[ 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 ]

I’m looking to build a shed with 12 foot ceilings that can house a golf simulator, bar, bathroom and attic storage. Does anyone have plans that would work that they’d be willing to share? Thanks!

So we recently landscapes the backyard and had a 10x12 concrete pad poured for a new shed. I want to build this myself as a fun project, and so we can save money. But, I don't know where to start in designing and figuring out how.
A coworker has offered to let me borrow all the tools I would need so should be fine there. Are there building plans online I can use? Just start watching how to build a building on YouTube? Where would you start?
Will just be a storage shed so nothing too fancy is needed.

Cover Art <<Previous Start Next >>
GLOSSARY This links to a post on the free section of my Patreon. Note: "Book 1" is chapters 1-59, "Book 2" is chapters 60-133, "Book 3", is 134-193, "Book 4" is CH 194-(ongoing)
When the three teens got up the next morning, they ate quickly before turning their attention back to the instrument.
With the soundboard ready enough, Derek's next task was to collect the string posts and such from some of the scrapped stringed instruments, but to do no more than clean them up if needed and set them aside for later.
While he was doing that, Shizoku was using one of the better instruments in the shop to make sure that Fuyuko had a solid concept of scales and octaves. During this, the luponi couldn't help but ask "Ya should be able ta hear as well as me, why are ya tryin' ta have me figure this out?"
"Well," the kitsune replied, "there's a few things involved. First, I have paid a lot more attention to my magical senses than my physical ones, so while my ears might be able to physically hear as well as yours, my mind isn't as attuned to working with that information. You have been used to pushing yourself to make the most of every sound." She hesitated a moment before adding, "There's something else involved with that, but I think it's best if someone more experienced teaches you, which Mordecai is probably going to do, so I am not going to even tell you what it's about. I just don't want you to think I hid something from you later."
After Fuyuko gave a slightly confused nod, Shizoku continued. "I am also giving you just enough information for you to get certain key concepts down. Once I do that, we can hunt for a fresh set of notes without the bias of the rest of my training. You'll understand when we are done."
Once she was satisfied with the taller girl's understanding, Shizoku began the next stage of the process. "Okay, now this instrument over here has some adjustable positioning with its tuning knobs, and we have some other pieces that were also still being prototyped. Fuyuko, what I want you to do is find a new note. We have a bunch of strings of different types, so you can play with it with different sounds. So you hunt down a note that you like, no, love. Deep or high or somewhere in between, it doesn't matter. Once we have a single note to work with, we can scale up or down as needed to get the matching ones, the only limitation is that it has to be a note Derek can hear. The notes I showed you are the notes I know, but technically a scale can be based on the harmonies of any frequency. Since you don't know all the systems that already exist, and you have really good hearing, you should be able to pick out a clean frequency to start with."
After Fuyuko got a hang of tuning strings, Shizoku had Derek follow her out of the workroom. "I don't want to disturb her concentration, and I don't want our reactions to influence her. I'm sure she's heard plenty of music before, but I doubt she's heard as much well-performed music as you have, so she won't know what sounds are supposedly wrong."
While Fuyuko was occupied, the pair explored the witch's island more, poking their noses into any unlocked buildings other than the main house. Some of them were storage, and some were other types of workshops. Shizoku wasn't certain if the wreck of an alchemy lab was the result of visitors or of Carmilla's own experiments, and decided it was best to not ask. But there were a lot of notes and a few books, so she decided to start browsing them and copying any new information she found. She also wrote on a couple of them to correct anything she saw that was clearly wrong.
Once the fox girl got distracted by her studies, Derek decided to practice channeling his elemental abilities more. The swamp was a fascinating mix of different types of elements and different ways elements could be seen. The concept of 'mud' was complicated enough that he was beginning to see it as its own thing, distinct from earth and water.
And then there was the way in which 'air' could be trapped in the muck, and even the more liquid stuff could prove difficult for air bubbles to escape readily. None of that was good quality air, at least, not if you needed to breathe, but it was air. Sort of.
He walked along the wooden walkways that wound around the island, probing as far as he could with his senses. Holding on to this state was tiring, but it was easier to keep doing this exercise when there was something new and interesting to puzzle out. He wasn't trying to manipulate or adjust anything right now, that seemed like a bad idea to mess with Carmilla's island, but there was enough here that was simply different from what he'd seen before to keep him occupied for a while.
So when Fuyuko had found the note she wanted to work with, she had to spend more time fetching her friends before they could continue. "So, as I was playin' with the notes, I kinda remembered some old songs my ma used ta sing ta me. They didn't sound the same as the songs people liked, and they ain't in common, so I ain't sung them in a long time, but I tried ta remember them as best I can, and then I figured out some strings that sounded like I remembered. I think these can work as part of a scale."
Shizoku was satisfied with the results. "It's not on any of the scales I know. Very good Fuyuko. Um, and maybe when we are done here, we can hear those songs. Now for the hard part. We have to find the harmonies. More specifically, we have to find the harmonies and how to create them with the available strings. This is going to be a lot of work, and most of it is still going to be based on Fuyuko's hearing, so our part is to make sure she has as many available strings and ways of adjusting them as possible."
It took several days in fact, including marking sections on the strings that could be used to change to a different harmonic note. Part of this was to create a lot of options, which they were going to need. Shizoku took a lot of notes during this, and Derek eventually had to go back to town to barter for some more strings. They had a lot more than they were going to use in the final product, but there were so many more possible notes than Derek had realized. And the tiny fox organizing their efforts was being perfectionist about having every possible option available. She'd also added "precise distance measuring tools" to his shopping list.
In the end, Derek had what she wanted, but he was pretty certain that he'd overpaid in at least one barter. At least he'd been able to get some more food supplies. The meals Udup got for them were fine, but a little repetitive and boring, so it was nice to get a change of pace. He also made sure to collect the items they had been storing in their room so that they didn't have to lug them around the swamp, as they had a place to stay on the witch's island.
And during all this Bip was amusing itself by learning to vibrate in tune with the various notes, and even showed off by making waves on its surface that matched the sound. Shizoku looked a little confused when she passed on what her familiar said, but to Derek that felt like an insight he needed to work on with his air attunement.
When their taskmistress was satisfied with their options, it was time to create the layout for their instrument. "We need a piece of wood the same size and shape as our instrument. We're going to figure out the best string order for what we want. This is going to involve a lot of moving things around, so we want to do the work here, and then copy that to the actual instrument when we are done."
This part went a lot faster but it still took most of a day to design their layout, and the next morning was used for their final assembly.
The instrument had a total of twenty-six strings, two octaves of thirteen notes each, with more notes available based on which of the raised ridges one pressed down on while plucking the string. Even with the tools that Derek had bought, measuring with enough precision was hard, but thankfully the tuning posts were all made to be used in experimental instruments so were easy to adjust.
After they had lunch, they got Carmilla to examine their work. "Huh," she murmured as she plucked each string, "yeah, that is a new sound. And this thing is cool, I need to find a name for it. Alright, you guys pass this stage, and with flying colors." She giggled, "Miss Kazoo says you did that the way hard way. It was thorough, but you should have been able to do it with about a third the work or less."
Shizoku scowled and said, "Well, she may have had a lot of music training, but I have had only so much, so I wanted to be sure I didn't miss anything." And then she blinked, "Wait, 'Kazoo'?"
Carmilla coughed. "Oops. I'm getting a scolding now from Mordecai. Um, maybe don't use that? Anyway, you guys did a great job and put a lot of creative and physical effort into this. That adds up, you know? So with this and all the other stuff you guys did before coming here, I only get to ask you for one more task. I want you to put on a performance for me. And I want it to include that instrument. You can practice with this one, Kazue will make a copy that is a bit more stable for the performance and for me to keep."
That elicited groans from the entire group, but Shizoku rebounded quickly. "Wait, I have an idea. Um, I think we need a couple of days of practice, and we need a drum as well."
The plan was pretty straightforward. Fuyuko was going to sing the songs she could remember, and teach them to Shizoku and Derek while also doing her best to play the notes on their new instrument. She wasn't really going to be very proficient at it in only a couple of days, but they were able to work out the simplest arrangement that would go with her songs.
Derek's job was to maintain a steady beat on the drum and sing along with the chorus of the song. Not knowing the language that Fuyuko was singing in made this part harder.
Shizoku's job was to adjust one of the dances she knew to the timing of Fuyuko's song. She even dug into one of her expanded space bags to bring out a very fancy looking kimono and a pair of fans that could be used to create a sharp snapping sound, which could be used to contrast the low sound of the drum that Derek was playing.
The resulting performance was far from professional. Fuyuko only had a small pattern of notes she could reliably reproduce while singing, and they were somewhat spread out as she couldn't play fast at all. Shizoku's fan dance also didn't really match the feel of the song despite the adjustments she tried to make, and Derek's reproduction of the chorus was far from perfect.
But they put sincere effort into it, and Carmilla was satisfied. "Oh, that will be a great start, and I think I am going to like playing this. Thank you, I think you three have put more real effort into this than most of the adults have. Oh, they have a special gift for you Fuyuko, they say you should have it now." A small book appeared in her hands, which she handed over to Fuyuko. "Part of the dungeon magic means they learned that language when you sang it. This is a copy of every song you sang and a translation. The writing for the original is sounded out using the common alphabet, they don't have a writing sample to learn the original script from. Um, they also think you should wait to read it until you guys are settled in for the night. I'll let you three through the swamp tomorrow, and you can collect your big prizes when you get to the end."
The reason for waiting became clear to Fuyuko when she did start reading later that night, and she began crying. "I remembered the words and the sounds, but it's been so long that I didn't really remember the meaning. They were lullabies. They were my clan's lullabies."
Shizoku and Derek did their best to comfort their friend, but her tears were both of pain and of joy. She was very happy to have this small bit of her past restored to her, even if the translations showed she'd forgotten a verse or two. She was going to do her best to remember them all and make sure they were written down.
She was much calmer by morning, and the three collected themselves and set off to make their way to the briar wall that blocked off the exit to the level. The passage through went fine, but the corridor after was not the straight path Fuyuko had expected. It was blocked off, and there was a single stair way splitting off from the corridor. "Um, guys. That's supposed ta be the way we go, it goes ta a big room ta watch the arena from. That's, um, one of the stairs down to the arena."
They didn't know what to make of this and made their way down very cautiously.
Mordecai was waiting for them, along with several bunkins and kobolds. "So, who is up for an optional bonus challenge?" He asked them with a grin.
<<Previous Start Next >>
Also to be found on Royal Road.
My Patreon My Discord Top Web Novels - Romance.io - TVTropes
$3. : 10 Early chapters, lore excerpts $5. : 20 Early chapters, Short Stories $10 : 30+ Early chapters, New stories not published anywhere else (Until after I finish this story at least) . . . . . "A Girl and Her Dungeon", "The Celestine Fox", and AU Core 1: "Coreless"

