impropriety. He just wants to be alone with Penelope. This awareness marks a turning point in Colin’s emotional journey. He’s beginning to accept that his feelings for Penelope are evolving into something deeper and more romantic.
His actions, such as eagerly awaiting her visit and ensuring they have private moments together, reflect a subconscious desire to explore these feelings further. He wants to understand the depth of his emotions without the interference of others. This need for privacy and his willingness to bend societal rules for her indicate just how significant Penelope has become to him. He values their time together, not just as friends, but as potential romantic partners. Colin’s behavior suggests that he’s on the verge of a profound realization about his true feelings for Penelope, setting the stage for further developments in their relationship.
Then we get to the moment that solidifies for me that he knows to some degree what he feels about her. When Penelope tells him his eyes are beautiful, he is visibly aghast, speechless. Jungshook. The compliment is so unexpected and disarming that he doesn’t know how to respond. Instead, he picks up his lemonade and chugs it down like a man who hasn’t had a drink in days. This reaction is significant because it shows how much Penelope’s words affect him on a deeper level. It’s not just flattery; it’s a moment of genuine vulnerability for Colin, revealing that her opinion of him matters more than he realized.
Now, let’s delve into the moment where I believe he realizes he likes her. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it and rewatched their moments with a different perspective if it weren’t for the flashback. The moment she wraps his hand is so intimate and romantic. She wraps his hand slowly, and he watches her intently as she does. There’s a tenderness in her actions that goes beyond mere care; it’s an unspoken connection. She continues holding his hand and slowly folds it, kind of caressing his fingers. This gesture is filled with unspoken emotions, and Colin feels it deeply.
She looks at him intensely, and he meets her gaze but looks down immediately, starting to fiddle with the end of the cloth like he’s nervous. This moment of eye contact is loaded with significance. Colin’s nervousness is a telltale sign that he’s starting to realize his feelings for her. He doesn’t pull away until she mentions his writing, and he gets overwhelmed. Despite all that, and even though he’s upset she read his journal, he asks, "Will I see you tonight?" This question is crucial. It shows that, despite feeling vulnerable and exposed, he craves her company. He just wants to spend time with her.
Even when he’s upset that she read his journal, his first thought is to secure more time with her. "Will I see you tonight?" is not just a casual question; it’s a plea for connection. Colin’s desire to spend more time with Penelope, even when he’s feeling vulnerable, underscores the depth of his feelings. He’s starting to recognize that his attachment to her is not just about friendship or companionship; it’s something much more profound. This realization sets the stage for the unfolding of his realizations and the emotional journey Colin is about to navigate.
Then the ball happens. Colin looks around the room for her and gives her a sexy smirk when he sees her. This smirk is significant because Colin typically reserves it for women he's flirting with, albeit usually in a fake and uncomfortable manner. However, this is the only time the smirk feels genuine and actually comes off as sexy instead of forced. The flirtatious "Good evening" from Penelope is everything, honestly. When she asks how his hand is, he replies, "All good, thanks to you." Sir, all she did was wrap it with a cloth; please be normal. At this point, he's fully aware he has a crush on her. He no longer views her as he did before. His entire demeanor is so much more different compared to their other lessons. There is an intensity to him when he's talking to her that wasn’t there before.
When Penelope talks with Lord Remington, it’s interesting that "Jealous" by Nick Jonas starts to play now and not after the kiss, when she converses with Lord Debling on many occasions where we know he's jealous. When Pen tells him she enjoyed her time with Lord Remington, he responds, "I'm certain he did as well," and he gets a bit awkward. Someone on Twitter mentioned that when Penelope was flirting and trying to engage with others, Colin wasn't jealous, but the moment she is herself and comfortable, his jealousy kicks in, as we saw in this scene. Someone said he's trying to gatekeep her lmao. He sees her smiling and enjoying herself—a part of herself she only shows him—and he can't handle it. Hence, why I believe they chose to play that song at this moment.
