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Really happy with how this turned out. 🥰
Photograph is of my grandmother, and I also have my grandmother’s rosary, along with offerings for them both. ☺️🔮

I’ve always had incredibly vivid dreams and have been able to “lucidly dream” (I say in quotes because I’m completely aware I’m dreaming but can’t control anything) to some extent or another my whole life. In the last couple of years I’ve been having much different “dreams” that, upon looking into them, sound a lot like uncontrolled astral projection.
I’ll describe the experience, I’d really like some feedback because it’s starting to terrify me:
The first and strongest experience I had was about a year ago. I went to bed and started to dream, it was more like a nightmare. After a while I noticed I wasn’t in the real world and tried to navigate as best I could.
What happened next still fills me with a feeling of existentialism I can’t shake. After the realization I was in a dream I dropped off. I wasn’t dreaming anymore. I was aware, but it wasn’t a dream and it wasn’t reality. I genuinely thought I was dead.
When I dropped I started falling through space. I couldn’t see the lights of any stars or planets until I started getting close to them, but I just kept moving so fast I couldn’t stop to look closer. It’s like I was shot out of a cannon and sent through the void with no direction. Everything was racing past me and I couldn’t stop questioning where the hell I was, I could think as clearly as I do in daylight which is not something I’ve ever done in a dream.
After what felt like a lifetime of rushing through the cosmos I started getting really scared. It was all too real to be a dream, and I could feel the open and emptiness of the darkness. It was like the opposite of claustrophobia, like floating 50 meters under the ocean at point Nemo. There was no light, no up or down, just a vast open space infinitely filled yet infinitely desolate. At this point I was starting to fear I had died, and this is what was what came after death.
Eventually, after I started fearing the worst, I started entering the atmosphere of a blue planet. That’s when I woke up.
I’d never felt anything like it before. When I woke up I felt… different, like I had experienced and seen things I wasn’t ready for but were ready for me. I felt like I just opened a door that, as of now, I have yet to be able to close.
Since then I’ve only had one or two more experiences like it, but my dreams have become more vivid and it’s becoming easier and easier to become lucid.
Is it possible to astral project without intending to? At this point I can’t keep pretending it was just a dream. I felt it. It was as real as the air I’m breathing now, and it was beautiful and terrifying all at once.
Any advice or perspective is welcomed.

I met my husband 16 years ago. He was reluctant to introduce me to his family outside his sibling. I met his sibling in an appropriate timing and we hit it off, now BFF. However, he delayed meeting anyone else in his family for as long as he could. I will say close to a year in our relationship, his grandmother needed help. I was at his apartment and he asked me if I would like to meet her. I said sure. He warned me about her. (His parents passed away before we met). I literally met everyone in his life except his direct family. I didn't get it at first 😕, but as time moved on, he was ready for me to meet more family. I began to realize why he kept me away from them. It was a holiday and I didn't realize what I got myself into. I was in love with my bf (now husband) at the time and think it would be that bad. When I saw his grandmother she 1. Talk about my outfit (I had a blazer, scarf, nice pants and a nice plain shirt, nothing revealing). 2. She then asked if her grandson put his hands on me. I was taken back from this because my husband is sweet as a pie. He doesn't even call women out their name when he has conflict. I walked away from her and enjoyed the rest of the evening with extended family that seem pretty cool.
Fast forward, at our wedding his grandmother attempt to sabotage our wedding by trying to be late (his sibling almost left her because grandmother knew the sibling was in our wedding). When she got there, she made fun of my 9 year cousin as the flower girl (fat shame), talked about me to my closet people who told me after the ceremony. Then made a speech that was disrespectful to us. Yet, my husband still kept his cool and enjoyed the even. His uncle was upset that we would not allow him to officiate our wedding and throughout the planning would ask me inappropriate questions about our relationship. After we were married, my husband got sick and was hospitalized. He was reluctant to tell anyone outside of his sibling but he did. Family came to visit. One family member decided it was a good time for a photo shoot (wired😒) but again my sweetie was a trooper up until that family member decided verbal outburst, I wasn't family and that I had to be a niece through blood. The rest of the family called him out for his bs. I let it go.
Fast forward again (it gets worst) at our baby shower his grandmother sits in the back again taking trash. Even hinted if my baby was her grandson (basically calling me a slut). I told the sibling she had to go. She also disregarded her other grandchildren at the shower. One of his family members that attended the wedding help bring our gifts home, only to attempt to convince my husband to allow him to move in. Of course my husband said HELL NAH! After my daughter was born, we did infant photos, only for his grandmother to degrade the photographer and her race. Again kicked her out and paid for a ride home.
(It gets worst) for a long time my husband decided to disengage with his family. His grandmother called and said she was severely sick. Of course, my husband reach out to her children and sibling to band together to support his grandmother. Only to learn she lied. And even made it seem like my husband made it all up to her children. I heard her tell him this. I was pissed. He again cut her off.
Now, his grandmother's health is not the best (non life threatening) her sons are trying to guilt trip my husband in taking the lead. His grandmother has 5 functioning children. My husband refuse to let them meet our daughter and refuse to communicate with them. (They are the most toxic people in the world) My husband is the most loving sweet guy. His sibling is amazing as well. It is so bad but I'm afraid if I list everything it will go on forever. Now relative are reaching out trying make contact, even reaching out to me. I told my husband I support his choice to disconnect and draw boundaries. He has tried to be a family man but constantly got egg in his face.
Now, our daughter is growing up with amazing family that support and love us genuinely. Some of his family believe he is overreacting but I don't. He has been through hell with these people.

Johann Gottlieb Fichte

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Video Presentation

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

Podcast Edition

https://spotifyanchor-web.app.link/e/73G2BY64JJb
https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/a31b8276-53cd-4723-b6ad-a39c8faa4572/episodes/306a6446-d4d7-4e24-a447-c89fd310d7a2/today-in-philosophy-of-history-j-g-fichte-and-a-priori-providentialism
https://www.iheart.com/podcast/269-today-in-philosophy-of-his-146507578/episode/j-g-fichte-and-a-priori-177816272/
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Husband fell out of love with me
I'm posting anonymously as this is very humiliating and just not something I'm ready to discuss with anyone I know as of yet. I'm sorry if this is really long but I need advise and to just get all of this off of my chest. Will most likely delete later.
I (26f) have known my husband (28m) since we were young children. We grew up together for a while and then separated for over a decade when our families moved. I moved to a different part of town while he and his family moved to another town and hour and a half away. We hadn't spoken or seen each other until he managed to find me on social media when I was 21. I had been in an emotionally and mentally abusive relationship at the time and was having a hard time finding my way out of that situation. When he messaged me I initially didn't even recognize him or his name. I was just going to leave him on read. But my curiosity got the better of me and I decided to go back and look at his page and that was when I recognized him. He helped me muster the courage I needed to break out of the turmultuious relationship I had been in and then drove an hour and a half just to see me. That meant a lot to me at the time. Shortly after we began our relationship and I quickly fell pregnant. We kept witnessing strange things that hardly felt like coincidences and had both come to the agreement that they we signs from the universe that we were on the correct path.
Fast forward to now. We have been together for almost 5 years and married for 3 after next week. We have two very young children together and have weathered many hardships as a couple in this time. In the beginning all was well. My husband still tried. He put in effort where he could. He watched me battle post partum depression after a very traumatic birth experience with our first child. Almost two years later we fell pregnant with our second which I was very apprehensive about because of the troubles I had in my first pregnancy. Things started changing with him after I became pregnant again (which I forget to mention he was initially very happy and excited about) his demeanor toward me had subtly started to change.
He stopped being as loving and affectionate. He seemed annoyed or indifferent to when I was upset or struggling internally. If I was crying or having a hard time he would just walk straight by me not even batting an eye. Before I had our second I lost one of my sisters unexpectedly and still am having a hard time handling the grief. When my sister passed away my husband offered me no condolences or emotional support what so ever. I was forced to face my grief alone. I've tried communicating with him about the way I've been feeling but he is completely emotionally closed off. I began to notice that the man I had married was a very emotionally unavailable person and I had tried to suggest seeking help to work through his communication issues and emotional unavailability but he is heavily against seeing a professional. He refuses still to this day to work on himself as a person at all.
Since having our second child we moved back to the town his family is from. We live in a home, my husband found a new job that he has to get up very early for and works very long hours through the week. When I would bring up how neglected I felt by him he would chalk it up to just being "too tired" "too sore" "too stressed". He puts absolutely no effort into our marriage at all. It's not the example of marriage I want set for our children let alone the fact that it eats away at me, makes me wonder if there is something wrong with me, and leaves me feeling unwanted, unloved, and like I don't matter at all. It makes it hard for me to be the mother I want to be. I find myself always overstimulated, and I feel like I'm constantly pouring from an empty cup.
I'm sure a lot of you will say "sounds like he's cheating" but I'm ashamed to admit that I have checked his phone, he never hides it from me. I found absolutely nothing on it and when he's not working he's always home with us. Just off on his own working on our house or only spending time with the kids or sleeping as he has to be up early. So if he is cheating he must be a professional at it cause he covers his tracks very well.
That brings me to recently. I've had this dull feeling in the pit of my stomach that I have found myself in a loveless marriage. I've been changing my appearance and dressing nicer. Doing my hair and make up more. And it doesn't seem to make a difference to him. Everyday I can feel depression quickly consuming me. I'm falling deeper and deeper into a place I've been working very hard to heal from and not fall back into. But now here I am. My husband's been slightly mean to me with some of the comments he's made about my appearance lately. making me feel completely unlovable and worthless. Everyday that passes without any kind of affection from him has built up in me and finally last night I was so upset. That knawing feeling in the pit of my stomach that something was amiss In my marriage I could no longer surpress. I've been having troubles sleeping. I can barely eat. My body dismorphia is coming back as well as eating disorders I used to have.
Last night I just couldnt sleep. I was so restless with the feeling of being trapped in a loveless marriage I couldn't stop my mind from racing. I finally fell asleep on the couch at about 6 am and dreamt that I had confronted my husband about my gut feeling to which he admitted he didn't love me in the dream. I woke up feeling distraught because of it. My husband was already up, tending to the kids acting as though everything was fine when I couldn't hold it in anymore. I finally confronted him. I told him about the gut feeling I had and asked him if he still loved me. He said he did. I rephrased the question and asked if he was IN love with me. That's when he looked down and fell silent. My heart plummeted and I began shaking feeling as though my life was crumbling around me. I then asked him if he wasn't in love with me, then was he in love with someone else to which he replied no and seemed sincere about that. I asked him why he had fallen out of love with me and he said because he sometimes felt like I wasn't pulling enough weight with chores. (Which may I add I may not get everything done in a day while tending to young hyperactive kids but I do make sure everyday that he does come house to all the toys picked up and floors swept and vacuumed if anything. And I try to get as many dishes done as I can with kids pulling on my pant sleeves.) So I'm not sure if I believe that to be the true reason. I asked where he wanted to go from here. Did he want me to take the kids and leave and let him pick up where he had left off from before we ever got together or if he wanted me to stay and try to fix our relationship. He said he wished for me to stay and we work on our marriage. I suggested couples counseling and he immediately shot it down saying we could work it out ourselves to which I asked how and then he shrugged and said, verbatim, " I figured you'd just read a book". That was when I got angry. At that moment I knew he wants me to be the one to figure out how to get him to fall back love with me. which in turn means he will not be willing to put any work into actually fixing our marriage. Even after all of this he still won't hardly communicate, still not being affectionate, hell he still hasn't even apologized or shown any remorse for hurting me so deeply.
I'm now at a loss. I'm so hurt by this. I'm humiliated, I feel betrayed. I have so many doubts about him in this moment. I've let him know that I'm not just going to be able to get over this. I severely dissociated after his revelation of no long being in love with me. I'm so upset because I do love him still and have sacrificed everything for him. Absolutely everything. Almost my life included. I told him I'm having a hard time deciding whether I'm going to stay or go. Frankly I just want to disappear from this world.
Does anyone have any insight? What should I do?
TL;DR: My husband of almost 3 years has admitted to falling out of love with me but says he wants to still try to work it out and save our marriage, while simultaneously proving unwilling to put any work into salvaging the relationship at the same time. I'm very hurt by his admission of no longer being in love with me and don't think I can move past this. What should I do?

