Can i take phentermine with neurotin
For those who love those elusive little birds
2011.11.11 02:35 For those who love those elusive little birds
If you have a hummingbird emergency, please contact u/HummingbirdObsessed
2020.04.30 14:48 sansa-starkers- Onlyfans creator's community--> Advice, discussions and support welcome here đ
This is a educational space for onlyfans creators, ran by onlyfans creators. You can ask fo give advice and tips and discuss everything Onlyfans! Read the rules before posting. Check the pinned posts!
2016.01.15 02:20 Just START!
A community about affiliate marketing, search engine optimization and related topics. Learn what works, what doesnât and whatâs new through real experiences from both beginners and experts. We welcome and encourage posts from anyone, but please review our rules before posting.
2024.06.02 17:23 Dear_RatBoy Type 1 diabetic seeking advice for probable wisdom tooth infection.
Hello, I'm looking for advice. One of my wisdom teeth on the left side of my lower jaw, has seemingly impacted on my mola has only partially come through the gums, leaving a small opening that food has gotten trapped in a few times(I have/ had a crowded mouth that was treated with braces in my childhood).
Admittedly, until the last 7 months or so my dental hygiene has been very poor, and I haven't seen a dentist in upwards of ten years. I have since decided to rectify that and have an appointment to see a dentist this Wednesday, that I've been waiting a few months for. However when brushing my teeth last night I noticed that the gums around the aforementioned wisdom tooth are looking slightly inflamed, and when I put pressure on them, pus started leaking from the opening. I assume it's infected.
I'm already scheduled to see a dentist on Wednesday as I said (it's early Monday morning for me), but stories of sepsis and infections spreading to the brain have me feeling extremely anxious. I don't know how long the infection has been present, but several weeks ago I started noticing persistent bad breath that I now believe was the infection beginning .
Other than the pus and inflammation I have no other symptoms, pain, etcetera. There is also no visible swelling on the outside of my face. But I am especially concerned because I'm a Type 1 Diabetic. I do not drink, and am an ex-smoker (quit a year or so ago)
My question is, is this something that can wait three days given my lack of symptoms (and pre-existing medical condition), or should I go to the emergency department and get antibiotics ASAP? Thank you for any advice.
I would attach a photo but I don't want to make the site of the infection worse by pressing on it, and it's difficult for me to take a photo of it while doing that anyway.
submitted by Dear_RatBoy to askdentists [link] [comments]
Admittedly, until the last 7 months or so my dental hygiene has been very poor, and I haven't seen a dentist in upwards of ten years. I have since decided to rectify that and have an appointment to see a dentist this Wednesday, that I've been waiting a few months for. However when brushing my teeth last night I noticed that the gums around the aforementioned wisdom tooth are looking slightly inflamed, and when I put pressure on them, pus started leaking from the opening. I assume it's infected.
I'm already scheduled to see a dentist on Wednesday as I said (it's early Monday morning for me), but stories of sepsis and infections spreading to the brain have me feeling extremely anxious. I don't know how long the infection has been present, but several weeks ago I started noticing persistent bad breath that I now believe was the infection beginning .
Other than the pus and inflammation I have no other symptoms, pain, etcetera. There is also no visible swelling on the outside of my face. But I am especially concerned because I'm a Type 1 Diabetic. I do not drink, and am an ex-smoker (quit a year or so ago)
My question is, is this something that can wait three days given my lack of symptoms (and pre-existing medical condition), or should I go to the emergency department and get antibiotics ASAP? Thank you for any advice.
I would attach a photo but I don't want to make the site of the infection worse by pressing on it, and it's difficult for me to take a photo of it while doing that anyway.
2024.06.02 17:23 Repulsive-Act-7908 I (m) accidentally helped a man cheat on his wife.
So I (m) accidentally helped a man cheat on his wife... Throw away account so the guy can't find me. During my sophomore year of college I started talking with this guy on Grindr. He was a bit older than me but he was just my type and seemed nice. We talked but never met because I was in college dorms and he couldn't host because of his "roommates."
During my junior year I had to do some observations and the guy who happened to work in the same field told me to apply for his county because "it would be hot if we could meet up that way." I did and I somehow was assigned to observe this guy. One day after observing and everyone else had left, he pulled me into his office (literally hand on shoulder) and had me take my shoes off so he could sniff my socks while groping himself among other activities. It was at this time I saw a ring on his finger...
That night I looked the guy up and found he was married with several (adopted) children.
After this he told me he had "learned he preferred younger" (I was 20 at the time) and blocked me.
It has been several years since this incident and the wife is still none the wiser. I would have told her but the screenshots I had were lost due to my phone corrupting and they weren't backed up anywhere. I can't just tell her without proof because this guy is considered one of the pillars of his community. He is held as this highly moral right wing Christian man while cheating on his wife with his interns using Grindr. He participates in several organizations in his community and has even been on podcasts because of his "moral upstandingness." I wanted to get this off my chest because it has been weighing on me for years and I hope that poor lady can somehow see this and wisen up to her husband's behavior (or at least look up what the Grindr notification sound is). He is still cheating on her, as I see him on Grindr at conferences for our field.
submitted by Repulsive-Act-7908 to offmychest [link] [comments]
During my junior year I had to do some observations and the guy who happened to work in the same field told me to apply for his county because "it would be hot if we could meet up that way." I did and I somehow was assigned to observe this guy. One day after observing and everyone else had left, he pulled me into his office (literally hand on shoulder) and had me take my shoes off so he could sniff my socks while groping himself among other activities. It was at this time I saw a ring on his finger...
That night I looked the guy up and found he was married with several (adopted) children.
After this he told me he had "learned he preferred younger" (I was 20 at the time) and blocked me.
It has been several years since this incident and the wife is still none the wiser. I would have told her but the screenshots I had were lost due to my phone corrupting and they weren't backed up anywhere. I can't just tell her without proof because this guy is considered one of the pillars of his community. He is held as this highly moral right wing Christian man while cheating on his wife with his interns using Grindr. He participates in several organizations in his community and has even been on podcasts because of his "moral upstandingness." I wanted to get this off my chest because it has been weighing on me for years and I hope that poor lady can somehow see this and wisen up to her husband's behavior (or at least look up what the Grindr notification sound is). He is still cheating on her, as I see him on Grindr at conferences for our field.
2024.06.02 17:23 OffTheX Online Commercial Sales
Iâve had a few friends and family suggest I sell prints to commercial interior design firms for side money. To be used in doctorâs offices, hotels, etc.
A relative that is a currently a private interior designer suggested a few steps I could take. Wanted to get feedback from yâall.
âą Iâd need to create a website with order form. Easy, I have the skills and knowledge to do this myself.
âą Iâd need to source a reliable printer that can handle the orders; including print, packaging, and shipping. Cut them a portion of the sales price to cover their print and shipping costs plus negotiated profit. That Iâm not so sure how to proceed with.
âą And lastly cold call/email design firms to solicit business. Hoping for a sales rate of 3-5 firms per 50 solicitations, and 3-7 prints per firm. Odd that reasonable/feasible?
Any advice, thoughts, ideas, or alternatives appreciated. Thanks!
submitted by OffTheX to photography [link] [comments]
A relative that is a currently a private interior designer suggested a few steps I could take. Wanted to get feedback from yâall.
âą Iâd need to create a website with order form. Easy, I have the skills and knowledge to do this myself.
âą Iâd need to source a reliable printer that can handle the orders; including print, packaging, and shipping. Cut them a portion of the sales price to cover their print and shipping costs plus negotiated profit. That Iâm not so sure how to proceed with.
âą And lastly cold call/email design firms to solicit business. Hoping for a sales rate of 3-5 firms per 50 solicitations, and 3-7 prints per firm. Odd that reasonable/feasible?
Any advice, thoughts, ideas, or alternatives appreciated. Thanks!
2024.06.02 17:22 CAPSLOCKING_REALITY Tricks to stay awake no matter what, for awake methods?
I've been struck with a torturous condition and all outcomes are just further complications, no outlook for a life just like before. That is, if we excluded shifting.
I have some experience with shifting out of desperation. Those have been my best attempts, and asides from that, awake methods are a must for me. The issue is, all the little tricks I know to prevent losing consciousness are insufficient now. Pain, stress and discomfort throughout the day sap all my energy and I immediately fall asleep like a baby with a pacifier, no matter which time of day I do my attempt.
So with the time I had left to dilly-dally with shifting being cut short, it's time to go balls to the wall and do attempts and meditate 24/7. The issue is, one slip and I lose not only hours of potential attempts, but also fast-forward my condition worsening. So I ask you for your most overpowered ways to keep your mind awake.
My little tricks I know so far are: doing attempts in the afternoon, counting forward and back, subs, starfish/sitting, affirmations, and intensely focusing on an emotion or feeling. Unfortunately I find out sleep can take over all of these.
So please share below little tricks like that you've found for yourself đ„ș I can afford to put a lot of willpower into it, so even something like doing mental math equations could be useful for me đ
submitted by CAPSLOCKING_REALITY to realityshifting [link] [comments]
I have some experience with shifting out of desperation. Those have been my best attempts, and asides from that, awake methods are a must for me. The issue is, all the little tricks I know to prevent losing consciousness are insufficient now. Pain, stress and discomfort throughout the day sap all my energy and I immediately fall asleep like a baby with a pacifier, no matter which time of day I do my attempt.
So with the time I had left to dilly-dally with shifting being cut short, it's time to go balls to the wall and do attempts and meditate 24/7. The issue is, one slip and I lose not only hours of potential attempts, but also fast-forward my condition worsening. So I ask you for your most overpowered ways to keep your mind awake.
My little tricks I know so far are: doing attempts in the afternoon, counting forward and back, subs, starfish/sitting, affirmations, and intensely focusing on an emotion or feeling. Unfortunately I find out sleep can take over all of these.
So please share below little tricks like that you've found for yourself đ„ș I can afford to put a lot of willpower into it, so even something like doing mental math equations could be useful for me đ
2024.06.02 17:22 LongjumpingGap1636 live in love ..
 | we must live in love .. submitted by LongjumpingGap1636 to FollowMeIntoTheMystic [link] [comments] grandest of risings to you on this fair caturday morning đ for all of the turbulence in the air, my most current âstate of spiritual awarenessâ is pleasant and peaceful âŻïž the events as of late .. the ridiculous and blatant political interference, compounding wars, endless drugs, disgusting human and child trafficking )which oddly is completely out of the medias narrative .. why?) and the promise of even more upcoming âtribulation era eventsâ which seem to be unfolding before our eyes .. what affect this will have on us all in the long run? every day, we endure the enormous stupidity and shallowness of mankind at this moment in time, and incredibly, starting today, we will be forced to witness the âcelebration of gay prideâ for an entire month đ pride is a direct consequence of EGO .. and is one of the seven deadly sins *sigh*I am always trying to calculate WHY đ€ not why god requested our presence here to assist others .. WHY is this happening in the first place? when the human species was on a good roll there for a minute .. there was innovation, concerns over environmental sustainability and new technological designs coming out like every week đ in my daily meditations, I always ask for answers and for assistance hence, my visitations have stepped up lately and I chalk this all up to the increased solar powers ⊠and that the shift is nearing christ comes to me often, always with a ârelax .. Iâm hereâ attitude đâšđïžđ«§đ then he says: âhereâs how you can prepare and protect yourselfâ heâs here right now; I can feel him .. can you? his presence is very palpable; if you take a minute and silence the world, and ask him to come to you, he does he whispers: âthose who control their emotions; ie: the frequencies they emit, will be the ones to survive this dimension .. because the positive frequency of love is undesirable to the dark forcesâ THINK about that .. and the words spoken by all the others who came to instruct us: when you truly grasp their intentions, they were all telling us to live in love, to be kind and compassionate, to help each other and basically keep calm to honor the natural world into which we were created .. of beautiful universal vibrations, innate gifted abilities and to follow the ancient wisdoms and adhere to our natural chakra frequencies â€ïžđ§Ąđđđ©”đđ WHY? because the bad guys dig the âhate frequenciesâ humans emit, which is derived from living daily in a world filled the frenetic noise, forced and unnecessary stresses, constant anxieties under which they force billions to live .. thereâs even a name apparently itâs called loosh .. thatâs when it came together for me so even thought the world is SO broken, the good news is that the upcoming shift is SO real đ„° and to participate in it, you simply need to live in love and have faith đ be honest that your heart is good and full of love, your mind is bright and positive, your soul is clear and open âš that you hold zero hate within you and do not ascribe to any violence or malice towards anyone đïž that you have atoned for the times these beautiful gifts of free will and critical, moral thinking were not as aligned as they should have been đȘ· breathe .. love .. laugh .. prepare have a beautiful rest of your early morning and remember, you are worth far more than you know đïž all my love, always đ |
2024.06.02 17:22 prod_dustyb Would you pay for a community?
What's up, folks. I've been back into making music for 1+yr consistently after a 10+ year hiatus and one thing that I've noticed in our hip hop world is, well, the sheer volume of everything.
I've chatted with a lot of rappers over the past year and seems a common problem is the grind of scrolling for beats. For producers, it's the grind of competing against AI, oversaturation, Beatstars lease grind, yada yada.
I have an idea brewing and I've started putting pen to paper but wanted to gather some thoughts/opinions too.
Is there a market for niche music making communities? I know there's a lot of servers and Reddits now, but we're all grinding and it tends to still get directed to Beatstars or some other transaction to keep moving forward. I've noticed that these "transactional pauses" can crush creativity in the moment, and also general relationships, since it's a pain to talk about rights, prices, etc. when you just want to vibe and want to make dope music.
-Problem for rappers: too many beats; too much fine print; not enough time -Problem for beatmakers: too much talking; too much arm twisting for free beats; not enough action. -Problem for engineers: wtf can I find consistency to get my thumbprint on a full project?!
Solution: a vetted community. monthly fee, we each contribute (e.g. x amount of beats, x amount of verses, x amount of mixes) per month or you get booted.
???
So yeah, paying to work, but I'm wondering if it helps cut the noise and surround yourself with people who actually want to make music and take their craft seriously. Essentially paying for a digital studio, where members are vetted and not just there to post their YT links, but instead of just trying to grow membership #s, it's focused on output.
if I'm off my rocker, lmk. This is me gathering intel on a potential idea.
submitted by prod_dustyb to makinghiphop [link] [comments]
I've chatted with a lot of rappers over the past year and seems a common problem is the grind of scrolling for beats. For producers, it's the grind of competing against AI, oversaturation, Beatstars lease grind, yada yada.
I have an idea brewing and I've started putting pen to paper but wanted to gather some thoughts/opinions too.
Is there a market for niche music making communities? I know there's a lot of servers and Reddits now, but we're all grinding and it tends to still get directed to Beatstars or some other transaction to keep moving forward. I've noticed that these "transactional pauses" can crush creativity in the moment, and also general relationships, since it's a pain to talk about rights, prices, etc. when you just want to vibe and want to make dope music.
-Problem for rappers: too many beats; too much fine print; not enough time -Problem for beatmakers: too much talking; too much arm twisting for free beats; not enough action. -Problem for engineers: wtf can I find consistency to get my thumbprint on a full project?!
Solution: a vetted community. monthly fee, we each contribute (e.g. x amount of beats, x amount of verses, x amount of mixes) per month or you get booted.
???