WPA – A Completely Average Roadtrip
Disclaimer: Not canon, and I don’t use patreon so please don’t spoil me. Also, any opinion held by a character is that of the characters and not my own. Enjoy.
Town of Ljosalfington, local time 14:00, week 7
Emma Booker
“Again Illunor, I warned you before that this is a utility vehicle, not a party rated smart-limo. I am already compromising more than I should by allowing you to use the sample cooler as a minifridge, one which I can’t even use!” I said as I loaded the materials I had just purchased into the back of the high-G All terrain fusion-ethanol-electric hybrid 24th-century legacy pickup truck that I had printed out earlier this week, carefully avoiding the heavy ordinance hard point.
“That is hardly an excuse for that abysmally cramped leg space barely fit for cattle, never mind the bare minimum for standard decorum suitable for nobility. If this is what a car is like, then I don’t see why you care for your technology,” complained Illunor, who was sitting around idly with a malformed garish bowl of icecream that he had stashed away from lunch.
“If it bothers you so much, perhaps you could help next time with your ‘bigger-on-the-inside’ magic,” I retorted as I slid the last core sample into the back before covering it up with a tarp and strapping it down.
I had originally planned to visit Ljosalfington by myself to acquire much needed exo-materials to test various mana manipulator configurations as I worked to develop my first wand as not all of the materials I needed were procurable locally from Elaseer. I eventually yielded, much to my regret, to allowing Illunor to come with me as he insisted on wanting to deliver a letter personally in town after Thacea had pointed out the wisdom of not travelling alone.
We continued our back and forth for a bit yet as I finished securing my payload a voice called out to me from the direction of the town.
“Excuse me a moment, I couldn’t help but notice but are you from the academy?”
I turned to see an elf dressed in a plain brown buttoned up tunic matched by a slightly shabby pair of trousers with what appeared to be a lute upon his back and a plain and unenchanted longsword on his belt gesturing at our robes. Mine especially were new and unusual, tailored by the academy to go over my armour and allow access to the anchor points and allow me to exit my armour with minimal hassle. Illunor scoffed at what was evidently a commoner’s arrogance at approaching nobility and turned his head away in disgust. I glanced at Illunor and shook my head before turning to face the new man. I had time to spare, and any opportunity to engage in a hearts-and-minds dialogue with the locals outside the bounds of the managed environment of the academy was more than worth the time to chat. Especially as most of the other locals seemed to be content in ignoring me.
“Yes, we are currently studying at the Transgracian Academy. I am Cadet Emma Booker representing the United Nations of Earth and Luna from Earthream, and my aloof compatriot is Lord Illunor Rularia of the Vunerian courts. We were just about to head back but are in no rush. May I ask your name and what brings you by?” I asked with my hand outstretched in greeting.
“Ah yes, yes. My name is Edhel Redoehdelnif, a wandering bard by trade like my father and his father before him. My apologies, Cadet Emma Booker, I am unfamiliar with Earthrealm,” said Edhel as he grasped my hand with both of his and shook it tepidly yet vigorously. Or rather, tried to, as the motors on my suit resisted his efforts.
“News doesn’t seem to spread all that fast around here, so it makes sense you haven’t heard of us. We’re a new realm, and only just got here. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Edhel Redoehdelnif,” I replied.
“Absolutely fascinating! And a knight no less, or perhaps a squire? I’m sure you have many stories to tell of Earthrealm. Say, by chance are you about to head back to the academy? I have business in Elaseer and the usual coach has been absent as of late so I would rather not go it alone,” said Edhel.
I was hesitant to bring a stranger back in the car with me, even if Illunor was present. However, the opportunity that meeting a bard presented was too good to pass up from an intel perspective and to win the favour of the populace at large.
“That is a great idea. I think I have room for one more…” I paused before gesturing towards Illunor, “provided everyone is ok with it that is.”
Illunor gave a huff and turned his head away in silence.
“Very well, I will allow this. But he will not be joining me in your sorry excuse for a coach,” said Illunor dismissively.
Illunor approached the backseat expectantly and the door opened for him automatically, allowing the dlc kobold to gracefully enter and lounge across the length of the seats, once again ignoring the seatbelts. I sighed as I made my way to the driver’s seat, and Edhel entered from the passenger side as he marveled at the automatic doors and the interior.
“What a strange carriage this is! Although I must say, shouldn’t you be retrieving your horses? I didn’t see any harnesses or sense any artifices,” inquired Edhel as he attempted to make himself comfortable on the car seat, lute in front of him.
“Oh no, this thing doesn’t need horses or magic,” I said with a chuckle as EVI started the car. The elf raised his eyebrows at the sudden hum of the engine and made an expression of alarm when the car started driving itself without my input. “See, purrs like a kitten.”
“Earthrealm must have some large kittens if they purr like that,” noted Edhel, “but you must be concealing the enchantments somewhere. Such a thing as this with such strange yet precise craftsmanship is only possible in the crownlands.”
“Nope, no magic,” I said cheerfully.
“Then how?” Asked Edhel.
“It’s rather simple really. Are you familiar with the workings of a mill?” I asked, deciding to keep things surface level and elementary to avoid provoking the IDOV threshold.
“Somewhat, though I confess to not being familiar with their workings. Are you suggesting this is akin to a mill?” Asked Edhel perplexed.
“It’s the same principal. A mill works by taking a source of rotation such as a waterwheel or windmill, transferring that rotation along a series of rotating shafts and interlocking gears, and finally putting that energy to work by rotating a millstone,” I began as the car pulled out onto the smooth cobbled road in the direction of Elaseer. A notification popped up in the corner of my vision indicating my recon drone swarm had shifted from a holding formation to a convoy screening formation, and while the roads were clear I kept the speed at 60km/h to account for my passenger’s apparent distaste for seatbelts.
“Rotation…” muttered Edhel. He turned to face one of the wheels and EVI pinged an alert for a probable match for a detection spell, “fascinating.”
“Edhel, what are you doing?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, perhaps I should have asked first. Yes, I can see how it all fits together. But the source of this rotation? I see no mighty river or great wind to power this, so where does it come from?” Asked Edhel, not really apologizing. Elven arrogance, it seemed, was not limited by class.
The act reminded me of Sorecar when he inspected my gun, but where the armourer had been respectful with it, Edhel was more flippant. I considered the possibility that he was a spy sent by one of her peers or the crownlands, though this did not mesh with the methods I had seen so far. Edhel may have been just overly enthusiastic. In either case, I quickly decided to only reveal the antique design for the ethanol engine, and not that of the batteries or the emergency coupler to my suit’s fusion reactor.
“Right, well please ask first next time. As to your question, I won’t bore you with the details, but the rotation is generated by creating a periodic sequence of explosions inside of a machine – a manaless artifice – called a combustion engine, said Emma.
“So that’s what that sound is…” pondered Edhel, “are these artifices typical in Earthream?”
“You are awfully inquisitive for a commoner,” noted Illunor as he inspected his nails for dirt, “and rather accepting of something which should be impossible.”
“I wouldn’t be much of a bard if I wasn’t, my lord,” said Edhel shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “perhaps some music might set the mood better?”
“That would be preferable, bard. I have heard enough of the Earthrealmer’s Road Trip Playlist and would like to listen to some music of real culture,” said Illunor.
The bard agreed and proceeded to awkwardly play a ballad about an adventurer who slew a hydra in some frozen wasteland. Partway through, I politely interrupted the Edhel to point out the seat controls much to his fascination and Illunor’s grumbling at their common nature, and after some adjustment the bard went on playing and I half-heartedly listened while I paid attention to the road and my drone feed.
Particularly after EVI detected something unusual and alerted me to its presence.
”Attention Caded Booker. There is a disabled vehicle blocking the primary route to destination. Heat signatures in the woods are consistent with that of an ambush.”
“Damn it,” I muttered.
I glanced at the drone feed to see a broken cart strewn horizontally across a wooden bridge over a brook. On the surface it looked like a pair of civilians who required aid and assistance, but off in the woods were several heat signatures, several of which held weapons of varying levels of enchantments. Occasionally one of the pair on the bridge would talk with them, suggesting they were in cahoots rather than hostages. I recalled crossing that very bridge not a few hours earlier, so the blockade was very recent.
“EVI, did we pass that cart on the way here?” I asked.
”Negative,” replied EVI.
I grimaced. I had been trained to handle road-side ambushes, but it was only something that was a theoretical possibility. Something that should only occur in a warzone or a corrupt and unstable polity. I knew I had the capacity to handle such an encounter, even non-lethally, but that didn’t change the fact that these were civilians and as such were the responsibility of local law enforcement. Combined with the fact that I had passengers I was responsible for and engaging the ambush was a risky option.
“EVI, give me a list of alternative routes,” I commanded.
”Affirmative. Here is a list of routes in order of recommendation,” replied EVI.
I looked over the routes superimposed on a map of the region and quickly dismissed taking a shortcut through the forest and cutting through farmland. A detour caught my eye that extended the journey by roughly ten kilometers and I immediately sent a pair of drones to scout it out before committing to the detour.
“Are you alright, Cadet Emma Booker? You seem distracted,” asked Edhel, snapping me back to reality.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just focused on driving,” replied Emma.
“I suppose it must be quite taxing to command an artificed carriage of this complexity. Perhaps it might ease your mind if you were to regale me a tale of a hero of your realm?” Said Edhel, strumming a complex tune from his lute as he spoke as each and every pluck triggered a low-level spell.
“Well, that may be a problem. We don’t have any monsters to fight, and wars are a thing of the past,” I said while desperately tip-toeing the subject of aunt Ran, the subject of war, and our voyages through the cosmos, “though we are not without the adventurous spirit. We certainly have many stories of grand voyages. Some mythical and fictional such as The Odyssey as told by the Greek poet Homer and some historical such as the race to the south pole.”
“The south pole,” muttered the bard, “so you have explored all of Earthrealm then? I suppose that makes some sense, if you have artifices such as this then traversal of a globe would be quite manageable.”
“You are quite perceptive,” I said, not wishing to elaborate.
“A great performer knows his audience,” said Edhel with a charming, honest, almost human smile.
I felt a pang of homesickness as an intrusive thought reminded me that I could have gone to a real college surrounded by friendly faces my age, engaging in nightly holostreams and dreaming of adventures in the stars from the safety of a college dorm room. The sight of Illunor in the rear camera was the only thing that kept me grounded, as I almost felt like I was back at home on a road trip rather than returning to a fantasy feudal court, constantly evading death at every turn with the fate of humanity on the line. As such, and prompted by EVI, I barely had the wherewithal to take the planned detour.
A fact which did not pass by Edhel.
“I believe you may have taken a wrong turn, Emma,” he commented.
“Nah, I’m just taking the scenic route. I came from that direction on the way here, and you have inspired me to see the other road and I figure it should only add a few extra minutes to our travel time,” I said, gesturing at a paper map which I had referenced exactly once, “though on that subject, you seem to know these lands quite well. Do you have any recommendations on places to visit in the Nexus to scratch that itch?”
Illunor raised his eyebrow at the detour excuse, knowing full well this was not part of the plan. I worried that he might complain about the issue and but thankfully remained silent as he snacked on the contents of the misused sample storage unit. Edhel himself took on a more pensive posture.
“I’m happy to have been such an inspiration, Emma, though I am sure an explorer such as yourself has little need of such. I would normally suggest the skyward fountains of Verdellan or the cloud tides of Asturia, but that may be too casual for someone of your calibre. Perhaps the severed chasm or the fire marsh of Bhandahova may be more to your liking. Or perhaps…” Edhel leaned in, “I have heard rumours of a dragon in the glassy obsidian wastes of Vurcanar.”
I chuckled at that, knowing how I was fortunate enough to fish a dragon scale out of the nearby lake for the ECS. “The thought of going dragon hunting had certainly crossed my mind…” I mused aloud.
“Yet you sound hesitant. Perhaps it is too much for a newrealmer. Perhaps a slime or a dire rat might be more appropriate,” he said with a tease.
“No, it’s not like that! It’s” I stammered, before attempting to change course after realizing I had been goaded, “what I mean is, I was under the impression that dragons were an endangered species. Where I come from, hunting endangered animals is usually illegal, and big game hunting in general is frowned upon. We do make exceptions in the case of problem animals such as if a large predator starts hunting humans, but as a rule we prefer conservation and try to find ways of coexisting with wildlife such as the use of barrier fences and scaring away dangerous animals rather than being forced to cull their numbers. Having a species go extinct would prevent future generations from appreciating them and risks destabilizing the ecosystem they are a part of. Now if this dragon was actively razing villages and eating civilians and livestock, that would be one thing, but this does not look to be the case. I don’t imagine the Nexus has any settlements in this wasteland, and the dragon clearly wants to be left alone. Killing an innocent dragon would be murder.”
I grinned to myself after delivering a diatribe that would have made my tenth grade social and environmental studies teacher beam with pride, though by the expressions of my passengers my view did not appear to be shared. Edhel’s mouth was agape in shock and fascination, while the Venurian in the back seat merely huffed in disapproval.
“I assure you Newrealmer, there are no innocent dragons,” stated Illunor with a hint of terseness breaking through his otherwise regal demeanor.
“Illunor, I understand that Venurians have personal reasons for not liking dragons, but you can’t just extend that disdain to their descendants or those uninvolved just because they are the same species,” I said.
“If I may interject on your behalf, my lord, I believe I can address Cadet Emma Booker’s concerns,” said Edhel with a bow. Illunor nodded in approval.
“Very well, you may proceed,” he said.
“Thank you, my lord. My dear Emma, you must understand that dragons are not simple animals driven entirely off of instinct as it appears to be the case in Earthrealm. They are monsters. Intelligent, long-lived, violent, greedy, cruel, territorial, selfish flesh-eating monsters. They are evil by the very nature of their being, unable to change by their own accord, and unwilling to change when His Eternal Majesty offered them freedom from their nature. It isn’t that they want to be evil. As intelligent animals – intelligent monsters – dragons are capable of understanding morality, and many have tried to overcome their evil nature at great expense to themselves. A well intended and noble sentiment, yet a doomed one as like all animals, they all succumb to their nature in the end. Overcoming one’s nature is impossible,” said Edhel. His eyes took on a stoic, almost remorseful gaze as he spoke, and Illunor nodded with approval.
I was appalled by this claim, not by the contents so much as how blatantly false it was. As a representative of the human race, I was a living counterexample to his whole argument. We had remained physiologically unchanged as a species since the last Ice Age, and yet in spite of that, in spite of our many flaws, we had found peace and balance. If we could do it, anyone could do it.
“Will all due respect Edhel, that is nonsense. Monsters aren’t born, they are made. It is the mark of any intelligent species can adapt their behaviour to their environment for better or worse, and under the right care any so-called monster can grow to be a force for good,” I began, but while I searched for the right words Edhel shook his head.
“I appreciate your race is an empathetic one, Emma, your idealism is unfounded. As flesh eaters, a dragon must take the life of another animal or person to survive, or they will perish. As such, every dragon has taken a life. As long-lived creatures, they will have amassed a significant number of kills. As the land can only support so much animals, a dragon must be fiercely territorial and aggressive to remove competition, lest they starve. As such, even the most kind-hearted dragon alive must be violent and greedy, and their intelligence fuels this even more so if they know a bountiful land of morsels exists just outside their range.
Now perhaps a multitude of dragons may find a way to co-exist together in some settlement, but to support such a venture would require a large territory of prey, or a livestock animal. Perhaps they could support a large colony by farming grain for their livestock, but that would require effort on their behalf. As large animals, such efforts require a great deal of energy. Yet that size makes it easy for them to intimidate smaller races to do their labour for them, and to keep their client race in line dragons must be cruel. And even so, as their numbers grow so do their needs. As such, they must expand into the lands of their neighbours to survive until there is nothing left to devour, at which point they must turn against their own lest they starve. As such, it is the nature of dragons to conquer and devour. That is why there is no such thing as an innocent dragon,” finished Edhel.
I was speechless, not because I believed Edhel had a point, but because I was horrified at how easy he found it to rationalize the extermination of an entire sapient species. If this was how the elves thought, then it wasn’t the dragons who were the monsters. I suppressed that dark thought. Edhel’s thought process was a product of his culture, not a feature of his elven heritage. If there was any hope of peace between our people, I needed to show him there was another way of being. I needed to prove that co-existence was possible, no matter one’s nature.
I took a deep breath to steady myself before replying.
“That- that is a callous way of seeing things,” I began, though the shock was still there in my voice, “you speak as though there is no natural equilibrium with a dragon, that their only state of being must be to be cruel, to devour, to conquer. But I see things differently. In fact, I might wonder if a fledgling civilization might see the presence of a dragon as a boon rather than a curse. Being intelligent, the locals may be able to come to some agreement with the dragon. Perhaps they might leave some land as a hunting ground or offer up a share of their cattle or guard the dragon as it sleeps. In exchange, the dragon might allow them to build a town outside its mountain and protect them in times of danger. An equitable exchange. A civilization might even create artificial lairs to attract dragons for this very reason. True, some dragons may behave tyrannical towards their town, but a well armed populace of a large city would be more than capable of fighting such a threat, and a rational dragon might reason that threatening their own populace would put their reliable source of food and shelter at risk. You see, it’s all a matter of perspective.”
“You certainly are an imaginative one, Emma, to wonder up a quixotic world where the hare and the fox live together in harmony as equals. Even so, you seem to have ignored one key detail to such a society. What would happen should the dragon not be fed for months on end?” Asked Edhel with his eyebrow raised.
“The same thing as stranded a dozen starving, stranded Elves!” I spat back.
[Alert: Vehicle speed above recommended limit for conditions. Recommendation: slow down. ]
“I am driving slow!” I seethed, not realizing I had sped up with manual control enabled.
“I grow tired of this common prattle,” interjected Illunor just in time to prevent an awkward silence, “bard, play us another song.” “As my lord wishes,” said Edhel with a bow before turning to me with another smile, “perhaps a more soothing melody would be in order? A love song perhaps, to honour Cadet Booker’s compassionate nature?”
I said nothing as Edhel began to strum his lute again to the tune of a love story of a pair of doomed lovers named Ramian and Junette, hating his cheeky knowing grin that only served to get under my skin further as I focused on calming down and slowing the car back to a more reasonable pace before investigating a priority alert which I had been blinded to moments prior.
[Alert: hostile roadblock is absent, location unknown.]
Shit.
“Illunor, we may have a problem,” I said.
“Shush, Newrealmer, have you no class? We are almost at the best part! I’m sure it can wait,” replied the contextually clueless lizard.
I had never wanted to throttle Illunor as much as I did now.
“Illunor, shield, now,” I said with a raised voice.
“I don’t see-“ he started, pausing mid-sentence as his ears perked up.
[Alert: Multiple manafield and spell signatures detected!]
I took evasive maneuvers as Illunor tried to piece together a shield spell, fumbling it twice as panic appeared to set in and providing me with a reminder that Illunor was a civilian, not a soldier. A hail of arrows pelted the exterior of the truck, piercing but not penetrating the composite armour. I was tempted to do nothing but just drive away from the arrow fire, but a foreboding premonition of danger filled me as I recalled Sorecar’s hunter-seeker arrows.
Seeking to avoid that fate, I triggered the active defenses.
The smoke screens deployed around the vehicle, obscuring the sight of any who depended on visible light to see me. A barrage of decoy flares equipped with wooden cores shot upward at angles and diffusing to the side like a pair of giant wings which when combined with the MFD, short for mana-field dampener, inside the vehicle meant that the pelting hail of arrowfire softened to a whirr as the arrows whiffed over the top of the truck, retargeted away from the soft flesh of my passengers and even invoking friendly fire amongst the ambushers.
In the chaos, EVI and my drone swarm fed me complete tactical information on the ambush. Of the 26 individuals at the first blockade, 20 were accounted for, and 3 had died from friendly fire. Ahead at the bridge, 5 more of them were at the bridge where a barrier had been hastily erected to cage me in as the river valley was too deep to cross.
“Illunor, we need a bridge,” I said, taking stock of the wellbeing of my passengers.
The bard was huddled down low and suppressing his manafield, but otherwise rather composed. Illunor, on the other hand, was cowering in the gap between the seats with his hands covering his eyes and his tail tucked in.
“A bridge is no small request, Ne- Cadet Emma Booker,” replied Illunor, “and your ‘Emeffdee’ has blinded me to the outside of this moving death trap.”
“If I drop it, can you at least make a ramp?” I asked as I circled the battlefield. Or tried to, at least, as earthen ramparts emerged from the ground from a yet unseen source to cut off other avenues of escape.
“A ramp? Surely you don’t mean-“ he stammered.
“Yes or no,” I said.
Illunor paused, before taking an unsteady breath.
“Yes. But not with that Emeffdee,” he replied.
“Good. Steady your nerves and prepare to make a ramp ahead of us on my signal,” I said, “in the meantime, get your seatbelt on. This is going to be hairy.”
As I circled around to make my approach on the bridge, the final combatant made his appearance on a nearby tree, revealing himself as an elven mage. An alert focused on the air around him indicating he was preparing an unknown high-tier spell, and I locked the predator drone on him indicating the elf as a high-priority target if our escape plan failed, and I was forced to use lethal force.
If I was forced to kill.
It was one thing to know you may have to kill in the line of duty, but it was much harder to reconcile that with reality. No number of simulations could match the real thing, and a part of me wanted to simply offload the responsibility to EVI to keep my hands clean, but to do that would be betraying my duty as a human being. I breathed in deep and tried not to think about it, instead hoping to rely on the ace I held in my sleeve instead.
“EVI, ready the spell jammer,” I said unevenly.
“Acknowledged, the prototype Exo-Radiation Wave-Field Distruptor is primed. High risk target identified and locked, permission to engage?” EVI asked, forcing me to address the dreaded question.
“Negative,” I replied, “hold your fire. If the ramp fails, then you have permission to engage,” I said.
“Affirmative, on your mark,” replied EVI.
I lined up the truck with the bridge and bolted through the smoke, keeping a careful eye on the mage as I went. His spellform took on a more concerning shape as I accelerated, and I realized I could not afford to let him finish his spell. I triggered the spelljammer.
A terrible roar erupted from an array of speakers printed from mana-resistant materials that would have made Godzilla herself beam with pride. The sound was decidedly unnatural, gnarly, dubstep drop composed of an electric eel, a whale, a mountain lion, and a tyrannosaurus rex all being simultaneously assaulted by a swarm of angry cybernetic murder hornets as an equally chaotic wave of mana blasted outwards from the exterior of the truck, with the interior thankfully sheltered by audio and mana dampening.
The ambushing assailants cowered and panicked, and it was enough to cause the Elven mage’s spell to backfire in his face as his form exploded into ashes, meeting a horrific fate which I had tried so desperately to help him avoid. With all the combatants momentarily incapacitated or dead, I lowered the dampener and turned off the smoke.
“Ramp!” I shouted, snapping the lizard back to reality.
The Venerian nodded and hastily formed an earthwork ahead of us right before the blockade, and the truck leapt off the ramp with a not insignificant amount of air beneath our wheels. I braced for impact, regretting skimping on the shocks in the name of preserving materials, but the impact never came.
[Alert: Friendly spell designated ‘Feather Fall’]
Illunor thankfully had enough wherewithal to gently land the steel brick, and I sped off into the distance away from the trap that had unfolded behind us, leaving the interior of the truck in an awkward silence as we each processed our brush with death in our own way. “How many are dead?” I asked EVI.
“6 hostiles confirmed dead,” replied EVI.
I drove on in silence. Those were six deaths I had tried to avoid, and I became lost in thought as I wondered what I should have done differently to avoid the confrontation entirely.
Edhel broke the silence with a bout of laughter.
“Terrific! Absolutely terrific! Why, I can conjure up many a tale from this encounter alone! I live for this kind of inspiration!” Exclaimed Edhel a little too chipperly considering the circumstance.
“I would rather not hear stories about how I bravely ran away,” I moaned in deadpan sarcasm.
“You think too little of yourself, Cadet Emma Booker. It is plain to me that you are no ordinary rabbit. Make no mistake, I see it as a privilege to bear witness to the roar of a vorpal hare!” Said Edhel as he supressed his laughter, “though I am afraid with all the excitement that I must finish my song some other time.”
“How about I play some of our music?” I offered after the elf revealed his thrill-seeking side.
“Splendid, I would like that. Perhaps something of your ‘Roadtrip playlist’ you speak of? It sounds like a collection of your voyages,” said Edhel.
“That would be an improvement on the truth,” said Illunor dismissively as he eased from his state of shock, “it is little more than noise under the pretense of music.”
“Illunor…” I muttered to myself before turning the mic on, “no, no it’s not like that. I have terabytes of pre-recorded songs from various artists back home which can be played by… an artifice called a speaker. A playlist is a set of songs which are grouped together, usually to listen to in specific situations such as studying, partying, or travelling. The latter collection is what Illunor is referring to.”
I very deliberately chose not to reveal my ‘Unfortunate Daughters’ playlist.
“An artifice which plays music, and a magicless one at that. I must say, Emma, I fear for the bards in your realm,” said Edhel with a laugh.
“Your fear is misplaced, Edhel. Entertainers live like kings where I come from,” I retorted with a smirk of my own, “well, the ones with talent at least.”
“Well, well, I suppose I have to hear my competition!” Said Edhel with a laugh.
“Do as you must, though let it be known that I warned you,” said Illunor as he watched a play on his sightseer.
I had EVI compile a list of songs that left out content offensive to Nexian sensibilities or violating OpSec and as it compiled I mused over what type of sample spread I wanted to show off. Then it struck me. What better way to show off our culture than with some good old blue jumpers and nova rock! Sadly, jumpers were unavailable to show but I still had a whole list of modern artists to choose from.
Moments later, the car speakers sprung to life to the tune of ‘Innocent Youth of Mine. Edhel’s eyes lit up like a child visiting a zero-g gravity park for the first time, seemingly star-struck by the antique electric guitar and the synthesizer-drums in particular.
“What… what is this? I have never heard anything like this!” Proclaimed Edhel.
“Dreadful, isn’t it?” said Illunor, doing what he did best and pretending to hate it.
“Oh there is a lot more where that came from,” I said with a cheeky grin of my own, “this one is called ‘Innocent Youth of Mine’ by ‘Cannons and Poppies’. It’s part of the Nova Rock genre.
“And those strange instruments?” Asked Edhel.
“Oh, you mean the electric guitar and the synthesizer. They are electronic instruments, taking advantage of channeled and modulated electricity to create near any sound we can imagine,” I replied.
“Channeled electricity… are you suggesting these sounds were made by some form of lightning?” Asked Edhel.
[Suggestion: Avoid topic of electricity due to OpSec risk]
I nodded at EVI’s warning, thankful that it caught me before I discussed the very thing that all of my equipment ran on.
“It’s not exactly lightning, but close enough,” I said.
“If I had not witnessed to your display of power earlier, I might have perhaps been more skeptical of such a claim, but I suppose a lady must keep her secrets.” said Edhel with a raised eyebrow and chuckle, “but I digress, this music is most interesting.”
“There is a lot more where that came from,” I said with a cheeky grin of my own.
“If I ever have a prisoner in need of torture, I will turn to you first,” replied Illunor, “if you are willing to subject your peers to this madness then I cannot imagine what you would force upon your enemies before dunking them in ice.”
“In your dreams,” I retorted.
I played a few other songs including Astrodesee’s ‘Meteor Struck’, the Martian classic ‘Hotel Cydonia’ and even ‘Switching to Warp’ before Elaseer emerged from the distance, and I pulled up outside the gate to drop Edhel off.
“Here already?” Asked Edhel.
“Well, yeah. I was just running a quick errand, I didn’t want to go too far,” I replied casually.
“That was a distance worth at least five days of walking by foot, and you call that a ‘quick errand’?” Asked Edhel. I shrugged, and he laughed.
“Well in any case, thank you for allowing me passage in your car. I must apologize for my lack of gift or payment…” said Edhel. “Don’t worry about it, it was on the way,” I replied.
“I see, how generous. Perhaps we might one day meet again?” Asked Edhel.
“Maybe, but I’m not sure how likely that is. The academy takes up most of my time,” I replied, “though you never know. I still have a lot of quest hours to complete.”
“Is that so? In that case, I hope we meet again! Goodbye Cadet Emma Booker and farewell Lord Illunor Rularia,” he said. “And good travels to you, bard,” said Illunor.
I waved off Edhel and drove back to the academy, Illunor still sulking in the back seat.
“Perhaps next time, you should steer us away from danger?” Suggested Illunor.
“I tried, but we were tracked,” I replied.
I groaned inwardly at the additional work needed to fix the truck. EVI compiled a list of upgrades for future engagements, batting away my idea for a ‘turbo mode’ and a ‘jump boost’. Though at the end of the day, meeting the bard wasn’t a complete loss. It felt good to talk to someone almost normal for once, and I hoped I met him again.
Edhel Redoehdelnif
I watched as Cadet Emma Booker’s vehicle went off into the distance, getting one last look at the Earthrealmer’s strange artifice before turning towards the gate. The voyage was an exotic experience, not unlike that of a fever dream or a peak into a world completely alien to my own. Indeed, it was a struggle to contain my excitement and enthusiasm and process the experience rationally as I made my way through the southern gates of Elaseer and turned the corner of an alley before entering an impossible structure that did not exist.
“You are earlier than expected,” said the shadowy figure of my handler as I made my way to the meeting hall.
“The Earthrealmer’s means of transportation proved far more expedient than anticipated, my lord” I spoke as I knelt before him, “even with her unexpected departure from the anticipated road and the ambush we traveled for scantly more than an hour.”
“Yes, I will require a full report from you. Perhaps you can shed some light on the ‘smoke dragon’ my men claim intervened on the Earthrealmer’s behalf,” said my handler.
“Smoke Dragon, my lord?” I asked.
My handler responded by activating his sight-seer, revealing how the ambush had appeared from the outside. The Earthrealmer’s uncanny artifice traversed down the road, a pair of manafields displaying proudly from within until the archers began their assault. The artifice then transformed as smoke billowed out from its pores and wings sprung forth above until it was the form of a mighty wrym with a pair of glowing eyes springing forth from its ever extending head where it then gave forth a terrible unholy roar which sent waves of mana outward. The mage working to seal the area and trap their mark vapourized in an instant as his spell backfired. It was apparent to Edhel that his exceptional experience in the carriage was merely a muted rendition of the events unfolding around them.
It would seem the hare had the shadow of a dragon.
“I do have some insight, though I must confess the Earthrealmer did very little in the way of direct action. I suspect she has some unseen means of commanding and scrying through her artifices,” I said, “one which does not utilize magic as we know it.”
“Such a statement is heresy,” said my handler, “but such special circumstances are your reason for being. I will require you submit your memories for verification. What is your appraisal of the new realmer?”
“The girl is far more dangerous than a surface appraisal would suggest, though she prefers to conceal that power rather than utilize it out of a misplaced sense of compassion. Her people appear to have a boundless creative drive through which such artifices are birthed, though again it is misdirected towards more common applications. I believe that if properly tamed, this human animal may provide us with great works of art,” I said with a bow.
“I see. Does the girl know you work for us?” Asked my handler.
“She may harbour some suspicions, though did not voice them outright beyond concealing her knowledge,” I said, “though nothing significant. Provided our next meet is under believable circumstances such as a festival she should view me as cordial.”
“She has indeed proven clever,” conceded my handler, “very well, I will make arrangements for your paths to cross again. Perhaps I will arrange for her to be a contestant at the next inter-academy tournament. In the mean time, prepare your report and don’t wander far. This is a priority assignment.”
“As you wish, my lord,” I said with a bow and a smile.
Emma Booker had proved to be an interesting animal indeed, and I hoped our paths crossed again.