'cause they hit like 6-7 hours ago! I thought they'd have been up already, but I guess not. Seems he got himself a 7-minute ovation though, and told the audience he was sorry they had to clap for so long. Real aw shucks sorta feller. Anyway: the reviews!
Robert Daniels, rogerebert.com

As much as Costner tries to play an even hand, attempting to give the Indigenous and settler perspective equal attention, it doesn’t wholly work. Yes, we meet the family of the Apache warriors, but their screen time pales in comparison to their white counterparts. It also doesn’t help that the white women characters are, for the most part, so clean and luminous—nary a speck of dust on them despite their grungy surroundings—that they appear angelic on screen. The score is equally telling: It’s a gorgeous, big, triumphant Old Hollywood score whose most sympathetic notes are reserved for the film’s white characters. Costner does at least include a diverse cast, nodding toward the presence of Black people and Chinese immigrants in the history of the West, tracing across the vast, sumptuously photographed landscape by DP J. Michael Muro.
While “Horizon” teases a kind of conspiracy theory—a mysterious publisher is printing and sending pamphlets promising a land of milk of honey that is only occupied by death—I can’t help but continue to think about the film in relation to “How The West Was Won.” That Western, ultimately, couldn’t overcome the weight of the era it was created in or genre conventions like forced, feeble romances. “Horizon” is arriving in a more “enlightened” time, especially considering the release of Martin Scorsese’s “Killer of the Flower Moon” and other Indigenous-made works, such as “Reservation Dogs,” “Wild Indian,” “The Body Remembers When the World Broken Open,” “Beans,” and more. That presence put even greater pressure on Costner. And so far, he hasn’t completely overcome being the director of “Dances with Wolves.” That filmmaker, for better or for worse, still exists here in every corner of this epic picture.

Owen Glieberman, variety.com

As a stand-alone film (which it isn’t, but let’s pretend for a moment), “Horizon” is by turns convoluted, ambitious, intriguing, and meandering. But it’s never quite moving. It’s too busy laying down narrative tracks and hammering out the minutiae of situations that don’t feel like they’re leading anywhere special.
The real problem is the script (by Costner and Jon Baird), which is shapeless. It doesn’t weave these stories together; it stacks them next to each other like a series of cabooses. Yet I think the idea is that the design of it all will come into focus as we see “Horizon: An American Saga — Chapter 2” (later this year), and then, at some point, “Chapter 3” (which is now scheduled) and maybe, if all goes according to plan, more chapters. I seriously hope not. I’m not sure how much juice there is to squeeze out of these characters, but even if there is some I don’t want to see movies turn into television. Just about every Western of the studio era came in at two hours or less, and so did most of the revisionist Westerns (and some of those were complicated). There’s a reason for that. It’s all the time they needed.

David Rooney, thehollywoodreporter.com

Running a taxing three hours, this first part of a quartet of films is littered with inessential scenes and characters that go nowhere, taking far too long to connect its messy plot threads. Warner Bros. will release Chapter One in U.S. theaters June 28, with Chapter Two following on August 16 and Chapter Three reportedly going into production. A vigorous montage closes the first part with action-packed snippets from the next installment, adding to the nagging sense that we’re watching episodic TV that lost its way.
What’s most perplexing coming from Costner is the uncomfortably long time the film takes to show sensitivity toward its Indigenous characters. We’re well into Horizon before the perspective on Native resistance is broadened to acknowledge that their murderous attacks on new settlements are a direct response to the occupation of their ancestral lands. It’s very confusing to see a Western in 2024 and find yourself thinking, “Wait, so American Indians are the bad guys again?”

Gregory Ellwood, theplaylist.com

As “Horizon” progresses, there are numerous new storylines added to the equation. Some are almost trivial, others cliche (even for the genre), and few appear to add much to whatever the whole of Costner’s vision will eventually be. It just feels like very low stakes all around. And when you realize there isn’t even a minor conclusion to any of the narratives, the movie ends with essentially a slew of weak cliffhangers (if they can even be constituted as such), you wonder once again, “Why is this a movie?” This is an ongoing long-form television series propped up on the big screen. It’s that’s appealing you’ll be thrilled to know Costner ends the three hours with an extended teaser that seemingly gives away quite a bit for “Chapter 2” (you’re welcome for the spoiler warning). Thankfully, if you like “Chapter 1” you only have to wait six weeks for that installment to hit your local multiplex.
Besides the debate over whether it is or isn’t a movie, there’s also the question of the depiction of Native Americans in the end product. It’s initially refreshing to hear Gephardt question the settlers as to why of all places they set up camp in Horizon. Did the three graves across the river not suggest perhaps this riverbed was off-limits? Gephardt and Riordan also give much-needed exposition on the other Apache tribes and indigenous groups that are relatively peaceful to settlers if you leave them alone. The conversations within the Apache tribe also depict an old guard attempting to make the argument to an angry, impatient new generation ready that they are safe in the hills. They don’t need to engage with the settlers. The youngsters want nothing of it and demand their land back by any means necessary. In theory, this is a smart depiction of the various viewpoints of this era. But Costner and composer John Debney score the attack on Horizon (and other Indian encounters) with a sweeping and grandiose sympathy only for the settlers (who, again, shouldn’t be there). It almost undoes all of the positive portrayal that comes before it.

Richard Lawson, vanityfair.com

Horizon is far from stately, or even coherent. A jumble of clichéd plots rendered in washed-out color (and washed-out performances), Horizon may rival Megalopolis as the biggest American boondoggle at this year’s Cannes. Sure, what appears disorderly may turn out to be genius by the time we’ve seen the end of the project—but ten hours is an awfully long time to wait to find out.
The three central narratives, as I see it, concern the ragged townspeople of a settlement in the San Pedro River valley (called Horizon) ; a gruff gunslinger making his way across the mountains further north with a woman and a child in tow; and a Santa Fe Trail wagon train snaking its way toward Horizon. (I think?) There is, halfheartedly, a fourth thread, about schisms within the Apache tribes who are native to the territory on which Horizon was hastily built. But the film only pays them lip service. Mostly they function as the brutal antagonizers of the Horizon townsfolk, who are nearly wiped out in a nighttime raid that is one of the film’s very few action sequences—the rest is the dullest and hoariest of talk.
Perhaps all will cogently, even movingly, converge in Chapter 2, but there’s little reason to have faith. This first foray sets a table that seems beyond saving by the end. At least Horizon accomplishes one staggering feat: it makes one wonder if we were maybe a little too hard on The Postman.

I do not know if moral realism is true or false. But I understand that it is the current majority view among philosophers.
However, many of the arguments I hear for moral realism seem to be based on our intuition. Michael Huemer and Russ Schafer-Lanau, if I understand them right, seem to make such arguments.
To me though, it seems that moral realism is not the default view. It does not strike me as intuitive. Moral values appear to change based on one’s cultural upbringing. And in my own experience, my own moral beliefs seem to arise from my own feelings and desires, unlike more objective disciplines like math or physics. So I do not feel the same intuition as Huemer or Schafer-Landau that moral realism is the default position. Furthermore, evolution suggests to me that our moral tendencies come more from humanity’s survival as social animals. Therefore to me, if moral realism is true (and maybe it is) then it still seems to be something that requires argument: something that should be assumed false until proven true: a belief accessible only to those who know a lot about the subject (unlike intuitive beliefs like the belief in the external world or belief in other minds).
Am I missing something? Is there some reason to think that moral realism is not only true, but intuitive as the default position? If so, what is that reason?

Never did I expect to be writing this, or that this game that we all love would lead to something like this, but here we are.
After the posting of today’s results, it was made clear that many people disagreed with certain choices that were made by the judges panel. Now, I am all for disagreement. It is healthy to have our ideas challenged and have people disagree with us, when it is done in a respectful manner. What I did not expect to come out of this afternoon’s results posting was personal attacks against our judges panel. While I can only speak on what I know of, I am sure more has been said than I am aware of. I have always been a big advocate of the fact that it is perfectly fine if you disagree with decisions that are made, as long as at the end of the day you respect those making the decisions. That seemed to have been lost a little bit today and I just want to address it briefly…
I’ll just start by saying this: I ultimately was the person who decided that Tracy was the winner. You can ask any of the five other judges that were a part of the conversation, I ultimately was who decided Tracy as the winner of the looksync between her and Liz. I think Liz had a great look as well, but I saw the vision that Tracy was going for. I saw what she intended with the reveals, I saw the story she was trying to tell, and I admired the interpretation of the song. I know that vision was not clear to everyone, and I know that many people felt that a different decision should be made. But, at the end of the day, that was the decision made, and the world keeps spinning. If you all truly need someone to direct frustration at over this decision, please, feel free to send it my way at u/BlueCloud45 and I will happily have a conversation with you about. I respect your differing opinion, and I would hope you will respect mine as well.
What I will not tolerate and will not stand here and let happen is any hate or personal attacks on the character of anyone involved in this decision. This is a game that we all love, and Cali and I started this race because we loved the game and loved the way these competitions brought together likeminded people to build friendships and a community. That has always been the goal for us, and always will be. Hatred and Personal Attacks have no place here. We are all still people at the end of the day, playing a game of pixels.
With that said, I look forward to the remainder of this season with all of you, and especially the queens involved this season who have put in amazing work.
With love,
Orchid 🌷