So yeah, paying to work, but I'm wondering if it helps cut the noise and surround yourself with people who actually want to make music and take their craft seriously. Essentially paying for a digital studio, where members are vetted and not just there to post their YT links, but instead of just trying to grow membership #s, it's focused on output.
if I'm off my rocker, lmk. This is me gathering intel on a potential idea.
2024.06.02 17:22 AdelaideXOXO Fantasy Map-Critique
 | So I have really been getting into map making before I start writing. I just feel like I need to know the world Iâm placing my characters in the grasp their stories. ANYWAY thatâs besides the point. Iâm a complete novice and geography is not my strong suit. I have done some research. submitted by AdelaideXOXO to worldbuilding [link] [comments] I was wondering if someone can critique this continent before I move forward with adding deserts, plains, forestâŠetc. Iâm most concerned about about the rivers and desert placements. The book mountain range on the north west I was going to kind of mirror the Rocky Mountains. So on the left of them I would assume there would be desert, right? So I donât have enough room there and donât want my desert to reach the seaâŠ.idk. Iâll take any advice at this point. |
2024.06.02 17:21 sophieberrypie Online accelerated Anatomy & Physiology 2 + Lab
Hi there,
Iâm taking A&P2 accelerated online through GCU and I was wondering what other studentâs experiences were with the exams?
I took A&P1 through GCU and the exams for lecture were just multiple choice and true/false based questions. The exams for lab were multiple choice, multiple select, true/false based questions, and drag & drop diagrams. The lab quizzes were a good representation of what the lab exam would be.
If anyoneâs taken this, can you share your experience with the setup of the exams and how you decided to study for them?
Thank you!
submitted by sophieberrypie to gcu [link] [comments]
Iâm taking A&P2 accelerated online through GCU and I was wondering what other studentâs experiences were with the exams?
I took A&P1 through GCU and the exams for lecture were just multiple choice and true/false based questions. The exams for lab were multiple choice, multiple select, true/false based questions, and drag & drop diagrams. The lab quizzes were a good representation of what the lab exam would be.
If anyoneâs taken this, can you share your experience with the setup of the exams and how you decided to study for them?
Thank you!
2024.06.02 17:21 Budget-Friendship-22 My friend with benefits put me down and disrespect me so much
I wrote this Yesterday when my friend with benefits told me that I am idiot and that he hate idiot people and how i know nothing about life and saying that he misses his ex that was smart. He said that 3 time By the way. And i saw messages with his friend saying that he wish i was smart like his ex and that iâm idiot when we were dating. And he was literally talking shit for 2 days! And disrespecting me that i even was crying for 3 hours and i was really really really hurt. I told him that I donât want to see him at my place again but he still wants to live with me saying that i am his best friend anymore this is what i wrote:
âI hate this fucking guy thatâs in my life unfortunately, and I feel like I need to get it off my chest here.
He's honestly the weirdest person I've ever met. Right from the start he's been going on about how he's the smartest one in the world and everyone else is just dumb including me. At first, I thought he was just kidding around, but it turns out he actually believes it.
He's got this superiority thing idk I can not explain it. But oh god he is just the worst.But what's even worse is how he's always putting people down, making them feel small. I regret even getting to know him.
Sure, he helped me out with a few things, but the way he makes me feel is just awful. I can't stand being around him anymore. It's like he thrives on making others feel like garbage and making everything about himself.
I'm not dumb. People tell me all the time how smart I am. My classmates, my family, everyone. And they're right. I might not know everything, but I'm always eager to learn and improve.
My life hasn't been easy, compared to his. But despite the challenges, I've managed to teach myself so much and I am still going on and on I've refused to let anything hold me back.
I've learned multiple languages, battled through depression, left everything behind me, everything bad I learned and even went through a divorce which, btw, is a huge deal in my culture.
But what I'm most proud of is what I've been able to do for my family. I've worked so hard to support them. I've done everything I can to make sure they're okay.
I've bought my sisters phones, paid for my sister's trips to Morocco and France, given her my favorite laptop, and bought another one for myself. I even helped them out when they first came to Canada, and I am still trying but not as much as I did.
It hasn't been easy. But yeah, everyone in my family looked up at me. Four of my cousins who came back to Canada around the same time as I ended up depressed and turned to drugs. But I refused to let that be my story.
I took a huge step by moving out and working hard, and I convinced myself that I wouldn't be the girl they tried to make me. I refused to be dumb or less than a man as Islam says.
I am pretty sure If I had the same support and resources as he had as a young, I would be smarter than this. But yeah, I am doing everything to myself, and I am not idiot ever ever ever. So yeah, I've had my struggles, but I've also had my triumphs. And I'm not going to let this guy or anyone else make me feel like I'm not good enough.
I deserve better, and I'm done letting him bring me down I need to really kicked him out of my life. You are better than this.
I would take everything but not to deal with this spoiled person that had all supports in life and yet do scamming and living for free in his stepdad house and talk shit about me working so hard and supporting myself and still going through all this by myself.
He told me that his mom was pushing him to do more activities things, I really wish if my family taught us things more than cleaning the house and preparing us to get married.
So please do not think to much about this shit, and just be good to yourself be better. God I hate how this person make me feel I hate spending time with him. Get rid of this cancer pleaseâ
submitted by Budget-Friendship-22 to offmychest [link] [comments]
âI hate this fucking guy thatâs in my life unfortunately, and I feel like I need to get it off my chest here.
He's honestly the weirdest person I've ever met. Right from the start he's been going on about how he's the smartest one in the world and everyone else is just dumb including me. At first, I thought he was just kidding around, but it turns out he actually believes it.
He's got this superiority thing idk I can not explain it. But oh god he is just the worst.But what's even worse is how he's always putting people down, making them feel small. I regret even getting to know him.
Sure, he helped me out with a few things, but the way he makes me feel is just awful. I can't stand being around him anymore. It's like he thrives on making others feel like garbage and making everything about himself.
I'm not dumb. People tell me all the time how smart I am. My classmates, my family, everyone. And they're right. I might not know everything, but I'm always eager to learn and improve.
My life hasn't been easy, compared to his. But despite the challenges, I've managed to teach myself so much and I am still going on and on I've refused to let anything hold me back.
I've learned multiple languages, battled through depression, left everything behind me, everything bad I learned and even went through a divorce which, btw, is a huge deal in my culture.
But what I'm most proud of is what I've been able to do for my family. I've worked so hard to support them. I've done everything I can to make sure they're okay.
I've bought my sisters phones, paid for my sister's trips to Morocco and France, given her my favorite laptop, and bought another one for myself. I even helped them out when they first came to Canada, and I am still trying but not as much as I did.
It hasn't been easy. But yeah, everyone in my family looked up at me. Four of my cousins who came back to Canada around the same time as I ended up depressed and turned to drugs. But I refused to let that be my story.
I took a huge step by moving out and working hard, and I convinced myself that I wouldn't be the girl they tried to make me. I refused to be dumb or less than a man as Islam says.
I am pretty sure If I had the same support and resources as he had as a young, I would be smarter than this. But yeah, I am doing everything to myself, and I am not idiot ever ever ever. So yeah, I've had my struggles, but I've also had my triumphs. And I'm not going to let this guy or anyone else make me feel like I'm not good enough.
I deserve better, and I'm done letting him bring me down I need to really kicked him out of my life. You are better than this.
I would take everything but not to deal with this spoiled person that had all supports in life and yet do scamming and living for free in his stepdad house and talk shit about me working so hard and supporting myself and still going through all this by myself.
He told me that his mom was pushing him to do more activities things, I really wish if my family taught us things more than cleaning the house and preparing us to get married.
So please do not think to much about this shit, and just be good to yourself be better. God I hate how this person make me feel I hate spending time with him. Get rid of this cancer pleaseâ
2024.06.02 17:21 CAPSLOCKING_REALITY Tricks for staying awake, no matter what, with awake methods?
I've been struck with a torturous condition and all outcomes are just further complications, no outlook for a life just like before. That is, if we excluded shifting.
I have some experience with shifting out of desperation. Those have been my best attempts, and asides from that, awake methods are a must for me. The issue is, all the little tricks I know to prevent losing consciousness are insufficient now. Pain, stress and discomfort throughout the day sap all my energy and I immediately fall asleep like a baby with a pacifier, no matter which time of day I do my attempt.
So with the time I had left to dilly-dally with shifting being cut short, it's time to go balls to the wall and do attempts and meditate 24/7. The issue is, one slip and I lose not only hours of potential attempts, but also fast-forward my condition worsening. So I ask you for your most overpowered ways to keep your mind awake.
My little tricks I know so far are: doing attempts in the afternoon, counting forward and back, subs, starfish/sitting, affirmations, and intensely focusing on an emotion or feeling. Unfortunately I find out sleep can take over all of these.
So please share below little tricks like that you've found for yourself đ„ș I can afford to put a lot of willpower into it, so even something like doing mental math equations could be useful for me đ
submitted by CAPSLOCKING_REALITY to shiftingrealities [link] [comments]
I have some experience with shifting out of desperation. Those have been my best attempts, and asides from that, awake methods are a must for me. The issue is, all the little tricks I know to prevent losing consciousness are insufficient now. Pain, stress and discomfort throughout the day sap all my energy and I immediately fall asleep like a baby with a pacifier, no matter which time of day I do my attempt.
So with the time I had left to dilly-dally with shifting being cut short, it's time to go balls to the wall and do attempts and meditate 24/7. The issue is, one slip and I lose not only hours of potential attempts, but also fast-forward my condition worsening. So I ask you for your most overpowered ways to keep your mind awake.
My little tricks I know so far are: doing attempts in the afternoon, counting forward and back, subs, starfish/sitting, affirmations, and intensely focusing on an emotion or feeling. Unfortunately I find out sleep can take over all of these.
So please share below little tricks like that you've found for yourself đ„ș I can afford to put a lot of willpower into it, so even something like doing mental math equations could be useful for me đ
2024.06.02 17:21 Kadecide Consistently coughing up lots of mucus/phlegm daily for a few years: now having trouble swallowing food
18m. To give a background, I had some allergy issues when I was a kid, and I remember I used to cough and sneeze a lot in class in elementary, but I never had any of these current issues. I currently weigh 267 pounds, I'm 5'10, caucasian.
My problem is more or less exactly the title. Ever since I got through Covid about a year and a half ago, every day I've had to cough up mucus consistently. I feel quite horrible when I wake up, especially if I've got that area moving from just swallowing. It's my main motivator to get out of bed. The mucus/phlegm itself is usually a kind of thick, white, bubbly/foamy, and sometimes there are what look like brown clumps in it. I did go to the doctor for this a while back, when I started noticing these problems.
At the time, I was having trouble breathing and just couldn't get a deep breath in. My doctor checked my breathing with a stethoscope, summed it up to be because of my allergies, then basically lectured my mom for taking me to the doctor and wasting money on this issue she was supposed to have known about and I could barely understand him because his accent was so thick. He told me it might be drainage from my nose. Anyway, I started taking Claritin for it and it only helped my sinuses, not my mucus/phlegm issue.
Flash forward to a month ago, I started noticing some difficulty eating solid foods. Currently, I can't eat most of anything without a drink, and even then it doesn't feel right. the way I can describe it is almost fear or feeling, and I don't want to test it. it feels like if I try to swallow a bite of food, I'm going to choke. I had to take nibbles of steak to feel safe enough to swallow that. I tried eating a very small bowl of cereal recently and didn't even finish that. Think of taking pills, and how the water helps you get the pill down. I'm doing that but with everything and the food has to be small enough to be carried away easily. Foods like noodles, however, I can get down. I occasionally still feel a little scared of choking, but the softer foods are my only option.
I'm seriously wanting to go to the doctor soon about both of these problems, but I figured I'd get a second, or third, or fourth, or fifth...
If I do go to the doctor, should I cough stuff out prior or hold onto it for examination or something? I'm sure you can guess I've never gone to the doctor enough.
submitted by Kadecide to AskDocs [link] [comments]
My problem is more or less exactly the title. Ever since I got through Covid about a year and a half ago, every day I've had to cough up mucus consistently. I feel quite horrible when I wake up, especially if I've got that area moving from just swallowing. It's my main motivator to get out of bed. The mucus/phlegm itself is usually a kind of thick, white, bubbly/foamy, and sometimes there are what look like brown clumps in it. I did go to the doctor for this a while back, when I started noticing these problems.
At the time, I was having trouble breathing and just couldn't get a deep breath in. My doctor checked my breathing with a stethoscope, summed it up to be because of my allergies, then basically lectured my mom for taking me to the doctor and wasting money on this issue she was supposed to have known about and I could barely understand him because his accent was so thick. He told me it might be drainage from my nose. Anyway, I started taking Claritin for it and it only helped my sinuses, not my mucus/phlegm issue.
Flash forward to a month ago, I started noticing some difficulty eating solid foods. Currently, I can't eat most of anything without a drink, and even then it doesn't feel right. the way I can describe it is almost fear or feeling, and I don't want to test it. it feels like if I try to swallow a bite of food, I'm going to choke. I had to take nibbles of steak to feel safe enough to swallow that. I tried eating a very small bowl of cereal recently and didn't even finish that. Think of taking pills, and how the water helps you get the pill down. I'm doing that but with everything and the food has to be small enough to be carried away easily. Foods like noodles, however, I can get down. I occasionally still feel a little scared of choking, but the softer foods are my only option.
I'm seriously wanting to go to the doctor soon about both of these problems, but I figured I'd get a second, or third, or fourth, or fifth...
If I do go to the doctor, should I cough stuff out prior or hold onto it for examination or something? I'm sure you can guess I've never gone to the doctor enough.
2024.06.02 17:21 OverZiHD Can I end unequally yoked relationship on better terms
I (18M) was dating (18F), we got along well and got serious too as we even brought up marriage and having kids in the future. The trouble I had though was that I was Christian and sheâs an atheist. Due to my ignorance at the beginning, misunderstanding 1 Corinthians 7:12, I didnât see any problems, but as I started to take my faith more seriously and aimed to have God be the centre of everything I do it became clearer that raising a family where we donât share the same faith will be more than a challenge. Iâve brought up my faith and she doesnât mind it but also doesnât have too much of an interest. Thereâs nothing wrong with that as you can never force someone to know God but it made it harder to picture a future together, particularly after reading and understanding 2 Corinthians 6:14. I eventually admitted to myself that it had to end but it was so hard to bring it up. When I worked up the courage to talk about it she obviously didnât take it very well and understandably got really upset and angry. When trying to explain my reasoning she doesnât seem to want to hear it and we end up going in circles, with her asking if there is anyone else Iâm seeing and stuff which isnât the case. I just feel guilty about it because she did nothing wrong and deserves so much better but at the same time I couldnât just compromise my faith as God has done so much for me these past 3 years. I want to try talk to her and end things on better terms but it seems almost hopeless, I donât know what to do and I feel really bad for putting her through this.
Any advice will be appreciated, God bless
submitted by OverZiHD to Christianity [link] [comments]
Any advice will be appreciated, God bless
2024.06.02 17:20 9acca9 Green Tea extract and CoQ10
hi, im a mutant.
So, i want to know if somebody take CoQ10 supplements?
I found some studies that says that CoQ10 it is good to HH people but, sometimes you find a study that says that it is good for you, and maybe other that say "avoid" that.
Maybe somebody make the research.
Also, i take regularly Black Tea with the food, and sometimes Green Tea... but when i go eat outside i take green tea extract, probably two times a week. I found that some people say that green tea extract can be bad... but i suppose that just taking it two times in a week cant be bad. What do you think?
Thanks!