I am not the OP. That is u/No_Chrysler-4-Me. Originally posted on EntitledPeople and pettyrevenge.
​
There are two previous BORUs I posted last year:
First Post Jan 8, 2023
Second Post Jan 8, 2023
​
Trigger Warning: Domestic Violence
​
Editor's Note: THIS IS VERY LONG! OP posts a lot about his family. I will include links to other posts at the bottom of this BORU, but I will keep this post focused on the brother and OP.
​
TL;DR of the above BORUs: OP's older brother is lazy and a cheapskate. OP bought a truck, an '03 Toyota Tundra. Brother gets jealous and buys a 01 Dodge Ram 1500, but it's crap. OP tries to help brother fix up the truck despite warning him not to buy it. Once it was running a little better, brother challenges OP to a race. Brother loses and becomes obsessed with practicing racing, ruining the truck further. Eventually they go camping, have more shenanigans, brother finally blows the transmission. Brother has to drive his ex-girlfriend's minivan, which he hates, tries to LS Swap the Ram, but no one will lend him the money. He eventually sells it. Brother doesn't stop there. He NEEDS a truck, so he has the brilliant idea of chopping the minivan up to make it into a truck. He needs money to Frankenstein the minivan, no one will pay, but eventually he cuts it up, uses recycled wood to make the truck bed, etc. He calls it the "Mini-Ram."
​
My brother sold the Mini-Ram and got a Silverado. That was fine. It's what happened after that made things worse May 5, 2024
​
I've been gone for some time. But I'm back with a bad one. I've spoken before about how my older brother competed with me needlessly. And he did a lot of beyond stupid shit. Well he finally pushed the whole family over the edge, and got disowned. And I'm going to be explaining a lot of what happened the past year, and then some from before that. But it's too long for one post.
Well going back more than a year. Some may remember my brother getting a free minivan from his ex after the Dodge Ram truck I warned him not to buy became a moneypit. I helped him work on that truck and even repaint it. And I helped him remodel his camper trailer too. Why? Because he's my brother. And I guess some part of me deep down kept hoping he'd one day change. But he tried to take credit for things I did. Especially with remodeling the camper. And he had tantrums when called out on his lies. He also became temporarily obsessed with my truck, and even implied he'd just take it from me because he hated driving a minivan. He referred to it as a chick car. He acted like a complete child because I refused to trade vehicles, and even got our parents involved. It was just a really stupid and needless situation that my brother tried to make a hill to die on.
It started when my brother bought his Dodge Ram simply because I bought a Toyota Tundra. He had a perfectly running Subaru Baja before that. Then he said he wanted a man's truck and bought the worst barely running pile he could find that was also overpriced considering the condition. He could have at least aimed for a diesel since he wanted a dodge so bad. Lots of dumb shit happened after that. Including my brother wanting to LS swap the Ram after destroying it's engine and two transmissions. But I'm pretty sure the person who offered to do the LS swap for him was a scammer. Not to mention LS swapping any vehicle basically means replacing the ECU. But it never happened anyway since the engine and transmission my brother wanted sold before he could get them. And he had no running vehicle anymore. So my brother's ex, whom he has a young child with, gave him her old 90s Ford Windstar van. It was admittedly an ugly, dent riddled POS with the rear window busted out. But it still ran and drove surprisingly well, considering that's not one of Ford's better vehicles. And then my brother decided to cut it up into some sort of van/truck. Or a ute as they're called in some places. But he made this thing ugly. Lots of spray foam, recycled wood, and rattle can paint. Even mismatched sub-lights above the cab. He frequently raided the junkyard for parts. And he even glued a Ram badge onto the grill of that van/truck. He called it the Mini-Ram. Lots of stupid cheap mods done to that vehicle too. Someone once asked me how ugly the Mini-Ram was on a scale of 1 to 1000. And I said about a 667.
My brother did a lot of other dumb things in this time. Like following me camping just to piss me off. He was a general leech who stole power from my generator, and tried to steal beer from my camper fridge repeatedly. He was so brazen as to just walk right in, and then tried to pretend to be so drunk he didn't realize what he was doing when caught. I've spoken many times about how he stole booze from me. Until my friends and I revenge pranked him and his near equally douchey friends with a growler full of laxative tainted beer. We admittedly used way too much laxative. But my brother never stole from me again because I threatened to tell everyone about his humiliation. He crapped on his own shoes squatting in the woods. And that's just a bit of it.
Eventually my brother seemed to learn his lesson. He sold the Mini-Ram to someone who actually paid him well for it. And no, I don't know what they did with it. And I don't care. But, when the 2K he sold the Mini-Ram for was combined with his savings, my brother had a bit over 4.5K to buy a better vehicle with. And he spotted a 99 RWD Silverado truck with an extended cab for sale online. He really shouldn't have sold his only method of transportation before having a replacement vehicle ready. But I couldn't fault him for taking the deal when presented, considering what he sold. And as much as my brother annoyed me, I still cared about him enough to help. He showed up begging me to drive him over 60 miles to look at this truck he found on Market Place.
So I reluctantly drove him out to see this truck. It wasn't that bad actually. Save for the rough mismatched paint, the rusty hood, the dents, the cracked windshield, and.... Actually, I guess it was kinda that bad. But not compared to the clapped out Ram my brother bought previously. The Silverado had a manual transmission, which we both confirmed shifted great as the records showed it had been rebuilt a few years before. The engine had been swapped at one time too. So it was kinda hard to gauge the odometer as it had not been rolled back for the new engine. It was at about 350.000 miles, but those numbers don't really mean jack when the engine and tranny have been replaced or rebuilt. Admittedly the engine ran like a top. The tires on the truck were in pretty damn good shape too. And on steel rims. Which I like. Very practical. I asked my brother if this was the manly kind of truck he'd been looking for. And for once he spoke logically and said that he'd rather have this than risk what happened with the Ram again. Fair enough. Besides, Chevy trucks are cool and reliable. I've always liked them. Like a rock as they say.
My brother and I scrutinized this truck in detail like a pair of pawn brokers, and talked the price down to 3K. They wanted 4K. But we could hear a sound while test driving it that was either bad ball joints or wheel bearings. We jacked up the wheels, and the bearings felt and sounded fine. But the ball joints were pretty bad. And that's not a cheap fix unless you can do it yourself. The truck was owned by the seller's father, who'd passed away a year prior. So the guy took 3K for it after we listed the problems. After driving it back, I insisted my brother get the truck to a mechanic ASAP. And he listened that time. The mechanic said the ball joints were about to come apart, and it's have caused a very bad situation if they had. And it cost him a grand to get them replaced. The truck also needed new plates ant the title registered. Which ate up a lot of the remaining budget. Then came the paint. My brother wanted the Silverado painted black right away. I told him to wait. But he didn't listen and DIY'd some body work, and then rattle-canned it with Rustolium turbo cans. The paint was full of orange peel, and overspray. He didn't even use primer. And the truck looked kinda mediocre. Then the southern weather had at it. Already numerous chips, scrapes and fades. Whatever. I stopped caring.
You'd think that'd be the end of this part. But no. There's more. What's behind door number 3? If you guessed a dumbass with a knife stuck in his ass. Then you'd win the gold! Yeah that's right. My brother got a knife in his ass.... How? How else... He and his friends all got high and decided they were gonna go outside and build a fort in the back yard of the house they rent out of scrap they found laying around. My brother while stoned wanted to show off how he can flip out a butterfly knife really fast, and decided he was gonna act like he was in an action movie, and did some sort of stupid thing where he was running and flipping out the knife really fast. The ground was wet, he slipped, and somehow got the knife in his right butt-cheek. They called me to come take him to the hospital because they were all too stoned to drive. I had to lay my brother down in the bed of my truck on a mattress because we were too scared to pull the knife out, and I drove him to the hospital like that. They rushed him in, and thankfully he only needed about 5 stiches on his butt and some antibiotics. Then I drove him back home the same way, and he insisted I take him to a drive through. He also tried to get me to pay, because...reasons! I told him to buy his own damn food.
After that there was more dumb BS that I won't bother getting into. But eventually my brother was seemingly getting bett...er...less bad. He was a bit sore his Silverado wasn't a 4X4, and my Tundra is. But being RWD kept him from trying to take it off-roading. He did try once, and had to pull the truck out of mud with a come-along. And he didn't try it again. He did want to drag race my truck again too. I said hell no. Not gonna risk either of our piles breaking down. And he was a complete douche about that too. I told him to stop acting like his dick was bigger than it is, and act his age. He didn't take that well. But he seemingly really was improving. Even being a much better dad to his daughter. Things got pretty good for him. Until I decided to buy a house. That's when the serious drama started.
​
My entitled brother threw a massive fit, just because he was mad I bought a house May 6, 2024
​
Yeah, I'm aware of several similar stories involving entitled family members wanting houses they have no claim to. But I guess this shit really happens. And it's no picnic when it does.
I suddenly became a homeowner some time ago because friend of mine's grandfather was moving to Florida. And his house was ripe for picking. I knew the old man well. RIP, he passed a few months later from a sudden stroke. Anyway, he offered the house and property to me for 200K. I practically ran to the bank to apply for the loan. The house is a manufactured home from the 80s. But it was remodeled repeatedly by the former owner, and has a separate garage building. The home and property could have gone for more. But he offered the house to me because he knew I'd take care of it. I had 30K saved that made a good down payment. And I was happy to leave my apartment. I'd wanted to eventually move out of there after what my cheating ex did anyway. But that's a story for another time.
As for my brother. Well he went bonkers when he found out I bought a house. He had this repeated history of copycatting me for the past decade. But this... There was no way in hell he could copycat buying a house with his terrible credit and inconsistent income. And he got in an argument with me over how I was just trying to make him look bad by doing something he couldn't. No, I just wanted a damn house. And the price was too good to refuse. Then he told me I should have turned it down because...(He had no good reason) I could practically see his screws getting looser with every dumbass excuse he made as to why I shouldn't have done it. But I pointed out all those excuses were just because I did something he currently can't. And when I bought the house, it had nothing to do with him. I just wanted to be a home owner for the security and extra space. I finally don't have to store my camper at my parents' house. And I have a garage that I can store stuff and tinker in.
I bought a camping cot, he bought a camping cot, went to the gym, he went to the gym, bought good booze, he bought good booze (Or stole it from me), I bought a new TV, be bought a new TV, I bought a truck, he bought a truck, I bought a camper, he bought a camper, I bought a used portable DVD player, he bought a used portable DVD player, I went camping in a specific place, he went camping in that specific place, I bought a house, he...(404 Error! Insert tea kettle noises and Benny Hill chase). He also acted like a complete child toward me when he built his Mini-Ram thing. He actually confronted me and said it was keweler than my boring Tundra, because it was something original. I swear, he did the dumbest mods to that vehicle. Like putting twist studs in the suspension coils to raise the ride height.
Well after weeks of openly fuming about me being a home owner, my brother suddenly acted like he had another brilliant idea. He wanted to move in with me. I laughed at him. Then he ended up demanding I rent one of my rooms to him. And for only $200 a month (Utilities included) because he shouldn't have to pay any more than that since we're family. He flipped his lid when I said fuck no! Then he got our parents involved again. Only this time they actually sided with him at first. Though it was mainly our mother. She and my brother showed up demanding I let my brother move in. And my brother had a shit eating grin on his face that I could tell he was thinking he was getting his way thanks to mommy dearest. I said "FUCK NO!" to both their faces, and my mother cried that I was using foul language to her and being an ass when I had the space now. I called my dad, and he told my mom that he'd warned her I wouldn't do it. And to leave me the hell alone. Mom whined my brother was living out of his camper next to a shabby house he was renting space from. I said that wasn't my problem to fix. And my brother has proven countless times that he cannot be trusted. My brother was fuming to the point of being red with veins popping out. My mom tried one more time to convince me with tears. And that just made me angrier.
I went on a rant that was something like this. Bro can't buy a house, so he wanted to invade mine. I refuse to ever live with my brother again. I would sooner live in the woods without electricity than with him. He's intentionally irritating as all hell. And if I had him as a roommate, I just knew he'd steal my booze, take my stuff, and invade my privacy none-stop. Not. Fucking. HAPPENING! No matter how many tears mom tries using on me. My mom broke down and finally conceded she'd never convince me after that rant. And she had to take my brother by the hand and leave with him because he initially refused to go, and kept begging her to turn back and make me let him move in. And then I yelled to him that it was a laugh that he called me a mama's boy before. Because he'd become exactly that. And this was just like the time he tried to get our mother to make me trade vehicles with him because he felt ashamed to be driving a minivan. He yanked away from mom, then told me to go fuck myself and the horse I rode in on. I laughed and pointed out I didn't ride in on anything, because I was already home. But his rattlecan horse was waiting for him in the driveway. He flipped his lid again, and looked like his head was going to explode. But mom got in front of him, and told him to just go. Then he drove off in his rattlecan Silverado without her. He'd driven her there. And then I had to take her home.
While taking her home, I made things very clear with my mother over why I could never trust my brother again. And his life was not my burden to bear. And then told her how little my brother was offering for rent anyway. Which he'd conveniently not told her. Then I later rented that same room to one of my best friends for $600 a month, and he pays for utilities. The other two rooms are my bedroom and a home office. There's an extra room in the separate garage too. So my mother tried to make me let my brother live in the garage instead. There's enough room in it's storage room for a bedroom. Again I said fuck no. And that's since been turned into another friend's rented room with a bit of a plywood remodel. Yeah, I kinda rented both the spare bedroom and garage room out to friends out of spite. But I wasn't letting my brother live with me in any capacity!
My brother later ended up having a complete meltdown in front of our parents over how he's the older brother. He should be the one who owns a house first. He's supposed to be successful, and I'm supposed to be the big loser in his shadow. Our dad poked him with his cane and told him that's not how life works, and they had a big argument. They told him to get out and not come back until he's cooled off and learned that he's just being a pointlessly jealous asshole.
The next part I post, my brother did the dumbest thing of all.
Edit: I came home late to over 600 comments, and still more pouring in. Far too many for me to answer. So I'll clear some things up here. Yes, I am no contact with my brother. And he's NC with the rest of the family as well. I do have cameras inside and outside my home. And a dash cam too. My brother knows this, and has stayed the fuck away since he left town. I'm told I'm an asshole too. Not arguing that, because it's true. I'm not exactly the nicest guy. But have someone like my brother in your life, and see how peachy you turn out.
Some have mentioned to having siblings just like my brother. Sadly I know very well people like him are increasingly common these days. My dad said a number of times that my brother probably would have ended up dead in an alley if he lived here 50 years ago with the way he behaves. As for our ages. I'm 30, and my brother is 32. I have not given my parents a spare key to my house. One is with a friend, and another is very cleverly hidden.
My house is a manufactured home. But it's not in a trailer park, and has been significantly modified with new siding and a new roof, and has a separate garage building. The previous owner was a former general contractor, and he loved to build and repair. And yes, I do have good insurance.
I keep seeing comments about a clock radio. Pardon me for not getting the reference. But I do own a digital alarm clock that has a built in CD player. Currently plays Tina Turner's Proud Mary to wake me up.
My brother and I were raised pretty evenly. He was always a jerk. But went full asshole after moving out. But our mother didn't favor him. She chewed him out plenty. And she didn't normally side with his stupidity. She just wanted him to live in a better place than in a camper next to a house filled with potheads. Addition: My brother willingly moved into that camper. He was renting half a room in that house of potheads. Then convinced the landlord to let him live in his camper on the property for the same price instead. And he bragged about his camper a lot. Which he has a full gaming center in, complete with PlayStation. He only wanted to invade my house to piss me off and make his cost of living even lower. He also doesn't like camping nearly as much as me. He mainly liked just pissing me off by following me. He loved to make me miserable. In fact, he felt entitled to make me miserable. That's the kind of person he is.
Do I have a restraining order against my brother? Not really. Just didn't bother. Because even if I did, it'd only be for like a year. And my brother wouldn't let something like that stop him if he was truly determined anyway.
​
My entitled brother lost his mind and attacked me, his ex, and our father. That got him disowned by the family. But not before I beat the crap out of him May 8, 2024
​
Warning: Contains domestic violence, small town drama, and idiocy. Read at own risk.
My brother's major downhill spiral started with jealousy over my house, but only got worse thanks to this next part. He started smoking pot more heavily and drinking harder. And that was making him more aggressive and violent. He got in a brawl outside of a bar for reasons I still don't know. But he got his ass handed to him on a platter. He eventually found out his ex has been seeing someone else. And ironically that someone is another friend of mine. Which was news to me. But it's not like he wasn't around my brother's ex a fair bit. They're both fairly social people, and were also friends for years. Once the secret was out, he confessed to me it wasn't planned. But my brother's ex Sara (Fake name) and my friend just clicked one day about a year ago. This sorta thing can only happen in a town like ours. I admit, Sara is very beautiful. But I've always seen her as a big sister figure ever since she started dating my brother in high school. So I never thought of getting with her myself. She kept her new boyfriend a secret for some time. I didn't even know until someone else spilled the beans. And the word traveled. When my brother found out, that was the last he could mentally take.
My brother was hoping for years that Sara would take him back. But no such luck there. When he lost his mind over the fact my friend was dating Sara, he started hunting for the poor guy. My friend is not a fighter, and a self described beanpole. So that's what I'll call him. Sara seems to like Beanpole because he's everything my brother is not. He isn't really a brave person. And came to me when he found out my brother was looking for him. He has a rather distinctively painted car. So it's easy to spot. My brother caught wind Beanpole was at my place, and came roaring his truck down the street.
When my brother showed up to my house, he started screaming and banging on my door because he wanted to kick Beanpole's ass. And when I refused to let him in, he attacked me. We had a redneck brawl right there in my front lawn. I want to say I won. But the fight only stopped when one of my friend/tenants yelled he was gonna call the cops. I sucker-punched my brother while he was distracted, and told him to never come back to my house again. And if he ever tried to hurt Beanpole again, I'd make sure he'd up in the hospital with two broken legs. This was backed by the other friends/tenants I had there. My brother is an idiot. But even he knew that pissing off my entire friend group was not a good idea. So he picked himself up off the ground and started leaving. But he clearly looked like he wanted to do something to my truck because he stopped and just stood there staring at it with his hands in his pockets, like he was debating scratching the paint with his keys. I yelled at him that I have CCTV. But then he turned around, pulled his pants part way down, and started rubbing his ass directly onto my truck's passenger side door. Then he forced out a nasty fart and said he sharted a little, and laughed like a nutbar when he took off. I immediately got the hose. I'm just glad I didn't leave windows open or doors unlocked. Otherwise he'd have done far worse. And the smell of what he did was pretty much what you'd think.
Everyone already knew Sara was never going to take him back. She avoided dating for years because my brother is so unhinged that she knew he'd do something like this. That's why she and her new boyfriend kept it secret. I went to ice my bruises and call Sara. But my brother was already calling and texting her. Over and over again, he wouldn't stop. He was begging she break up with her boyfriend and take him back. He even said he wanted to marry her and move to the northwest. Not sure why he specified that part of the US. Maybe because we live in the southeast. But she flatly told him no, never again, not happening even if hell froze over. He cried that it wasn't fair, because she was his first love (she wasn't), and they have a daughter together. Then he started sending her flowers, love letters and gifts. She sent them all back. Then she announced online that she and Beanpole had been dating for some time, and recently made plans to eventually move in together. That's when my brother really went off the deep end.
A few hours after he saw that post, my brother got wasted and then barged into Sara's parents' house by body ramming the back door. He actually cut his face because the door had a glass window. But he was so drunk that he didn't notice he was bleeding. Sara understandably freaked out, and my brother grabbed and tried to force her to kiss him. She pushed him away and he hit her for refusing him. He slapped her and threw her to the floor really hard like an angry pimp wanting his money. And his daughter saw it all and started screaming at the top of her lungs. Sara screamed too, and my brother fled. Police were called, and Sara was taken to the hospital. My brother threw her down so hard that she had a dislocated shoulder. My brother was found by police at his camper, where he was even more drunk than before, and half his face was covered in blood. He had to be taken to the hospital, where he got stitches. Then taken to jail. He got charged with trespassing, breaking and entering, and assault. (Surprisingly not DUI too, as he'd actually walked there) When our parents and I found out, well the family finally couldn't take it anymore, and went into an uproar. Our parents had it out with my brother after he bailed himself out from jail, and then he tried to fight our dad when they argued. And no surprise, he tried to blame everything on me.
My brother actually said I let Beanpole steal his woman. But couldn't really explain how. He also refused to believe I did not know until recently. Then he said that Sara was supposed to be his. Dad not only disagreed, but told my brother that he was a fucking disgrace, and that was an absolutely disgusting way to talk about Sara. She's not his property. And then my brother shoved dad as hard as he could. Dad got knocked to the floor, and my brother started kicking him. Dad isn't a small man. But he's old with a bad back and a bad knee. And needs a cane just to get around. Since we knew my brother would only have gotten crazier if he saw me, I was hiding in another room with the door cracked and listening in. I knew he might do something crazy. So I insisted on secretly being in the house when he was confronted. And I'm glad I was, because I came to dad's defense before my brother could do too much damage. I knew we were roughly even in a fight. So I ambushed and hit him in the back with a rubber mallet, and then beat the shit out of him. No police were called that time. I attacked him in defense of our dad. So he probably would have been screwed if he tried to get me charged anyway. And then he'd have gone right back to jail. Someone also once asked me if I enjoyed beating up my brother that day. I did not. I was just in an adrenaline fueled rage protecting my dad. But all things considered, I could have done far worse to my brother with that rubber mallet, as he only really got bruises. My dad gave hm a good smack in the face with his cane too though. But it's just hollow aluminum. Not exactly a damage dealer.
Our parents (mainly my dad) disowned my brother as I threw him out the door. And he spent some time crying on the porch and saying he was sorry and didn't mean it, then switched to saying we could all regret this, and we could go fuck ourselves before finally leaving. My mother spent hours crying. She'd stuck up for him before, and this was how he repaid her. My brother managed to avoid real prison time, or a trial for attacking Sara by taking a guilty plea deal. He signed away custody of his daughter. And Sara got a restraining order against him. My brother got a fine, somehow only a couple months in county jail, probation, has to abstain from alcohol for six months, and he had to pay for the property damage. Sara's dad already put in a new door, and billed my brother for it. My brother also understandably lost his job due to the situation.
Our mother secretly kept in contact with my brother, and agreed to look after my brother's truck and camper while he was serving his two month sentence. And she didn't ok it with dad first. He was pretty pissed at her for going behind his back. But she reasoned that it would be the last thing they ever did for him, because she didn't want my brother to have no place to go after getting out of the clink. And even she made it clear it was the last of her good will towards him too. Once my brother got out of jail, mom drove his truck and camper to a store to meet him, and gave him back the keys. She told me there was barely a word of thanks from him. Mostly just grunts when she tried to get him to talk to her. Dad said he still looked like an ungrateful sod. After that my brother lived wherever he could park his camper for a while until one of his remaining friends somehow got him a new job as a welder in another town 40-ish miles away that he was having to commute to with his camper for a while. But he was back every weekend. Apparently he only got the job by agreeing to work for less than what the job would normally pay. So he could move there permanently as soon as he got the ok from his probation officer. Which said officer didn't make easy I heard. I don't know the red tape of it. But he managed to pull it off. He can't leave the state. But he could still move to another county it seems. He's probably renting a space in a trailer park right now or something. And maybe he's back to doing his side hustle of hauling trash for people.
Before leaving town, my brother showed up outside my house to give me the double middle finger and dance around like a monkey while cursing at me in the street when he knew I was watching from the window. I guess it was his stupid way of trying to get in a last laugh without breaking the law or something. But then I got an idea. I've heard plenty of people say to kill with kindness. So I tried it in my own way. I grabbed an unopened bottle of my favorite honey whisky from the pantry because I know my brother really loves that stuff too. Then I went outside and walked right up to him, and shoved the bottle into his hands. I think it was the last thing he expected me to do in the moment. And I know he'd NEVER willingly break a bottle of good booze. Especially when it's free. Then I told him to have a drink on me to start his new life. I could barely keep myself from laughing when I turned to walk away. When I looked at my CCTV footage later, he actually stood there looking really glum while just staring at the bottle, and then moped back to his truck.
And then he was gone. Off to start his new life as a career welder. My brother is a childish, narcissistic, misogynistic, asshole to an extreme degree. But he's actually damn good at welding. Both with steel and aluminum. Mostly self-taught too. It's practically his only real talent. He's even done basic forging and auto body work. I've seen him do shit with scrap metal I wish I could. But that's the only real compliment I can still say about him. Maybe he'll make a decent new life and career for himself doing metal work elsewhere. He's better off away from us, just like we're better off away from him. He deleted all his social media, and I assume blocked us on everything. Not that we'd bother to contact him. One of his few remaining pothead friends in town told me my brother wants to legally change his name when his probation ends. Knowing him, he'll likely do it.
Things are much more peaceful and far less dramatic without my entitled leech of a brother here. Some part of me missed him for a while. But he's just a terrible person. And the only one who's still missing him, is our mother. She's still kinda broken up about it. But dad has been unwavering that they did the right thing by disowning him. He made his own bed. Now he's lying in it. I doubt my brother will come back any time soon. And if he does, he will not be welcome.
Edit: Got home and cracked open a bag of salt & pepper pork rinds, and was half expecting hundreds of comments like last time. I'm thankful it wasn't. Still, I'm also thankful to everyone who gave their support. To answer some questions I got in comments and DMS. I've got cameras inside and outside my house. Beanpole and Sara are still dating. But they've put off moving in together for now. My niece is doing good. But says she has no daddy anymore. My brother was barely a father to her anyway. Yes I know it was a bit much giving a known alcoholic a bottle of booze. And good booze at that. But I knew he wouldn't be able to drink it for months anyway. Which is why I was trying so hard to hold back laughter when I gave it to him. Besides, he's just gonna drink like a fish on his own dime when his court ordered sober time runs out.
I'm hoping this is the last post about current antics involving my brother. Maybe I'll tell other past stories about him. Or the story of my cheating ex. Still couldn't bring myself to post that. I typed it out and everything. But I guess it still ate at me because I really liked that woman. And yeah, this situation with my brother eats at me too. But he's toxic. And I'm better off without him in my life anymore.
​
Related Posts:
My entitled brother wanted my cot and tent for the camping trip
The time my brother stayed over and stole all the alcohol from my fridge
​
THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT THE OOP
DO NOT CONTACT THE OOP's OR COMMENT ON LINKED POSTS, REMEMBER - RULE 7