I apologize in advance for the length of this behemoth Story time Reddit: Last night I was chilling at a camp grounds in upstate NYC and this really cute bartender was on her first day ever for the job, anyways I didn’t even notice her until a community dinner at 6pm when she got some food and went to the bar to get ready for the night because us folks at the camp were gonna party till LATE I’m 18M turning 19 and I had aspirations to be a bartender myself in the familiar country of Mexico where my family operates a gin booze business. she 22F just turned and I was eager to Yk like ask her how her first day on the jobs going right? Now I time goes by we all just chilling having dinner and our rolls out some Gigachad kitchen employees with dessert and everybody fiends the fucking ice cream sandwich bars and I hastily think about the fellow bartenders out the back of the building (it’s the girl I’m taking about whose new and one other girl whom is basically her chaperone because they are her aunt) approach the bar with 2 ice cream sandwiches asking if they wanted the last stock of what remained of dessert 😂 they politely decline and I just give them away to my boys and walk back to the main cafeteria area and around 5 minutes pass people start to clear out and I not really a drinker and not of age to drink in the US (although I have been to other countries to bars that you don’t need to be 21 to drink all fine) Sit down at the bar with the 2 bartender ladies, i start yapping about all the musical bullshit I do in life and the video game I’m developing and whatnot and that’s why I came up to nature to record the ambient sounds for my project idk why BUT then when I realize is that the girl whose new’s eyes fixated on me intensely full German stare and I’m kinda intimidated ngl, so ofc as a good bartender would ask, they ask if I want anything to drink and i politely decline because I wasn’t really thirsty 💀 We start to just chat a bit I ask about how their day went and then that’s when I realize the new girl whose bartending it’s her first day and she’s absolutely drunk out the wazoo, I feel kind of bad because she was about to just go take a walk break and I saw she could barely even move straight 💀 so I ask “so what are some good things to do around here?” They reply really excited that before it gets too dark (somehow they say that and it’s already becoming 8:30 and dark at out) I should go to this really pretty creek waterfall and the absolutely double whammy hammered chick volunteers to take me. Now me skeptical af and realizing that either A, she can’t keep her eyes of me because she’s deadbeat drunk or B, she thinks I’m cute and wants to know me this is why she offered to take me to a cool place. I accept and I have to walk this girl out the bar because she’s in heels and bouncing all over the place. We make it to a downhill section we have to cross and I see her struggling and ask if she needs a hand and she hastily accepts, next thing up her arms are basically spaghetti and rolling with the wind as we make it down this hill her holding onto me for dear life. We start to walk a bit and I start to ask the big legal concern questions that us “technically inclined” men ask like “How old are you” “Do you have a boyfriend?” And “Are you in school?” I eventually get all these answers and we by some will of god walk up to an abandoned dark horror movie looking ass tipi (basically this ⛺️ thing for u non cultured swines) for some reason my hood senses start tingling and the white girl slasher film mindset goes into my mind like “Why the fuck am I about to go in there?” But hey YOLO why not go into creepy dark crowded place with drunk girl? We waltz up into that bitch looking like injured bank robbers clobbering all over the ground because the ground muddy and we can barely fit into the small opening of it, point is in there she starts basically interviewing me fucking speed run piers style and I answer being sober decently competent. Me not trying to make her feel uncomfortable turn my flashlight on to scout the area and we realize there’s some makeshift bench in there so we have a seat. She doesn’t like the fact the lights on and then she asks “do you want to kiss” and proceeds to inform me I’m a weirdo for turning on the light. Now I’m like: “ aight what the fuck girl like it’s dark spooky af out the hell u want me to do get mauled by spiders in this Native American trap house? Then Yk me never had a girlfriend and curious accepts her kiss offer and right as we are about to friggin kiss a RANDOM ASS NPC COUPLE SPAWNS IN AND JUST WALKS UP TO OUR FUCKING TIPI! What are the fucking odds bro, like it’s pitch black basically out and I’m in the middle of the woods, now they see us (we look hella sus at that moment) and kinda just walk away after being like “ooooh cool!” But anyways I get a pretty Alr first kiss, get insulted for being a horrible kisser and walk it off quoting myself “Bro it’s cuz I’m a Libra right?” Jokingly anyways we kinda talk a bit she enlightens me on some personal facts and me too, I ask if she’s had a boyfriend and she says yeah I would had asked how many but didn’t weirdly enough and she’s asked me then if I had ever had a girlfriend and I respond honestly that nope I haven’t and she doesn’t buy it, she thinks I’m lying. She then proceeds to ask me how tall I am and me being a tall ass mf for my race i respond “6 foot 3” and she’s like DAMNNNNNNN ewwww. I’m dying of laughter and ask what’s wrong. I never get a response 😭 Anyways she then decides to empty her pockets and she came for some reason with basically a mythical rarity load out of pocket loot. 2 Cinnamon booze plastic shots, lip gloss, chapstick and a cart. Now me being the worlds biggest glorified coward who never smoked and almost never drinks was amazed she had all this shit on her. I ask her how much she had to drink tonight and she told me how for every drink she served she also drank (idk why tf weird flex but ok?) we then kinda decide to go out of the tent because all of a sudden she wants to explore the pitch black woods when we both have very little phone battery left for flashlight. I think in my sober mind that’s a horrible idea and I remember in the back of my mind we had to be back in an hour from like 8:30pm and I remind her assuming she will have it into account but fail to realize SHES DRUNK AF AND CANT PROCESS SHIT!!! Anyways we walk around the creek bed and eventually we have a seat and just weirdly enough lay down watch the stars and talk about romantic stuff, she is very kind all of a sudden and we are just laughing wholeheartedly and enjoying ourselves and occasionally she tries to sloppily kiss me and I’m kinda just laying there like : 🙃. But yeah we there doing all that and then she somehow convinced me to do shots of the weird spicy booze she brought and I was very nervous and almost about to fully fold because I had a lot of important things in my life impending in the coming days and I didn’t want to fuck something up being drunk (not knowing myself if I’m a lightweight or heavyweight drinker) We each do one and I’m kinda there lying paralyzed and shivering in my boots not because of the alcohol but because of the nerves I am chilling with a girl on a beauty of a night next to some lovely sounding creek noises and making out. Me being the newbie I am just go along with anything she says or does because I’m not trying to blow what I have going Yk. But yeah time passes we just there on essentially natures lawn hugging and kissing and talking about cute life aspirations and then I have to break the hard news to her, I inform her I won’t be staying around long by any means ( I leave the next day back to da hood for school) and I feel so bad inside! Like this girl even age difference aside whatever was very kind and I didn’t want to ruin what we had going so I try and explain how I would try to visit her and later the next day I am able to check that tickets cost roughly $50 for one ways to the town she lives in and takes 2 hours and a half something if me for love I was able to do im down ig… Now as a recap: She knows I live super duper far away, She and I both understand we don’t want to ruin what we have and we are trying to see how we can keep this going. I hear someone scream her voice and then I’m like Awww shit ur in trouble right? I check my phone and it’s MOTHERFUCKING 11PM!!!! I’m like OH SHIT WE BEEN GONE A WHILE DAMNNN, I pull her up off the ground and try to get her to her aunt who I assumed was looking for her and then we sadly said it last farewell quickly. She kisses me and then she gets yoinked and chewed tf outta by basically her big auntie bartender me feeling horrible and all because I was so immature not checking the time, I walk up to her to take responsibility for the situation and not be a beta male type character she asks me all of a sudden if I’m “ok or hurt” and I say yeah I’m fine and then she walks away and for some reason my good manners and habits kick in as I quietly shout “good night” and she shouts back “yeah good fucking night!” Slams the door with my newfound friend and they both gone. I feel real bad for the situation but hey it already happened, and I then find out from some of my fellow campers that she was threatening essentially to call the state police because people have gotten lost in the woods but in my head I’m like NUH UH I GOT S TIER GOD MEMORY!!! Anyways I do have the girl I was withs number I message her apologizing for not being more responsible and whatnot and then a lot of time happens from there on. I go to bed at 1:30am, wake up the next morning at 6:57am and I’m worried because she hasn’t responded. I paranoid and feeling like a hopeless romantic sit around stressing for hours until BOOM I get off a call checking up with my moms who was out of town get a message from my dear bartender girl! I’m beyond ecstatic and try to see if we can say goodbye because I have to go so soon that same day (today as I’m writing this) we try to compromise and plan but sadly it doesn’t work out for us and we just don’t get a well deserved farewell. I feel truly defeated and depressed about it and people I’m with are speculating how I have barely eaten in all the hours I have been up today. I reply it’s that m stresses but don’t go into detail trying to avoid ancontroversial discussion. This girls name is Sofia and I as I hope a constituted decent person hope I can keep this relationship but there are a few obstacles. 1, she lives 2 hours best case scenario from me. 2, she doesn’t really answer my messages until very late after I send them (for example i message her 12:30 she responds then doesn’t respond until past 5pm same day) and It’s hard to have a relationship with flawed communication I can see. Now for me I have always wanted to find love but never really succeeded in it and I’m truly just grateful for having any experience like this at all and I want to hear feedback from fellow guys and girl as to what I should do to keep this a respectful and responsible relationship you know?
Sincerely and looking forward to feedback, K

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Chapter 22: A New Resolve
Raindrops cascaded down Gribble's muscular form as he emerged from the cave, his newly transformed body glistening in the soft light of dawn filtering through the lush forest canopy. The thunderstorm had given way to a peaceful landscape, but tension hung in the air. Gribble inhaled deeply, the scent of damp earth and foliage filling his nostrils. Leaves rustled gently and birds chirped in the distance, the sounds reaching his keen ears.
The power of the Thundercat's heart pulsed through his veins, a constant reminder of the incredible transformation he had undergone and the challenges awaiting him. Gribble took a moment to survey his surroundings with his enhanced senses fully awakened. Despite the tranquil scene, he knew danger lurked nearby. With a deep breath, he steeled himself for the journey ahead, his newfound strength and agility filling him with confidence and purpose.
Gribble's ears twitched as they picked up distant sounds of Grimrock forces and Royal Trolls moving through the forest, snapping twigs and rustling undergrowth as they searched for him. His heightened sense of smell detected their distinct scents carried on the breeze - the sweat and metal of their weapons.
Gribble's mind raced, considering his options. He had to act fast to evade capture. His jaw set with determination as he formulated a plan, knowing he had to reach Troll Valley and check on Tormak, the shaman who helped him when he was injured. He owed Tormak a debt of gratitude. Urgency filled Gribble at the thought of ensuring his friend's safety.
Scanning the forest with his enhanced vision, Gribble picked out faint traces of a path leading back to the valley. He realized returning while his pursuers were distracted searching for him was his best chance to get there undetected. The goblin's eyes narrowed as he assessed the risks and opportunities. With renewed resolve, he took a deep breath and began moving forward, his powerful strides carrying him swiftly and silently into the dense foliage.
Gribble navigated the challenging undergrowth with a newfound grace and agility, his enhanced strength allowing him to push through tangled vines and branches with ease. His heightened senses kept him constantly alert for any signs of danger. Eyes darting from shadow to shadow, ears twitching at every snap and rustle, nostrils flaring as he continuously scanned for his pursuers' scent, Gribble marveled at the power coursing through his transformed body.
Each purposeful step forward was imbued with fierce determination, driven by the need to reach Troll Valley and protect those he held dear. The incredible changes the Thundercat's heart had wrought filled Gribble with a sense of purpose, even as his mind grappled with the implications of the terrible destruction he might now be capable of. Deeper and deeper into the forest he pressed, unwavering resolve propelling him onward into the unknown.
Suddenly, Gribble's sensitive hearing picked up rhythmic thudding of approaching footsteps, heavy boots impacting soft earth. At the same time, the distinct musky odor of Royal Trolls and goblins reached his nostrils on the gentle breeze. Gribble's heart raced, adrenaline surging through him at the realization his enemies were closing in.
His enhanced senses quickly constructed a vivid mental map, assessing the distance and direction of the approaching threats. He had to act fast to avoid detection, newfound abilities put to the test as he navigated the treacherous landscape. Muscles tensed, body coiled with anticipation, Gribble prepared to alter course, ready to utilize his enhanced speed and agility.
With precise, calculated movements, Gribble detoured slowly and carefully, his enhanced senses guiding him through the dense foliage. His heart pounded, a mix of excitement and trepidation, as he tested the limits of his transformed body. Each step was a test, a challenge, a stepping stone on the path to mastering his transformed self. And with each stride, his confidence grew, his determination solidified into an unbreakable core. His heart pounding from both excitement and fear, with senses alight and muscles thrumming with barely contained power.
Moving with fluid grace that belied the incredible strength coiled in his muscles, Gribble's mind raced with both thrilling possibilities and terrible implications of his newfound powers. But he remained laser focused on his goal, confidence growing with each silent stride. The need to reach his friends in Troll Valley drove him ever forward.
Keen eyes scanning ahead for hidden dangers or ambush points, Gribble's enhanced vision picked out even the faintest traces of disturbance in the undergrowth - bent leaves, scuffed moss, snapped twigs - subtle signs of passage invisible to normal sight. His mind worked overtime, constantly assessing risks and calculating the safest route, senses feeding him torrents of information to process.
Preternatural awareness of his surroundings kept him vigilant as he navigated the forest. Eyes darted between shadows, ears attuned to the faintest unnatural sound, nostrils twitching at any break in the earthy forest scents. Not for an instant could he let his guard down, lest he pay the ultimate price.
Boulders, streams, and tangles of roots proved no obstacle to Gribble as he traversed the forest, enhanced strength and agility allowing him to clamber and leap with almost effortless grace. Powerful muscles rippled beneath green skin as he vaulted fallen logs and boulders. Reaching a small stream, his body coiled and sprung, propelling him across the burbling water without so much as a splash.
Gribble's passage left no trace, every movement silent and efficient, aided by his heightened senses scanning ceaselessly for any sign of pursuit. Singular purpose consumed him, all energy focused on remaining undetected. Body and mind worked in perfect harmony, decades of hard-won survival skills meshing seamlessly with his newfound abilities.
Forefront in Gribble's thoughts as he journeyed was Tormak, the troll shaman who had come to his aid. Concern gnawed at him, worry for his friend's welfare in the time since their last encounter. His imagination raced, conjuring myriad possibilities of what might have befallen the kindly troll. Even his enhanced senses could provide no answers across the distance separating them.
Clinging to hope that Tormak still lived, Gribble's jaw clenched with determination, pace quickening. He had to reach him, had to repay the generosity Tormak had shown him, the debt he owed his friend. Memories of the shaman's gentle wisdom, the compassion in his golden eyes, spurred Gribble onward like a lodestone. He would not fail him.
And through it all, Gribble's heightened senses never ceased their constant scan for danger. Ears swivelled at the skitter of a lizard over bark, at the distant shriek of a hawk. Nostrils flared, sifting the sea of mingled scents for any wisp of goblin or troll. Even as his thoughts wandered, his body remained taut and ready, a coiled spring awaiting the first hint of a threat.
Physical reactions came without conscious thought now - muscles tensing at unexpected sounds, body shifting subtly into a fighting crouch at the faintest whiff of predator musk. The instincts of a being fashioned for battle, kill or be killed. There could be no rest, no respite from the vigilance. Gribble's very survival depended on it.
As he loped onward, Gribble pondered the enormity of the change that had been wrought upon him, the world-altering power that now suffused every sinew and bone. His reminiscing took him back to that pivotal moment in the cave, the instant the Thundercat's heart had passed his lips. The rush of raw energy that had surged through him like a bolt of lightning, the agony and ecstasy of his metamorphosis.
In the span of a few heartbeats, the very foundations of his being had been rewritten. Senses sharpened to an almost unbearable keenness, nerve afire with new life, veins swelling with physical might beyond mortal ken. The feeling of invincibility, of boundless vigour, was intoxicating. Addictive.
And yet, with this great power came an equally great burden. Already Gribble could feel the weight of it settling upon his shoulders, the knowledge that he now held in his palms the capacity for acts of greatness... and of untold devastation. The thought sent a shiver through him despite the warmth of his exertion.
Every movement, every flex of newfound strength, held a reminder of the responsibility that now rested on him. Of the precarious balance he must strike, the control he must master, lest his power consume him and all those around him. Harnessing this raw, primal force, channelling it for good - that would be his true test. One he could not afford to fail.
Dawn's light gradually infused the forest as Gribble ran on, tirelessly, honey-gold rays slanting through the canopy to dapple the loam with pools of warmth. With the rising sun came a rekindling of hope, a sense of promise. Of new beginnings. The night's dangers were fading with the shadows, and pride kindled in Gribble's chest at the thought of the distance he'd covered, the progress he'd made.
There was still far to go, many challenges yet to surmount, but for now, in this moment, Gribble allowed himself a small surge of accomplishment. Of gratitude for the abilities that had let him come so far unscathed. For the first time, the true scope of the gift he'd been granted began to settle in his mind. The myriad potentials, the uncharted paths stretching out before him.
His resolve crystallized like hardening steel, a sense of purpose, of destiny, straightening his spine and quickening his gait. Whatever trials lay ahead, whatever threats loomed over Tormak, over Troll Valley, he would meet them unflinchingly. Would fight with every ounce of strength in his transformed body, with every pulse of the Thundercat's power in his veins.
He had been granted these abilities for a reason, offered up this chance to be more, to rise above his humble origins. To become a champion, a protector, a beacon of hope in a world torn by strife. And by the spirits, he would prove himself worthy of it. Would give his all, his very life if need be, to honour the legacy that had been bestowed upon him.
Slowing his stride, Gribble cast his gaze about the sun-drenched woods, taking in the beauty, the vibrance, the life that surrounded him on all sides. This, this was what he fought for. What he would gladly lay down his life to defend. The right of every creature to live and grow and thrive, free from the shadow of fear and oppression.
A faint smile curved his lips as new strength surged through him, a sense of rightness, of affirmation. He was on the proper path, guided by the spirits, blessed by fate. Come what may, he would walk it with his head held high, his heart true, and the power of the Thundercat roaring in his blood.
Drawing a deep breath of crisp morning air, Gribble centred himself, reaching for that newfound well of calm at his core, the eye in the storm of his transformed being. Then, with a flex of mighty thews, he launched himself into the next leg of his journey, little more than a verdant blur flashing between the ancient trees. Onward, to Troll Valley. To Tormak, who might be in need of his aid. To a destiny still unfolding with each bounding stride.