(yes, i dont speak english)
submitted by 9acca9 to Hemochromatosis [link] [comments]
So, i want to know if somebody take CoQ10 supplements?
I found some studies that says that CoQ10 it is good to HH people but, sometimes you find a study that says that it is good for you, and maybe other that say "avoid" that.
Maybe somebody make the research.
Also, i take regularly Black Tea with the food, and sometimes Green Tea... but when i go eat outside i take green tea extract, probably two times a week. I found that some people say that green tea extract can be bad... but i suppose that just taking it two times in a week cant be bad. What do you think?
Thanks!
(yes, i dont speak english)
2024.06.02 17:20 The-Fourth-Hokage Can you take Tongkat Ali, Cistanche, and Black Ginger every day, or do you need to take a break from these nootropics occasionally?
Hello everyone!
I have been taking Tongkat Ali for a few weeks, and it has been very helpful! In addition, I recently started taking Black Ginger and Cistanche. Iâm wondering if I can take these 3 nootropics every day, or if I need to occasionally take a break from them. If so, how long does each break need to be? I want to make sure I am receiving the most success with these nootropics, so I just wanted to ask what has been helpful and effective for other people.
Thank you in advance!
submitted by The-Fourth-Hokage to NootropicsDepot [link] [comments]
I have been taking Tongkat Ali for a few weeks, and it has been very helpful! In addition, I recently started taking Black Ginger and Cistanche. Iâm wondering if I can take these 3 nootropics every day, or if I need to occasionally take a break from them. If so, how long does each break need to be? I want to make sure I am receiving the most success with these nootropics, so I just wanted to ask what has been helpful and effective for other people.
Thank you in advance!
2024.06.02 17:20 fusrohdahritos Iâm a terrible person and I need help
over the last few months i have spent endless time trying to work on myself and improving my relationship for the better. in that time, i've struggled, and now i feel like i'm doing my partner an injustice. our relationship is far from perfect or ideal and we maturely recognize that, but we still love each other and support each other. however, it's not all so glitz and glamor as i stated. I've given up literally everything for them, and now I fear that because I have nothing left to give, they're getting more and more angry and frustrated with me as time goes on. Arguing over stupid shit that tends to drive a huge wedge between us because "I'll never understand" or that "im pathetic." Words spoken before. Amongst many other hurtful words. But I have no room to be mad or upset, it's up to me to deescalate the situation and kiss their feet and make it okay. If I don't, im the problem. I've given up friends, hobbies, family members, my biggest dreams and aspiration, my goals, my self care, my mental state, all to uphold this person so that they can thrive. And now the wells run dry. I can't do things of my own accord, they must always involve them or benefit them in some way. I hardly take a shower because it takes time away from them and they can't stand it. I'm tired, they can't stand it. I don't want to eat or drink, they can't stand it. I'm involved with anyone else, they can't stand it. Don't get me wrong, there's still a lot of love there, I wish to love them. But I've given so much of myself, that I'm not who i was or aim to be. We even got this app lately, where we find new friends, yet they monitor it and I just leave it alone. I sometimes think about wishing they would just b/u with me so that we can live our separate lives unhurt. I refuse to be the one to leave, all while they refuse to do the same. I don't want to leave but I don't want to lose myself entirely, though I fear I've already done so. They're also in a rough mental state and I want to help them through it, because they don't really have anybody else, but it's not even out of pity, I genuinely want to see them grow and help in any way I can. I do have a deep love for them. But in that, I've lost myself and in turn I can't love myself. I need help.
submitted by fusrohdahritos to offmychest [link] [comments]
2024.06.02 17:20 Dragon_slaya98 Roaming Road/ Lady in White Part 2 final
I took a week off of work and college had started their two-week break before the next semester. I took my chance and cleared my calendar and booked a trip to the town where my grandfather stayed while he was a journalist. The greyhound ride was a good time for me to figure out my approach, while the busy cityscape outside my window slowly faded into Southern African wilderness, nothing but trees and empty kilometers of road before I reached my stop, a homely town that seemed well connected to the rest despite the distance. It had been many years since my grandfather had set foot in this town, yet I could feel his influence. The roads were now cracked and showed their wear, shops and residences had been renovated and upgraded, looking more modern and slightly out of place.
The hotel my grandfather stayed at while on the investigation was now a more comfortable looking lodge, with a view over the rolling foothills of the Drakensberg and the surrounding cities, one of which I could see my home, vaguely. The sun had begun to set and I still needed to get my information from the residents. I unpacked my things after booking my room and set out, like a tourist with a pen and notebook in hand asking anyone what they may know. To no oneâs surprise, they mostly looked at me like I was insane or a knock off Leon Schuster trying to get them to react in a funny way. I had almost given up completely until I sat near one of the social areas where they would light a fire and residents at the lodge would sit and relax while watching the sun go down. I was alone there and just sat drawing the distant landscape dreading the silence for the next week while I waited for the next bus to arrive and Iâd return home. Two days passed in mainly silence.
That was until a man sat near me, dressed in weathered jeans and an old top with work boots covered in dust and dirt, his face obscured by a large hat covering his face, his hands in his pockets even as he sat but his arms almost looked skeleton like, his long white hair flowing from either side of his hat.
âCan I help you?â I asked, feeling like he was trying to get my attention.
âNo, but I can help you. You cause quite a lot of noise, trying to get the people to talk about something that scares them.â He said, his voice didnât come across as harsh, more like cautious. The first person who decided to talk to me in a casual manner since a couple days ago. He wanted to tell me what I wanted to know.
Without any hesitation I turned to the page I set aside for notes when the man chuckled.
âSomething funny?â I asked.
âYouâre going to need more pages than that.â He said, flicking his hat up slightly while he sat back and got comfortable.
âTrust me, this is all I need.â I said feeling like I had to tiptoe around the subject as to not let the opportunity slip, but I also felt overwhelmingly anxious, almost like someone else was watching us. I felt my gaze shift every so often over my shoulder trying to find the entity that was staring a hole through me, apart from a quiet street crossing and some pedestrians; nothing.
âSomething there?â Asked the man, as I shook off the feeling. I started getting a bit annoyed by the short answers and questions.
âJust feel like-, never mind. If youâre ready to help give me some information, what should I call you?â I asked as the man took a moment.
âCall me âFarmhandâ. Since itâll sound better than my real name, youâll find that out in time.â Said Farmhand as I wrote that down in my notebook and began phrasing the question in my mind as to get the proper answer. Furiously tapping my pen on the page.
âJust ask, I already know what you want to know.â He said, I looked up from the page, slightly irritated by the confidence.
âHow can you be so sure, Farmhand?â I blurted.
âYou arenât the first person to go on this goose chase. The Lady in White is very particular in her targets.â Farmhand explained, I wrote down everything.
âWhatâs her story, like the true story; why does she haunt this stretch of road?â I asked. Farmhand chuckled.
âShe doesnât haunt, sheâs simply looking for a lift.â He said in the distinct Afrikaans twang that so many white South Africans have, itâs by no means ominous, more of a conversation encouragement than anything else.
âA lift? To where?â I asked. I heard so many different types of tales, from her being hostile to men, a companion to young women and a bit of both to younger males. But the main part that stayed the same was that they were alone.
âHer matric dance, my seun.â Farmhand said, the only other person to call me âSeunâ was my dad, the Afrikaans for son.
âWhat exactly happened?â I asked, pen at the ready.
âThe legend goes far back, but the main story that my pa always told me was that she was with her boyfriend in the car, they went along this road and broke down; one of the worst places to break down since around eight is when the busses shut down and the last train has departed from the station. She chose to try down the street, bearing in mind how dangerous that is these days, it was a little bit less so then.â Farmhand said as he took off his hat, keeping his gaze at the setting sun.
âHow much less dangerous?â I asked.
âSnakes, though the venomous Boomslang doesnât go out of its way to kill you, no Black Mambaâs live up here. No, we have jackals and caracals, they hunt in packs and pick you off in the dead of night.â Farmhand explained.
âIs that how it happened, how she died?â Farmhand chuckled lightly.
âNope, she saw a car in the distance and flagged them down, asked them to help take her to town or help her boyfriend. The man took her up the road and when they started to approach where she had broken down, the boyfriend tried flagging them down. Her joy turned to terror as the stranger sped up and before the boyfriend knew it, the car had hit him. The last she saw of him was him tumbling down the hill among the trees.â Farmhand said. Placing his hat on his chest, closing his eyes and bowing his head. After a short silence, I asked:
âWhat happened next?â
âWell, the girl was hysterical, the car was still speeding up and she yelled at the man to stop, and kept pleading for him to let her go. Eventually the man had stopped, the girl got out and started calling to the boyfriend to see if he had somehow survived, as she did, the stranger hit her on the back of her head and had his way with her.â Farmhand said, provoking a sour taste in my mouth, a sheer sense of guilt welled up in my stomach.
âNow I understand why no one was willing to tell me the story.â I said, slightly defeated. The man put a hand on my knee like my grandfather used to and looked me in the eye. For the first time I noticed his wrinkled but kind face, he smiled.
âItâs not a story everyone can stomach. Come, letâs finish this so you can write your story.â Farmhand said as he sat back on the couch, a thought struck me; was I so obvious that he knew I was a journalist writing a story? Because I donât remember ever disclosing the fact I was a journalist. Regardless, we continued.
âAfter the stranger- did the act, what happened?â I asked uneasily, feeling sick to my stomach.
âHe put her in his car, and drove back to the spot where they broke down, but a half a kilometer away she woke up and he pushed her out of the car at high speed. She shouldâve died there, but she crawled, half her body scratched, scraped and broken. She died slowly and alone. Before she died she heard her boyfriend calling for her.â Farmhand continued.
âDid he ever find her?â
There was silence, even the birds had stopped chirping and the street had gone quiet.
âNo, I donât believe he did. Whether or not he died looking is another story, but thatâs not what youâre here for.â The Farmer said as he stood up, placed his hat on his head and began to walk off, before he passed me, he put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it.
âPromise me one thing; be careful. Can you do that for me, Alex?â Farmhand said before he patted me on the shoulder and walked off without waiting for my answer. I turned to confront him but he was gone, it couldnât have been more than a second, but it was like he vanished into thin air. I was left confused and bewildered. The notes were real, the pen marks solid and clear. The events I was informed of felt vivid, yet the silence that fell around me felt otherworldly. I was feeling lost and exhausted before, now I was more awake than I had ever been.
Around eight that night, the sun had set and the mountain had cast a chilling shadow over the down I stayed, sleet had been reported near us and snow on the mountain. If I was going to get the answer I so desperately wanted, I was going to have to earn it. I walked to my car, steam cascading from my nostrils as the cold air turned frigid with even the slightest of breezes. I got in my car and drove to the first rest point along the mountain to gather some supplies: Some water and snacks, a couple of pre-charged battery packs for my recorder as I donât want to stop every fifteen to twenty minutes to write down my experience. This would also prove if I was going insane or not, when asked by a couple of the staff at the store, I told them my intentions and they sounded interested for the first time. When I left I tested the packs and sure enough; fully charged and my recorder was clean and ready to be used.
I approached the entrance to the mountain pass that had been the setting for this ghost story that has latched on to me since childhood. No street lamps, no signs, yet the road itself was painted brightly and every so often a glowing marker was placed to ensure you knew when to turn and when to slow down. The threshold felt like a portal, the point where light didnât reach and would not pass, even down to the road, where it was light, it looked traveled on, occupied and used; the mountain pass looked pristine; almost as if it hadnât been touched for decades. As I looked beyond the pass, far below what was called the foothills of the Drakensberg, a large highway was built, the lights from the cars, the lamps and signs glowed for kilometers in the distance. After delaying for twenty minutes, I turned my car on, flicked on the high-beams and began my journey.
Every few minutes I would check my recorder, to make sure it was on and still functioning, it lay on the passenger seat in plain view, I could see some bright lights giving me the information if the screen was somehow obscured. It was a long while before anything happened. Maybe it was paranoia, maybe it was anxiety, whatever it was wouldnât stop me from exploring this legend. Worst thing that could happen is I travel sixty kilometers and nothing happens and it turns out my grandfather was just trying to scare me. I turned again after a lengthy passage of time and I got my answer.
I donât remember stopping, I donât even think I saw anyone on the side of the road, maybe it was while I was looking at my recorder, but I felt a cold presence behind me.
âDo you know where youâre going?â Asked a voice, a quiet but feminine voice. A chill erupted throughout my body; a violent sense of panic coursed through my mind because I knew where the sound came from. It came from behind me. My hands began to shake but I dared not take my hands away from the wheel.
âDo you?â It asked again. The answer got caught in my throat, I found myself unable to speak.
âNo, not really.â I managed though my voice felt hoarse.
âYou seem to know what you want.â The voice said again, it sounded curious. I stayed silent, the road twisted and wound around the mountain in a chaotic and frantic fashion.
âAre you scared?â She asked again, the voice coming from next to me. I turned to look but a cold hand kept my eyes glued to the road.
âKeep your eyes on the road, enough people have died here.â She said, as my nerves calmed slightly.
âWho are you?â I asked, my eyes focused and the world around me much less than an echo.
âWhy do you want to know?â She asked, sounding more like she was in a void, her voice had more of an echo than anything else.
âI want to know what happened here. The true story.â I said after taking a breath and gathering my nerves, the road seemed to calm down, from sharp uphill turns to moonlight sweeping curves that allowed my gaze to rest as the shadow of the trees passed us by.
âCan I trust you?â She asked, the question rang through my head as I remember what Farmhand said, how she trusted a stranger who took advantage of her.
âYes. Yes you can.â I said after a while. The figure turned to me; I could feel her eyes scrutinize every inch of me.
âYouâre not like him?â Her questions kept hammering into me, I felt a mix of fear and guilt, knowing who she was referring to.
âI wonât hurt you. I want to help.â I said after a while, gathering a fragile sense of courage as my hands shook furiously. The road seemed to twist and turn, harsh rising hills. Sharp corners told the tale of her many victims as my headlights passed by, the scrapes and dents of hard hits leading to a drop that seemed to have no end, not a single tree could be seen and the moonlight from high above could not pierce the dark veil that lingered joust over the edge of the road. After a while, she spoke again.
âAlright, I trust you.â She said as I allowed my eyes to wander, the figure relaxed in the passenger seat for a while, my recorder on the center console as I saw her blue skin, almost emitting a frozen chill as I saw her dress, torn and tattered, my stomach felt uneasy when I saw bruising and swelling near her inner thighs. Her hands crossed in her lap as I saw the scratches and what looked like deep cuts on her arms and exposed shoulders from the straps on her dress. I could not see much of her face as it seemed her face was bleeding.
âWhat happened that night?â I asked, concentrating on the road again. My passenger stayed quiet for a while, quietly shuddering and sniffing before she spoke again.
âI was happy, a man I loved decided I would be his date for the matric dance. Weâd known each other since we were children. My best friend. We were driving along this road to get to the lodge, where the dance was being held.â Her voice sounded sourly-joyful, her hands didnât move from her lap much, so as to not distract me with her hand movements.
âIt was a while before town, the car started shaking. I thought the tire had blown, but smoke came from the front. We stopped nearby.â She pointed and I could see the flashing of hazard lights and the smell of smoke invaded my nostrils.
âI thought Iâd get some help, he said heâd be fine and that I should hurry back. I walked for a while; it was a cold night still. I walked for, I donât know how long. But I managed to get an old man to stop. He said heâd help; we just need to get my man and heâd sort out the car.â She said as the road began to crack and fall apart at the edge.