Tackling Handlebars.js Email Rendering Dilemmas on Heroku

Developing and deploying web applications often involve intricate processes that ensure seamless operation across different environments. One such scenario that developers frequently encounter revolves around the use of Handlebars.js for email template rendering. While local development environments offer a controlled setting, making it easier to manage and debug, deploying applications to cloud platforms like Heroku introduces a unique set of challenges. The transition from a local environment to a cloud-based platform often exposes issues that were not apparent during the development stage, particularly with dynamic email content rendering using Handlebars.js. This discrepancy can lead to significant troubleshooting efforts, aiming to identify and rectify the root causes of data inconsistency in email bodies when moving from localhost to Heroku.
The essence of this problem lies in the environment-specific configurations and dependencies that can influence Handlebars.js's behavior. Factors such as differing file paths, environment variables, and external service integrations play a crucial role in how data is fetched and rendered in emails. Understanding the underlying mechanisms of Handlebars.js, along with the specifics of Heroku's environment, becomes paramount in diagnosing and solving these discrepancies. This introduction aims to shed light on common pitfalls and provide insights into navigating the complexities of deploying Handlebars.js-based email rendering functionality on Heroku, ensuring that emails retain their intended data and structure across different deployment environments.

Command/Method	Description
handlebars.compile(templateString)	Compiles a Handlebars template string into a function that can be used to generate HTML strings with given context objects.
nodemailer.createTransport(options)	Creates a transporter object that can be used to send emails using Node.js, with options for the mail server configuration.
transporter.sendMail(mailOptions)	Sends an email using the transporter object, with mail options including the compiled Handlebars template as the email body.

Exploring Handlebars.js Email Integration Challenges on Heroku

Deploying web applications that utilize Handlebars.js for email rendering on platforms like Heroku presents a set of unique challenges that developers must navigate. One of the primary issues stems from the difference in the execution environment between local development setups and Heroku's dyno-based architecture. Locally, developers have direct control over their environment, making it easier to configure and troubleshoot email rendering issues. However, once the application is deployed to Heroku, the abstraction of server management and the ephemeral nature of dynos can introduce unpredictability in how email templates are rendered. This unpredictability is often due to discrepancies in environment variables, file path resolutions, and the handling of external resources, which can differ significantly from the local development environment.
To effectively address these challenges, developers need to adopt a systematic approach to debugging and configuring their applications for Heroku. This includes ensuring that all environment variables used for email rendering are correctly set in the Heroku application settings. It's also crucial to utilize Heroku's logging and monitoring tools to capture and analyze any errors that occur during the email rendering process. Additionally, testing email functionality extensively in a staging environment that mirrors Heroku's production environment as closely as possible can help uncover issues before they affect end-users. By understanding the nuances of deploying Handlebars.js-based email solutions on Heroku, developers can create more robust and reliable applications that maintain consistent behavior across different environments.

Setting Up Handlebars with Nodemailer in Node.js

Node.js & Handlebars.js

 const nodemailer = require("nodemailer"); const handlebars = require("handlebars"); const fs = require("fs"); const path = require("path"); const emailTemplateSource = fs.readFileSync(path.join(__dirname, "template.hbs"), "utf8"); const template = handlebars.compile(emailTemplateSource); const htmlToSend = template({ name: "John Doe", message: "Welcome to our service!" }); const transporter = nodemailer.createTransport({ host: "smtp.example.com", port: 587, secure: false, auth: { user: "user@example.com", pass: "password" } }); const mailOptions = { from: "service@example.com", to: "john.doe@example.com", subject: "Welcome!", html: htmlToSend }; transporter.sendMail(mailOptions, function(error, info){ if (error) { console.log(error); } else { console.log("Email sent: " + info.response); } }); 

Navigating Email Rendering with Handlebars.js on Heroku

Integrating Handlebars.js for email template rendering in a Heroku-hosted application involves several nuanced steps that are crucial for ensuring consistent performance and reliability across environments. A common challenge encountered in this process is managing dynamic content rendering when the application transitions from a local development environment to the cloud. The core of these challenges often revolves around environmental differences, including the handling of static assets, configuration of environment variables, and the execution context of Node.js applications on Heroku's platform. These factors can lead to discrepancies in how emails are rendered and delivered, necessitating a thorough understanding of both Handlebars.js and Heroku's operational paradigms.
To mitigate these issues, developers must employ best practices such as thorough testing in environments that closely mimic the production setting on Heroku, careful management of environment variables, and the use of relative paths for accessing templates and partials. Additionally, leveraging Heroku's add-ons for email services and integrating continuous integration and deployment pipelines can further streamline the development process. This approach ensures that any discrepancies in email rendering are caught early in the development cycle, reducing the risk of issues in the production environment. Ultimately, mastering the intricacies of deploying applications with Handlebars.js email templates on Heroku empowers developers to deliver high-quality, dynamic email content to their users, irrespective of the deployment environment.