Kastrup has some good ideas. But I think his marketability is based on the spiritual aroma of his claims.
"Aspectualism" is dry like math. If it has beauty, it's a mathematical beauty. To me it seems like a elegant solution to an old problem, and it's an old solution with a new coat of paint, which really brings out its eyes.
A single metaphor. Like the charm of set theory building everything on just one empty set. Pulling a thread through Mach, Husserl, Wittgenstein, James, Mill, ...
But foolish in worldly terms. For the most part people want Nietzsche or critical race theory or something heroically and obviously Ethical. In other words, politics.
Some nondual subreddits are "devotional" and (be not surprised) radically unconcerned with justifying their favorite thesis ---the night in which all cows are black, that sort of a thing.
To do science, to have the audacity to do science, is to move beyond an idolatry of the names. In other words, it involves overcoming or shattering the transference that is probably, while we learn the game, necessary.

Hello.
This is Don Sees Your Shaydim. It's been a while.
Long-Winded Intro:
Ever sit through one of those 40 minute long ads by Whitney Tilson because you wanted to know what the fucking fuck the secret Tesla pr Apple supplier is, only to find that there’s no big reveal at the end? Instead, you’re asked to subscribe to an unaffordable newsletter. (These ads can’t be fast-forwarded!). The thing about these ads is you can figure out who these “secret” companies are, and it’s not hard. When I used to have time, I’d reverse engineer the latest 20-minute Motley Fool ad to discover the secret 5g stock, or the secret EV battery tech that will change the world.
I don’t have time like I used to. During the pandemic, I “worked” at home, which meant I spent my days yoloing into spacs and deconstructing stuff like Motley Fool and Stansberry Research reports for their stock picks. The good news is there are some devoted investors out there who have made it their jobs to take apart ads and reveal secret stocks.
If you’re looking for some plays, here are the results—the revealed stocks—from some recently reverse-engineered ads. The folks who did all this great work are Travis Johnson, who runs a fantastic online magazine called Stock Gumshoe. It is the only magazine I am subscribed to, and have been since 2020. I get a lot—if not most—of my investment ideas from Stock Gumshoe. Every single trade or investment idea that I’ve had from Gumshoe has been successful. Every single one. Every trade I’ve made because of shit I heard on YouTube has been a turd. I’m pumping this magazine because it works.
Alongside of Travis Johnson, we have Dylan Rieger. Just like Johnson, Rieger reverse-engineers ads, but on YouTube. He is prolific. His videos are roughly 10 minutes long, and they’re packed with well-curated information on each of the companies he reveals. If you’re thinking, “Why would I read a web magazine if I could just watch youtube videos?” Rieger’s videos are excellent, but Travis’s writing… he will teach you how to think. “But I don’t need to change the way I think about the market.” If you’re still fucking reading this, then chances are you suck at trading and investing. (I can already feel one or two of you typing, “Actually, ….”)
Below you will find a list of secret stocks that Johnson and Rieger revealed. I’ve listed the author of the newsletter or ad, the title of the article or presentation, the revealed stock, and relevant information. I figured that if I’ve had success this way, you might too. I like my wife’s feet, incidentally. I think they’re pretty.
Let me reiterate—I have been successful when I’ve used these sources as a starting point for a possible trade or investment. I’m a moron, however. I don’t stick with what works. I’m more likely to yolo into some garbage I heard about from a twenty-year old on YouTube. I said earlier that if you’re reading this, you probably suck at the market. But you’re probably way better than the person who wrote this. I address myself in third-person. I also like it when she wears tube socks and Doc Mertens.
Dylan Rieger's YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/@dylanrieger7651
Travis Johnson's Stock Gumshoe: https://www.stockgumshoe.com/

Secret Stocks Revealed, May 2024
Dylan Jovine. “The New Space Race: 3 AI Stocks for Windfall Gains.” From Behind the Markets newsletter, which is currently listed at $49/yr. This focuses on defense industry AI-powered satellites, particularly speculations about defense contracts with the US Space Force. He teases several stocks, but the primary secret stock is BigBear (BBAI). BigBear has partnerships with Amazon AWS (AMZN), Palantir (PLTR), and L3Harris (LHX). Travis Johnson, whom I get almost all my info from, sees this BigBear speculation as a stretch. I agree. If BBAI does in fact get the Space Force contract: tendies. Jovine also pitches a backdoor way to get a stake in SpaceX, which is not publicly traded. The “backdoors” are the Private Shares Fund (PRIVX) and Destiny Tech 100 ETF (DXYZ). SpaceX constitutes about 35% of DXYZ. Jovine’s third stock—which is allegedly NASA’s secret AI chipmaker—is Arm Holdings (ARM).
Jason Williams. “The Exxon Slayer: The Small Firm Pioneering the Future of American Lithium.” Future Giants newsletter, which will cost you fucking $2,000. The secret stock is Standard Lithium (SLI). Totally worth a $2,000 subscription.
Shah Gilani. “Nvidia’s Secret Partner.” From Manward Monthly Report. The secret stock is Astera Labs (ALAB).
“This Tiny Canadian AI Stock Could Be the Next Nvidia.” Motley Fool Stock Advisor Canada. The secret stock: Docebo (DCBO). The company is in the e-learning realm, offering a cloud-supported platform for employee training and the like. This is not even remotely close to being Nvidia, but the company itself looks promising within its own sector.
Gerardo Del Real. “Trade of the Decade.” From Junior Resource Speculator, which is priced reasonably low—compared to Superbowl tickets or Berkshire Hathaway stock—at $2,000/yr. The secret stock is Kingsmen Resources (KNGRF). You really out to check out Travis Johnson’s reverse engineering of Del Real’s ad, and maybe consider subscribing to Stock Gumshoe, where he breaks down all sort of ads. He’s one of the best writers in this space. I have a fucking PhD. English. I hate everyone’s writing. Not his. He—Travis—also enlightens readers to similar stocks and stakeholders in that sector: Cameco (CCJ), GoGold Resources (GLDGF), Ivanhoe Mines (IVPAF), Abacus Mining (ABCFF), Cosa Resources (COSAF), Fission Uranium (FCUUF), Skyharbour Resources (SYHBF), EnCore Energy (EU), Uranium Energy Corp (UEC), Sprott Uranium Miners (URNM), Sprott Junior Uranium Miners (URNJ), Perpetual Resources (PPTA), Standard Uranium (STTD), Filo Mining (FLMMF)
Ross Givens. “Live Action War Room.” From Wall Street Watch Dogs. This ad was formerly called "The $3 AI Wonder Stock that Could Make You 75X Richer?" but was repackaged as The No. 1 AI Stock Opportunity of the Decade (Surprise: Only $6)” The secret stock is SoundHound AI (SOUN). Note: They are also pitching alongside of “The $3 AI …” “The Top Five Stocks Set to Soar in 2024.” These include Calix (CALX), SolarEdge (SEDG), Desktop Metals (DM), Adobe (ADBE), and Snowflake (SNOW).
Whitney Tilson and Porter Stansberry. “How I Cut My Salary to $1, Then Pocketed a Million Dollars in One Day With America’s New Money.” Stansberry Research. These ads don’t have clearly defined titles. This one covers a “secret US currency” otherwise called, “America’s New Money.” This is from Stansberry’s Investment Advisory. This is a weird pitch; basically, they’re suggesting that instead of buying stocks that trade on an exchange, you should buy the stock representing the exchange itself. The secret stock is CME Group (CME), otherwise known as the Chicago Mercantile Exchange. In Travis Johnson’s breakdown, he lists other publicly traded exchanges: Chicago Board Options Exchange (CBOE), Intercontinental Exchange (ICE), Nasdaq (NDAQ), MarketAxess Holdings (MKTX). In fact, here is his whole list: Euronext (EUXTF or ENRXY in the US), London Stock Exchange (LNSTY or LDNXF in the US), Australian Stock Exchange ASX (ASXFY, or ASXFF), São Paulo Stock Exchange Brazil (BOLSY), the Bolsa Mexicana (BOMXF), Over The Counter Markets OTC (OTCM)
Jason Simpkins. “Project Wingman.” From Secret Stock Files, which would cost you $1,999/yr. Military aircraft: Simpkins asserts that this defense contractor, Kratos (KTOS), has a “vice grip on next-generation technology that will render most of its competitors’ assets completely obsolete.” Project wingman involves using AI on fighter planes.
Keith Kohl. “The Undiscovered Tech Company Behind the Coming Trio-Fuel 238 Revolution.” Energy Investor newsletter currently listed at $99 yr. at basic level. Nuclear energy tech that’s apparently cleaner, safer, and more efficient than convention Uranium 238 tech. The secret stock is Lightbridge (LTBR).
Ray Blanco. “Did I Just Find the Hidden Cure to Cancer?” From Catalyst Trader, which would cost you $1000. The secret stock is Exscientia (EXAI). Dylan Rieger also notes that Alexander Green, another “famous” stock picker with an expensive newsletter, made EXAI the secret stock in focus for his “This Will Be the #1 Performing AI Stock of the Coming Decade” report.
Adam Odell. “Special Report #1: The AI Growth Engine” from the 10X Stocks newsletter, which is currently $995 yr. This is from the AI Power Summit, with 3 stocks “positioned to solve the AI energy problem.” The main stock is NuScale (SMR), which builds small modular nuclear reactors. The additional stocks are Centrus Energy (LEU), and Sprott Physical Uranium Trust (SRUUF).
Jason Williams. “The Tesla Killer is Here.” Wealth Advisors newsletter. Pitching “blue gas,” which is hydrogen fuel cells. The stock is Ballard Power (BLDP)
Alex Koyfman. “Lithium Volcano: Tapping the World’s Biggest Lithium Reserve.” The Crows Nest newsletter. 1 year membership is currently listed at 99$. The stock is Lithium Americas (LAC), who has a $650 million deal with GM.
Ian King. “AI Energy” presentation. Membership is currently $79. The stock is AMD (AMD)
Louis Navellier. “The Trump AI Boom: 3 Data Center Stocks with 100X Potential” and “The Second Wave of AI Comes in November.” From Growth Investor. The stocks are Innodata (INOD), Data Storage Corporation (DTST), and Applied Digital (APLD).
Luke Lango. “Elon Musk’s ChatGPT Could Soon Mint New Millionaires.” Innovation Investors Magazine, which is currently listed as on sale for $49/yr. The stock is Taiwan Semiconductor (TSM).
Luke Lango. “The Next Nvidia.” Investor Place. The stock is Lam Research (LRCX).
[Jason Williams. “The Exxon Slayer: The Small Firm Pioneering the Future of American Lithium.” Future Giants newsletter, which will cost you fucking $2,000. The secret stock is Standard Lithium (SLI). Totally work a $2,000 subscription.]()
Shah Gilani. “Nvidia’s Secret Partner.” From Manward Monthly Report. The secret stock is Astera Labs (ALAB).