âDo you know what he did?â She asked me, I assumed it was a test to see if I was listening.
âHe deceived you.â I answered. She nodded, looking down for a short while before continuing.
âHe asked why I was alone on this road. I told him I wasnât, that I was on my way to town with my man, and I told him about who he was, what he meant to me. I was overjoyed when I saw him, my joy turned to confusion, to horror as he sped up and ran him over. I saw his body roll into the trees, I thought for sure he was dead.â She pointed to the part of the road that had a piece of cloth swaying in the breeze, marking where her man was hit and last seen by her.
âAfter I witnessed my childhood innocence be ripped from me, he finally stopped, that butcher! I blacked out with a sharp pain, when next I woke, I couldn't feel my legs and my fingers were numb. Just before I said anything, he pushed me out of his car. I remember falling, the road was like ice, all I could do was crawl.â She said, her anger translating to the road shifting and breaking apart, turning violently uphill only for the sheer drops and sharp turns that threatened to throw me off the edge. I barely managed to keep the car on the road as the road shifted again, it was so silent that I could hear the tires screeching like a distant wail.
âIâve searched for years, if heâd ever return, Iâd make sure he never left like he left me.â She said as the note my grandfather left in his books, the man who was panicked and sketchy, had his autopsy reveal that he was of the elderly group. I felt a slight pang of guilt as I realized that the man who did this to her was probably dead for a while. I weathered her storm of rage as the stretch of road became calm, as did she.
âIâm sorry you suffered like that; I wish there was something I could do.â I said unconsciously. I felt her gaze soften to me; her rage calmed as she went back to her neutral position.
âHe was called âFarmhand. Because he was trustworthy, kind and reliable..â My eyes widened as the realization crashed on my face: He lived.
âIf you arenât like how he was, then you donât deserve to leave this road.â Her voice was harsh, the road began to fall apart, the cracks forming as parts fell away like they had been falling apart for years, though my body was fatigued, I kept the car on the road. As uncomfortable as the ride was, the road soon turned into dirt paths, completely unlit and unpredictable. It felt like hours before it returned to normal, albeit slowly, my hands still shook relentlessly. I understood her outrage. I couldnât imagine the trauma she experienced, the sadness.
âIf you would like, I can take you back to town.â I asked. In retrospect, that was a stupid question.
âI donât know.â She replied, unsure and confused.
âNo rush, we have time.â I said as I turned around and began my long drive back to town. The road swerved and waved calmly, completely different to the approach. I drove to the point where The Lady in White was last seen, after a while I parked my car near the spot and looked to my side. The woman wasnât there. I looked at my watch and my recorder. The sun had begun to rise over the hills, the air was crisp and fresh, I stayed for a while to just take in the sight of a calm morning before turning my recorder off and driving back.
I returned to my hotel room and after placing everything on the desk, I fell onto my bed and fell asleep, my body was exhausted and my mind was fatigued beyond words. I fell into a dreamless sleep and woke up in the afternoon. Having something to eat I went over the events from last night, pen and paper at the ready, I prepared to hear myself talking to nothing and no one. The doubt set in before I even hit the play button, after a while of convincing myself that I have some concrete evidence, I pressed play. To my surprise, it sounded like there were two people in the car, me and a woman, although the womanâs voice was covered by static. I wrote down all I could, that is what youâre reading.
The next couple of days went by and nothing special happened, I kept to myself most of the time. While analyzing everything I captured. It all seemed like a dream, an incredibly vivid dream. The last note I made during this investigation was: if something like that exists here, surely more stories remain in this part of the world. As the trees faded into the distance as the bus trundled along the trail back, the forest retreating as I returned back to the concrete and steel, it wasnât long before the questions I had before, followed me home.
The hotel my grandfather stayed at while on the investigation was now a more comfortable looking lodge, with a view over the rolling foothills of the Drakensberg and the surrounding cities, one of which I could see my home, vaguely. The sun had begun to set and I still needed to get my information from the residents. I unpacked my things after booking my room and set out, like a tourist with a pen and notebook in hand asking anyone what they may know. To no oneâs surprise, they mostly looked at me like I was insane or a knock off Leon Schuster trying to get them to react in a funny way. I had almost given up completely until I sat near one of the social areas where they would light a fire and residents at the lodge would sit and relax while watching the sun go down. I was alone there and just sat drawing the distant landscape dreading the silence for the next week while I waited for the next bus to arrive and Iâd return home. Two days passed in mainly silence.
That was until a man sat near me, dressed in weathered jeans and an old top with work boots covered in dust and dirt, his face obscured by a large hat covering his face, his hands in his pockets even as he sat but his arms almost looked skeleton like, his long white hair flowing from either side of his hat.
âCan I help you?â I asked, feeling like he was trying to get my attention.
âNo, but I can help you. You cause quite a lot of noise, trying to get the people to talk about something that scares them.â He said, his voice didnât come across as harsh, more like cautious. The first person who decided to talk to me in a casual manner since a couple days ago. He wanted to tell me what I wanted to know.
Without any hesitation I turned to the page I set aside for notes when the man chuckled.
âSomething funny?â I asked.
âYouâre going to need more pages than that.â He said, flicking his hat up slightly while he sat back and got comfortable.
âTrust me, this is all I need.â I said feeling like I had to tiptoe around the subject as to not let the opportunity slip, but I also felt overwhelmingly anxious, almost like someone else was watching us. I felt my gaze shift every so often over my shoulder trying to find the entity that was staring a hole through me, apart from a quiet street crossing and some pedestrians; nothing.
âSomething there?â Asked the man, as I shook off the feeling. I started getting a bit annoyed by the short answers and questions.
âJust feel like-, never mind. If youâre ready to help give me some information, what should I call you?â I asked as the man took a moment.
âCall me âFarmhandâ. Since itâll sound better than my real name, youâll find that out in time.â Said Farmhand as I wrote that down in my notebook and began phrasing the question in my mind as to get the proper answer. Furiously tapping my pen on the page.
âJust ask, I already know what you want to know.â He said, I looked up from the page, slightly irritated by the confidence.
âHow can you be so sure, Farmhand?â I blurted.
âYou arenât the first person to go on this goose chase. The Lady in White is very particular in her targets.â Farmhand explained, I wrote down everything.
âWhatâs her story, like the true story; why does she haunt this stretch of road?â I asked. Farmhand chuckled.
âShe doesnât haunt, sheâs simply looking for a lift.â He said in the distinct Afrikaans twang that so many white South Africans have, itâs by no means ominous, more of a conversation encouragement than anything else.
âA lift? To where?â I asked. I heard so many different types of tales, from her being hostile to men, a companion to young women and a bit of both to younger males. But the main part that stayed the same was that they were alone.
âHer matric dance, my seun.â Farmhand said, the only other person to call me âSeunâ was my dad, the Afrikaans for son.
âWhat exactly happened?â I asked, pen at the ready.
âThe legend goes far back, but the main story that my pa always told me was that she was with her boyfriend in the car, they went along this road and broke down; one of the worst places to break down since around eight is when the busses shut down and the last train has departed from the station. She chose to try down the street, bearing in mind how dangerous that is these days, it was a little bit less so then.â Farmhand said as he took off his hat, keeping his gaze at the setting sun.
âHow much less dangerous?â I asked.
âSnakes, though the venomous Boomslang doesnât go out of its way to kill you, no Black Mambaâs live up here. No, we have jackals and caracals, they hunt in packs and pick you off in the dead of night.â Farmhand explained.
âIs that how it happened, how she died?â Farmhand chuckled lightly.
âNope, she saw a car in the distance and flagged them down, asked them to help take her to town or help her boyfriend. The man took her up the road and when they started to approach where she had broken down, the boyfriend tried flagging them down. Her joy turned to terror as the stranger sped up and before the boyfriend knew it, the car had hit him. The last she saw of him was him tumbling down the hill among the trees.â Farmhand said. Placing his hat on his chest, closing his eyes and bowing his head. After a short silence, I asked:
âWhat happened next?â
âWell, the girl was hysterical, the car was still speeding up and she yelled at the man to stop, and kept pleading for him to let her go. Eventually the man had stopped, the girl got out and started calling to the boyfriend to see if he had somehow survived, as she did, the stranger hit her on the back of her head and had his way with her.â Farmhand said, provoking a sour taste in my mouth, a sheer sense of guilt welled up in my stomach.
âNow I understand why no one was willing to tell me the story.â I said, slightly defeated. The man put a hand on my knee like my grandfather used to and looked me in the eye. For the first time I noticed his wrinkled but kind face, he smiled.
âItâs not a story everyone can stomach. Come, letâs finish this so you can write your story.â Farmhand said as he sat back on the couch, a thought struck me; was I so obvious that he knew I was a journalist writing a story? Because I donât remember ever disclosing the fact I was a journalist. Regardless, we continued.
âAfter the stranger- did the act, what happened?â I asked uneasily, feeling sick to my stomach.
âHe put her in his car, and drove back to the spot where they broke down, but a half a kilometer away she woke up and he pushed her out of the car at high speed. She shouldâve died there, but she crawled, half her body scratched, scraped and broken. She died slowly and alone. Before she died she heard her boyfriend calling for her.â Farmhand continued.
âDid he ever find her?â
There was silence, even the birds had stopped chirping and the street had gone quiet.
âNo, I donât believe he did. Whether or not he died looking is another story, but thatâs not what youâre here for.â The Farmer said as he stood up, placed his hat on his head and began to walk off, before he passed me, he put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it.
âPromise me one thing; be careful. Can you do that for me, Alex?â Farmhand said before he patted me on the shoulder and walked off without waiting for my answer. I turned to confront him but he was gone, it couldnât have been more than a second, but it was like he vanished into thin air. I was left confused and bewildered. The notes were real, the pen marks solid and clear. The events I was informed of felt vivid, yet the silence that fell around me felt otherworldly. I was feeling lost and exhausted before, now I was more awake than I had ever been.
Around eight that night, the sun had set and the mountain had cast a chilling shadow over the down I stayed, sleet had been reported near us and snow on the mountain. If I was going to get the answer I so desperately wanted, I was going to have to earn it. I walked to my car, steam cascading from my nostrils as the cold air turned frigid with even the slightest of breezes. I got in my car and drove to the first rest point along the mountain to gather some supplies: Some water and snacks, a couple of pre-charged battery packs for my recorder as I donât want to stop every fifteen to twenty minutes to write down my experience. This would also prove if I was going insane or not, when asked by a couple of the staff at the store, I told them my intentions and they sounded interested for the first time. When I left I tested the packs and sure enough; fully charged and my recorder was clean and ready to be used.
I approached the entrance to the mountain pass that had been the setting for this ghost story that has latched on to me since childhood. No street lamps, no signs, yet the road itself was painted brightly and every so often a glowing marker was placed to ensure you knew when to turn and when to slow down. The threshold felt like a portal, the point where light didnât reach and would not pass, even down to the road, where it was light, it looked traveled on, occupied and used; the mountain pass looked pristine; almost as if it hadnât been touched for decades. As I looked beyond the pass, far below what was called the foothills of the Drakensberg, a large highway was built, the lights from the cars, the lamps and signs glowed for kilometers in the distance. After delaying for twenty minutes, I turned my car on, flicked on the high-beams and began my journey.
Every few minutes I would check my recorder, to make sure it was on and still functioning, it lay on the passenger seat in plain view, I could see some bright lights giving me the information if the screen was somehow obscured. It was a long while before anything happened. Maybe it was paranoia, maybe it was anxiety, whatever it was wouldnât stop me from exploring this legend. Worst thing that could happen is I travel sixty kilometers and nothing happens and it turns out my grandfather was just trying to scare me. I turned again after a lengthy passage of time and I got my answer.
I donât remember stopping, I donât even think I saw anyone on the side of the road, maybe it was while I was looking at my recorder, but I felt a cold presence behind me.
âDo you know where youâre going?â Asked a voice, a quiet but feminine voice. A chill erupted throughout my body; a violent sense of panic coursed through my mind because I knew where the sound came from. It came from behind me. My hands began to shake but I dared not take my hands away from the wheel.
âDo you?â It asked again. The answer got caught in my throat, I found myself unable to speak.
âNo, not really.â I managed though my voice felt hoarse.
âYou seem to know what you want.â The voice said again, it sounded curious. I stayed silent, the road twisted and wound around the mountain in a chaotic and frantic fashion.
âAre you scared?â She asked again, the voice coming from next to me. I turned to look but a cold hand kept my eyes glued to the road.
âKeep your eyes on the road, enough people have died here.â She said, as my nerves calmed slightly.
âWho are you?â I asked, my eyes focused and the world around me much less than an echo.
âWhy do you want to know?â She asked, sounding more like she was in a void, her voice had more of an echo than anything else.
âI want to know what happened here. The true story.â I said after taking a breath and gathering my nerves, the road seemed to calm down, from sharp uphill turns to moonlight sweeping curves that allowed my gaze to rest as the shadow of the trees passed us by.
âCan I trust you?â She asked, the question rang through my head as I remember what Farmhand said, how she trusted a stranger who took advantage of her.
âYes. Yes you can.â I said after a while. The figure turned to me; I could feel her eyes scrutinize every inch of me.
âYouâre not like him?â Her questions kept hammering into me, I felt a mix of fear and guilt, knowing who she was referring to.
âI wonât hurt you. I want to help.â I said after a while, gathering a fragile sense of courage as my hands shook furiously. The road seemed to twist and turn, harsh rising hills. Sharp corners told the tale of her many victims as my headlights passed by, the scrapes and dents of hard hits leading to a drop that seemed to have no end, not a single tree could be seen and the moonlight from high above could not pierce the dark veil that lingered joust over the edge of the road. After a while, she spoke again.
âAlright, I trust you.â She said as I allowed my eyes to wander, the figure relaxed in the passenger seat for a while, my recorder on the center console as I saw her blue skin, almost emitting a frozen chill as I saw her dress, torn and tattered, my stomach felt uneasy when I saw bruising and swelling near her inner thighs. Her hands crossed in her lap as I saw the scratches and what looked like deep cuts on her arms and exposed shoulders from the straps on her dress. I could not see much of her face as it seemed her face was bleeding.
âWhat happened that night?â I asked, concentrating on the road again. My passenger stayed quiet for a while, quietly shuddering and sniffing before she spoke again.
âI was happy, a man I loved decided I would be his date for the matric dance. Weâd known each other since we were children. My best friend. We were driving along this road to get to the lodge, where the dance was being held.â Her voice sounded sourly-joyful, her hands didnât move from her lap much, so as to not distract me with her hand movements.
âIt was a while before town, the car started shaking. I thought the tire had blown, but smoke came from the front. We stopped nearby.â She pointed and I could see the flashing of hazard lights and the smell of smoke invaded my nostrils.
âI thought Iâd get some help, he said heâd be fine and that I should hurry back. I walked for a while; it was a cold night still. I walked for, I donât know how long. But I managed to get an old man to stop. He said heâd help; we just need to get my man and heâd sort out the car.â She said as the road began to crack and fall apart at the edge.
âDo you know what he did?â She asked me, I assumed it was a test to see if I was listening.
âHe deceived you.â I answered. She nodded, looking down for a short while before continuing.
âHe asked why I was alone on this road. I told him I wasnât, that I was on my way to town with my man, and I told him about who he was, what he meant to me. I was overjoyed when I saw him, my joy turned to confusion, to horror as he sped up and ran him over. I saw his body roll into the trees, I thought for sure he was dead.â She pointed to the part of the road that had a piece of cloth swaying in the breeze, marking where her man was hit and last seen by her.