FAQs on Handlebars.js and Heroku Email Rendering

1. Question: Why does my email template render differently on Heroku compared to localhost?
2. Answer: This discrepancy is often due to differences in environment configurations, such as environment variables and file paths, between Heroku and your local setup.
3. Question: How can I debug Handlebars.js email templates on Heroku?
4. Answer: Utilize Heroku's logging features and consider setting up a staging environment that mirrors your production setup for testing.
5. Question: Are there limitations to using Handlebars.js for email rendering on Heroku?
6. Answer: The main limitations involve handling static assets and ensuring environment variables are correctly configured across different environments.
7. Question: Can I use Heroku's environment variables in my Handlebars.js templates?
8. Answer: Yes, but you must ensure they are properly set up in your Heroku application settings and accessed correctly in your Node.js code.
9. Question: How do I ensure consistent email rendering across all environments?
10. Answer: Thorough testing in a staging environment that replicates your Heroku production environment as closely as possible is essential.
11. Question: Is it possible to use external APIs with Handlebars.js in Heroku for dynamic email content?
12. Answer: Yes, you can integrate external APIs for dynamic content, but ensure proper error handling and testing for reliability.
13. Question: How can I manage static assets for email templates on Heroku?
14. Answer: Consider using a cloud storage solution like Amazon S3 for static assets and reference them via URLs in your templates.
15. Question: What's the best way to handle partials in Handlebars.js on Heroku?
16. Answer: Store partials in a directory accessible to your application and register them with Handlebars before rendering your templates.
17. Question: Can I automate email testing for my Handlebars.js templates on Heroku?
18. Answer: Yes, integrating automated testing frameworks and CI/CD pipelines can help automate and streamline email template testing.

Mastering Email Rendering with Handlebars.js on Heroku

Successfully deploying dynamic email templates using Handlebars.js on Heroku necessitates a deep understanding of both technologies and the nuances of cloud-based deployment. The journey from local development to a live Heroku environment can be fraught with challenges, from environmental configuration issues to handling static assets and integrating external APIs. However, by leveraging Heroku's robust ecosystem, including its logging capabilities, environment variables, and add-ons, developers can overcome these obstacles. Best practices such as comprehensive testing in staging environments that mirror production settings are crucial for identifying and resolving discrepancies early. This process not only ensures that emails render as intended across all environments but also underscores the importance of adaptability and meticulous planning in modern web development. Embracing these strategies allows developers to deliver rich, dynamic content to their users, enhancing the overall user experience and maintaining the integrity of their applications' email communications.
https://www.tempmail.us.com/en/handlebarsjs/troubleshooting-handlebars-js-email-rendering-issues-on-heroku-versus-localhost

My grandparents passed away recently. I followed the guidelines my grandma set up for her final event. Her Church, her burial plot, her casket and the same for my grandpa. I just didn't expect for it to be a joint funeral. I sent out the notifications to friends of theirs and family after the date was set in stone. Their friends all came, so did most of my grandma's church but no family showed up. I wasn't surprised, I hadn't seen most of them in about 4 years.
I had a great time with my grandparents friends and then I went back home and cried my heart out. I had been their sole caregiver and I didn't know what to do without them. I had taken care of them for 15 years. It started with little things like lifting heavy things and escalated to needing to change the bed twice a night sometimes. I was empty and started to scroll through my grandpa's facebook to see pictures he posted before his memory went..
I found a group, started about 3 years ago that was being flooded with activity. When I went poking around I found out it was my mother who was hosting a funeral at her church and was 'trying to get final expenses taken care of.' I was stunned. Here was the woman I hadn't spoken to since throwing her out of the house for stealing jewelry and upsetting grandma terribly by using her Alzheimer's against her. 'How could you forget my birthday! You promised to give me this!'
I went to the funeral my mother had planned and listened to the pastor and then my mother got up to talk. She told everyone how hard it was taking care of them and something inside me roared to life. I don't remember everything I said, but it did include that she didn't pay for anything for them, not their caskets, not their burial plots, not their cremation, nothing. I told everyone I put them to rest at the funeral grandma planned herself 4 days prior. I said she'd never paid for any of their care or even seen them for 4 years.
I was asked to leave and drove home. Later, a cousin asked me if what I said was true and when I said it was and I could provide proof, they explained my mother had been taking funds from the family for years to pay for their care at a facility because they had outlived their insurance policy. They also explained I got a lot of people in trouble because somewhere in the speech I shouted I had done it all alone for years without any help. A lot of family members used my grandparents as an excuse to get out of work and had invited their coworkers to the funeral. By hearing my outburst they were now in trouble for lying as for the reasons to leave work or miss days.
She then went on to ask me about the inheritance and when that would be passed out. I told her that if anyone had earned the inheritance it had already been taken care of. I thought I was in the right, but now I'm doubting myself after so many cousins and family members are calling to tell me I handled it really poorly.
AITA? Did I handle this badly? Everyone's telling me I did.
Update: Thank you all. I felt I was the asshole because of how badly I reacted at the memorial service my mother held. It was very far out of character for me. I am usually very quiet and I don't talk too often, much like my grandpa. I screamed at them, I cried, I waved my arms and made an absolute spectacle of my grief. I feel so embarrassed by how I argued and carried on. Several family members are asking questions and seem genuinely bewildered by the circumstances.
This happened on Sunday and it's Friday now, I am still feeling as lost as I did at first. One of my uncle's did lose his job, that was confirmed earlier. He had multiple schemes going on at his workplace with a need for a medical lift bed for grandma and got his coworkers to donate around 8k in total. The gossip queens that attended the funeral told everyone Monday morning and by Monday afternoon he was in trouble with HR. This wasn't the only way he tried to earn funds, there are at least two others I know about from his son.
His son, my cousin, is furious with his dad and my mom. He and several other cousins of mine are suing my mother for taking funds from them. They thought they were helping pay for 24 hour care at an assisted living facilities. Every month my mother was collecting between 2,000 and 9,000 from family members. She would lament to them how hard and soul crushing it was to see such strong people just staring vacantly off into space, how they were unresponsive but this wasn't true.
My cousins apologized for not reaching out to me, but I'm not very close with anyone in my family. Some of you guessed it in the DM's but yeah, I was an affair baby. I came out 'wrong' and my mother's husband divorced her over it. The people I was closest to growing up were my grandparents. It's bad enough that some of the cousins forgot I was a family member at all. It's a huge mess, they're apologizing but I just don't want anything to do with them.
Grandpa's business is not worth millions, but it pays the bills. It's a handyman company. My family is asking about the company, how everything is going there and I'm putting up a stony face. It's not the family business, it's mine and it has been for years. All of the employees respect me because I treat them the same way grandpa did. I do still mess up some things that they tease me for. It's a very friendly place to work.
One of grandpa's properties is just a fenced in yard with covered storage for the different projects. It's right next to the business property and is just where we work on remodeling old RV's or turning vans into RV's. We have a few friends parked there too but it's just a dirt lot with gravel, a fence and a cover. There are some security cameras there and so far no issues.
I thought I would give an overall update and just thank you all for the support. I've felt so lost and I really did think I was TA for exposing them. Jobs are important and hard to come by out here and it's not just going to affect them. It's going to affect their partners, their children and even their pets. I feel most guilty about who else exposing them affected. Thank you, I really didn't expect this to blow up like it did. I'm going to keep reading and responding to comments. Thank you all again, this has been so incredible. I was never 'supposed' to be angry about anything, but seeing all the comments cussing out my family has been more cathartic than I can express. Thank you.

OFFERING: Room for rent in SW Austin/Oak Hill AVAILABLE NOW
$800/month + utilities, but we are open to negotiating cost for the right person ☺️
—
Hi y’all! We are searching for a likeminded roommate to join us at Mycohaus. We are creative and consciously minded, late 20s/30s, communicative, and responsible.
The available room is roughly 12x12 and would be a shared bathroom with one other roommate, who is very respectful and minimal.
The floor plan is open and we have so much space to share! 3 living rooms, large kitchen, unused downstairs office, spacious front/backyard. We even have a shed in the backyard for storage or a little workspace if you wanted to fix it up to your liking 🙂
no dogs/cats, I’m sorry!
Please DM me or text my partner Chris at 361-813-7933. Serious inquiries only.

OFFERING: Room for rent in SW Austin/Oak Hill AVAILABLE NOW
$800/month + utilities, but we are open to negotiating cost for the right person ☺️
—
Hi y’all! We are searching for a likeminded roommate to join us at Mycohaus. We are creative and consciously minded, late 20s/30s, communicative, and responsible.
The available room is roughly 12x12 and would be a shared bathroom with one other roommate, who is very respectful and minimal.
The floor plan is open and we have so much space to share! 3 living rooms, large kitchen, unused downstairs office, spacious front/backyard. We even have a shed in the backyard for storage or a little workspace if you wanted to fix it up to your liking 🙂
no dogs/cats, I’m sorry!
Please DM me or text my partner Chris at 361-813-7933. Serious inquiries only.

Vladimir Putin has landed in Beijing for a two-day state visit, where he was greeted by Chinese leader Xi Jinping with a red-carpet welcome and a full military band. The trip will build on their commitment to the "no limits" relationship they signed at the Winter Olympics in 2022, just before the full-scale invasion of Ukraine. As Russia becomes isolated from the West on the world stage, it has sought to boost trade in the East and elsewhere, helping prop up its economy in the face of sanctions.
Quote: "Relations between Russia and China are not opportunistic and not directed against anyone," Putin declared. "Our cooperation in international matters is one of the stabilizing factors in the international arena." Xi echoed the sentiment, adding that China will "work together to achieve the development and rejuvenation of our respective countries" and "to uphold equity and justice in the world."
Trade between the two nations has soared to record levels, rising 26% last year to $240B and hitting targets ahead of schedule. Russia has even overtaken Saudi Arabia as China's main oil supplier, while the latter sends back key commodities, vehicles and other consumer goods. Trade has also seen Russia's economy top expectations to expand by 3.6% in 2023, according to the IMF, despite Western efforts aimed at draining the Kremlin's war coffers.
Reaction? Wall Street Breakfast ran a survey last November, and again this week, on how the U.S. should manage its economic relationship with China. The biggest changes over the past six months showed that more subscribers have less faith in rapprochement and trade deals (24% to 15%), while a greater number believe decoupling and sanctions are the way to go (11% to 19%). It's noteworthy as Washington has recently threatened additional sanctions on Chinese banks and entities that handle Russian trade involving dual-use goods that can be used for both civilian and military purposes. How does all of this factor into your investing decisions? Join the discussion in the comments section.
Soft CPI Thought the Fed was only data dependent? Guess again. Data-centric traders celebrated in style after April's Consumer Price Index increased by 0.3% from March, easing from the +0.4% pace seen in the previous three months. The print, which meant inflation is still running well above the 3% level on an annualized basis, helped push Wall Street indices to new record highs, with the S&P 500 (SP500) crossing 5,300 for the first time ever. Meanwhile, retail sales came in flat, while regional business activity cooled further, suggesting the Fed could ease monetary policy earlier than expected. (119 comments)
Secret stake It's 13F season, where hedge funds with at least $100M in assets under management reveal their holdings. The flurry of filings sheds light on what they bought and sold during the quarter, but investment managers can also make special requests to regulators to keep some of their stakes confidential. Insurance-focused Berkshire Hathaway (BRK.B) just revealed one of those positions, disclosing a prior $6.7B stake in Chubb (CB), with market participants sending the stock up 8% AH on Wednesday as some looked to copy the successful picks of Warren Buffett. Other 13F highlights include filings from Bill Ackman's Pershing Square, Michael Burry's Scion and David Tepper's Appaloosa. (33 comments)
Battle of the skies AT&T (T) is teaming up with AST SpaceMobile (ASTS) to bring satellite internet connectivity to cell phones. The news sent ASTS up 36% in premarket trading this morning, with the space-based broadband network deal set to last until 2030. Other telecom operators have also ventured into the market. T-Mobile has a similar deal with SpaceX (SPACE), while Verizon (VZ) previously partnered with Amazon's (AMZN) Project Kuiper for connectivity solutions. Apple (AAPL) has also been offering satellite-to-cellphone emergency services on its iPhones since 2022. (43 comments)
Today's Markets
In Asia, Japan +1.4%. Hong Kong +1.6%. China +0.1%. India +0.9%. In Europe, at midday, London -0.2%. Paris -0.4%. Frankfurt -0.3%. Futures at 7:00, Dow +0.1%. S&P +0.1%. Nasdaq +0.2%. Crude -0.2% to $78.49. Gold -0.3% to $2,388.80. Bitcoin +5.4% to $66,165. Ten-year Treasury Yield unchanged at 4.34%.
Today's Economic Calendar
8:30 Housing Starts and Permits 8:30 Initial Jobless Claims 8:30 Philly Fed Business Outlook 8:30 Import/Export Prices 9:15 Industrial Production 10:00 Fed’s Barr Speech 10:00 Fed's Barkin Speech 10:30 EIA Natural Gas Inventory 10:30 Fed's Harker Speech 12:00 PM Fed's Mester Speech 3:50 PM Fed's Bostic Speech 4:30 PM Fed Balance Sheet
Companies reporting earnings today »
What else is happening...
GameStop (GME), AMC (AMC)? Meme rally is cooling off big time.
First Solar (FSLR) pops after trade probe into Asian solar imports.
Netflix (NFLX) ad plan tops 40M users; NFL deal in the bag.
Microsoft's (MSFT) emissions rise amid surging AI demand.
BOJ rate hike? Trouble as Japan's economy keeps shrinking.
Disney (DIS) flags spending cuts on marketing, traditional TV.
Networking: Cisco (CSCO) raises guidance after latest results.
Morgan Stanley highlights Dell's (DELL) AI server and storage.
China's NIO changing global strategy as U.S., EU tariffs loom.
Check out the latest hot dividend picks by Seeking Alpha analysts.