I am not The OOP, OOP is u/IcemanEx54
GM Locked Me Out Of Interacting With Other Players Because I Got Confused
Originally posted to rpghorrorstories
TRIGGER WARNING: manipulation, controlling behavior, sexism
Original Post March 6, 2024
I'm a player in a tabletop RPG campaign and I just wanted to vent about this session. The GM uses a "rules light" homebrew system and it's his homebrew world as well. He's been doing this campaign for years now, but I just joined through a mutual friend after another player left recently.
When I joined the campaign, the GM had told me he wanted me to be from a particular country as a prince, and since it was his homebrewed world, I went with it. The country I'm a prince of is a massive empire that has conquered many lands. I wanted to be a morally good character so I made up a backstory where my prince had a secret romance with a commoner so it gave me more empathy and understanding than my other royal peers would have. Then in session 1, he had the commoner immediately break up with me since the players were all leaving the city session 1.
Several sessions later, there is a carnival being hosted in the empire and all the players are attending. The players split up and my part began with my character watching as a mentally handicap child was put in the dunk tank and was being dunked against his will. So I had my character help the child and stop the game (This isn't relevant to the larger story but I thought it was really weird). Then I am told I have to go to the "main stage" which is just a strip club seemingly. And of course, walking around topless serving drinks is my character's commoner love interest that I made in session 0. The GM laughs a bit and comments, "Isn't it funny? Look at what your ex has to do without you." I have my character give her the shirt off his back and we go to the outskirts of the carnival to find a quiet place to talk, but then the carnival was ambushed by some enemies as arrows and fire rained down on the parade.
Suddenly, my character and his ex are teleported back to the main stage and the GM starts jumping back and forth between all the player characters asking what we want to do without any sort of initiative and if we don't respond quickly enough he skips to another player. I ask, "What direction are the arrows coming from?" GM, "You can't tell". "Which direction to the palace?" I ask. "You don't know," he tells me. I'm honestly genuinely confused about what to do here and my mind goes blank, but then the GM has my bodyguard (a Brienne of Tarth type) tell me to follow her so I do. As he cuts back and forth, another player loses his mom in the chaos, I tell GM, "I want to help him find his mom." "You can't see him" GM tells me. Then I ended up surrounded by 12 ambushers in the "Pleasure Gardens". GM asked what I would do. I say since the carnival is burning, I look for a piece of wood on fire and since it's the pleasure gardens maybe there's some oil I can spill and light on fire to separate myself, my bodyguard, and ex who are all with me from the ambushers. He tells me there's no oil and then I'm held down by the men. I tried to escape, but he says I failed (he just did a dice roll behind his screen and didn't tell me the results). I am then hogtied by the ambushers with my bodyguard and ex and thrown in a cart. Meanwhile, the other two players have stolen a cart and are escaping. I try to do a goofy wave as my character is tied up towards my companions and he just says, the carts never pass each other so the other players don't see you. Before the session ends he tells me my bodyguard is dead.
After the session, I think my body language showed I was a bit bummed. So GM pipes in, "You want to know why you failed that encounter?" He proceeded to tell me it was because I followed my bodyguard and there was no way a woman could have protected me and I needed to make the choice instead. Some of the other players chimed in and said it was surprising my bodyguard failed since in the lore she was a 20-year veteran who survived "The Great War". The GM keeps defending his choice. Then he started making self-deprecating jokes about how he just sucks then and he's the worst GM ever until the other players all reassure him it's fine. I kind of just sat there shell-shocked.
His system reduces dice rolls to a rarity and he does them all himself as a "way to keep tension". I'm honestly more about hanging out with my friends than judging the quality of any campaign or system but this was my first "combat" of any sort in the campaign and I just felt so helpless in this system and it was frustrating. Plus there are no insight or persuasion rolls, just what the GM claims "my character would know" and "how his NPCs would act". So I'm not sure how I was supposed to handle this encounter. Being a GM myself, I thought he was using my bodyguard character to get me back on track, but I thought wrong. I honestly wouldn't have minded if he was just railroading me for a plot point, but him trying to manipulate me and saying his hands were tied when he essentially locked me out of interacting with the other players for the rest of the session is what bothers me the most.
Edit: Changed gaslighting to manipulating since I was using the term wrong and don't want to dilute it's meaning.
Update: GM Defends Style And Told Me He Owns My Character March 20, 2024
This is an update from my post a couple of weeks ago.
One of my friends in the group reached out to me and asked me to not leave the group. He told me there were only 2 sessions left and asked me to stick around as a favor to him. I told him I'd reach out to GM and see if we could get on the same page. So I texted the GM and told him I wanted to talk because I had some concerns after the way everything went down last session. He was down and we talked on the phone a couple of days later. To my surprise, the first thing he did was profusely apologize. I hadn't been responding in our group chat, partly because I was mad and partly because my partner had a death in her family. I guess me not responding caused him to dwell on the last session a bunch. He said he was going to retcon my bodyguard's death and keep her alive. I even told him that the treatment of women in the campaign was bad and that it was making the story worse, he told me that it is something that he can work on being better about too. I was surprised, but all this gave me a lot of optimism for this conversation.
I was honest and I told him that his homebrew system is very difficult for me since I don't have a character sheet. So my character doesn't have abilities, he doesn't level up, and I can't do things like roll investigate or perception rolls which makes it hard for me to make informed decisions. I told him it makes me very risk adverse because I don't have things like HP to even know if I'm in danger. He responded to this by telling me I shouldn't worry about that because his GM style rewards me if I roleplay well enough. He went on to say he hates systems with things like perception rolls because that's "Not how real life works".
I also lamented the fact that I also don't get to interact with the other players much. I didn't mention this in my first post, but he plays with all of us in a Discord call but he only plays with us one at a time, and the two of us who aren't playing are expected to listen and record notable quotes for his notes. He'll switch between characters where each player gets 2-3 "scenes" in a 3 hour session. He has our characters all spread out across the country Game of Thrones style and I've only gotten to play with another player in 2 sessions so far. This was also why that carnival scene was so frustrating because all 3 players were finally in the same place and we were trying to find each other and he just kept saying, "You don't see them".
He told me that he doesn't do party-based adventures because you can't get character growth that way. I pushed back and said I've seen awesome character growth in traditional DnD style games in the past, it just depends on the group. I also said he's just making things harder for himself by trying to run three campaigns instead of one. And if we don't have character sheets and aren't in a party then this is all more dramatic improv than a tabletop RPG.
He responded by saying his way is better because it creates a real story and that I should be happy because he made me the main character. (I guess that is what me being the prince means?) He then went on a rant about how much he loves the game world he created and he's very grateful that our characters brought it to life. But then he says that since it's his world, he feels like he owns our characters now and that after the campaign he wants us all to sign off on him using the characters to write books and a screenplay. And if we don't he'll just change their names and do it anyway. He then thanks me and tells me that this campaign is the main thing that has been stopping him from self-harm and going to dark places. Then he says he has to go and he rushes to hang up before I can say anything else.
I'm dumbfounded after that rapid-fire series of bombshells. I've known since the first few sessions that this was barely a TTRPG, but I got to hang out with my friends so I didn't care what it was. It was nice to hang out with old friends a couple times each month. Then the story got weird, and there was so much misogyny, and then I had the horrible session that caused my original post. Then in this conversation, he throws up even more red flags that I'm not blind to, but he is also planting a seed that he may harm himself without the campaign which is not something I want on my conscience. I'm just exhausted at this point.
TLDR: GM says that abilities and parties make TTRPGs worse and he wants to use our characters to write books/movies after the campaign because he owns them since we're playing in his world. He says he may fall back to self-harm without the campaign, making me feel guilty for wanting to leave.
RELEVANT COMMENTS
ShitThroughAGoose

Any update to this?

OOP

I ended up doing one more session for the finale. There was some drama during that session and when I mentioned that I didn't want to play in the next season of the campaign. I wasn't sure if I wanted to post about it again. I might still, but I think I want to take some time and reflect on everything.