âAfter I witnessed my childhood innocence be ripped from me, he finally stopped, that butcher! I blacked out with a sharp pain, when next I woke, I couldn't feel my legs and my fingers were numb. Just before I said anything, he pushed me out of his car. I remember falling, the road was like ice, all I could do was crawl.â She said, her anger translating to the road shifting and breaking apart, turning violently uphill only for the sheer drops and sharp turns that threatened to throw me off the edge. I barely managed to keep the car on the road as the road shifted again, it was so silent that I could hear the tires screeching like a distant wail.
âIâve searched for years, if heâd ever return, Iâd make sure he never left like he left me.â She said as the note my grandfather left in his books, the man who was panicked and sketchy, had his autopsy reveal that he was of the elderly group. I felt a slight pang of guilt as I realized that the man who did this to her was probably dead for a while. I weathered her storm of rage as the stretch of road became calm, as did she.
âIâm sorry you suffered like that; I wish there was something I could do.â I said unconsciously. I felt her gaze soften to me; her rage calmed as she went back to her neutral position.
âHe was called âFarmhand. Because he was trustworthy, kind and reliable..â My eyes widened as the realization crashed on my face: He lived.
âIf you arenât like how he was, then you donât deserve to leave this road.â Her voice was harsh, the road began to fall apart, the cracks forming as parts fell away like they had been falling apart for years, though my body was fatigued, I kept the car on the road. As uncomfortable as the ride was, the road soon turned into dirt paths, completely unlit and unpredictable. It felt like hours before it returned to normal, albeit slowly, my hands still shook relentlessly. I understood her outrage. I couldnât imagine the trauma she experienced, the sadness.
âIf you would like, I can take you back to town.â I asked. In retrospect, that was a stupid question.
âI donât know.â She replied, unsure and confused.
âNo rush, we have time.â I said as I turned around and began my long drive back to town. The road swerved and waved calmly, completely different to the approach. I drove to the point where The Lady in White was last seen, after a while I parked my car near the spot and looked to my side. The woman wasnât there. I looked at my watch and my recorder. The sun had begun to rise over the hills, the air was crisp and fresh, I stayed for a while to just take in the sight of a calm morning before turning my recorder off and driving back.
I returned to my hotel room and after placing everything on the desk, I fell onto my bed and fell asleep, my body was exhausted and my mind was fatigued beyond words. I fell into a dreamless sleep and woke up in the afternoon. Having something to eat I went over the events from last night, pen and paper at the ready, I prepared to hear myself talking to nothing and no one. The doubt set in before I even hit the play button, after a while of convincing myself that I have some concrete evidence, I pressed play. To my surprise, it sounded like there were two people in the car, me and a woman, although the womanâs voice was covered by static. I wrote down all I could, that is what youâre reading.
The next couple of days went by and nothing special happened, I kept to myself most of the time. While analyzing everything I captured. It all seemed like a dream, an incredibly vivid dream. The last note I made during this investigation was: if something like that exists here, surely more stories remain in this part of the world. As the trees faded into the distance as the bus trundled along the trail back, the forest retreating as I returned back to the concrete and steel, it wasnât long before the questions I had before, followed me home.
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The hotel my grandfather stayed at while on the investigation was now a more comfortable looking lodge, with a view over the rolling foothills of the Drakensberg and the surrounding cities, one of which I could see my home, vaguely. The sun had begun to set and I still needed to get my information from the residents. I unpacked my things after booking my room and set out, like a tourist with a pen and notebook in hand asking anyone what they may know. To no oneâs surprise, they mostly looked at me like I was insane or a knock off Leon Schuster trying to get them to react in a funny way. I had almost given up completely until I sat near one of the social areas where they would light a fire and residents at the lodge would sit and relax while watching the sun go down. I was alone there and just sat drawing the distant landscape dreading the silence for the next week while I waited for the next bus to arrive and Iâd return home. Two days passed in mainly silence.
That was until a man sat near me, dressed in weathered jeans and an old top with work boots covered in dust and dirt, his face obscured by a large hat covering his face, his hands in his pockets even as he sat but his arms almost looked skeleton like, his long white hair flowing from either side of his hat.
âCan I help you?â I asked, feeling like he was trying to get my attention.
âNo, but I can help you. You cause quite a lot of noise, trying to get the people to talk about something that scares them.â He said, his voice didnât come across as harsh, more like cautious. The first person who decided to talk to me in a casual manner since a couple days ago. He wanted to tell me what I wanted to know.
Without any hesitation I turned to the page I set aside for notes when the man chuckled.
âSomething funny?â I asked.
âYouâre going to need more pages than that.â He said, flicking his hat up slightly while he sat back and got comfortable.
âTrust me, this is all I need.â I said feeling like I had to tiptoe around the subject as to not let the opportunity slip, but I also felt overwhelmingly anxious, almost like someone else was watching us. I felt my gaze shift every so often over my shoulder trying to find the entity that was staring a hole through me, apart from a quiet street crossing and some pedestrians; nothing.
âSomething there?â Asked the man, as I shook off the feeling. I started getting a bit annoyed by the short answers and questions.
âJust feel like-, never mind. If youâre ready to help give me some information, what should I call you?â I asked as the man took a moment.
âCall me âFarmhandâ. Since itâll sound better than my real name, youâll find that out in time.â Said Farmhand as I wrote that down in my notebook and began phrasing the question in my mind as to get the proper answer. Furiously tapping my pen on the page.
âJust ask, I already know what you want to know.â He said, I looked up from the page, slightly irritated by the confidence.
âHow can you be so sure, Farmhand?â I blurted.
âYou arenât the first person to go on this goose chase. The Lady in White is very particular in her targets.â Farmhand explained, I wrote down everything.
âWhatâs her story, like the true story; why does she haunt this stretch of road?â I asked. Farmhand chuckled.
âShe doesnât haunt, sheâs simply looking for a lift.â He said in the distinct Afrikaans twang that so many white South Africans have, itâs by no means ominous, more of a conversation encouragement than anything else.
âA lift? To where?â I asked. I heard so many different types of tales, from her being hostile to men, a companion to young women and a bit of both to younger males. But the main part that stayed the same was that they were alone.
âHer matric dance, my seun.â Farmhand said, the only other person to call me âSeunâ was my dad, the Afrikaans for son.
âWhat exactly happened?â I asked, pen at the ready.
âThe legend goes far back, but the main story that my pa always told me was that she was with her boyfriend in the car, they went along this road and broke down; one of the worst places to break down since around eight is when the busses shut down and the last train has departed from the station. She chose to try down the street, bearing in mind how dangerous that is these days, it was a little bit less so then.â Farmhand said as he took off his hat, keeping his gaze at the setting sun.
âHow much less dangerous?â I asked.
âSnakes, though the venomous Boomslang doesnât go out of its way to kill you, no Black Mambaâs live up here. No, we have jackals and caracals, they hunt in packs and pick you off in the dead of night.â Farmhand explained.
âIs that how it happened, how she died?â Farmhand chuckled lightly.
âNope, she saw a car in the distance and flagged them down, asked them to help take her to town or help her boyfriend. The man took her up the road and when they started to approach where she had broken down, the boyfriend tried flagging them down. Her joy turned to terror as the stranger sped up and before the boyfriend knew it, the car had hit him. The last she saw of him was him tumbling down the hill among the trees.â Farmhand said. Placing his hat on his chest, closing his eyes and bowing his head. After a short silence, I asked:
âWhat happened next?â
âWell, the girl was hysterical, the car was still speeding up and she yelled at the man to stop, and kept pleading for him to let her go. Eventually the man had stopped, the girl got out and started calling to the boyfriend to see if he had somehow survived, as she did, the stranger hit her on the back of her head and had his way with her.â Farmhand said, provoking a sour taste in my mouth, a sheer sense of guilt welled up in my stomach.
âNow I understand why no one was willing to tell me the story.â I said, slightly defeated. The man put a hand on my knee like my grandfather used to and looked me in the eye. For the first time I noticed his wrinkled but kind face, he smiled.
âItâs not a story everyone can stomach. Come, letâs finish this so you can write your story.â Farmhand said as he sat back on the couch, a thought struck me; was I so obvious that he knew I was a journalist writing a story? Because I donât remember ever disclosing the fact I was a journalist. Regardless, we continued.
âAfter the stranger- did the act, what happened?â I asked uneasily, feeling sick to my stomach.
âHe put her in his car, and drove back to the spot where they broke down, but a half a kilometer away she woke up and he pushed her out of the car at high speed. She shouldâve died there, but she crawled, half her body scratched, scraped and broken. She died slowly and alone. Before she died she heard her boyfriend calling for her.â Farmhand continued.
âDid he ever find her?â
There was silence, even the birds had stopped chirping and the street had gone quiet.
âNo, I donât believe he did. Whether or not he died looking is another story, but thatâs not what youâre here for.â The Farmer said as he stood up, placed his hat on his head and began to walk off, before he passed me, he put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it.
âPromise me one thing; be careful. Can you do that for me, Alex?â Farmhand said before he patted me on the shoulder and walked off without waiting for my answer. I turned to confront him but he was gone, it couldnât have been more than a second, but it was like he vanished into thin air. I was left confused and bewildered. The notes were real, the pen marks solid and clear. The events I was informed of felt vivid, yet the silence that fell around me felt otherworldly. I was feeling lost and exhausted before, now I was more awake than I had ever been.
Around eight that night, the sun had set and the mountain had cast a chilling shadow over the down I stayed, sleet had been reported near us and snow on the mountain. If I was going to get the answer I so desperately wanted, I was going to have to earn it. I walked to my car, steam cascading from my nostrils as the cold air turned frigid with even the slightest of breezes. I got in my car and drove to the first rest point along the mountain to gather some supplies: Some water and snacks, a couple of pre-charged battery packs for my recorder as I donât want to stop every fifteen to twenty minutes to write down my experience. This would also prove if I was going insane or not, when asked by a couple of the staff at the store, I told them my intentions and they sounded interested for the first time. When I left I tested the packs and sure enough; fully charged and my recorder was clean and ready to be used.
I approached the entrance to the mountain pass that had been the setting for this ghost story that has latched on to me since childhood. No street lamps, no signs, yet the road itself was painted brightly and every so often a glowing marker was placed to ensure you knew when to turn and when to slow down. The threshold felt like a portal, the point where light didnât reach and would not pass, even down to the road, where it was light, it looked traveled on, occupied and used; the mountain pass looked pristine; almost as if it hadnât been touched for decades. As I looked beyond the pass, far below what was called the foothills of the Drakensberg, a large highway was built, the lights from the cars, the lamps and signs glowed for kilometers in the distance. After delaying for twenty minutes, I turned my car on, flicked on the high-beams and began my journey.
Every few minutes I would check my recorder, to make sure it was on and still functioning, it lay on the passenger seat in plain view, I could see some bright lights giving me the information if the screen was somehow obscured. It was a long while before anything happened. Maybe it was paranoia, maybe it was anxiety, whatever it was wouldnât stop me from exploring this legend. Worst thing that could happen is I travel sixty kilometers and nothing happens and it turns out my grandfather was just trying to scare me. I turned again after a lengthy passage of time and I got my answer.
I donât remember stopping, I donât even think I saw anyone on the side of the road, maybe it was while I was looking at my recorder, but I felt a cold presence behind me.
âDo you know where youâre going?â Asked a voice, a quiet but feminine voice. A chill erupted throughout my body; a violent sense of panic coursed through my mind because I knew where the sound came from. It came from behind me. My hands began to shake but I dared not take my hands away from the wheel.
âDo you?â It asked again. The answer got caught in my throat, I found myself unable to speak.
âNo, not really.â I managed though my voice felt hoarse.
âYou seem to know what you want.â The voice said again, it sounded curious. I stayed silent, the road twisted and wound around the mountain in a chaotic and frantic fashion.
âAre you scared?â She asked again, the voice coming from next to me. I turned to look but a cold hand kept my eyes glued to the road.
âKeep your eyes on the road, enough people have died here.â She said, as my nerves calmed slightly.
âWho are you?â I asked, my eyes focused and the world around me much less than an echo.
âWhy do you want to know?â She asked, sounding more like she was in a void, her voice had more of an echo than anything else.
âI want to know what happened here. The true story.â I said after taking a breath and gathering my nerves, the road seemed to calm down, from sharp uphill turns to moonlight sweeping curves that allowed my gaze to rest as the shadow of the trees passed us by.
âCan I trust you?â She asked, the question rang through my head as I remember what Farmhand said, how she trusted a stranger who took advantage of her.
âYes. Yes you can.â I said after a while. The figure turned to me; I could feel her eyes scrutinize every inch of me.
âYouâre not like him?â Her questions kept hammering into me, I felt a mix of fear and guilt, knowing who she was referring to.
âI wonât hurt you. I want to help.â I said after a while, gathering a fragile sense of courage as my hands shook furiously. The road seemed to twist and turn, harsh rising hills. Sharp corners told the tale of her many victims as my headlights passed by, the scrapes and dents of hard hits leading to a drop that seemed to have no end, not a single tree could be seen and the moonlight from high above could not pierce the dark veil that lingered joust over the edge of the road. After a while, she spoke again.
âAlright, I trust you.â She said as I allowed my eyes to wander, the figure relaxed in the passenger seat for a while, my recorder on the center console as I saw her blue skin, almost emitting a frozen chill as I saw her dress, torn and tattered, my stomach felt uneasy when I saw bruising and swelling near her inner thighs. Her hands crossed in her lap as I saw the scratches and what looked like deep cuts on her arms and exposed shoulders from the straps on her dress. I could not see much of her face as it seemed her face was bleeding.
âWhat happened that night?â I asked, concentrating on the road again. My passenger stayed quiet for a while, quietly shuddering and sniffing before she spoke again.
âI was happy, a man I loved decided I would be his date for the matric dance. Weâd known each other since we were children. My best friend. We were driving along this road to get to the lodge, where the dance was being held.â Her voice sounded sourly-joyful, her hands didnât move from her lap much, so as to not distract me with her hand movements.
âIt was a while before town, the car started shaking. I thought the tire had blown, but smoke came from the front. We stopped nearby.â She pointed and I could see the flashing of hazard lights and the smell of smoke invaded my nostrils.
âI thought Iâd get some help, he said heâd be fine and that I should hurry back. I walked for a while; it was a cold night still. I walked for, I donât know how long. But I managed to get an old man to stop. He said heâd help; we just need to get my man and heâd sort out the car.â She said as the road began to crack and fall apart at the edge.
âDo you know what he did?â She asked me, I assumed it was a test to see if I was listening.
âHe deceived you.â I answered. She nodded, looking down for a short while before continuing.
âHe asked why I was alone on this road. I told him I wasnât, that I was on my way to town with my man, and I told him about who he was, what he meant to me. I was overjoyed when I saw him, my joy turned to confusion, to horror as he sped up and ran him over. I saw his body roll into the trees, I thought for sure he was dead.â She pointed to the part of the road that had a piece of cloth swaying in the breeze, marking where her man was hit and last seen by her.
âAfter I witnessed my childhood innocence be ripped from me, he finally stopped, that butcher! I blacked out with a sharp pain, when next I woke, I couldn't feel my legs and my fingers were numb. Just before I said anything, he pushed me out of his car. I remember falling, the road was like ice, all I could do was crawl.â She said, her anger translating to the road shifting and breaking apart, turning violently uphill only for the sheer drops and sharp turns that threatened to throw me off the edge. I barely managed to keep the car on the road as the road shifted again, it was so silent that I could hear the tires screeching like a distant wail.