Cross-posted from AOAIBetrayeds. AOAIBetrayeds is an online peer support group and safe space reserved for betrayed individuals who are considering, actively attempting to, or have reconciled after infidelity. If you feel you would benefit from a more private supportive sub for only betrayed people, message the mods at AOAIBetrayeds or send me a DM.
It's been 2 months since I posted an update so I think it is time.
Context: Me: 59m. Her: 55f. Married 33 years, together 36. WW had a full on EA bookended with multiple sexual PA's (1 in Dec, 2022 and 3 in Sept, 2023 (last 2 on Dday). She then pretended to go NC with AP for an additional 5 months which created Dday #2 in February. Read my story and updates using my profile for posts if you want to see background.
https://www.reddit.com/useDiscardbobulated/submitted/
NO ADVICE PLEASE: Just like last time I posted, and the time before that, I am processing all of this stuff, and working with my therapist and my support group closely, so I will ask for advice only when I think I need it and when I think I am ready to receive it. Right now, I just thought I’d post an update for those who might be following along or anyone for whom my story resonates. I hope you’re OK.
I can use reassurance. I have asked for no advice because I am all full-up with advice that I am taking and utilizing. More and/or different advice will potentially muddy my process and have my approach blurred. Reassurance though? Bring it on. We all need it. Sometimes directly and sometimes just by being here and reading the stories of others. Reassure me.
As many of you know, I was dealt a huge blow the day after Valentine’s Day. That’s 3 months ago today for those of you keeping track. My wife, with whom I was 5.5 months into ‘reconciliation’ with, came clean and told me that she was still in contact with her AP for the entirety of that span of time.
The revelation of The Big Lie as I refer to it now, even with my wife, was in incredibly damaging hit to the idea of reconciliation. It was as shattering, if not MORE shattering as the original affair revelation. Big lies, little lies, untruths, the masking of truth, the omission of truth…all are devastating to the traumatized betrayed. If you know anything of the effects of trauma (as most of you do I am sure), you know that each lie usually triggers a trauma response, and each trauma response piles into a vast storage area in your brain where it pools and stays ready to fuck you up every time it’s poked. And mine was poked A LOT in the last 3 months. A LOT.
I started the ‘last 3 months’ phase of this journey with this huge setback that was The Big Lie. It reset our progress to zero in some cases. If you look at some things, like my ability to control the PTSD events, then that progress was still in effect. (I was still able to recognize the PTSD event coming on and sometimes get control of it before spiraling out of control). If you look at the timeline of physical sexual events, that didn’t change. If you take into account all the books and articles read, all the podcasts and audiobooks listened to, and all the hours spend by me in IC, then then those items were (mostly) still intact.
But you know what was now absolutely fucking GONE?
~T R U S T~
I had spent that first 5.5 months learning to trust again as we were working our way through reconciliation. You can look back at my post history prior to February, 2024 and see a solid progression of trust being built, of confidence being regained, and of affection, sexuality, appreciation, and friendship being rebuilt.
ALL of that was 100% GONE in ONE moment. GONE.
LIES are destructive. Secondary Dday lies like this one are DEEPLY destructive.
Trust is often cited as the most important ingredient in a personal relationship. How can we even begin to consider something as gigantic as a marriage reconciliation when trust has been completely blown up? I don’t have an answer to that. I am looking for it.
You know what was also lost at the point of the revelation of The Big Lie?
Hope. Optimism. Self-esteem. Admiration. Lust. Attraction. Affection. All gone.
My feelings of these things were returning in slivers over those 5.5 months after Dday and now they were just GONE.
Replacing these feelings were different feelings I had. Now I was feeling: Helpless. Worthless. Inadequate. Unloved. Betrayed. Devastated. Like a Chump. Belittled. Emasculated. Unworthy. Ugly. Undesirable …and incredibly MANIPULATED.
She had spent this time manipulating me into complacency while she continued to carry on her affair in the form of regular communication with ‘her friend’ AP. They talked on the phone regularly, texted regularly. All the while she was putting forth what I THOUGHT was EFFORT into our reconciliation, but was really just a collection of actions that were meant to placate me.
The Fake R time, as I now know it, included: I love you’s. Hand holding. Sex. Apologies. Forward thinking. Plans. I was feeling like PROGRESS was happening. I was still experiencing the PTSD events. Still having times when I would lash out in anger at her for what she had done, but those awful things were decreasing in intensity and frequency and I was thankful for that.
I was able to see what reconciliation looks like.
Only I wasn’t. It was all a sham. Now that she is not in contact with him (I hope and believe), she has stopped the hand holding (mostly). Not one ‘I love you’ in the past 3 months. The hugs I used to get now feel like the hugs you’d give a kid with a scraped knee. The feeling of being wanted and being on a path to something better has been obliterated. And sex? 2-3 times a week during the Fake R has become 1 time in the last 3 months.
So now, after the revelation of The Big Lie I am left with a VERY odd feeling. A feeling like what I WANT BACK is the pre-Big-Lie actions. The ‘I Love You’s’, the hand holding, the sex…
But since I now know these as things that were done to manipulate me, I really DON’T want them back. What I want is something that I have not yet seen: An honest reconciliation and the actions that come with that. And now that my mind has suffered the mind-fuck rollercoaster of the last 8 months, I don’t even know what honest reconciliation looks like. My perception is fucked up. I no longer can think accurately about this stuff because of the gaslighting. It’s hard to even describe the feeling of disconnection with my own reality.
A METAMORPHOSIS The changes in how she was treating me now that she no longer has AP in her back pocket as a ‘friend’ to talk to are stark. She has expressed that the sex was just to placate me. That she can’t feel good about US anymore because she doesn’t have knowledge of how HE is doing anymore. She cannot “live her good life” with me because she doesn’t know if HE is able to “have a good life”. She is NO CONTACT with him, but clearly some of her still has a connection to him. That hurts.
During these last 3 months I have gone from non-functioning to confused to (almost) accepting. Along the way I have passed ANGRY, DEVASTATED, DEFEATED, and a hundred other negative emotions.
I also spent nearly all of my time doing what ALL us betrayeds do. I tried to get her to UNDERSTAND MY PAIN. I wanted her to really know what she has done to me. Not just what she did with the affair, but with the aftermath of the affair and the 5.5 months that I was trying to regain trust in her and she was faking R with me so that she could continue her EA with HIM. I was CONSTANTLY wanting her to HURT because I thought that if she could HURT like I HURT then she could understand my pain and come to really know what it is she has done. And if she could get to THAT place, then surely she would finally find the shame and guilt that I think she deserves to bear.
The problem is that even with all my effort to explain to her in words, in mental breakdowns, in PTSD trauma events, in triggers, sadness, crying and constant malaise, nothing was changing.
She wasn’t displaying any of the remorse, guilt and shame that I want from her. She wasn’t giving me any of the actions or words she was giving me during Fake R. She wasn’t holding my hand. She wasn’t saying I love you. She wasn’t touching me or having sex with me. She was just enduring my wrath.
During the last time that I sat with her and had a Q&A about how she could do this and all the same questions that I have asked before and my saying again how hurt I was and how it was ALL HER FAULT and how I thought she should feel SHAME I ended up feeling a little tranquil. I felt like maybe I had told her enough times. I didn’t know if she fully understood like I wanted her to but I thought that we were at a place where MORE of this was going to do NOTHING. After all, almost 3 months of it hadn’t YET produced anything, why would MORE have any potential for positive progress.
So I had a thought. What if I just treated her nicely? What if I stopped with the finger wagging and the name calling and the ‘why me’s’ and the angry lashing out. What if I instead tried to hold HER hand occasionally? What if I just WASN’T adversarial? Could that help? Could that get her to see me differently? Could that get ME to see me differently? Could that reset my mind and get me out of the victim moment and into some undefined type of recovery?
I wondered to myself if I had it in myself to let those things go. I wondered if I was CAPABLE of not being so fucking angry at her for what she had done. I mean, we both are clearly aware of what she has done and what it has caused in me, so I don’t have to restate that over and over and over again, DO I?
I took this question with me to IC.
IC reframed it in a way that resonated with me somehow. She said: “Look, you’ve spent a lot of time ‘spinning’, trying to make heads or tails of your predicament. Trying to get her to love you again. Trying to find connection with her. Why? Because you love her. Isn’t that the entire point? If you want to reconcile with her the end goal is for you to love one another again because you love her, right?” She said: “Why don’t you try showing her your true self? The self that loves her. The self that wants reconciliation because you love her. Maybe start with small things? Don’t go crazy and drive yourself nuts with a huge reversal from anger and hurt to loving and wonderful. Instead just don’t hurl negativity all the time. Relax instead. Act like reconciliation is under way in order to see if that action can initiate a real reaction.”
In other words, release the Restraining Bolt that keeps you in the stew of anger and contempt and head off to find a crazy old wizard and your path to freedom from the tyranny of self-pity.
Interesting.
This made SOME sense to me, and partly made sense to me because of the way I was FEELING. It would NOT have made sense to me 2 months ago, or even a week ago. It makes sense to me because of where I am NOW. A shift in gears from the anger and hatred to something more nurturing. Not a full tack. More of a subtle lane change. (sorry to mix my motoring and sailing metaphors).
So this is where I am now. I made the decision in my head to move over into this other lane. I did this less than 36 hours ago. I have not yet determined if this has been beneficial or not. I feel anxious. Of course I didn’t NOT feel anxious in that other lane, so this is a wash. I have not yet experienced any super-positive changes to my own attitude. I have no idea if she has even noticed. I hope she has and I intend to ask her if she has when we go see our marriage counselor today.
T I M E
My support group has told me that time is my friend. That only time will allow my wife to recognize that she truly is the villain in her own story. To have her really understand that SHE is the cause of all of this. For her to recognize also that her AP is not the needy ‘good guy’ that weaseled his way into her psyche, but the manipulative fuck that we all know he is. TIME. Time also for me to be able to release the anger like I have been attempting to do over the last couple days. Time for me to ponder how I can find my own self esteem again and really shed my feelings of inadequacy and ugliness (among others). Time for WW and I to possibly find some bonding time and make some memories that are not anger and sorrow and self pity and….
“She’s fast enough for you, old man.” I guess she is. That’s what they tell me. Essentially the theme of this slow-burn reconciliation thing. That if she is showing ANY progress, then that is the progress that we as betrayeds need to embrace. ANYTHING is “fast enough” because you cannot speed this process up. You will never do the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs. Not gonna happen. 1-5 years is what they say reconciliation takes for it to be complete if it makes it to complete. I have told myself to give it at least 3. My hope is that I will feel a shift from tentative to optimism at some point along the way and that will give my brain the jump to light speed that it needs for me to relax and feel safe again.
This ‘update’ doesn’t predict a future. I have no preconceived ideas about how this might pan out. I just thought that an update could be beneficial.
Beneficial to ME in my selfish need for some validation of where I am and what I’m going through. For ME to be able to try to get it all on ‘paper’ so that I can help myself try to understand where I am. For ME to see a progression, no matter how up-and-down it has been.
Beneficial for OTHERS who may have a story like mine or PARTIALLY like mine who will be able to see themselves in this writing and be able to feel less alone. Beneficial maybe to all of us who might have a Bad Motivator.
Thanks for reading, my fucked up comrades. Sorry you are here in this sub. It’s a truly shitty place to need to be. I appreciate all of you. Without this sub and the people in it I think I might literally not be around. Here’s to you and your futures. May you find some peace.
Fuck these affairs.