Final Update May 11, 2024
[Final Update] Moving On From My Toxic DM And Losing A Friend In The Process
This will hopefully be my last post on this sub for a long time, but I’ve been using this place to vent about my toxic situation for a while so I figured I might as well post how everything concluded and what happened when I left. I’m going to reflect on everything and recap the important parts so no one has to read 3 posts.
It all started when I decided to start DMing to keep in touch with some college friends after graduation. During my first campaign, one of the players, Pirate, asked if his friend, Colorado, could join. I didn't really know Colorado, but I figured, "the more, the merrier."
Colorado had some issues early on, giving unsolicited advice to everyone on how to play and viewing newer or shy players as “side characters”. However, he frequently missed sessions, only showing up for less than half of them for the first few years so nothing came to a head early on. Then, Colorado decided he wanted to bring back his tabletop campaign from his college days and started trying to recruit players after my sessions. Pirate suggested I join the campaign, promising that Colorado was a better DM than player. Since I had been the Forever DM up to that point, I agreed to give it a go.
I created a character who was part of the royal family but enjoyed interacting with commoners in the slums, even having a secret girlfriend from that background. After that, Colorado also started hitting me up to help with the campaign. I ended up photoshopping character art for a bunch of his NPCs and I even drew his world map for him. I didn't mind doing it, as I do that kind of stuff for fun.
For our first session, Colorado had already created character sheets for us based on our backstories, but only he could see them. Colorado would also roll all the dice himself so “all we had to focus on is roleplaying”. We played one on one in different "scenes" that could last around 30 minutes to an hour each. We usually had around 2 to 4 scenes per session, depending on what Colorado thought was important. During the game, Colorado asked us to write down quotes from him and the other players when it wasn't our turn.
I had to wait for well over an hour before I could finally play. My first session was on rails. I mostly just had to repeat after Colorado during a ceremony. Afterwards, I got to sneak out of the castle and meet with my commoner girlfriend, but Colorado immediately had her break up with me. Then I was told that I had to leave the city. I was essentially locked out of my hanging out in the slums and commoner girlfriend subplots. NPCs generally disliked my morally good character, especially my sister who was depicted as purely evil towards me. Despite my efforts to mend the relationship, she never changed her mind and Colorado never rolled any dice to determine that. Later Colorado revealed to me the character was based on his ex-girlfriend, who was originally intended to be the player character from my country before they broke up.
Eventually, I finally got to interact with another player, Soldier, who I had really good chemistry with and we had a really fun scene. Which Colorado exclaimed, “See! This is why I keep you apart. It makes these moments so much more epic!” But I’m just thinking that if we were in a party, every session could be this epic.
Then Colorado got busy. He went to some alternative medicine nature retreat and didn’t pay his rent the whole time he was gone so he got evicted. At that point, the campaign went on hiatus as people got busy and Colorado was couch hopping. It was during that time I considered the campaign over and made my first post because I thought it fit the sub. Then a year after the last session, Colorado started trying to organize the group to do 3 more sessions to finish the campaign. I just ghosted the group chat for a while, but Pirate’s roommate is a player in the campaign I DM so Pirate started hopping on the call asking me to come back for the finale. Pirate told me that it would be different this time because all of our characters were going to meet up for the finale and he really wanted to play with me. I naively agreed to give the game a second chance.
The first of those three sessions led to this post and this follow up.
[TLDR - I never got to meet up with the other characters. Colorado made my ex a stripper and I was captured by invaders with no dice rolls to prevent it. I had a conversation with him about my concerns after the last session. He apologized and agreed to make changes saying he needed the campaign for his mental health.]
Colorado decided to have a single super finale session, which I reluctantly attended because of sunk cost fallacy. I was imprisoned, beaten and whipped, separated from my girlfriend and recently resurrected bodyguard. A deus-ex ninja offered to help me escape, but I wanted to save all the prisoners. So I helped the commoners escape with the ninja before saving my girlfriend. My bodyguard got captured, but I made sure my girlfriend escaped and then I went to save my bodyguard because I wasn’t letting her die after she just got resurrected. I tried to find my bodyguard but every door was locked and I was forced into a long one on one fight with a guard that would make John Carpenter blush. I lost the fight due to an unknown -2 modifier on my fighting rolls, leading to my re-imprisonment.
Pirate tried to board a boat to reach my location, but was unsuccessful. Colorado informed him that the sailors refused to let him on the ship because they didn't like his tone. Fortunately, Soldier saved me and we agreed to stop the big bad and rescue my bodyguard together. With a squad of Soldier's peers, we pursued the big bad into the woods. Without any rolls, all the other soldiers were sniped by archers.
Finally, the two of us reached the clearing where the big bad and his followers were. We were outnumbered about 30-2. My bodyguard and the other commoners were tied to a tree. Soldier was the same race as the villain so he approached while I stayed hidden. He delivered an awesome passionate speech against the big bad's actions saying that it wasn’t what their ancestors would want. I’m sitting there waiting and hoping for a persuasion roll… and nothing. Colorado says the big bad doesn’t change his mind and he sets the tree on fire, causing my bodyguard and the commoners to burn to death. Soldier and I retreated into the woods to end the campaign.
Pirate was supposed to have a scene after us, but he fell asleep because it was past 1am. Colorado kept trying to call Pirate on the phone. I joke, “Hey, we’re old now, being up past midnight isn’t as easy as it used to.” To which Colorado replies, “I just thought Pirate had more respect for me than this.” The Discord call becomes quiet and after Colorado starts focusing on Soldier and I. He wants to know why we’re not discussing the ending more. I remarked that it was a bit of a downer and I’m tired. Then Colorado starts spiraling, saying that RPGs are just another medium that he failed at just like film and music. HE STARTS CRYING and hangs up from the Discord call. Soldier and I stayed on and had a short “That was awkward” conversation. I don’t know Soldier well so I didn’t say much about my grievances with the campaign and eventually we ended up just talking about Baldur’s Gate 3 for an hour.
The next day, I wake up to a barrage of texts from Colorado apologizing, mansplaining how hard it is to be a DM as if I’ve never done it myself. He then starts sending me messages with all his ideas for my character in the next season and how he promises I’ll have more freedom next time. I wouldn’t understand, but he NEEDED to do the prison sequence and my bodyguard to die for my character growth, but next season will be different. I tell him I’m not doing another season. Colorado replies saying that he thought I’d say that because Pirate (who was apparently not sleeping) told him Soldier and I were bitching about the campaign after the session. Colorado said that once I get over it, we can start talking about season 3. I reaffirmed my stance. Then Colorado texts me one last time and asks if I’ll still make his maps and character art even if I don’t play. I said no again.
It's been two months since I last heard from Colorado or Pirate. We used to play games and talk about pro wrestling all the time, but now there's been no contact. A lot of the comments on my posts helped me realize I was prioritizing Colorado’s mental health over my own and I felt like it was my responsibility to support his campaign because he constantly referenced how important it was to his mental health. Intentional or not, he preyed upon my empathy. I’m not his Giving Tree and I shouldn’t be left a stump for a campaign where he doesn’t even want us to affect the world.
I sometimes worry Pirate is going through a similar situation to me, but for a longer period of time. Pirate introduced me to Colorado, and he's really loyal to him. I think that slowed down my exit from the group because I trusted Pirate to be my friend as well. I remember opening up to Pirate about a panic attack I had while Colorado was spiraling one day, and he just shrugged it off as me being dramatic. It's frustrating. I want both of them to be happy, but I can't make that happen for them, especially if it comes at the expense of my own well-being.
I ended up venting to some of my irl friends and they really supported and listened to me which is why I didn’t feel a need to vent here. I learned a lot about what not to do when DMing from this campaign and it made me reevaluate my approach to playing RPGs. Now I'm in a group with my irl friends and it's a blast. I can relax and just have fun playing again.
TLDR - I started DMing to stay connected with college friends who were scattered across the country. One player, Pirate, introduced me to Colorado, who eventually took over as the DM. Colorado had some unconventional methods, such as not using character sheets and controlling all the dice rolls. The game became focused on his storyline and my character had limited agency. Despite this, I gave the campaign a second chance. In the final session, things went poorly, and Colorado had a breakdown. Despite his apologies and promises for the next season, I decided not to continue playing. I have not heard from Colorado or Pirate since. I now play with my real-life friends and it's much more enjoyable.
RELEVANT COMMENTS/ADDED INFO
TicketPrestigious

Glad you're doing better. That does sound like quite a toxic situation.
If I've understood it right, the stuff with Pirate 'falling asleep' but actually listening in to you and Soldier talking feels like a massive red flag to me. I understand worrying about him since you were/felt like you were friends, but if he's enabling Colorado with that sort of stuff then it's probably best to move on.

OOP

Yeah even the best case would be that Pirate woke up after Colorado left the call and just overheard Soldier and me talking without us realizing because his mic was muted and we assumed he had passed out and then he snitched after which is still a bad look tbh. I had been distancing myself from Pirate since he invalidated my panic attack prior to this. It's just hard to be vulnerable with someone again after that.

THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT THE OOP
DO NOT CONTACT THE OOP's OR COMMENT ON LINKED POSTS, REMEMBER - RULE 7