âIâve searched for years, if heâd ever return, Iâd make sure he never left like he left me.â She said as the note my grandfather left in his books, the man who was panicked and sketchy, had his autopsy reveal that he was of the elderly group. I felt a slight pang of guilt as I realized that the man who did this to her was probably dead for a while. I weathered her storm of rage as the stretch of road became calm, as did she.
âIâm sorry you suffered like that; I wish there was something I could do.â I said unconsciously. I felt her gaze soften to me; her rage calmed as she went back to her neutral position.
âHe was called âFarmhand. Because he was trustworthy, kind and reliable..â My eyes widened as the realization crashed on my face: He lived.
âIf you arenât like how he was, then you donât deserve to leave this road.â Her voice was harsh, the road began to fall apart, the cracks forming as parts fell away like they had been falling apart for years, though my body was fatigued, I kept the car on the road. As uncomfortable as the ride was, the road soon turned into dirt paths, completely unlit and unpredictable. It felt like hours before it returned to normal, albeit slowly, my hands still shook relentlessly. I understood her outrage. I couldnât imagine the trauma she experienced, the sadness.
âIf you would like, I can take you back to town.â I asked. In retrospect, that was a stupid question.
âI donât know.â She replied, unsure and confused.
âNo rush, we have time.â I said as I turned around and began my long drive back to town. The road swerved and waved calmly, completely different to the approach. I drove to the point where The Lady in White was last seen, after a while I parked my car near the spot and looked to my side. The woman wasnât there. I looked at my watch and my recorder. The sun had begun to rise over the hills, the air was crisp and fresh, I stayed for a while to just take in the sight of a calm morning before turning my recorder off and driving back.
I returned to my hotel room and after placing everything on the desk, I fell onto my bed and fell asleep, my body was exhausted and my mind was fatigued beyond words. I fell into a dreamless sleep and woke up in the afternoon. Having something to eat I went over the events from last night, pen and paper at the ready, I prepared to hear myself talking to nothing and no one. The doubt set in before I even hit the play button, after a while of convincing myself that I have some concrete evidence, I pressed play. To my surprise, it sounded like there were two people in the car, me and a woman, although the womanâs voice was covered by static. I wrote down all I could, that is what youâre reading.
The next couple of days went by and nothing special happened, I kept to myself most of the time. While analyzing everything I captured. It all seemed like a dream, an incredibly vivid dream. The last note I made during this investigation was: if something like that exists here, surely more stories remain in this part of the world. As the trees faded into the distance as the bus trundled along the trail back, the forest retreating as I returned back to the concrete and steel, it wasnât long before the questions I had before, followed me home.
Roaming Road/ Lady in White Part 2
I took a week off of work and college had started their two-week break before the next semester. I took my chance and cleared my calendar and booked a trip to the town where my grandfather stayed while he was a journalist. The greyhound ride was a good time for me to figure out my approach, while the busy cityscape outside my window slowly faded into Southern African wilderness, nothing but trees and empty kilometers of road before I reached my stop, a homely town that seemed well connected to the rest despite the distance. It had been many years since my grandfather had set foot in this town, yet I could feel his influence. The roads were now cracked and showed their wear, shops and residences had been renovated and upgraded, looking more modern and slightly out of place.The hotel my grandfather stayed at while on the investigation was now a more comfortable looking lodge, with a view over the rolling foothills of the Drakensberg and the surrounding cities, one of which I could see my home, vaguely. The sun had begun to set and I still needed to get my information from the residents. I unpacked my things after booking my room and set out, like a tourist with a pen and notebook in hand asking anyone what they may know. To no oneâs surprise, they mostly looked at me like I was insane or a knock off Leon Schuster trying to get them to react in a funny way. I had almost given up completely until I sat near one of the social areas where they would light a fire and residents at the lodge would sit and relax while watching the sun go down. I was alone there and just sat drawing the distant landscape dreading the silence for the next week while I waited for the next bus to arrive and Iâd return home. Two days passed in mainly silence.
That was until a man sat near me, dressed in weathered jeans and an old top with work boots covered in dust and dirt, his face obscured by a large hat covering his face, his hands in his pockets even as he sat but his arms almost looked skeleton like, his long white hair flowing from either side of his hat.
âCan I help you?â I asked, feeling like he was trying to get my attention.
âNo, but I can help you. You cause quite a lot of noise, trying to get the people to talk about something that scares them.â He said, his voice didnât come across as harsh, more like cautious. The first person who decided to talk to me in a casual manner since a couple days ago. He wanted to tell me what I wanted to know.
Without any hesitation I turned to the page I set aside for notes when the man chuckled.
âSomething funny?â I asked.
âYouâre going to need more pages than that.â He said, flicking his hat up slightly while he sat back and got comfortable.
âTrust me, this is all I need.â I said feeling like I had to tiptoe around the subject as to not let the opportunity slip, but I also felt overwhelmingly anxious, almost like someone else was watching us. I felt my gaze shift every so often over my shoulder trying to find the entity that was staring a hole through me, apart from a quiet street crossing and some pedestrians; nothing.
âSomething there?â Asked the man, as I shook off the feeling. I started getting a bit annoyed by the short answers and questions.
âJust feel like-, never mind. If youâre ready to help give me some information, what should I call you?â I asked as the man took a moment.
âCall me âFarmhandâ. Since itâll sound better than my real name, youâll find that out in time.â Said Farmhand as I wrote that down in my notebook and began phrasing the question in my mind as to get the proper answer. Furiously tapping my pen on the page.
âJust ask, I already know what you want to know.â He said, I looked up from the page, slightly irritated by the confidence.
âHow can you be so sure, Farmhand?â I blurted.
âYou arenât the first person to go on this goose chase. The Lady in White is very particular in her targets.â Farmhand explained, I wrote down everything.
âWhatâs her story, like the true story; why does she haunt this stretch of road?â I asked. Farmhand chuckled.
âShe doesnât haunt, sheâs simply looking for a lift.â He said in the distinct Afrikaans twang that so many white South Africans have, itâs by no means ominous, more of a conversation encouragement than anything else.
âA lift? To where?â I asked. I heard so many different types of tales, from her being hostile to men, a companion to young women and a bit of both to younger males. But the main part that stayed the same was that they were alone.
âHer matric dance, my seun.â Farmhand said, the only other person to call me âSeunâ was my dad, the Afrikaans for son.
âWhat exactly happened?â I asked, pen at the ready.
âThe legend goes far back, but the main story that my pa always told me was that she was with her boyfriend in the car, they went along this road and broke down; one of the worst places to break down since around eight is when the busses shut down and the last train has departed from the station. She chose to try down the street, bearing in mind how dangerous that is these days, it was a little bit less so then.â Farmhand said as he took off his hat, keeping his gaze at the setting sun.
âHow much less dangerous?â I asked.
âSnakes, though the venomous Boomslang doesnât go out of its way to kill you, no Black Mambaâs live up here. No, we have jackals and caracals, they hunt in packs and pick you off in the dead of night.â Farmhand explained.
âIs that how it happened, how she died?â Farmhand chuckled lightly.
âNope, she saw a car in the distance and flagged them down, asked them to help take her to town or help her boyfriend. The man took her up the road and when they started to approach where she had broken down, the boyfriend tried flagging them down. Her joy turned to terror as the stranger sped up and before the boyfriend knew it, the car had hit him. The last she saw of him was him tumbling down the hill among the trees.â Farmhand said. Placing his hat on his chest, closing his eyes and bowing his head. After a short silence, I asked:
âWhat happened next?â
âWell, the girl was hysterical, the car was still speeding up and she yelled at the man to stop, and kept pleading for him to let her go. Eventually the man had stopped, the girl got out and started calling to the boyfriend to see if he had somehow survived, as she did, the stranger hit her on the back of her head and had his way with her.â Farmhand said, provoking a sour taste in my mouth, a sheer sense of guilt welled up in my stomach.
âNow I understand why no one was willing to tell me the story.â I said, slightly defeated. The man put a hand on my knee like my grandfather used to and looked me in the eye. For the first time I noticed his wrinkled but kind face, he smiled.
âItâs not a story everyone can stomach. Come, letâs finish this so you can write your story.â Farmhand said as he sat back on the couch, a thought struck me; was I so obvious that he knew I was a journalist writing a story? Because I donât remember ever disclosing the fact I was a journalist. Regardless, we continued.
âAfter the stranger- did the act, what happened?â I asked uneasily, feeling sick to my stomach.
âHe put her in his car, and drove back to the spot where they broke down, but a half a kilometer away she woke up and he pushed her out of the car at high speed. She shouldâve died there, but she crawled, half her body scratched, scraped and broken. She died slowly and alone. Before she died she heard her boyfriend calling for her.â Farmhand continued.
âDid he ever find her?â
There was silence, even the birds had stopped chirping and the street had gone quiet.
âNo, I donât believe he did. Whether or not he died looking is another story, but thatâs not what youâre here for.â The Farmer said as he stood up, placed his hat on his head and began to walk off, before he passed me, he put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it.
âPromise me one thing; be careful. Can you do that for me, Alex?â Farmhand said before he patted me on the shoulder and walked off without waiting for my answer. I turned to confront him but he was gone, it couldnât have been more than a second, but it was like he vanished into thin air. I was left confused and bewildered. The notes were real, the pen marks solid and clear. The events I was informed of felt vivid, yet the silence that fell around me felt otherworldly. I was feeling lost and exhausted before, now I was more awake than I had ever been.
Around eight that night, the sun had set and the mountain had cast a chilling shadow over the down I stayed, sleet had been reported near us and snow on the mountain. If I was going to get the answer I so desperately wanted, I was going to have to earn it. I walked to my car, steam cascading from my nostrils as the cold air turned frigid with even the slightest of breezes. I got in my car and drove to the first rest point along the mountain to gather some supplies: Some water and snacks, a couple of pre-charged battery packs for my recorder as I donât want to stop every fifteen to twenty minutes to write down my experience. This would also prove if I was going insane or not, when asked by a couple of the staff at the store, I told them my intentions and they sounded interested for the first time. When I left I tested the packs and sure enough; fully charged and my recorder was clean and ready to be used.
I approached the entrance to the mountain pass that had been the setting for this ghost story that has latched on to me since childhood. No street lamps, no signs, yet the road itself was painted brightly and every so often a glowing marker was placed to ensure you knew when to turn and when to slow down. The threshold felt like a portal, the point where light didnât reach and would not pass, even down to the road, where it was light, it looked traveled on, occupied and used; the mountain pass looked pristine; almost as if it hadnât been touched for decades. As I looked beyond the pass, far below what was called the foothills of the Drakensberg, a large highway was built, the lights from the cars, the lamps and signs glowed for kilometers in the distance. After delaying for twenty minutes, I turned my car on, flicked on the high-beams and began my journey.
Every few minutes I would check my recorder, to make sure it was on and still functioning, it lay on the passenger seat in plain view, I could see some bright lights giving me the information if the screen was somehow obscured. It was a long while before anything happened. Maybe it was paranoia, maybe it was anxiety, whatever it was wouldnât stop me from exploring this legend. Worst thing that could happen is I travel sixty kilometers and nothing happens and it turns out my grandfather was just trying to scare me. I turned again after a lengthy passage of time and I got my answer.
I donât remember stopping, I donât even think I saw anyone on the side of the road, maybe it was while I was looking at my recorder, but I felt a cold presence behind me.
âDo you know where youâre going?â Asked a voice, a quiet but feminine voice. A chill erupted throughout my body; a violent sense of panic coursed through my mind because I knew where the sound came from. It came from behind me. My hands began to shake but I dared not take my hands away from the wheel.
âDo you?â It asked again. The answer got caught in my throat, I found myself unable to speak.
âNo, not really.â I managed though my voice felt hoarse.
âYou seem to know what you want.â The voice said again, it sounded curious. I stayed silent, the road twisted and wound around the mountain in a chaotic and frantic fashion.
âAre you scared?â She asked again, the voice coming from next to me. I turned to look but a cold hand kept my eyes glued to the road.
âKeep your eyes on the road, enough people have died here.â She said, as my nerves calmed slightly.
âWho are you?â I asked, my eyes focused and the world around me much less than an echo.
âWhy do you want to know?â She asked, sounding more like she was in a void, her voice had more of an echo than anything else.
âI want to know what happened here. The true story.â I said after taking a breath and gathering my nerves, the road seemed to calm down, from sharp uphill turns to moonlight sweeping curves that allowed my gaze to rest as the shadow of the trees passed us by.
âCan I trust you?â She asked, the question rang through my head as I remember what Farmhand said, how she trusted a stranger who took advantage of her.
âYes. Yes you can.â I said after a while. The figure turned to me; I could feel her eyes scrutinize every inch of me.
âYouâre not like him?â Her questions kept hammering into me, I felt a mix of fear and guilt, knowing who she was referring to.
âI wonât hurt you. I want to help.â I said after a while, gathering a fragile sense of courage as my hands shook furiously. The road seemed to twist and turn, harsh rising hills. Sharp corners told the tale of her many victims as my headlights passed by, the scrapes and dents of hard hits leading to a drop that seemed to have no end, not a single tree could be seen and the moonlight from high above could not pierce the dark veil that lingered joust over the edge of the road. After a while, she spoke again.
âAlright, I trust you.â She said as I allowed my eyes to wander, the figure relaxed in the passenger seat for a while, my recorder on the center console as I saw her blue skin, almost emitting a frozen chill as I saw her dress, torn and tattered, my stomach felt uneasy when I saw bruising and swelling near her inner thighs. Her hands crossed in her lap as I saw the scratches and what looked like deep cuts on her arms and exposed shoulders from the straps on her dress. I could not see much of her face as it seemed her face was bleeding.
âWhat happened that night?â I asked, concentrating on the road again. My passenger stayed quiet for a while, quietly shuddering and sniffing before she spoke again.
âI was happy, a man I loved decided I would be his date for the matric dance. Weâd known each other since we were children. My best friend. We were driving along this road to get to the lodge, where the dance was being held.â Her voice sounded sourly-joyful, her hands didnât move from her lap much, so as to not distract me with her hand movements.
âIt was a while before town, the car started shaking. I thought the tire had blown, but smoke came from the front. We stopped nearby.â She pointed and I could see the flashing of hazard lights and the smell of smoke invaded my nostrils.
âI thought Iâd get some help, he said heâd be fine and that I should hurry back. I walked for a while; it was a cold night still. I walked for, I donât know how long. But I managed to get an old man to stop. He said heâd help; we just need to get my man and heâd sort out the car.â She said as the road began to crack and fall apart at the edge.
âDo you know what he did?â She asked me, I assumed it was a test to see if I was listening.
âHe deceived you.â I answered. She nodded, looking down for a short while before continuing.
âHe asked why I was alone on this road. I told him I wasnât, that I was on my way to town with my man, and I told him about who he was, what he meant to me. I was overjoyed when I saw him, my joy turned to confusion, to horror as he sped up and ran him over. I saw his body roll into the trees, I thought for sure he was dead.â She pointed to the part of the road that had a piece of cloth swaying in the breeze, marking where her man was hit and last seen by her.