Part 1
Chicago, 2016. Flinn Gerald is doing his best to make it in the city. Born in Selma, Alabama, he has spent his entire life trying to escape the ever tightening grasp of his small town. But alas, he made it out and is adapting to life in the big city. With a big fancy corporate job, an endless supply of friends, an apartment with a stunning view of the lake, and great distance from his family, what more could he need? Well, there is a lot more (or less) that he needs, but of course that is a story for later.
On a typical Tuesday night at a bar, the regulars crowd in. Flinn is late, as usual, as he stayed late at work (again), but on his arrival, the cheers and hugs from all the friends make everyone forget of the regular inconvenience. Conversation ensued, starting with all the boring finance jargon, but as the drinks flowed, so did the conversation, moving away from work and more into life. This is what everyone preferred.
“Another round, anyone?” asked Raheem, enthusiastically. After a murmur of concurrence, he stood up to make his way up to the bar. “Flinn, care to lend a hand?”
Raheem Bartlett was Flinn’s college roommate and the first person he met outside of his hometown. The pair hit it off instantly despite having wildly different backgrounds. Even in their freshman year, the engineer and the finance major would get into all sorts of trouble together, but eventually they leveled out. Six years later, they still have each other’s backs just like day one.
The pair made their way up to the bar and waited to get the bartender's attention. “What's up with you, bro?” asked Raheem. “You’ve been seeming a bit off.”
“Oh, ya know. Work, life, everything kinda happens so fast. Work has been busy as of late, and the hours long.”
Seeming displeased by this answer, Raheem stared back in concern.
“Really, I’m fine… just long hours.”
“Back in school you’d pull back to back all-nighters and then still make it to a morning class. I find it hard to believe that the mighty Flinn would be so setback by ‘long hours’.”
Flinn took a moment to ponder, staring down at the bar covered in various stamps and postcards beneath the epoxy surface. “I guess, ya know, it's not all it was cracked up to be. I guess I had expected more.” Flinn had mostly dropped his accent, but occasionally it would still slip out.
Despite coming from a long line of mill workers (mostly paper) and farm hands who never ventured further than the Dallas county line, Flinn yearned to leave his small town and conquer the world from a young age. Coming from the poorest county in Alabama, his family always squashed his dreams, labeling them as impossible. But Flinn knew better. Or, at least he knew he could do better. Graduating top of his class a year early and winning a full-ride scholarship to Northwestern University, he had proved everyone wrong and set his own path. The path he was told was impossible became his reality.
“More what?”
“Nothing, really. I mean, what more is there? This is what I always wanted, right? The stable job in the city, never having to worry about money. It’s great, and I couldn’t be more grateful, but… something is missing. Doing the same thing day after day staring at a screen, moving clients money around. I… just hoped it would be more fulfilling, especially after all it took to get here.”
Before he could finish his thought, the bartender came up to take their order: another round for the table, plus a round of shots, plus two more shots.
“What am I saying, really?” added Flinn. “I shouldn’t be complaining. Look at where I am now compared to six years ago. So much has changed. My home, friends, even my diet. I just feel a bit off. Like I need something more to do..
“I get it, bro. Adjusting to your new life can be rough. Enjoy it for a minute or two.” Raheem slides a shot in front of Flinn. “Here, take this.”
Tuesday had become fairly consistent to this point for this group of misfits: Raheem and his girlfriend Amy; Jack; Jasper, from Flinn’s firm, and his wife Max; and of course, Flinn. For nearly two years, these six have been meeting at O’Malley’s every Tuesday night for drinks and trivia. Some nights are more wild than others, but Tuesday has become the staple of the week among them.
Drinks flowed pretty regularly and heavy over the next few hours as the clock approached the end of day. Still going round for round on alternating tabs, the useless debates began to heat up.
“You can’t seriously think Wicker Park is the best neighborhood outside the Loop. Y’all need to get out more,” said Flinn.
“Bro it’s obviously Wicker Park,” argued Raheem.” Right on the blue line, getting to O’Hare is insanely easy, plus you can’t find better music in the city. Besides, Wicker Park has Davenport’s.”
“No one ever says Wicker Park,” adds Jack. “Have you ever heard someone say Wicker Park before?”
“Dude, but you can obviously get to O’Hare from anywhere in the city,” said Flinn
“Sure, but beats walking through that dumb Block 37 Center transfer like you and your red line. No transfer is the way to go, plus the blue line gets you right to the center of the loop.”
“So does every other L line as long as ya don’t mind walking a few blocks!”
“You’re both wrong,” adds Max. “Neither matters because Midway is better anyways.”
“Woah!” the whole table murmurs, sharing shocked looks as if she just confessed to a crime. Flinn rolled his eyes at this notion.
“Who flies out of Midway?” asks Raheem.
“What? Less people, cheaper flights, and more space. Why wouldn’t I fly out of Midway?” said Max.
“Wait, wait, that aside,” interrupts Raheem, “can we go back to the fact that Jasper thinks Sheffield is the best neighborhood? I feel like we moved past that too quickly.”
The debate rages on for many more minutes, until Flinn, seemingly out of nowhere, had enough.
“Can y’all just shut the fuck up! Why does it even matter?” Everyone’s glance quickly shot over to Flinn as a deafening silence overtook the table. Everyone pondered how to respond, and couldn’t seem to find an answer. This behavior from Flinn was unexpected, nay, unheard of. Flinn was the most level headed amongst them by far. Not even Raheem, his best friend of six years, had ever seen him get angry, let alone over an inconsequential friendly argument. “I…” Not even Flinn knew what to say next. “I’m going to go home. Long day tomorrow.” Already on his feet, he quickly walked away from the table and out the door.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The walk home was fairly brisk, but Flinn had grown fond of the cold. He tucked his hands into his coat pocket and hunched his shoulders forward, only looking down at the pavement ignoring the mostly asleep but still wide awake city surrounding him. His thoughts ran wild and near out of control. Of course, his intoxication did not help with clarity, but the inner dialogue was deafening. Not even he knew what was bothering him, but he was obviously bothered, deeply. He made a fool of himself in a way he never had before, and right now he felt he did not recognize himself. Surely some sleep will help, right?
He slowly made his way down the steps to the platform, carefully watching each step as to not fall, to wait for his train. He posted up against a pillar and stared off onto the dark, empty tracks. What has gotten into me? He did his best to calm his racing, wasted mind searching for some legibility amongst his thoughts.
Once he finally got home, he slumped down on the couch and scarfed down some week-old sushi he found in the fridge. He turned on some old documentary and was asleep before he knew it.
Suddenly, he was woken up by his phone ringing. It usually does not ring this time of night and was less than thrilled to be woken, so he let it keep ringing. It stopped after a couple of seconds, and he glanced down at the screen:
Mama
(2) missed calls
Dad
(1) missed call
Now concerned, he calls his mom back in a hurry. “Hello?”
“Flinn? Your grandfather, he’s dead.”
Part 2
The wet air engulfed Flinn’s face as he stepped out the airport doors into a warm February day. Six years had passed since he smelled the Alabama air. Even after all this time, it still smells just as he had remembered as if not even a day had passed. The drive to Selma was another ninety minutes, and despite having five days to mentally prepare himself for his arrival, it was not nearly enough time. He had not seen or spoken to anyone from his town, not even family, since he left early that August morning all those years ago. He left everything behind to start his new life. The life so many told him to not start, that he needed to stay. He left anyway and never looked back.
That was, until now. He had little choice in this regard. He knew he would have to make his return someday, but he knew not when nor for what. But today was that day. Flinn and his grandfather (Pops) had always been close. If anyone had been supportive of him, it’d have been Pops, but he was a man of little words. Even when he could talk, he hardly chose to. He was a great listener, and not just because he could not speak. He showed he was engaged and listening no matter what Flinn had to say. At times, he felt Pops was the only one who understood him as if he had been just like him before, but no one would ever talk about his past. All Flinn knew is Pops lost his tongue after a failed lynching.
The familiarity of the scenery zipping past was bittersweet. He had not realized how much he missed the rolling hills and thick forests beneath the unforgiving southern sky. He kept his head pressed against the cool glass of the car window even through the constant bumps in the road. He couldn’t look away. So many memories happened here, and the closer he got, the more plentiful the memories became, and the more potent they were, and the more painful they’d become.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the dust settled behind him, he stood on the driveway staring at his childhood home still unsure how to process his emotions. It was all so overwhelming. He was thinking everything at once. He took a deep breath, rolled back his shoulders, and swallowed. He reached for the door handle, hesitating slightly, and took a step in. One foot, and then the next.
“Martin!” Flinn smiled as his old friend and childhood dog rushed towards him without hesitation. He knelt down and embraced him as Martin excitedly rustled through his arms seemingly showing more energy than he had in years.
He walked down the hall and around the corner into the living room. There, both drawn to the large television like moths to a flame, he saw his parents sitting beside one another on the couch watching some daytime program with their backs to him. They seemed to pay no notice to the commotion at the front door nor the loud creaking footsteps he took along the old wooden floors. They knew he was there; they just chose to ignore him. He walked into view to greet them. "Mama, dad." His father smiled slightly but caught himself and refrained.
Mama kept a straight face, but seemed to be fighting tears."Howard, help Flinn with his bags, dear."
“No, it's alright, I know where to take them,” said Flinn. “How are y’all?”
“Service is tomorrow at eleven down at the ole First Baptist Church. Make sure to wear something nice.”
“Alright, mama. I’ll... I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Whole family is coming tonight. Dinner is served at...”
“At seven, I got it, just as always.”
“It’s good to see you, kid.” said his dad. “Let me know if you need anything”
He did not expect things to go like that, not that he knew what to expect. He had hoped time would have been more forgiving. Perhaps leaving unannounced in the middle of the night was not the best plan, but at the time he felt as if he had no other choice. Everyone knew he was leaving. That was no secret and had not been for years before any plan had actually been set into motion. No one knew the date or time, except for Pops, of course, but he’d never tell. Of course he wanted everyone to know. He wanted everyone to be proud of him, but it was too big of a risk and commendations were too much to expect. Besides, Mama always had her schemes, and had she known, she would have found a way to stop him.
Not much had changed since he’d been here last. The old wood paneling still lined nearly all the walls, crack in some spots, replaced in others, but all coated by decades of cigarette soot. On the walls were a combination of family portraits from over the years and cheap artwork found at the flea market. Old green furniture, too many house plants to count, and a tacky themed kitchen, it was all still the same.
His childhood bedroom, however, was much different. Hardly even recognizable, what was once his bedroom was now a storage room filled with endless shelves and boxes. He set his things on the lonely cot in the corner, sat down, and took it all in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not realizing he had drifted off, Flinn awoke and looked at the clock. 6:55. Convenient. He sat up and brushed his hair down with his hand as he suspected it was sticking up in the usual way. He rubbed his eyes and made his way to the dining room. The whole family was there, probably about twenty people or so, all scattered about throughout the kitchen, dining room, and living room engaged in various conversations. His nana, aunt, and Mama were cooking away putting the final touches on the large meal.
“Well if it isn’t this fucker…” said a familiar voice to his left, laughing. Flinn looked over to see his cousin who’s just a year younger than him.
“DeAndre, how are you?”
“Never thought I’d see you again, even since you left. Thought maybe you ‘ood be dead.”
“Nah,” Flinn laughed. “Still very much alive.”
“I can see dat. Wearin’ your fancy suit and all.”
“Yeah I’ve been doing pretty well. Work has been… good. I have a great job at a finance firm in Chicago. Everything has been… Good. Yeah, good. How about you?”
“Now you ain’t goin’ city on us, are you?”
Flinn laughed. “I think I might already be.”
Just as dinner was finishing up, a line started to form and people found a seat wherever they could, be it at the table, on the couch, near the counter, or outside.
“Flinn!” his dad called out. “I saved ya a seat here at the table, kid.”
Flinn took his seat right next to his dad which positioned him right across from Mama. The table could sit eight, and the seats filled in pretty quickly so he was lucky to get one. Besides his sister, all of the oldest family members took the other four chairs.
The dinner itself was mostly uneventful, except for the food of course which was extraordinary. Flinn had not eaten Mama’s cooking, or anything like it in six years. The southern food in Chicago was alright, but nothing like what you can get down here, and no restaurant is going to have the same quality and taste as a home-cooked meal. By God, he had not realized how much he needed this. It was almost healing, like a part of his soul had been lost and he found it once again. The last week had been incredibly overwhelming, and last Saturday he never foresaw being here now, but he was glad he was, regardless of the looming tension. All the stress from work and life back home in Chicago was now all gone. All he had to worry about was… oh yeah, the family drama. The dreaded interactions, what he had suppressed for so long, that had kept him up at night for years. All those long nights doing homework or anything else beside sleeping. They had not been by choice but rather necessity. He would have slept more if he could, and some of those nights he really needed to, but instead was kept motivated by the pain. The pain of knowing no matter what he did, no matter how successful in life he became, he would never be good enough for his family, good enough for Mama, because he left them.
If there ever was a time to clear his conscience and get everything out of the way, it would be today, or at least over the next couple of days. When else would he have the chance? Not that any of this had been planned, and his therapist would probably advise against it. She did not even know he was here. What would she have to say? Avoiding conflict has always been his choice. He has always been quiet, never been at the center of drama, but some things need to be said. Just, maybe not by him. If he waited long enough, perhaps they would come up on their own. So he decided to wait, but he knew time was limited and he could not wait forever.
“Mama, could you pass the butter?”
Mama just stared back at him. “Get ya own damn buttah, since ya can do everything else on ya own.”
Flinn stands up and reaches for the butter. “I can do everything myself, and I have. I hope you’re proud, Mama.”
“Proud? What do I have to be proud of?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe my job, my degree, everything I have been able to do to build a good life for myself.”
“I don hear anything worthy of praise.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mama.”
“Oh, so now you’re sorry? You could’ve fooled me. Is that how you felt when you left? Unbelievable.”
“I left because I had no other choice.”
“Oh don go lyin’ to me now. You did have a choice. You had a choice and you chose to leave us. You didn’t say goodbye, and you were just gone in the mornin’.”
“If I had not just left, you would’ve stopped me.”
“Cause you ain’t got no reason to go nowhere.”
“I had plenty of reasons to want to leave, and not because of you. I’ve always had dreams, Mama, ya know that. I’ve always been bigger than just this town.”
“Oh, so now you’re too good for us, city boy? Huh? I don wanna hear no more of it.”
“It wasn’t about that, Mama. Look at all I’ve been able to do.”
“I ain’t see nothin’. You never call and you never visit. How am I supposed to know what you been doin’?”
“I thought you didn’t want me coming around any more?”
“Well, you’ve got that right. Glad to see you still have some brains left.”
“Well excuse me. Maybe it's best if I leave again. Sorry I ain’t make you proud, Mama.” Flinn got up and left the table.
Part 3
Just as the early light began to peak through the blinds, Flinn was woken up by a firm knock at his door. “Flinn, may I come in? It's Uncle Terrence.”
Flinn sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Yep, come in.”
“How are you this morning, kid? Ya know, she’ll never admit it, but ya Mama missed ya.”
“I find it hard to believe.” Deep down Flinn knew it was true, but she was hard as a rock, and arrogant. She would always find a way to be right, even when she knew she was wrong, and she would never let you know she knew she was wrong.
“Well, we’re all proud of you, kid.” Flinn hated when Terrence and everyone called him kid. “Just wish yoo’d come around and see us every once in a while. I know ya busy with all the big city stuff and all.”
“I thought no one wanted anything to do with me any more?”
“At first, maybe, but I miss ya, kid. Ya know who missed ya most of all?”
“Pops?”
“Yes, of course. He always wanted to know about ya, every time I’d come round. He couldn’t call, but always wanted me to.”
“I should have called.”
“I think everyone wanted to call, but as time went on, it became harder and harder to push that button. It was already so hard at first, and only got harder.”
“I thought about everyone a lot, especially at first. Leaving was really hard, and I almost didn’t, but I always wanted more. I didn’t want to spend my whole life in this town, and if I had not left when I did I probably never would have. But it was still hard. I wanted to go home so many times, but I convinced myself no one wanted me here no more or that y’all would’ve said ‘I told ya so’ or sum bullshit. No one wanted me around any more and I had left, so I was stuck on the path I chose. And I’m happy, and I’ve done so much, but it’s never been easy.”
“Pops was a lot like you when he was your age. Set on leaving as quickly as he could. Things were different back then, not that they are any better now, but Hank... my brother… Pops, was just like you.”
“What changed?”
“Well, he never did. Just no one talks about it anymore. After what happened on that day, they blamed his behavior. Said he should’ve played it safe and he’d still have his tongue.”
“No one has ever told me the story.”
“And they won’t. It changed the whole family.”
“But you’ll tell me?”
“Only if you promise not to tell. I don need an earful from ya Mama.”
“I promise.”
“Hank couldn’t be confined to Selma, just like you. He joined the army right out of high school, and after he was done in Lebanon, he didn’t go straight home.”
“Where did he go?”
“Everywhere but here. He used the small amount of money he got from the army and went anywhere that would let him in. Across Europe, parts of Asia, Northern Africa, even parts of South America. Of course, a young black man traveling by himself at the time was challenging, but Hank could hold his own pretty well. He still ran into all sorts of trouble. He spent more nights in jail than he would have liked, but he would have done it all again if he could.”
“What happened when he got back?”
“He was much different, but for the better. He couldn’t wait to get back out there again. He had confidence like I had never seen before. That’s what got him in trouble not too long after.”
“How’d he lose his tongue? I’m guessing that is what changed everything.”
“When he got back, he got involved with a girl, I think her name was Susan. She was the mayor’s daughter. They snuck around for a while. Their relationship was not acceptable, especially to her father. If he found out, Hank would be in a lot of trouble, and of course eventually he did find out. He spent about a month in jail in just awful conditions even for the time. They didn’t have anything to hold him on so eventually they had to let him go. About a week after he got out, he was walking downtown and some guys grabbed him. He took him out to a field and tried to lynch him. Luckily, they failed and he survived, but they took his tongue as a warning. He was never the same after that. All of his confidence was gone, and of course he couldn’t speak no more.”
Flinn did not know how to respond. It all made sense now: why the family so desperately wanted him to stay, why they were so hurt by him leaving, and why they’d feared who he was becoming. They were all traumatized and wanted to protect him. They did not want him to suffer the same fate as Pops.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The funeral itself was fairly uneventful and went nearly as perfectly as expected. The church filled in with hardly any empty seats, tears were shed, and speeches were given. Pops touched the lives of almost everyone he met, and they came to show it. After the service was the reception, and yet again, the food was spectacular. Everyone got along just fine today and there was no more residual drama, at least for now. Today was Pops’ day.
After the reception, the family gathered back at Mama’s house for the reading of the will. Pops did not have many possessions, at least not of monetary value, but what he did have was meaningful in other ways. He was very clear on who he wanted to give off, and handpicked what would be most substantial to each person.
Everyone gathered around much as they did at dinner, and the lawyer began his reading:
I, Hank Gerald, a resident in the City of Selma, County of Dallas, State of Alabama, being of sound mind, not acting under duress or undue influence, and fully understanding the nature and extent of all my property and of this disposition thereof, hereby make, publish, and declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament, and hereby absolutely revoke any and all other wills and amendments previously made by me.
The reading went on for some time as there were many beneficiaries. Flinn began to daydream about what could be left for him. Flinn was not a very sentimental person, so trinkets and heirlooms paid him little interest. Perhaps his car, or maybe money. Something that will be useful to him.
To my dear brother, Terrence, I leave my 1964 Pontiac GTO and all tools and parts associated and necessary with/for the running and upkeep of the vehicle.
The further down the list he went, less was given, but this is to be expected. As the end of the list neared, Flinn began to wonder what would be left for him if anything at all. The will had been in order of age, to this point, so he should be up soon.
To my Granddaughter, Nia,...
Nia? She's younger than me… Flinn thought.
I leave her my grandmother’s locket containing a picture of my Grandfather before he left for the Great War. She looked at it everyday to keep the memory of him alive until he eventually returned to her alive.
How could he skip me? Perhaps I should have called, or never left. Flinn got lost in his own thoughts and barely paid attention to the rest of the will. He and Pops were so close, and he never imagined he would be taken out of the will. But that is my own fault, afterall. I left, and I never even care to call. He died, and I never even said goodbye.
Just as Flinn began to accept the consequences of his actions, they got to the last beneficiary listed in the will:
Finally, to my oldest Grandson, Flinn, who is more and more like me than I ever could have wished to have been, I leave my journal. I hope whenever you need the motivation, you read it to find the meaning you are looking for in life.
Part 4
Flinn sat at his desk unable to focus. It was fairly slow for a Friday, but he still had work to do. After a chaotic weekend back home in Alabama, he was ready to settle back into his monotonous routine. The experience had been healing in some regards, but still left a lot unanswered. What did he mean by finding the meaning in life? Flinn wondered as he flipped through the endless pages of Pops’ journal, all filled with endless recounts, drawings, symbols, and pictures from his travels, just as he had since Monday. The journal consumed his whole attention, and nothing else seemed important enough to focus on. He had even ditched his friends all week which he never does.
He is supposed to meet Raheem for drinks tonight, but now he is wondering if he even wants to go. There is just too much in his head right now. He just wants to be alone. 12:37. The clock is moving too slowly. Flinn clears his calendar for the rest of the day and decides to go home.
At home, he still finds himself flipping through the pages of the journal, not even reading them but just looking at them. Again and again, he flips through until he has enough. He drops the journal on his lap and stares off into the distance at the gorgeous view of Lake Michigan. The endless city and skyline take up most of the horizon until it just stops, cut off by the endless ocean-like lake. He stares at it for quite a while until something catches his eye. He has seen this before. Well, of course he has. He lives here and this is his view everyday. But he knows he has seen it somewhere else.
He picks the journal back up and flips through in a hurry. There it is. He holds the journal up to the window to show a matching two-page drawing of this exact view. Well, not exact. It is a slightly different angle, but it was close enough. Pops was here. He would have loved visiting. I should have invited him. This made Flinn sad, and he threw the journal down on the table in frustration.
Just then, that is when he noticed it. There was a page sticking out from the journal, but it was not like the rest. The page was white and pristine, aside from a few wrinkles, as if it was new, whereas the rest of the journal showed its age. He rushed over to grab it. He opened it to find a letter, addressed to him:
Grandson, When you left, I knew that you would accomplish everything you set out to do. I also knew, however, you would find yourself lost someday, returning home for answers. I was hoping I’d be able to give you those answers myself, but as time goes on that seems less likely. I too found myself lost, and I knew not why. I had gone and seen the world, and it changed me, but I was still not fulfilled. I came home still looking for the answers, and it took a while, but eventually I did find them.
Through this journal, I hope to share my findings so that you too, when you are lost, find the answers you seek. Whenever you are ready, follow my journey and the clues I have left for you. Go out and see the world, just as I did. You will find that what you want from life is less than what you expect.
I hope the experiences you have are less harsh than my own, but still be careful. The world has changed a lot, but still not enough. But don’t skip ahead for the meaning may be lost. Take only one step at a time, and when it comes time to take the next step, it will reveal itself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seven o’clock rolls around and Flinn walks into the bar to meet Raheem. He hasn’t seen Raheem, or anyone else from the group, since last Tuesday when he had his outburst. He begins by telling the story of the events of this last weekend, but leaves out the parts about Pops’ past.
"Pops left me a hidden letter.”
“What do you mean?” asked Raheem.
“Like in his journal, I found a hidden letter. It was addressed to me.”
“What did it say, bro?”
“He says he was a lot like me when he was my age. He wants me to go where he went and learn what he did.”
“In Alabama?”
“No, everywhere but there. He wants me to start in Western Europe and follow his clues around the world.”
“He traveled?”
“A lot, apparently. I never knew. He was in the army, and after he got out, he traveled… everywhere, basically.”
“Why did no one tell you?”
“They wanted to keep me safe, I guess.
"They wanted to keep the whole family safe after what happened to him.”
“What do you mean, bro. What happened?”
“I can’t talk about it, but it doesn’t matter now anyways. I’m living a different life now.” Flinn never shared much about his past or his family with anyone, not even Raheem. It has always been a mystery. This was the most he had ever shared with him.
“Well, are you going to go?”
“No, I can’t. I have work. It took too much to get here. I can’t just give it away.”
“It’ll still be here when you get back, bro.”
“If only it was that simple.”
“It can be. You have money saved up. Chicago isn’t going anywhere. We’re not going anywhere. Plus, you’ve always talked about traveling more. Why don’t you take some time to do it.”
“I suppose, but I like my life here.”
“If you don’t do it now, when will you? You’ve taken a leap before, why not take another one. You’re smart, you’ll land on your feet, bro. Besides, your grandfather thought it was important enough to not only give you his journal, but hide you a letter for you to find when you needed it most. Maybe now is when you needed it most. You’re way too stressed at work anyways, and I can tell you’ve been off for a while now. Perhaps some change could give you what you need.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On Monday morning, when Flinn gets to work, he walked straight to his boss's office. He turned in his letter of resignation.
Two weeks later, he took the red line to the blue line to O’Hare. Journal in hand, he boarded a flight to Dublin.

Hi all! I have been researching parts for my first ever PC and I was hoping to get some suggestions for my build. I have absolutely no clue what I'm doing, but I have a friend that is going to help me put it together. Any help would be greatly appreciated!
1. What will you be doing with this PC? Be as specific as possible, and include specific games or programs you will be using: Gaming + Adobe Creative Suite for work-related projects (I have been wrestling with Photoshop on my laptop for years and I just want my Adobe programs to run smoothly). I am also considering playing around with PNGTuber Plus. Games include Persona 3 Reload, BG3, Genshin/HSR, nothing too intensive but I would like to have the opportunity to get into more advanced games!
2. What is your maximum budget before rebates/shipping/taxes: Max would be $2000-$2500!
3. When do you plan on building/buying the PC? Note: beyond a week or two from today means any build you receive will be out of date when you want to buy: As soon as I have all the parts bought I want to get started!
4. What, exactly, do you need included in the budget? (ToweOS/monitokeyboard/mouse/etc\): Tower & OS mainly. I have a monitor that isn't great but it will do for the time being!
5. Which country (and state/province) will you be purchasing the parts in? If you're in US, do you have access to a Microcenter location: US, DFW area specifically. Microcenter is available for sure!
6. If reusing any parts (including monitor(s)/keyboard/mouse/etc), what parts will you be reusing? Brands and models are appreciated: My monitor is from Dell and my keyboard/mouse are from Amazon. I will probably change them out once the build is done and I know what I really want to replace. Any suggestions are welcome!
7. Will you be overclocking? If yes, are you interested in overclocking right away, or down the line? CPU and/or GPU: Not at the moment!
8. Are there any specific features or items you want/need in the build? (ex: SSD, large amount of storage or a RAID setup, CUDA or OpenCL support, etc): I mainly want a lot of storage and for the PC to run smoothly with all the programs I use.
9. Do you have any specific case preferences (Size like ITX/microATX/mid-towefull-tower, styles, colors, window or not, LED lighting, etc), or a particular color theme preference for the components: Not really! LED lights would be sick but it's not a dealbreaker. Something clean and sleek would be nice but I don't really have a color preference.
10. Do you need a copy of Windows included in the budget? If you do need one included, do you have a preference: Yes, and I don't have a preference - whatever you all think will work best will work for me!
11. Extra info or particulars: My friend that's helping me build recommended that I don't use a water-cooled PC for my first, so a lot of good airflow is another plus. Something easy to clean out because I have cats that shed quite a bit! Also any cable management suggestions would be wonderful as my desk is currently a mess.
Thank you for the help in advance! I'm super excited to get started and learn about the process :)

I have the 100 GB basic plan, over the last couple of days I noticed my data count in storage increased from about 39.6 GB to 43.9 GB without any cause I can identify. The increase seems all added to Photos but during this time I have taken maybe 4 photos and saved one Memories video, can be no more than about 20 MB maximum. I have a Pixel 7 and this occurred I think across the May update. Is storage sometimes reordered in some way that might have caused this, if anyone has encountered similar or could shed some light I would be grateful - thanks.