This moment is crucial because it highlights the shift in Colin’s feelings. His smirk, which is usually a façade, becomes real and filled with genuine affection when directed at Penelope. His awkwardness and jealousy when she talks to another man further emphasize that his feelings for her have deepened. Colin is no longer just a friend offering guidance; he’s a man who realizes he has a crush on her and is struggling to navigate these new emotions. The music choice underscores this emotional turmoil, perfectly capturing the internal conflict and realization he is experiencing.
And then everything else proceeds that leads to the kiss. I, like so many others, believed this is where he realizes his feelings for Pen. Someone on Twitter mentioned how his eyebrows furrowed and his lips quivered. When I first saw it, I wondered why this kiss would warrant such a strong reaction from Colin. At this point, it was just a kiss that Pen asked for in a moment where she thinks she is ruined and will never find a prospect. But upon rewatching, Colin's visceral reaction to the kiss, as evidenced by his furrowed eyebrows and quivering lips, suggests a deeper emotional resonance than he initially realizes.
Penelope tells him it would not have to mean anything, but for him but it did. He knows his feelings towards her have changed. If it had been just a kiss because she asked for it, it would have stopped after the first time. Just a fleeting moment of physical contact between friends. But they kiss a second time and it's from his pov this time. It's slow sweet and oh so romantic. It's a catalyst that triggers a flood of suppressed emotions and desires within him. In that brief instant, the walls he's constructed around his heart start to crumble, allowing his true feelings for Penelope to surface. it wasn’t a kiss that awakened his feelings; it was a kiss that confirmed it. And not just confirmed it, it made him realize it wasn't just a crush he developed this season but it brought all his dormant feelings to the surface from the past as well.
TLDR: I think he was aware that he liked her when she wrapped his hand specifically and the kiss made him realize that it wasn't just a crush—his feelings run much, much deeper than that.

Author's Note: I've been an HFY reader for some time now, and now I have the urge to share a story. This is my first story, so please leave feedback in the comments! Also, I may or may not decide to make a game based of this story. If I do, I'll link it in a comment. Without further ado, enjoy the story!
High Admiral Tilgrix Traxiv was having a bad day. He was currently sitting in a fighter, which he was only in because the escape pods were destroyed, and not only had it been EMP'd, disabling almost every system except life support, which itself was hanging by a thread, the grav-gen was spinning. It spun at just the right speed to make him incredibly nauseous. And to make matters worse, none of this should have happened! He was 3 systems away from the main battlefront against the Mei-Kai, and worse, he was on his way home from battle. His crew was being transferred home for a much needed break from the stress of war, and they were woefully unprepared to be attacked so suddenly. The Mei-Kai ships were there, picking at the corpse that was his ship. They were built in typical Mei-Kai fashion; with no rhyme or reason whatsoever. Their design philosophy seemed to be:
"Oh hey, we need this thingamabob"
"Put it next to the thingamajig"
"Wait, we need this thingy as well"
"Ok, just slap it on top. It'll be fine!"
Annoyingly, this haphazard approach to ship construction was remarkably effective. It also meant they could just directly rip off whatever they wanted from enemy ships, and slap it on a place that is functional. Only the humans are comparable, with their modular design philosophy, but they aren't involved in the war, unfortunately. Or perhaps fortunately. The Sefliician {Sef-lee-eesh-ee-an} and the Mei-Kai governments had asked that the humans stay out of the war. Well, they asked everyone to stay out, but specifically the humans. The humans were too good at warfare. They demonstrate their prowess every Galactic sub-cycle in the Sim War Games. Whichever side had them would win. Even if it was the entire galaxy versus them. Humans never lose wars. Except against themselves. In any case, the Sefliician Empire and the Mei-Kai Union prefered to battle it out themselves, in accordance to the Galactic Constitution, subsection c, rule seven, under section x, Disputed Territory Settlements. Legally, anyways. In practice, both parties simply wanted to see who was tougher. They decided to fight for the next 50 sub-cycles, capturing as much territory as possible, and whatever was held by each at the end, would belong to them. While this ambush wasn't strictly against the Galactic Rules of Warfare Against Union Members, it was certainly not fair play.