âAfter I witnessed my childhood innocence be ripped from me, he finally stopped, that butcher! I blacked out with a sharp pain, when next I woke, I couldn't feel my legs and my fingers were numb. Just before I said anything, he pushed me out of his car. I remember falling, the road was like ice, all I could do was crawl.â She said, her anger translating to the road shifting and breaking apart, turning violently uphill only for the sheer drops and sharp turns that threatened to throw me off the edge. I barely managed to keep the car on the road as the road shifted again, it was so silent that I could hear the tires screeching like a distant wail.
âIâve searched for years, if heâd ever return, Iâd make sure he never left like he left me.â She said as the note my grandfather left in his books, the man who was panicked and sketchy, had his autopsy reveal that he was of the elderly group. I felt a slight pang of guilt as I realized that the man who did this to her was probably dead for a while. I weathered her storm of rage as the stretch of road became calm, as did she.
âIâm sorry you suffered like that; I wish there was something I could do.â I said unconsciously. I felt her gaze soften to me; her rage calmed as she went back to her neutral position.
âHe was called âFarmhand. Because he was trustworthy, kind and reliable..â My eyes widened as the realization crashed on my face: He lived.
âIf you arenât like how he was, then you donât deserve to leave this road.â Her voice was harsh, the road began to fall apart, the cracks forming as parts fell away like they had been falling apart for years, though my body was fatigued, I kept the car on the road. As uncomfortable as the ride was, the road soon turned into dirt paths, completely unlit and unpredictable. It felt like hours before it returned to normal, albeit slowly, my hands still shook relentlessly. I understood her outrage. I couldnât imagine the trauma she experienced, the sadness.
âIf you would like, I can take you back to town.â I asked. In retrospect, that was a stupid question.
âI donât know.â She replied, unsure and confused.
âNo rush, we have time.â I said as I turned around and began my long drive back to town. The road swerved and waved calmly, completely different to the approach. I drove to the point where The Lady in White was last seen, after a while I parked my car near the spot and looked to my side. The woman wasnât there. I looked at my watch and my recorder. The sun had begun to rise over the hills, the air was crisp and fresh, I stayed for a while to just take in the sight of a calm morning before turning my recorder off and driving back.
I returned to my hotel room and after placing everything on the desk, I fell onto my bed and fell asleep, my body was exhausted and my mind was fatigued beyond words. I fell into a dreamless sleep and woke up in the afternoon. Having something to eat I went over the events from last night, pen and paper at the ready, I prepared to hear myself talking to nothing and no one. The doubt set in before I even hit the play button, after a while of convincing myself that I have some concrete evidence, I pressed play. To my surprise, it sounded like there were two people in the car, me and a woman, although the womanâs voice was covered by static. I wrote down all I could, that is what youâre reading.
The next couple of days went by and nothing special happened, I kept to myself most of the time. While analyzing everything I captured. It all seemed like a dream, an incredibly vivid dream. The last note I made during this investigation was: if something like that exists here, surely more stories remain in this part of the world. As the trees faded into the distance as the bus trundled along the trail back, the forest retreating as I returned back to the concrete and steel, it wasnât long before the questions I had before, followed me home.
2024.06.02 17:20 ALDO113A Beyond the Spider-Verse introductions, thematic wrap-ups, and foreshadowing - an ATSV anniversary theory
 | Shortform
PremiseHere is the textual taxonomy of trilogys as I've heard in (obscure, hard-to-find) writing structure lessons
"We're supposed to be the good guys." Miles summarized his new path throughout the movie, then Gwen called out the Society for their enabling of so much death and suffering to serve a misguided dogma. https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/File:Spider-Man_Across_the_Spider-Verse_poster_003_textless.jpg There's almost certainly gonna an all-out ideological civil war (fists or not, composite of MCU and comics, but Spiders-only) like that split poster teased. Gonna be grimly hilarious seeing Spinneret/Spiderling fight Peter B. and Mayday (the former are on Miguel's side to the left, along with Insomniac Spidey) Yes, I believe there will be a few more new support characters in Beyond - there's a reason certain folks were at the front, and it's just really curious and a wasted opportunity that this Spider-MJ didn't interact at all with this active version of her other (stillborn) daughter or her (Mayday-616B) dad. I very much appreciate the lifting of other Spidey variants to the zeitgeist fold - Noir, Ham, Gwendy-65, the UK/Punk and Indian ones, the weirdos like Parkedcar from Not! Pixar's Cars, a damn popsicle possibly (lol), a plushie, etc. - but they Events and Themes1. UniversesServing the Installment 3 role, Beyond will probably tie up loose ends and make the above themes reverberate across universes. Like, for 42:
2. Characters and DevelopmentsBy "reverberate," the Spider-Hero question is going to strike real nerves that change the Society and the world, making them examine the morality of the war they fight against anomalies like Spot; survival at all means and costs vs. idealistic stand against fate. And for certain Spiders, we could get more screentime with certain Society members and ex-members - preferably Spinneret and Spiderling, the Insomniac Spideys, and Scarlet Spider - and Endgame-ify Beyond's length.
3. FatesAnother element to be addressed is the room elephant of canon events. Their loopholes, their flexibility have to be expanded upon: They are fluid like time's arrows and oceans. For one:
At risk to himself, he'll unhesitatingly save lives while one/some of those who blindly followed him give theirs. As shitty as his Society's turned out to be, they still have their main directive of fixing multiversal incursions, and someone has to keep giving the orders, someone with the most drive and commitment (especially for atonement) Why on Miguel? Matured thinking aside, it evokes how science and philosophy works; cognitive science has this cliché of at least two sides theorizing extremes that are contrary to one another, and as time passes with discovery, the proof points to both sides having a point and deciding on a compromise; this of course goes beyond simple personal disagreement So who'll it be? Spider-gents and ladies, none other than Gwendolyn Maxine Stacy of Earth-65B In the vein of MCU Aunt May being her Pete's Uncle Ben delivering that responsibility quote, and through it occurs the Spider-Verse's true Ultimate Fallout/Death of a Spider event this way Gwen being slain and (certainly) coming back would be a wakeup call to both her world and the Society, as well as the latter group's morality in their internal strife and conflict against Spot. Redeem her image to everybody, Miles included, while allowing them to get together on solitary terms That way:
I'ma spitball here, but it's kinda like Nolanverse (TDKR) Batman, come to think of it. Maybe George is informed of and reveals his daughter's "demise" and publicizes her ident? The latter I admit is questionable Maybe Gwen goes to 1610B and RVs with Miles to Florence - there's this café on the banks of the Arno - for a fine evening sitting there and ordering a Fernet Branca XD (Potential) Foreshadowing
... "We wanted to craft this moment where Miles encounters this powerful figure in his life that he loved so much and he lost," says director Justin K. Thompson. "That's when he realizes that he is not really in his own dimension, as well as the gravity of what he has lost. In this reality, Aaron had to shake off his life of crime and became a surrogate father figure to Miles."
Interviewer: Will we see other multiversal variants of Gwen Stacy in the future even if they don't have spider powers, like you do with MJ, Uncle Aaron, and Miles?The Pete variants showed up after Blondie's demise, so they might reverse the sequence here - as I said, a bookend. Yea, all these signs totally bode well for the other blonde Spidey here https://preview.redd.it/kpz7vzvub64d1.png?width=1280&format=png&auto=webp&s=8d25e78b18f3fc82e58eb1516d1ac915fc130470
In DefenseNow calm down before you web pitchforks on me
Rachel Cole: You know what gives me the strength? My loss. We're alike that way, I imagine. Admit it, nobody who's a stranger to that particular pain could ever be as driven as us.It's relevant because Rachel's stance here was that people like them who fight for causes are solely inspired by loss, only for Matt to verbally skewer her. The subtext here, synthesizing it with the Spidey mythos is that it's misguided to think that losing forever more loved ones is the only way to make a true Spider-Hero. Flip the narrative and say "Villainy only happens if they're abused/poorly raised, alas, poor villain;" one is warranted to call it a vomitous insult to every abuse victim/improperly raised junior out there who became better than their elders/superiors - i.e. not go evil. Either way, the greater gist of this is losing a close one for good isn't the way, emphasis on "for good" Future ImplicationsWrapping everything up like above (I mean the objectives), one way or another (not necessarily mine), would show full commitment to the theme of forging one's own destiny right down to the metatextual. The Spidersoc let confirmation bias blind themselves to possibilities and seemingly have yet to expose themselves to the preestablished branch realities where, say, Spider-People lose nobody or a Gwen Stacy ties neatly her romance quest with a Spidey. The themes of doing your own thing openly and honestly and in safety - rather than requesting permission from broken systems - resonate much with an Excel list: People who are queeof colowomen/disabledBeyond that obviousness, we have disabled Spideys, Muslim Spideys (that female UK one), Blob-fat Spideys - even PLUSHIE Spideys, just to name a few, all to show the movie being the most diverse and inclusive Spidey work to date. These themes are so incredibly applicable to the lives of atypical people or otherwise people who live under systems that aren't designed for them to succeed. IE: POC, women, queer people, people with disabilities, etc. One can argue "doing your own thing" was what made ItSV such a breakthrough success and a decade phenomenon: Everything about the animation I get that a teen girl dying, even temporarily - especially one who resonates much with LGBT (transgwender specifically) themes - is real bad optics, but we went through this before with Luz Noceda (bi rep exactly) from The Owl House, and things landed on their feet :) If/When she comes back to crimefighting, this would be the moment she goes by Ghost Spider like her A self - a Gwen who fought fate and died for it, but another Spider loved her so much, he raised her from death to life in Ultimate defiance (getting flowery prose here) that prevails |
2024.06.02 17:20 lacroixlvr92 My MIL and husband are completely enmeshed.
I have ups and downs with my MIL, but we just got back from a week long vacation and I need to vent.
So Iâve been with my husband since we were in college and known his family since I was in middle school. My sister in law were good friends and me and her brother fell in love. Heâs a wonderful man. Generous, kind, lovingâŠI could go on. Heâs amazing.
ButâŠthe dynamic between him and his mom is unhealthy. She (MIL) was always like âIâm the cool momâ growing up. She smoked and drank with her kids and I thought it was cool bc I did that stuff tooâŠbut now Iâve stopped drinking (so has my husband) and itâs very clear she has a drinking problem along with my father in law & itâs been that way for years.
Sheâs very helpful with my kids (my son is autistic, so I need the help), but itâs always been âon her scheduleâ if that makes sense. She tells me âIâm happy to help anytime and Iâm here for youâ but in reality thatâs not the case. Her mental health is horrible (prob bc of all the drinking) yet she takes a bunch of meds for depression that clearly donât work. (Btw I am in NO WAY shaming taking meds, Iâm on them myself and struggle with anxiety and depression.)
Anyway it feels like sheâs basically brainwashed my husband into being her support person bc my father in law isnât emotionally available. She crumbles at any kind of stress and drinks it away. She had a panic attack last year and told everyone it was a stroke even though we knew the truth.
We just got back from vacation and she lost an old friend (tragically) she barely spoke to, and she spent the entire time in her room isolated in bed. She told me all she wanted to do was lay in bed all day and that she was sick. She is also scared of the sun & doesnât even step foot on the beach because her brother died from skin cancer over 10 years ago. He was a surfer so naturally he was always in the sun. I had a slight sunburn last week and she was like âomg!!!â And was freaking out. Sheâs dealt with a lot (the deaths and her aging parents) but tends to project her emotions on everyone. By the end of the trip I was crying bc I just felt so much darkness around me. Plus Iâm stressed as well w things going on in my own life.
She has made my husband totally dependent on her. When he has the kids by himself he always rushes over to her house. My husband calls and talks to her all day, sometimes ignoring my calls bc heâs on the phone with her. They text constantly as well even though she lives 5 min away. I canât say ANYTHING critical about her or my husband will shut me down or change topics. I suggested maybe she needs to go to therapy bc my husband has a lot going on with work plus a family of his own. He canât be her therapist. Iâm scared itâs taking a toll on our marriage :/
Thanks for reading. I honestly feel selfish for writing this, I know everyone deals with things differently but after being around her wallowing in sadness itâs affected all of us.
submitted by lacroixlvr92 to motherinlawsfromhell [link] [comments]
So Iâve been with my husband since we were in college and known his family since I was in middle school. My sister in law were good friends and me and her brother fell in love. Heâs a wonderful man. Generous, kind, lovingâŠI could go on. Heâs amazing.
ButâŠthe dynamic between him and his mom is unhealthy. She (MIL) was always like âIâm the cool momâ growing up. She smoked and drank with her kids and I thought it was cool bc I did that stuff tooâŠbut now Iâve stopped drinking (so has my husband) and itâs very clear she has a drinking problem along with my father in law & itâs been that way for years.
Sheâs very helpful with my kids (my son is autistic, so I need the help), but itâs always been âon her scheduleâ if that makes sense. She tells me âIâm happy to help anytime and Iâm here for youâ but in reality thatâs not the case. Her mental health is horrible (prob bc of all the drinking) yet she takes a bunch of meds for depression that clearly donât work. (Btw I am in NO WAY shaming taking meds, Iâm on them myself and struggle with anxiety and depression.)
Anyway it feels like sheâs basically brainwashed my husband into being her support person bc my father in law isnât emotionally available. She crumbles at any kind of stress and drinks it away. She had a panic attack last year and told everyone it was a stroke even though we knew the truth.
We just got back from vacation and she lost an old friend (tragically) she barely spoke to, and she spent the entire time in her room isolated in bed. She told me all she wanted to do was lay in bed all day and that she was sick. She is also scared of the sun & doesnât even step foot on the beach because her brother died from skin cancer over 10 years ago. He was a surfer so naturally he was always in the sun. I had a slight sunburn last week and she was like âomg!!!â And was freaking out. Sheâs dealt with a lot (the deaths and her aging parents) but tends to project her emotions on everyone. By the end of the trip I was crying bc I just felt so much darkness around me. Plus Iâm stressed as well w things going on in my own life.
She has made my husband totally dependent on her. When he has the kids by himself he always rushes over to her house. My husband calls and talks to her all day, sometimes ignoring my calls bc heâs on the phone with her. They text constantly as well even though she lives 5 min away. I canât say ANYTHING critical about her or my husband will shut me down or change topics. I suggested maybe she needs to go to therapy bc my husband has a lot going on with work plus a family of his own. He canât be her therapist. Iâm scared itâs taking a toll on our marriage :/
Thanks for reading. I honestly feel selfish for writing this, I know everyone deals with things differently but after being around her wallowing in sadness itâs affected all of us.
2024.06.02 17:19 ALDO113A Beyond the Spider-Verse introductions, thematic wrap-ups, and foreshadowing - an ATSV anniversary theory
| | Shortform
PremiseHere is the textual taxonomy of trilogys as I've heard in (obscure, hard-to-find) writing structure lessons
"We're supposed to be the good guys." Miles summarized his new path throughout the movie, then Gwen called out the Society for their enabling of so much death and suffering to serve a misguided dogma. https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/File:Spider-Man_Across_the_Spider-Verse_poster_003_textless.jpg There's almost certainly gonna an all-out ideological civil war (fists or not, composite of MCU and comics, but Spiders-only) like that split poster teased. Gonna be grimly hilarious seeing Spinneret/Spiderling fight Peter B. and Mayday (the former are on Miguel's side to the left, along with Insomniac Spidey) Yes, I believe there will be a few more new support characters in Beyond - there's a reason certain folks were at the front, and it's just really curious and a wasted opportunity that this Spider-MJ didn't interact at all with this active version of her other (stillborn) daughter or her (Mayday-616B) dad. I very much appreciate the lifting of other Spidey variants to the zeitgeist fold - Noir, Ham, Gwendy-65, the UK/Punk and Indian ones, the weirdos like Parkedcar from Not! Pixar's Cars, a damn popsicle possibly (lol), a plushie, etc. - but they Events and Themes1. UniversesServing the Installment 3 role, Beyond will probably tie up loose ends and make the above themes reverberate across universes. Like, for 42:
2. Characters and DevelopmentsBy "reverberate," the Spider-Hero question is going to strike real nerves that change the Society and the world, making them examine the morality of the war they fight against anomalies like Spot; survival at all means and costs vs. idealistic stand against fate. And for certain Spiders, we could get more screentime with certain Society members and ex-members - preferably Spinneret and Spiderling, the Insomniac Spideys, and Scarlet Spider - and Endgame-ify Beyond's length.