In 2023, amidst a fierce price war among suppliers and a fragmented competitive landscape, the domestic energy storage companies find themselves heavily reliant on mandatory policy installations. Concerns about future development loom large among market participants, prompting a swift pivot towards overseas expansion.
But why the sudden surge in interest in foreign markets? The answer lies in the fact that domestic companies are encountering developmental roadblocks, compelling leading manufacturers to prioritize expansion abroad. In this article, TrendForce will delve into the challenges and opportunities facing China's energy storage industry as it ventures into the lucrative U.S. market, shedding light on the strategies and hurdles involved in this global endeavor.
Lithium-battery Industrial Chain Highlights in China
China stands out in the global lithium-ion battery supply chain, boasting distinct advantages. From cathodes and anodes to electrolytes, diaphragms, and batteries, China boasts a comprehensive industry chain for lithium-ion batteries.
Conversely, the United States grapples with insufficient local battery supply, relying heavily on the global supply chain to meet its energy storage system needs over the long term. As local demand surges, the United States has emerged as a primary destination for battery manufacturers to export their products.
Since the IRA Act came into effect, storage battery companies worldwide have ramped up their efforts to build new battery capacity in the United States. However, Japanese and Korean companies predominantly focus on producing ternary batteries. Many of their lithium-ion battery plants in the U.S., either under construction or already operational, specialize in ternary power batteries.
As mentioned earlier, China boasts a complete industrial chain. However, due to its advanced supply chain and fierce market competition, the average price of China's ESS is lower than that in Europe and the U.S. Consequently, in the United States, expanding local battery capacity in the short term poses challenges. Nonetheless, aided by U.S. subsidy policies and transport cost considerations, China's energy storage system products remain highly competitive in the U.S. market.
Wood Mackenzie anticipates that the capacity of energy storage batteries in the United States falls short of meeting the demands of its energy storage market. Moreover, the IRA Act mandates certain requirements, such as localizing key minerals and battery modules, to qualify for electric vehicle subsidies. However, there are no specific provisions regarding the ESS supply chain in the IRA Act. As a result, in the short term, ESS systems reliant on lithium iron phosphate will heavily depend on the global supply chain, particularly on China's supply of lithium iron phosphate batteries.
Chinese battery manufacturers continue to lead the way in global energy storage battery shipments. According to data released by SNE Research, an international battery market research institution, on March 11, 2024, Chinese companies maintained their dominance in global energy storage battery shipments throughout 2023. The data reveals that global energy storage battery shipments in 2023 totaled 185GWh, with the top five spots occupied by Chinese companies: CATL, BYD, EVE Battery, REPT, and Hithium.
In 2023, the global energy storage market continued to be dominated by China, North America, and Europe. Demand for energy storage batteries in North America and Europe reached 55GWh and 23GWh respectively, accounting for 30% and 12% of the market share. Meanwhile, the Chinese market saw demand soar to 84GWh, securing a commanding 45% market share.
Currently, Electrochemical Storage Systems (ESS) remain unaffected by the Foreign Entity of Concern (FEOC) regulations in the IRA Act. This implies that the U.S. has yet to impose restrictions on imports of energy storage batteries from China. Consequently, Chinese manufacturers still hold sway in both the U.S. and European markets. With the U.S. electrochemical energy storage market witnessing robust growth and China's lithium-ion battery industry boasting superior scale and technological prowess globally, manufacturers stand to gain significantly by tapping into high-value segments of the industry chain and leveraging advanced technologies.
Regarding ESS, according to data from CNESA, the top five companies in global ESS shipments for 2023 are Sungrow, CRRC Zhuzhou, Hyperstrong, Narada Power, and Envision Energy. Chinese energy storage system integrators are rapidly expanding into overseas markets, aiming to cater to diverse scenarios and enhance their presence across multiple global markets.
As capacity continues to grow, Chinese energy storage enterprises are increasingly targeting overseas markets. Energy transformation and green development represent inevitable trends in global economic progress, with the new energy industry in various countries and regions experiencing rapid expansion. Consequently, the potential for growth in overseas markets is virtually limitless.
Furthermore, Chinese battery companies lead the way in technology, production capacity, scale, and various other aspects. Their integrated industry chain and cost advantage serve as crucial assets, with relevant enterprises actively promoting research and development in battery technologies and strategic planning. Consequently, their competitiveness in the international market is steadily increasing.
Looking ahead, China, the United States, and Europe will remain the world's most significant regional markets for energy storage. Leveraging advantages such as the introduction of new technologies, cost efficiency, diverse product application scenarios, and expanding overseas markets, Chinese energy storage enterprises can enhance their global competitiveness.

So this is a long one. Like, I'm going back over it and damn. This is longer than I thought it would be. Throwaway account, I've only made one other post to this relating to what's going on. Instead of updating the other post, I figured I'd make a separate one about the whole shit show I experienced, and the shit circus I uncovered and avoided. I'll try to keep this in as chronological an order as I can.
As the title says, my abusive/narc mom and pos/delusional/golden child brother started trying to reach out to me a few months ago wanting to make amends and build bridges with me again. There were a few people that commented on my previous post in another subreddit that may be a little disappointed in me for how I handled this, and a few that might enjoy that I handled it the way I did. Someone commented to not let them use my good nature. My nature is dependent on who I'm dealing with, and when it comes to that side of my family, I'm more stick than carrot. So their attempts did not go ignored, and did not go unpunished.
Growing up, I was always closer with my Dad than my mom. My brother was the epitome of "pampered mamma's boy". He started having seizures as a child and was diagnosed with epilepsy, which I thought was why my mom babied the absolute fuck out of him long into adulthood. He would go a year or 2 without any seizures, and then there would be a few months where he'd be having them every other day. At Anytime he got in trouble at home or school, my mom would find a way to blame me, for not making sure he knew whatever he was doing would get him in trouble, or she would blame my dad for not being "involved enough in their baby's life." My dad was in the Navy and I remember any time he'd deploy, I'd dread every day until he came back. My brother would taunt me that he knew whatever he did, I'd be the one to get in trouble for it. My dad would always make things up for me when he got back from his deployments though. We'd often have weekend trips just the 2 of us. And then around my 12th birthday, my mom insisted on sitting us all down and explain to that she and my dad were getting a divorce. We got the whole talk about how they still love us and they just can't be together anymore, etc. my dad told us both that he still loved us and he would be there for us whenever we needed him. He explained that he would be moving out, but he would be by to pick us up to spend the weekends with us. I was nervous and honestly scared of what it would be like without him. But I was looking forward to the weekend when I got to see him again. That never happened though, and that was the last time I ever got to see him.
Right before his weekend with us, my mom explained to us that my dad didn't want anything to do with us anymore. There was some news story about a father that killed his kids when he had custody of them and she used that to terrify my brother and convince him that our dad wanted to kill us to start his life over. We left damn near everything behind and moved in with my mom's brother in Florida (from Virginia) a couple days before my dad was supposed to come get us. After that, she went to great lengths to make sure we had no contact from him.
Years went on, my mom seemed more indifferent towards me than ever. She never seemed interested in anything I did unless my brother also seemed interested in it. She didn't show any interest in my wanting to learn guitar until my brother also showed interest in it. Then we got one guitar that we had to share, I'd take lessons on the condition that I taught my brother whatever I learned in them. My brother eventually wound up breaking the guitar and I was blamed for not storing it in the case it came with. I had to share my N64 with him whenever he wanted to play it. I was playing perfect dark one day and having a hard time killing the skedar leader at the end of the game. My brother burst into the room saying he wanted to play his MegaMan game, to which I just replied "give me a minute, this boss fight is hard, once I'm done you can have your turn" He didn't like that. He left the room and came back with a hammer and smashed the console while I was still playing. My fault for not letting him play it. The only thing I had that he could not use was a pair of roller blades my aunt got me for my 14th birthday. I specifically asked for roller blades to get around instead of a bike because my brother and I had different shoe sizes, so he couldn't wear them Because of constant shit like that, I never really put much value in having things growing up. I didnt want to buy something or get something as a gift just to have it fucked up in a few weeks or months. At some point, my "little" brother became the larger one, so my clothes all became "hand-me-ups" as he outgrew everything. So, because I didn't really have any distractions at home, I turned into a high achieving student, rarely got in trouble. made the honor roll all throughout school. But that wasn't something to celebrate as it was expected of me. I had long since decided that I was moving out as soon as I could once I turn 18. I got a job working at a Walgreens as soon as I could and started saving up for a car. My mom however took issue with this and would never agree to take me looking for one and absolutely refused to ever have it put on her insurance. This is where my Aunt comes in. She and her son are the only 2 on my mom's side that aren't some sort of degenerate. She had her son young, but put herself through college while raising him alone and eventually got her MBA and a cushy upper corporate job. She told me to tell my mom I had to go in to work on one of my days off, that she would pick me up and she would take me car shopping. So that's what we did. I couldn't quite afford a cash car, but she helped me with the financing. I put down what I had as the down payment, the arrangement she made with me was that 1- as long as I was in school, she would cover the insurance and payments for me, however, if I got into an accident, I was responsible for paying the deductable. And 2- as long as i was living with my mom, the car remained in her (Aunt's) name. And if anything happened to it, to let her know so she could get the appropriate authorities involved. My mom was PISSED when she found out I now had a car. Her reasoning (that she said in front of my aunt) was that she didn't think it was fair for one of us-either me or my brother- to have something the other couldn't use. Due to him being 13 and having epilepsy, he couldn't drive, so why should i have a car if my brother doesn't? That turned into a long shouting match between my mom and Aunt that basically ended with my aunt explaining that since it was her car, and all paperwork on her name, I was just on the insurance for it so I could drive it. But if anything at all happened to it while I was living at my Mom's, that the police and insurance companies would get involved. My mom still kept track of all the miles on the car to "make sure I was only going to work and school and wherever she told me I could go". Most of the time, when I hung out with friends, I wasn't the one driving. From that that point though, my mindset was very much "keep my head down and nose clean until I can leave." I graduated a month before my 18th birthday. After graduation, my mom and i got into an argument about me contributing to her bills. I eventually dropped the ball that I planned on getting back in touch with my Dad and leaving. She started laughing. Something about that laugh made me really uncomfortable. She then said "well, you can certainly meet up with him whenever you want! I'll supply the gun if you buy the bullet!" And told me my dad had died when I was 15. That. Fucking. Broke. Me. Later that night, i called my best friend and vented everything to him. He was in the DEP program for the Navy and would be shipping out in a few months, he told me to come by first thing in the morning and talk with him and his parents about the whole situation. I basically packed up all of my clothes and left the day after my 18th birthday. I just left my house key and a note that said "I'm not your problem anymore." I couch surfed for a little while until after my best friend left for boot camp, then I was able to move in and live with his parents (chosen parents basically). My only real rules were keep the house and my space clean and make sure I had a job and/or going to school. I spent a few months mourning my dad and kind of in a haze. Since he was in the Navy though, that meant I was reliable for financial aid for school. My second dad helped me get everything put together to start receiving that so I could start college.
Well, after a couple years of this, my brother, who had spent his time at school more as "forced socializing" instead of learning, was expelled from public schools for allegedly setting off a fire extinguisher in a classroom. He had to enroll at an alternative school called "the drop back-in academy" that was specifically for dropouts or anyone that got the boot from the public school system. My mom reached out to me and asked me if I would drive him to this school in the mornings, she'd pick him up in the afternoons, and she'd pay me $20 a week.I agreed to it thinking this was out of character for her, but she surprisingly held up to that agreement. I drove him for a couple years until I was ready to start my bachelor program. My second parents were getting ready to move back to their hometown and I was going to start school on the other side of the city. So, I was moving to that side of town and couldn't really drive out of my way to pick up and drop off my brother anymore. He continued his enrollment at this place for another 3 years (5 years total) and it turned out, he was never attending. I would drop his ass off there every day and he'd just walk home immediately after I pulled out of the parking lot. He'd just tell my mom that he finished his work early and decided to walk home instead of wait around for her. One afternoon, I'm coming home early from work and my brother is just sitting on the steps to my studio apartment. He tells me that he and our mom got into a really big argument and he needs a place to stay. I (reluctantly) let him in. I'm stuck thinking he must be really desperate if he's coming to me for help. But I start thinking at this point, he's 24, jobless, and probably needs to learn some self discipline and responsibility, and our mom just never did that for him. So I try to help. I ask him what their fight was about and he tells me that he started dating this girl at his alternative school. She was 21 and got the boot from the school system for being too old to attend (we actually have several relatives that were kicked out of the school system for the same reason) and that he accidentally got her pregnant and our mom did not take kindly to that. I called my landlord and explained the situation to him. He was okay with it, so I let him crash on my couch for a little bit (until the end of my lease, then I'd be moving) and just told him to clean up after himself, take care of himself, etc until we could all work this out. He crashed there for a few months and did Jack shit. He would complain that I didn't have a computer for him to use (I only had a laptop I bought for school) and I didn't have any video game consoles for him to entertain himself with. So he was stuck there bored all day. I got tired of the complaining and lack of effort and told him he had to go back to our mom's if he wasn't going to be an adult. We started shouting at each other until he dropped this little bombshell. He yelled "I can't go back to Mom's!" And when I asked why, he just blurted out "because it's to close to that elementary school!" That stopped the whole thing. "And why is that a big deal now?" I asked him. I already knew why that would be the problem, but 1% of me was holding onto the hope that he was got jumped by a gang of 5th graders and the trauma was too much for him to bear. I told him he could either tell me what's going on, or I could make a phone call and get every last detail I needed. He confessed that he had been leaving that school and going over to his "girlfriend's" house and waiting for her to get home. And that one day, her mom ended up catching them in the act. I explained to him that he was leaving out important details if that was the reason he couldn't be near a school.
He told me she was 14, not 21. I. Lost. My. Shit. Everything after that is kinda fuzzy, but he was arrested, mom posted bail, and since she lived right around the corner from an elementary school, he couldn't stay there. So they told his parole officer that he'd be staying at my address until his court date.. his PO had swung by a couple times, but I was always either at work or school or out somewhere. At this point, I told him the lease was up in 6 weeks, I couldn't stand to be around him. I packed my stuff early, moved out into a storage unit, and I stayed at an extended stay hotel until it was time for me to move. Called my landlord and told him what was going on, and if my brother was still there the last week of the lease, nail him for trespassing. My landlord was a good guy. I never had any problems with him. I paid up the last 6 weeks and threw him since extra cash for his troubles as I knew I wouldn't be getting my deposit back. That was the last time I saw my brother. After I moved out of state, I cut all contact with everyone in that family except my Aunt who was the only one that ever helped me out or even had my back. But even then, it was just through email. We'd mainly email birthday and holiday wishes to each other. Updates from my side on how life and career are going.
I never had a myspace or a Facebook growing up. I either never had a computer to check it on, or I was just so accustomed to not having any online distractions that I just never got around to making one. I did finally make a Facebook and I did get in touch with my dad's side of the family and reconnected with them. I hadn't seem most of them since I was 4 or 5. Some of them had been in contact with my brother (he fucking knew our dad died) and was spinning some sort of web about how he graduated high school early, had gone to college for pre-med and then got some sort of full ride scholarship to some prestigious medical school in Florida. He told them I wasn't on social media because I had been arrested for selling drugs and that he was taking me in after I got released. He was also using my senior portrait as a profile pic. They were surprised when they saw me and how I "looked just like my brother!" I had set the record straight. They looked dumbfounded when I told them that he couldn't get himself out of the 9th grade in 10 years, and now would likely never complete his high school journey due to the fact he can't be within 100 yards of a school.
So, fast forward to last week. I checked my email for the first time since late January (for my aunt's birthday) and noticed a few from her saying my mom wanted to reach out, then several emails from a new address. It was my mom's first initial and last name. Subject lines usually read "please respond" and "let me know you're okay" and stuff like that. I'd copy some of them over, but holy shit this is already a novella. Basically she got my email address from sneaking my aunt's phone (aunt did not sell me out). She's trying to apologize for how she treated me growing up and trying to excuse it by saying I reminded her of my dad and then she was going through menopause and just any excuse to dishes full accountability it seems. She acknowledges that it was wrong to hold me accountable for my brother's fuck-ups but dismisses that by saying he didn't know any better and she needed me to be a good role model for him. Things have been hard for her since I left, since she "had" to take my brother back in (I would've left him on the street or in jail), she had to sell her house (she was only 10 years into her mortgage) and buy another smaller one further from a school for him. He never did get a hs diploma or GED because how can he? And she's been going through breast cancer treatment for the last several months and just doesn't have the energy to take care of her 33yo baby anymore. She asked me if I lived close enough to them to take him in for a little bit while she focuses on her health. I left Florida 8 years ago and haven't even lived in the same time zone in 6 years. She can only check her email at work since she no longer has Internet at home. She had to cancel her home Internet service because of him. So, I decided to just put my brother's name into a search bar and the first thing that pops up is a FDLE sex offender's page. And holy shit has he gone downhill. He had a second arrest when he was 27 for the same thing, and then was caught in communications with another girl (like Chris Hansen sting) and was released from prison at the beginning of the year. And the mugshot.... You know the pale lady from the scary stories to tell in the dark movie? Think that, but with a patchy beard. Beady eyes, bad skin and all. According to the sheriff's office inmate search, he's been arrested 5 times in the last 10 years. Twice for lewd and lascivious battery of a minor (aged 12-15), once for solicitation of a minor, and twice for probation violations.
The TL/DR: abusive mom took all her frustrations out on me, blamed me for everything my brother did, hid my father's death from me until I was almost 18, and reaches out after 8 years of no contact and wants me to take care of her pedophile son while she's in poor health.
I'm attaching my response to her below.
Hi. I'm alive. I'm well. I'm also not okay with you contacting me, especially under the circumstances that you violated the privacy of your own sister to get my contact information. I have read your apologies and excuses and I do not accept either. You say I reminded you of Dad? He spent more time with me and showed more interest in my well-being than you ever did, and that's including the 6 years he was absent from my life by your own selfish design. Menopause? I find that hard to believe as this went on for the better part of half a decade and not once in that time did your attitude towards brother change. You always treated him with the same coddling infantile obsession and patience that one would show a toddler. It was and is clear that you have a preferred child as that adult-sized pile of shit is still living comfortably with dear old mama. I'm guessing no one else is willing to take him in? Are Uncle and Cousins afraid of him doing something to their daughters or grandchildren? I do believe you when you say you want to rebuild the bridge that you nuked from orbit years ago, but I can't believe it's not for your own selfish desires. And I can't find any reason or way my quality of life could be improved with your presence. The reality is, my life has been far better without you than it could be with you. I've never said this to anyone, but if there is a sense of karma and balance in the universe, your current situation is proof of that. The next time I see your name on my computer screen, had better be for your obituary. But since you and the monster you raised both decided to keep Dad's death a secret from me, and remove any choice I had to mourn or pay my respects, I'll return that kindness to you.
Please die away from me.