This was all going through Tilgrix's mind as he drifted through space, watching the Mei-Kai dismantle his ship and the Terran Conglomerate hospital ships trickle in to start rescuing survivors. Suddenly, a bright flash appeared, and a wormhole was ripped open behind the Mei-Kai vessels, and through it trillions of tiny ships entered and began ripping the unsuspecting vessels to shreds.
The Volctic! he thought in horror as the swarm of enemy ships tore through the Mei-Kai like butter. The hospital ships began firing at the swarm, even as they tried to finish gathering the survivors and jump away. The Volctic swarm began to race towards the Terran ships, being destroyed by the hundreds, but millions took the place of every ship destroyed. The Volctic have been busy in their long exile it seems, Tilgrix thought as he began desperately praying to any being in the cosmos that could hear him that the EMP would wear off in time for him to activate the emergency jump drive every fighter was equipped with since the humans were first contacted.
His prayers were answered. The ship's essential systems began turning back on, beginning with the jump drive. Internally broadcasting his gratitude to whatever force answered his prayer, he powered up the jump drive. This caught the attention of the Volctic ships, but he managed to jump in time, vanishing into the aether just before they caught him.
Tilgrix arrived at a nearby beam station a few seconds later, roughly 6 systems away. He breathed a sigh of relief before noticing a coms transmission request. Accepting it, he was startled by the sudden excited chatter noise of someone who was clearly far too new to the job of Space Traffic Controller. "Hello traveler! And welcome to the Sifilax Primary Beam Station. Not only are we able to send you to any beam station in the Galaxy in less than an hour, we have all that your heart could desire while waiting for a flight or for bureaucracy to let you leave! We have restaurants, bars, and casinos! We have gyms, pools, and parks! Here for all your between-transit needs! Please dock your fighter in Dock C, Subdock F." Tilgrix grinned. He remembered being that enthusiastic about his job. Within a few minutes, he was docked.
Once he got out of the cockpit, he immediately headed over to the nearest Map Projector. "Sefliician Military Office" he stated. A route was highlighted, and uploaded to his state-of-the-art HUD chip. He quickly made his way over. After a brief pause by the door, he entered. The computer scanned him, and a hologram appeared behind the desk. "Hello, High Admiral Tilgrix Traxiv. What brings you here?"
"I bring dire news," he stated flatly. "I need to speak to the Emperor immediately." Surprised, the Digital Sapient quickly smoothed her face before complying, opening a direct holo-link between Tilgrix and the Emperor before vanishing. Tilgrix waited patiently for the computer to verify his identity and the Emperor to respond. "This better be good Admiral," The Emperor warned. "I'm in the middle of a council session. We have urgent business to conduct."
"Your majesty, this is the most important message I have ever sent in my life." The Emperor's face briefly darkened [This is the same as a human face paling], eye ridges shooting up, before he regained his composure. "Go on..." he said warily. "As you know, I was being transferred out of battle, and on my way home. Three systems in from the front, we were ambushed by the Mei-Kai." The Emperor raised an eyebrow at that. "While that is certainly foul play, it is not illegal in and of itself, and certainly not dire enough by itself to warrant such a drastic opening statement. What else is there? Did they hurt civilians? Did they butcher anyone? What is it?" Tilgrix hesitated, before setting his shoulders. "While the Mei-Kai were harvesting my ship, a wormhole opened up, and trillions of ships arrived. Volctic ships." The Emperor froze, face becoming almost black. "Are you sure?" he asked, half rhetorically. "Unfortunately so, your majesty." The Emperor smoothed his features, before setting his own shoulders, and narrowing his eyes. "Then we need to call an emergency session. I will have my servants send orders to assign you a ship. We meet before the Galactic Council in three days." The Emperor terminated the call.
Within an hour, he was assigned a ship to travel to the Galactic Union Council Station for an emergency meeting. The war against the Mei-Kai was put on hold. The Volctic had returned.