Author's Note:
7700 words, broke Reddit's character limit, so you know the drill. Will be split into two parts, both posted today. Enjoy!
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"Stop! STOP!"
The terror in Kismet's voice rose higher as death drew nearer. He fled from Rob's grasping hand, but a Purge Divinity-infused fingernail managed to graze him, carving out a scoop of divine essence as if flaying a mortal's skin.
Kismet let out a screech as the Purging energy added to his growing collection of scars. A dozen small holes now dotted the surface of his mana-body, looking like he'd been pockmarked by wasting disease. Each wound represented a moment where the god had narrowly escaped with his life.
If those injuries had been inflicted by any other ability, then he could have rejuvenated himself in the time it took to blink. Purging energy was not so kind as that. It was purifying wrath in the shape of a Skill; their vengeance given form. Whatever divinity it touched, it extinguished.
As if cleansing the universe of a sickness that had infected it for far too long.
The BERSERKER continued his unrelenting advance. In response, Kismet threw up a frantic barrier of mana. It was strong enough to deflect one of Ragnavi's Annihilation beams–
And Rob blasted through it like paper mache. His charge sent broken shards of energy scattering across the divine realms. More mid-air rifts tore open, the HUMAN's aura strangling the surrounding area in a vice grip of power. Purge Divinity seemed to glow with light emanating straight from the pits of hell.
None of which was anywhere near as unnerving as the murder contained within his piercing gaze. When Kismet met Rob's eyes, he saw the end of eternity fast approaching.
The god's next barrier was just as frantic. However, this one was not comprised of mana, but of solid matter. Kismet summoned the hardest, most dense substance known to the mortal realms, then transmuted it into something that otherwise could only have been forged inside the heart of a dying star. It was many times more durable than the impossibly tough walls of an aberrant Dungeon.
So when Rob demolished it with a single punch, he actually had to put a bit of elbow grease into his windup.
Another wall materialized in front of him. He crushed it, then the one after, and the one after that, lashing out with bestial ferocity. The BERSERKER plowed through Kismet's hastily-built defenses like a bulldozer of fists and savagery. Rob was knocking them down as quickly as the god could make them, relishing the sensation of being able to vent his anger on targets that weren't fucking running away.
Then the twelfth wall fell – revealing a monstrous, spiky, fanged behemoth concealed behind.
Rob paused, momentarily taken aback at the sight of a mundane creature within the divine realms. 'Mundane' in relative terms, anyway. This monster was on par with a newborn Blight, radiating power that would have sent ordinary fighters sprinting for the hills.
It was also barely cognizant of its surroundings. The monster stared at him with unblinking, vacant eyes, just the tiniest glimmer of awareness present in its gaze. Rob noted that segments of its flesh were bubbling, as if the creature was fresh out of the oven and still needed to settle.
He couldn't help but feel a modicum of pity. This was yet another thoughtless creation, condemned to existence by an uncaring maker. Even monsters deserved better than that.
Rob caved the beast's head in before it could realize that it was alive. Pity was not the same as hesitation, and this was the only mercy he could afford to grant right now.
Didn't matter. Kismet's pawn served its purpose. In the brief instant that Rob spent getting over his initial surprise, the god had teleported to safety. He was already planning his next stunt that could buy him a few precious seconds of survival.
The HUMAN grimaced as he turned to give chase, unable to suppress the burgeoning sense of unease growing within his chest.
It almost didn't seem fair to feel that way. Rob knew he was winning – at least on the surface. Any outside observer would've bet their life savings on him, especially after the show of overwhelming superiority he'd just displayed. Kismet had been at a disadvantage before Never Forget Your Rage's recent upswing, and now it was no contest. Rob was confident that he would still be stronger even if the eight gods merged into one super-deity.
He also knew that he was living on borrowed time.
Whenever he moved, or activated a Skill, or even breathed...the sensation was there. Strength accompanied by incongruous frailty. Like background noise that kept getting louder with every action he took. His body felt close to pulling itself apart, as if his very molecules were a hairsbreadth away from coming undone.
It was different from Soul Instability. Whereas that threatened to collapse his soul, this frailty was an affliction of the flesh. The longer he fought, the more his physical form was at risk of popping like a balloon.
Such was the price of constraining godlike power within a mortal shell.
"Stay back!" Unaware of the turmoil fermenting in his assailant's mind, Kismet threw up his hands and...inverted...space? Rob didn't have a name for what he was seeing. Rather than stopping to puzzle out this latest brand of divine bullshit, he sent out a pulse of Purge Divinity, canceling whatever esoteric effect Kismet had been attempting to produce.
His Purging energy scraped against the divine realms like a cheese grater. Five rifts immediately tore open near both Rob and Kismet, with the god anxiously retreating from one that appeared just inches away from him. A low rumble echoed around them, and for a moment, they felt struck by an abrupt feeling of vertigo – until the realms gradually stabilized, righting once more.
For now.
Rob eyed the rifts with a detached, clinical gaze. An endless sea of mana resided behind them; the bedrock of the system itself. While he recognized that the rifts tearing open was bad news, he also couldn't really muster the energy to care. Between his overflowing rage, overtaxed body, and overburdened soul, minor details like the impending destruction of reality were hard to give much focus.
There was a way to fix all of that, of course. Rob couldn't outright deactivate Never Forget Your Rage – not without losing its bonus stats. But he could attempt to ease the storm of fury in his heart. By lessening his anger to more reasonable levels, Never Forget Your Rage would put less strain on both his body and the divine realms.
The notion forced a peal of hideous laughter to claw out of his throat. Lessen his anger? He'd have better luck trying to douse a volcano with a garden hose. No. For a wildfire that had grown this out of control, the only thing to do was stand aside and let it burn, burn, burn.
Until naught remained.
"I said stay back!" Kismet bellowed. He lifted his arms into the air. "Begone!" One moment later, Rob's vision was filled with scorching light. An apocalyptic geyser of mana burst forth from underfoot, intense and searing. It stripped the flesh from his bones in no time flat, powering through Almighty Resistance with pure, unmitigated violence.
And it still wasn't fast enough. Rob flickered a Purge Divinity shield for just an instant, allowing him to escape the geyser with his upper body – and most of his HP – intact. Lifesurge swiftly patched him up, leaving both combatants right back where they'd started.
Slowly, Kismet lowered his hands. They were shivering. "What are you?" he whispered. "Why are all my efforts in vain?"
To be honest, Rob was mildly impressed that Kismet had held on for this long. The god's combat efficacy was increasing as time passed, improving from panic-spamming teleports to more inventive maneuvers – as if he was learning how to fight on-the-job. He'd also stopped draining the other gods to supplement his power, having found an alternative source of fuel: mana seeping out from the sporadically-opening rifts.
It was the one silver lining to fighting an implacable BERSERKER so powerful that he fractured reality. Whenever Rob utilized Purge Divinity, more rifts opened up in the realms, and more mana leaked out from inside. The gods had invested that energy into the system millennia ago, and it typically would've been off-limits until they closed up shop and left Elatra. Kismet was making use of it now, absorbing the extra mana to strengthen himself, like a lifeline barely keeping him afloat.
The god's tenacity was...calling it 'admirable' would be going too far, but it did warrant a sort of begrudging respect. As someone who'd tangoed with multiple Blights, Rob knew what it was like to square off against a frenzied beast that could end him with a touch.
Being the scary one was a nice change of pace.
In exchange, Kismet had graciously donned the role of their battle's Combat Class user; fragile, outgunned, and pulling improvised maneuvers out of his ass for a chance at victory. The god could finally feel what it was like to be vulnerable. How exciting! Rob was more than happy to assist. Learning experiences such as these only came around once an eternity or so.
Flippancy aside – while Kismet still possessed room for improvement, this was the most that could be asked of a deity who hadn't seen combat in literal eons. His biggest fuckup had been taunting Rob in the wrong ways, but he couldn't have known about Never Forget Your Rage, that was an excusable oversight. By all other accounts, Kismet was performing adequately.
Even so...
"YoU aRE noTHinG."
The sound of Rob's voice caused two fresh rifts to open up. Kismet flinched, casting a teleportation spell out of pure reflex. Without pause, the HUMAN resumed his hunt.
Nothing. Perhaps that statement was hyperbole – yet it rang true nonetheless. While Kismet may have been a creature of supreme divinity, on the field of battle, his pedigree meant nothing. In the face of an implacable, unstoppable foe, his power was worth nothing. Very soon, he would be nothing, consigned to oblivion by Purging energy.
Rob couldn't help but unfavorably compare Kismet to the final Blight. Weren't these supposed to be two sides of the same coin? Each one-half of an original transcendent Will? Yet the Second Will had brought Rob to the edge of despair...and Kismet was fleeing like a cornered rodent. It was difficult to reconcile the two divinities as theoretical equals.
Although he knew that was an unfair comparison. Rob had fought the Blight before learning Limit Break and Never Forget Your Rage. Kismet wasn't weak.
The HUMAN was just far too strong.
If he rematched the Second Will today, he would beat it to death with his bare hands.
"Look at what you've wrought!" Kismet swept an arm out, gesturing towards some of the many rifts that Rob's presence was tearing open. "Do you understand what will transpire if you persist in this folly?! If the divine realms shatter, then so will all of Elatra! You are on the brink of destroying everything which you have striven to protect! Cease this–"
"CAN'T."
In a flash, Rob dashed forward and scooped out a chunk of the god's mana-body with Purge Divinity. Before he could do more, Kismet shrieked with pain and teleported away, leaving the BERSERKER to crush his prize between five clenched fingers.
"FoRCed mY HAnD." He located Kismet again. "NO GOING BACK."
Stopping wasn't an option. If the divine realms crumbled and Elatra imploded...well, that would be a faster end than what the gods had in store for its people. At least this way their deaths would be quick and hopefully painless – and his friends wouldn't be turned into Skills tortured for all eternity.
Still, Kismet did have a point. Destroying reality wasn't exactly the ideal outcome. There had to be a way to speed up the conclusion of their fight. Rob was certain he would win if given enough time, but he couldn't guarantee it would be before either his body or the divine realms collapsed.
{Ascend.}
Like a snake slithering through a minefield, Leveling High skirted past the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions raging within Rob's mind. He attempted to tune out its voice, yet Humanity's curse refused to be denied, the static loudening until he was compelled to respond. Quit distracting me, he snapped. In case you haven't noticed, I'm FUCKING. BUSY.
{You seek to ensure victory over those who rule above,} Leveling High continued, without missing a step. {As do I.}
Then sit back, shut up, and–
{Ignoring your deficiencies will not make them disappear. This body is...feeble. Incomplete. Unfit to wield the power contained therein. Like a polished sword attached to a brittle hilt, liable to snap in twain at any moment.}
Rob grit his teeth. He couldn't deny Leveling High's assertions. Normally he'd just tell it to piss off, but considering how much was at stake here...
With a feeling like he'd sat down to deal with the devil, Rob sighed. Then what do you propose? That we upgrade my body somehow? I don't think putting more points into Vitality would help, even if I had any to spare. Me being so juiced up on stats is half the problem.
It shook its head. {You have far surpassed the limitations of mortality. Strengthening your power further would be akin to pouring water into an overflowing cup.}
So we...what, increase the size of the cup?
Static akin to laughter echoed inside his head. {We do away with it entirely.}
An icy chill began creeping up Rob's spine, as if the cold hands of fate were working their way towards his neck. He recalled a system notification from days before – 'Your Race has morphed from Human (?) to: Ascending HUMAN'.
Not Ascended. Ascending.
Weeks-old memories came surging to the forefront. 'The Heartkiller is closer to our form of life than those you call friends,' the Blight-child of Elysium had once said. 'As long as you continue to live, eventually, you will become an existence with the power to crush the Others and free the Skills from their shackles. You are no longer one of the Ephemeral. Now, you are a cocoon, metamorphosing into something grander. When you emerge, you will be as the Eternal.'
The Blight-child had laughed at him, then. 'After joining us, preserving these worlds will no longer be your desire.'
Rob grimaced. Denied, he flatly told Leveling High. Whatever you're about to suggest isn't happening.
It scoffed at him. {Your prejudices blind you. Do you think the gods have need of physical bodies? Does it hinder them in any capacity? No – the opposite. By definition, infinity cannot be constrained. Discard this useless flesh, and your conquest of the divine realms is assured.}
Maybe you didn't hear me when I said–
{By all means. Spurn my counsel...and condemn your friends to death. Shall their lives be worth it, in the end?}
Rob sucked in air through clenched teeth.
{Ascend.} Leveling High purred with anticipation. {You are bound by a prison of meat, bone, and blood. Break free. Finish what has already begun. Gaze upon the tapestry of infinity in all its dreadful splendor. Seize victory not as a Human, but as a completed, transcendent HUMAN.}
With a scream to drown out the static, Rob chased after Kismet again and again. The god was in full-on panic mode, eschewing offensive attacks in favor of perpetual retreat, focused wholly on keeping the BERSERKER as far away as possible. He would teleport the instant that Rob laid eyes on him, frantically stalling for his life.
It was – quite unintentionally – providing evidence to Leveling High's claims. If Kismet was on the defensive, catching him would take time they might not have.
I... Rob narrowed his eyes. How would I finish Ascending, anyway? It isn't like I can just flip a switch and make it happen.
{Incorrect.}
He blinked. WHAT?
{You have long since achieved the qualifications for true godhood,} Leveling High explained, in a lecturing tone. {There is no milestone that remains necessary to achieve. Rather than needing to overcome some hurdle of strength or power, the obstacle barring your path is more...arbitrary. Self-imposed.}
Humanity's curse seemed to peer into his soul. When it spoke next, its voice was filled with disgust. {You remain mortal because you wish to do so – both consciously and subconsciously. The Ascension of a nascent deity has been obstructed by cheap sentimentality.}
Rob almost started an argument over its usage of 'cheap', but he exercised restraint, keenly aware that there was bigger fish to fry. Can't do anything about the subconscious. I am \not* activating Melancholy Resistance.*
{Nor should you,} Leveling High remarked, shuddering at the prospect. {A grand statement of intent will be sufficient to shift your mentality. I believe...yes.}
The static churned like a hive of buzzing wasps. {When you next tear off a piece of the leader god's mana...even if just a sliver...devour it. Gorge yourself on their essence.}
Bile threatened to rise to the top of Rob's throat. Seems excessive, he mused, trying and failing to keep his tone lighthearted. To become a god, I eat a god? Wouldn't that make me a divine cannibal?
{You ARE a cannibal.} Leveling High's voice wavered, its veneer of helpfulness slipping to reveal the madness that lay beneath. {What do you think you've been DOING for nearly a YEAR? You kill, ingest your prey's Experience, and MAKE THEIR POWER YOUR OWN. This world is one of consumption and parasitism – devouring a god's essence is merely a more HONEST variant of THE SAME actions.}
...You clearly weren't paying attention during Diplomacy's PR lessons. Rob pursued Kismet once again, pressing his fingernails into his palms when the god hurriedly teleported away. There is such a thing as being too straightforward. If you want people to listen to you, then maybe dress up your words so they don't sound so horrifying.
{BUT AM I WRONG?}
Rob had no answer to that.
Bolts of divine mana peppered his skin. Kismet had barely managed to squeeze an attack in-between his escapes. The bolts ricocheted off Rob's skin like ping-pong balls, leaving minor scrapes and nothing more. It wasn't anywhere close to bypassing Almighty Resistance and his massive HP pool.
Yet it also reminded him of the mana-spears that Kismet had sent towards the rest of Riardin's Rangers. His Party members only possessed a shared, diluted version of Almighty Resistance, and their HP was a fraction of his. If Kismet aimed another attack of that caliber at them...how many would perish, right then and there?
Was Leveling High correct? What point was there to sentimentality if it just got his friends killed?
In truth, Rob knew that it didn't really matter if he completed his Ascension. Based on what he had planned for himself after the gods were dead, little would change either way. Still...he also knew that Ascending would be a one-way trip. No take-backs. If he went through with it, a fundamental part of him would be irrevocably altered.
Something twinged in a corner of his mind. It wasn't Leveling High, or his rage, or any of the other emotions currently dominating his headspace. This was a familiar friend; perhaps Rob's #1 most trusted confidant since he'd first set foot in Elatra. One that had rarely ever steered him wrong.
Paranoia.
And at the moment, it was telling him to be very careful before jumping into the deep end.
Ten teleports.
{What?}
Give it ten more Kismet teleports, Rob said. If I haven't dealt him a serious injury by then....I'll do what I need to do. He grimaced as Kismet vanished before he'd even finished the thought. Ten starting now.
Leveling High's static quieted. It resembled a patron at a restaurant who'd ordered their meal, and was waiting patiently for the main course to arrive.
Rob didn't waste time being offended over its nonchalance. Free of distractions, he immediately swept his gaze across the divine realms, pinpointing his quarry in a micro-instant. The BERSERKER dashed forward, pushing his body as far as he could, layering Rampages on top of Dexterity that made the laws of physics want to curl up and weep.
Kismet was prepared. He'd drawn more mana from the fractured rifts, quickening his speed and reactions. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep his head above water, not yet outpaced by their continually escalating arms race.
The HUMAN struck, the god fled, and both were left in the same position as before.
{One.}
Rob turned on a dime, charging without needing to look. He'd heard the moment that Kismet's teleport ended. It afforded him a split-second head start.
A gravity well suddenly appeared below his feet, as if a miniaturized black hole was weighing him down. Apparently, Kismet had set it up ahead of time as a just-in-case trap. Rob pierced through the spell's area of effect before it could ramp up to something dangerous, but his pace was slowed by a hair in the process, and his prey escaped.
{Two.}
You know what? Screw this. Rob whirled away from Kismet's newest location and blasted straight towards one of the lesser deities that his Party members were fighting.
He'd been too hung up on getting even with a hated foe – when there were seven other juicy morsels for him to play with. This way, Kismet would either sit back and watch as his allies were massacred, or the god would be forced to act instead of running like a goddamn cowar–
Sense Mana alerted Rob to magic gathering behind.
Pivoting, he leapt into the air. Rob superimposed himself in front of Kismet, bodyblocking the rainstorm of destructive mana that was about to be unleashed upon Riardin's Rangers.
Due to his swift response, the attack was released early. A simple Purge Divinity shield prevented him from incurring any damage. Rob still felt no sense of triumph as the mana dissipated around him. He just wasn't fast enough to kill the lesser gods and protect his Party at the same time – or at least not fast enough that he should gamble their lives on it.
Kismet disappearing a moment later didn't help matters either.
{Three.}
Frontal assaults weren't guaranteed to succeed, and targeting the other gods was a no-go. Could he take Kismet by surprise? Increase his Dexterity?
Rob contemplated mining Never Forget Your Rage for more stats, but swiftly vetoed the idea. His body was already struggling to hold itself together. Putting additional strain on a shaky foundation seemed...unwise.
Plus – at the risk of eating crow in the near future – he didn't actually think it was possible to feel angrier at the gods than he was right now. Seriously, what was left?
He hated them for sending him to a fantasy deathworld. He hated them for tormenting his friends and family. He hated them for being partially responsible for the Blight. He hated them for what they'd done to Elatra and Earth. He hated them for all the lives they'd stolen. He hated them for being the living embodiments of indifference and cruelty. He hated that they fostered good PR among the people they oppressed. He hated how monsters of such craven hypocrisy were also immeasurably powerful. He hated the sensation of divine mana crawling on his skin. He hated the unsettling sound of their voices. He hated their bizarre formless appearances. He hated them for being pompous pricks. He hated whenever they tried to relate to him. He hated whenever they didn't.
Most of all, he hated that they were still alive.
Even if he found out that they'd personally antagonized him since birth or some petty nonsense like that, it wouldn't measure up to the litany of transgressions they'd committed thus far. The blazing inferno within his soul could burn no hotter. Should burn no hotter. For his sanity's sake, if nothing else.
Kismet teleported. It wasn't in response to anything. He'd merely anticipated some sort of action – and was then baffled afterwards when he noticed the rampaging BERSERKER standing quietly in deep thought.
{Four.}
Rob advanced. While he didn't have a plan yet, he'd also learned that if he gave Kismet the slightest amount of breathing room, bad things tended to happen.
Can any of my Skills give me an edge? Unfortunately, he didn't think so. As usual, his lack of ranged options was biting him in the ass when it mattered most. Almost everything he could use required getting in close – which was the whole freaking problem – and none would be more effective than Purge Divinity, regardless.
Maybe I could set up a Waymark point, then catch Kismet's teleport with one of mine...no, that won't work either. The odds of him popping in next to a random Waymark point are slim. Could fill the battlefield with lots of Marks, but even then I have to consider the Skill's activation time. With my current Dexterity, it'd honestly be faster just to run at him.
The vast majority of his abilities simply weren't up to par in a clash with divinity. Limit Break, Purge Divinity, and Never Forget Your Rage had been specifically designed by the Skills to facilitate deicide. Something like Power Slash couldn't possibly compare to jailbroken stats and a touch of death.
As an act of defiance against his own logic, he cast Enmity, the only ability that could feasibly hit Kismet at range. The god casually shrugged off its effect before promptly escaping.
{Five.}
Like a frustrated animal, Rob snarled and gave chase. Just need to keep trying. Kismet isn't perfect.
{Six.}
Sooner or later, he's going to mess up.
{Seven.}
He's going to mess up.
{Eight.}
HE HAS TO MESS UP.
Suddenly, Kismet transformed his right hand into a blade of mana. With one harsh motion, he sliced open his own left arm.
By now, Rob had conditioned himself to never stop moving forward, even if something shocked him – which this sight very much did. His mouth dropped open, and Leveling High paused in the middle of eating its metaphorical popcorn. They still kept advancing without an iota of hesitation.
And ran straight into the mana cloud leaking out from Kismet's wound.
Rob blinked, opening his eyes to a wonderful day. The twisting plains looked dazzlingly beautiful, with fauna and plantlife lit by rays of effervescent light from the twin stars shining above. People cheerfully went about their day, happily shaking their trunks in shows of greeting, or rattling their scales to initiate merry games.
All was at peace.
Until – in unison – everyone froze. The tumult of life went quiet in an instant, replaced with pensive silence.
As if they'd been struck by the creeping, pervasive sensation of being watched.
A sound rang out. Half of them immediately fell over dead, fluids gushing from their ruined bodies.
The survivors could only lay there, crippled and in pain, as more people slowly rose into the air. Invisible fingers seemed to pluck them from the ground – and then began ripping off their limbs, one at a time, like a child dissecting butterflies–
Rob dragged himself back to the present.
It had taken much less time than before to recognize what was happening. Now that he knew what to expect, experiencing the remnant souls' lives wasn't so different from the dreamlike quality of an Attunement vision. Although...realizing that he'd witnessed the end of a world preceding Elatra did cause his thoughts to hitch for a single moment.
Which was just enough for Kismet to forge a spear of mana, then send it plunging through Rob's eye, skull, and brain. Its tip was forged to shred anything it touched, no matter how durable or Resistant.
The god whooped with glee – only to wince as the HUMAN's sole reaction was a long, drawn-out sigh. With an air of exasperation, he reached up and yanked the divine spear free with a nauseating splorch.
His eye had been reduced to a seeping red mess. He closed its eyelid. When he opened it again, the orb within had already Regenerated, now sporting an unamused glare.
It was something of a unique moment. Mid-battle events didn't typically leave both combatants feeling disheartened. The all-powerful god was losing faith that he could ever hope to stop Rob's onslaught...
And the BERSERKER didn't know if he could justify continuing on like this. His body still felt like it was pulling itself apart; if anything, the sensation was growing more pronounced as their battle progressed. While Kismet would make a fatal mistake eventually, Rob couldn't guarantee that he would last long enough to capitalize on it.
Unless he followed Leveling High's advice and–
With a howl that shook the divine realms, Rob launched his stolen spear at Kismet. His aim was true, yet it sailed through empty air, the god's afterimage tauntingly fading away.
{Nine.}
Final chance.
​
--
​
Link to Part 2

Hi all, after countless let downs and mistreatment from the world of western medicine/talk therapy, I’ve decided to take things into my own hands and dug deep into researching all ayahuasca has to offer. I deal with a lot of anxiety/depression, childhood trauma and everything that entails with how I struggle throughout my daily life. I’ve committed to a retreat for next month and my anxiety is trying to talk me out of it. I NEED this, I know I do. Has anyone else been in this push and pull position before? Everything about traveling is making me anxious, the unknown of the entire experience. I just can’t escape my racing thoughts of what can go wrong, if I’m wasting my money, or if it will even help me the way I think it would. I’m afraid I’m making myself sick and don’t want that to be the case as I’m days out. I am also super concerned about my reintegration. My life is busy and is always on someone else’s time— a full time working mom of two toddlers with a husband that works nights so is never around to help. I don’t have the funds for an integration coach. Am I fucked when I get back? Will this be a short term solution? I’m also sucking at my dieta and am so hard on myself about it. A lot of eyes are on me as to whether this is going to help…so many other ppl I know are suffering mentally rn and are going through extreme rough patches with change in medications. I feel like I resemble hope if I come out of this healed and well. And if not, I look like a fool and feel completely helpless. Feeling a lot of the pressure. Please help put me at ease. And no, I’m not going to Rythmia. But with the way this world works, I am scared of getting human trafficked in the traveling process as a solo female.

Started a campaign about a three years ago and a player dropped out. Looking for someone to take his place. We play every week, characters are level 12. First come first serve basis. Discord is towel#3307 if you are interested.
Heads up: I have a zero tolerance policy for no shows without communicating with group in advance. Please be respectful of each other’s time and efforts. If you are on the fence about being able to make every week, please pass on this one.
Campaign background: Ash is a post dragon war apocalyptic setting with kingdoms run by various races. The leaders of each race hold the five wyrmstones which give them the power to rule their people. But the evil necromancer Ghargut Zhol is making moves, and it is up to a certain group of noble adventurers to thwart his plans.
At the start of the campaign, the party adventured to the city of Al Khamra, the Djinni city, and recreated the red wyrmstone (red = fire, used by the King to drain heat from the desert) that was stolen by Ghargut Zhol with the help of the spirit of Nova, a seemingly demented old lady, who was really just hard of hearing and needed her glasses (these glasses were super cool, by the way).
They later traveled to Ash, the human capital, to discover a different city of “less desirable races” lying beneath the city. With the power of the black wrymstone (earth and crop fertility), the King of Ash was able to mold the land and maintain the peace between the two cities. But the stone seemed to have been weakening and frequent cave-ins have occurred, which could risk outright war if this secret were discovered.
After accidentally releasing a coven of hags on the world with a star map that was used by a wizard to confine them to a section of feywild, the party set out to explore the Temple of the Moon, collected various vinyls in a star shaped dungeon, and reforged the black wyrmstone, with the help of the spirit of Miguel Jackson, the moonwalking wizard.
Having finally secured peace in Ash, the party caught wind of Ghargut Zhol’s next target, the light blue stone (air, used for ventilating the mines), belonging to the dwarven King Grock in the capital of Durheim, a mining metropolis beneath the mountain peaks.
Along their harsh winter journey across the mountains, the party met the dwarf Kragga, riding atop a light blue dragon (Skye). Kragga turned out to be the bastard son of the dwarven king, and invited the party for dinner, where the entire royal family (aside from Kragga and princess peach) and many of the city’s nobles were murdered via poisoned famous roasted duck chili.
Showing up to claim the light blue wyrmstone from his newest accomplice, Wario, was none other than Ghargut Zhol, who mocked the party before unleashing a beam of purple energy toward them. Leaping up to protect the party, Skye hurled himself forward, unfurling his massive wings to shelter the heroes, but sacrificing his life in the act.
After the chaos settled down, the party sought the resting place of Dwayne Johnson, the third mage, within the depths of the mountain. However, they were deceived all along by a mindflayer who pretended to be Dwayne, and stole the heart of the mountain (a stone imbued with ancestral Dwarven memories) for himself. During the showdown, two of the party member sacrificed their brains for the greater good, and the mindflayer escaped with the heart of the mountain.
After a rather bittersweet victory, the heroes reforged the light blue stone and restored air flow to the city. With barely a moment to catch their breath, the party was tasked with tracking a missing weapons shipment sent to Aerheim, Durhiem’s sister city above the mountain.
They delivered the shipment to Thrain, a burly hill dwarf/inventor, who was hosting an opening festival for the sky network, a hot air balloon shuttle system designed to carry goods and passengers across the continent. As testament to the design’s infallibility, 20 lucky winners (including all 5 party members) were chosen from a raffle to embark on the sky network’s virgin journey to Reyodel, the elven kingdom.
As luck would have it, the balloon was attacked by Ghargut Zhol’s forces, and the ship had to emergency land in the midst of the Fey Wilds. Fortunately, the party discovered the roaming city of Mycopolis, located atop Larry, the giant snail. Unfortunately, many of its citizens were notably catatonic, under the effects of a foul batch of mystic mushroom, after Larry had ventured deep within the fey wilds, where he grazed on some tainted purple moss.
The party set out into the fey wilds to identify the source of the contamination, only to hear the familiar cackle of Clover, one of the night hags the party encountered earlier. Through much grit, sweat, and blood, the party defeated the old hag and cleansed the forest of her blight.
They then flew back to Reyodel, the elven capital, known for the electricity lighting its streets at night. Upon arrival, however, the city was shadowed in darkness during a five-day power outage. After some investigation, the party learned that the queen had recently gone missing. They also discovered that the elves could store their attributes in gem-encrusted bracers on their arms, and tap into these reserves when needed.
They eventually ventured into Newton’s Nexus, and discovered a withered old lady and a pair of bracers cast beneath a battery tank. After providing the old wretch with her bracers, the party suddenly found themselves standing before Queen Viglor, who had been using her bracers to store her youth. She explained that she was accosted while on her way to charge the city with the yellow wyrmstone, but her staff was now stolen.
Tasked with restoring the flow of electricity to the city, the party explored the tomb of Professor Fig Newton, seeking to recreate the yellow dragon shard. To do this, they would need the skull of a topaz dragon, and rumor has it, one was just seen off the coast of a nearby city.
What lies ahead remains shrouded in mystery that only time can unravel. Do you have what it takes to challenge the dark forces and prevent the world we know from falling into chaos?