3. FatesAnother element to be addressed is the room elephant of canon events. Their loopholes, their flexibility have to be expanded upon: They are fluid like time's arrows and oceans. For one:
At risk to himself, he'll unhesitatingly save lives while one/some of those who blindly followed him give theirs. As shitty as his Society's turned out to be, they still have their main directive of fixing multiversal incursions, and someone has to keep giving the orders, someone with the most drive and commitment (especially for atonement) Why on Miguel? Matured thinking aside, it evokes how science and philosophy works; cognitive science has this cliché of at least two sides theorizing extremes that are contrary to one another, and as time passes with discovery, the proof points to both sides having a point and deciding on a compromise; this of course goes beyond simple personal disagreement So who'll it be? Spider-gents and ladies, none other than Gwendolyn Maxine Stacy of Earth-65B In the vein of MCU Aunt May being her Pete's Uncle Ben delivering that responsibility quote, and through it occurs the Spider-Verse's true Ultimate Fallout/Death of a Spider event this way Gwen being slain and (certainly) coming back would be a wakeup call to both her world and the Society, as well as the latter group's morality in their internal strife and conflict against Spot. Redeem her image to everybody, Miles included, while allowing them to get together on solitary terms That way:
I'ma spitball here, but it's kinda like Nolanverse (TDKR) Batman, come to think of it. Maybe George is informed of and reveals his daughter's "demise" and publicizes her ident? The latter I admit is questionable Maybe Gwen goes to 1610B and RVs with Miles to Florence - there's this café on the banks of the Arno - for a fine evening sitting there and ordering a Fernet Branca XD (Potential) Foreshadowing
... "We wanted to craft this moment where Miles encounters this powerful figure in his life that he loved so much and he lost," says director Justin K. Thompson. "That's when he realizes that he is not really in his own dimension, as well as the gravity of what he has lost. In this reality, Aaron had to shake off his life of crime and became a surrogate father figure to Miles."
Interviewer: Will we see other multiversal variants of Gwen Stacy in the future even if they don't have spider powers, like you do with MJ, Uncle Aaron, and Miles?The Pete variants showed up after Blondie's demise, so they might reverse the sequence here - as I said, a bookend. Yea, all these signs totally bode well for the other blonde Spidey here https://preview.redd.it/kpz7vzvub64d1.png?width=1280&format=png&auto=webp&s=8d25e78b18f3fc82e58eb1516d1ac915fc130470
In DefenseNow calm down before you web pitchforks on me
Rachel Cole: You know what gives me the strength? My loss. We're alike that way, I imagine. Admit it, nobody who's a stranger to that particular pain could ever be as driven as us.It's relevant because Rachel's stance here was that people like them who fight for causes are solely inspired by loss, only for Matt to verbally skewer her. The subtext here, synthesizing it with the Spidey mythos is that it's misguided to think that losing forever more loved ones is the only way to make a true Spider-Hero. Flip the narrative and say "Villainy only happens if they're abused/poorly raised, alas, poor villain;" one is warranted to call it a vomitous insult to every abuse victim/improperly raised junior out there who became better than their elders/superiors - i.e. not go evil. Either way, the greater gist of this is losing a close one for good isn't the way, emphasis on "for good" Future ImplicationsWrapping everything up like above (I mean the objectives), one way or another (not necessarily mine), would show full commitment to the theme of forging one's own destiny right down to the metatextual. The Spidersoc let confirmation bias blind themselves to possibilities and seemingly have yet to expose themselves to the preestablished branch realities where, say, Spider-People lose nobody or a Gwen Stacy ties neatly her romance quest with a Spidey. The themes of doing your own thing openly and honestly and in safety - rather than requesting permission from broken systems - resonate much with an Excel list: People who are queeof colowomen/disabledBeyond that obviousness, we have disabled Spideys, Muslim Spideys (that female UK one), Blob-fat Spideys - even PLUSHIE Spideys, just to name a few, all to show the movie being the most diverse and inclusive Spidey work to date. These themes are so incredibly applicable to the lives of atypical people or otherwise people who live under systems that aren't designed for them to succeed. IE: POC, women, queer people, people with disabilities, etc. One can argue "doing your own thing" was what made ItSV such a breakthrough success and a decade phenomenon: Everything about the animation I get that a teen girl dying, even temporarily - especially one who resonates much with LGBT (transgwender specifically) themes - is real bad optics, but we went through this before with Luz Noceda (bi rep exactly) from The Owl House, and things landed on their feet :) If/When she comes back to crimefighting, this would be the moment she goes by Ghost Spider like her A self - a Gwen who fought fate and died for it, but another Spider loved her so much, he raised her from death to life in Ultimate defiance (getting flowery prose here) that prevails |
2024.06.02 17:19 No_Rule_3933 My aunt said something that hurt my feelings. What to do?
She told me that I get fixated on things, big and small. I asked her what she meant by âsmall thingsâ and she sighed and said, âI knew you were gonna ask that.â Then she went on to list a few examples, like a favorite musical artist of mine or a new Sonic game coming out. I said that I thought it was normal for people to talk about their interests and she said, âNot like you do.â I asked her how it was any different with me and she said, âBecause itâs all you talk about. You canât talk about anything else and you always jump back to taking about it when youâre on another topic.â
Now my feelings are hurt. I feel more self-conscious and apprehensive about talking about or engaging in my interests. I ask myself, âWhat if Iâm not doing this right?â, âWhat if Iâm talking about this for too long?â, âWhat if Iâm not doing this the way my aunt likes me to do it?â
What should I do now? Should I talk to her about what she said and how it made me feel? Or should I keep distance from her? On one hand, I know that communication itâs important when it comes to relationships (family, friends, etc.), but sometimes it doesnât work depending on the person. Iâve tried talking to my aunt about other things sheâs said that I found hurtful, but those conversations didnât really go anywhere. She justified them. On the other hand, itâs reasonable to want to keep someone that has hurt you at arms length, but would that just be me avoiding my problems? Iâm torn.
submitted by No_Rule_3933 to Advice [link] [comments]
Now my feelings are hurt. I feel more self-conscious and apprehensive about talking about or engaging in my interests. I ask myself, âWhat if Iâm not doing this right?â, âWhat if Iâm talking about this for too long?â, âWhat if Iâm not doing this the way my aunt likes me to do it?â
What should I do now? Should I talk to her about what she said and how it made me feel? Or should I keep distance from her? On one hand, I know that communication itâs important when it comes to relationships (family, friends, etc.), but sometimes it doesnât work depending on the person. Iâve tried talking to my aunt about other things sheâs said that I found hurtful, but those conversations didnât really go anywhere. She justified them. On the other hand, itâs reasonable to want to keep someone that has hurt you at arms length, but would that just be me avoiding my problems? Iâm torn.
2024.06.02 17:19 ALDO113A [Spider-Man] [Marvel] Beyond the Spider-Verse introductions, thematic wrap-ups, and foreshadowing - an ATSV anniversary theory
| | Shortform
PremiseHere is the textual taxonomy of trilogys as I've heard in (obscure, hard-to-find) writing structure lessons
"We're supposed to be the good guys." Miles summarized his new path throughout the movie, then Gwen called out the Society for their enabling of so much death and suffering to serve a misguided dogma. https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/File:Spider-Man_Across_the_Spider-Verse_poster_003_textless.jpg There's almost certainly gonna an all-out ideological civil war (fists or not, composite of MCU and comics, but Spiders-only) like that split poster teased. Gonna be grimly hilarious seeing Spinneret/Spiderling fight Peter B. and Mayday (the former are on Miguel's side to the left, along with Insomniac Spidey) Yes, I believe there will be a few more new support characters in Beyond - there's a reason certain folks were at the front, and it's just really curious and a wasted opportunity that this Spider-MJ didn't interact at all with this active version of her other (stillborn) daughter or her (Mayday-616B) dad. I very much appreciate the lifting of other Spidey variants to the zeitgeist fold - Noir, Ham, Gwendy-65, the UK/Punk and Indian ones, the weirdos like Parkedcar from Not! Pixar's Cars, a damn popsicle possibly (lol), a plushie, etc. - but they Events and Themes1. UniversesServing the Installment 3 role, Beyond will probably tie up loose ends and make the above themes reverberate across universes. Like, for 42:
2. Characters and DevelopmentsBy "reverberate," the Spider-Hero question is going to strike real nerves that change the Society and the world, making them examine the morality of the war they fight against anomalies like Spot; survival at all means and costs vs. idealistic stand against fate. And for certain Spiders, we could get more screentime with certain Society members and ex-members - preferably Spinneret and Spiderling, the Insomniac Spideys, and Scarlet Spider - and Endgame-ify Beyond's length.
3. FatesAnother element to be addressed is the room elephant of canon events. Their loopholes, their flexibility have to be expanded upon: They are fluid like time's arrows and oceans. For one:
At risk to himself, he'll unhesitatingly save lives while one/some of those who blindly followed him give theirs. As shitty as his Society's turned out to be, they still have their main directive of fixing multiversal incursions, and someone has to keep giving the orders, someone with the most drive and commitment (especially for atonement) Why on Miguel? Matured thinking aside, it evokes how science and philosophy works; cognitive science has this cliché of at least two sides theorizing extremes that are contrary to one another, and as time passes with discovery, the proof points to both sides having a point and deciding on a compromise; this of course goes beyond simple personal disagreement So who'll it be? Spider-gents and ladies, none other than Gwendolyn Maxine Stacy of Earth-65B In the vein of MCU Aunt May being her Pete's Uncle Ben delivering that responsibility quote, and through it occurs the Spider-Verse's true Ultimate Fallout/Death of a Spider event this way Gwen being slain and (certainly) coming back would be a wakeup call to both her world and the Society, as well as the latter group's morality in their internal strife and conflict against Spot. Redeem her image to everybody, Miles included, while allowing them to get together on solitary terms That way:
I'ma spitball here, but it's kinda like Nolanverse (TDKR) Batman, come to think of it. Maybe George is informed of and reveals his daughter's "demise" and publicizes her ident? The latter I admit is questionable Maybe Gwen goes to 1610B and RVs with Miles to Florence - there's this café on the banks of the Arno - for a fine evening sitting there and ordering a Fernet Branca XD (Potential) Foreshadowing
... "We wanted to craft this moment where Miles encounters this powerful figure in his life that he loved so much and he lost," says director Justin K. Thompson. "That's when he realizes that he is not really in his own dimension, as well as the gravity of what he has lost. In this reality, Aaron had to shake off his life of crime and became a surrogate father figure to Miles."
Interviewer: Will we see other multiversal variants of Gwen Stacy in the future even if they don't have spider powers, like you do with MJ, Uncle Aaron, and Miles?The Pete variants showed up after Blondie's demise, so they might reverse the sequence here - as I said, a bookend. Yea, all these signs totally bode well for the other blonde Spidey here https://preview.redd.it/kpz7vzvub64d1.png?width=1280&format=png&auto=webp&s=8d25e78b18f3fc82e58eb1516d1ac915fc130470
In DefenseNow calm down before you web pitchforks on me
Rachel Cole: You know what gives me the strength? My loss. We're alike that way, I imagine. Admit it, nobody who's a stranger to that particular pain could ever be as driven as us.It's relevant because Rachel's stance here was that people like them who fight for causes are solely inspired by loss, only for Matt to verbally skewer her. The subtext here, synthesizing it with the Spidey mythos is that it's misguided to think that losing forever more loved ones is the only way to make a true Spider-Hero. Flip the narrative and say "Villainy only happens if they're abused/poorly raised, alas, poor villain;" one is warranted to call it a vomitous insult to every abuse victim/improperly raised junior out there who became better than their elders/superiors - i.e. not go evil. Either way, the greater gist of this is losing a close one for good isn't the way, emphasis on "for good" Future ImplicationsWrapping everything up like above (I mean the objectives), one way or another (not necessarily mine), would show full commitment to the theme of forging one's own destiny right down to the metatextual. The Spidersoc let confirmation bias blind themselves to possibilities and seemingly have yet to expose themselves to the preestablished branch realities where, say, Spider-People lose nobody or a Gwen Stacy ties neatly her romance quest with a Spidey. The themes of doing your own thing openly and honestly and in safety - rather than requesting permission from broken systems - resonate much with an Excel list: People who are queeof colowomen/disabledBeyond that obviousness, we have disabled Spideys, Muslim Spideys (that female UK one), Blob-fat Spideys - even PLUSHIE Spideys, just to name a few, all to show the movie being the most diverse and inclusive Spidey work to date. These themes are so incredibly applicable to the lives of atypical people or otherwise people who live under systems that aren't designed for them to succeed. IE: POC, women, queer people, people with disabilities, etc. One can argue "doing your own thing" was what made ItSV such a breakthrough success and a decade phenomenon: Everything about the animation I get that a teen girl dying, even temporarily - especially one who resonates much with LGBT (transgwender specifically) themes - is real bad optics, but we went through this before with Luz Noceda (bi rep exactly) from The Owl House, and things landed on their feet :) If/When she comes back to crimefighting, this would be the moment she goes by Ghost Spider like her A self - a Gwen who fought fate and died for it, but another Spider loved her so much, he raised her from death to life in Ultimate defiance (getting flowery prose here) that prevails |
2024.06.02 17:19 ALDO113A [Spider-Man] [Spider-Verse] Beyond the Spider-Verse introductions, thematic wrap-ups, and foreshadowing - an ATSV anniversary theory
| | Shortform
PremiseHere is the textual taxonomy of trilogys as I've heard in (obscure, hard-to-find) writing structure lessons
"We're supposed to be the good guys." Miles summarized his new path throughout the movie, then Gwen called out the Society for their enabling of so much death and suffering to serve a misguided dogma. https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/File:Spider-Man_Across_the_Spider-Verse_poster_003_textless.jpg There's almost certainly gonna an all-out ideological civil war (fists or not, composite of MCU and comics, but Spiders-only) like that split poster teased. Gonna be grimly hilarious seeing Spinneret/Spiderling fight Peter B. and Mayday (the former are on Miguel's side to the left, along with Insomniac Spidey) Yes, I believe there will be a few more new support characters in Beyond - there's a reason certain folks were at the front, and it's just really curious and a wasted opportunity that this Spider-MJ didn't interact at all with this active version of her other (stillborn) daughter or her (Mayday-616B) dad. I very much appreciate the lifting of other Spidey variants to the zeitgeist fold - Noir, Ham, Gwendy-65, the UK/Punk and Indian ones, the weirdos like Parkedcar from Not! Pixar's Cars, a damn popsicle possibly (lol), a plushie, etc. - but they Events and Themes1. UniversesServing the Installment 3 role, Beyond will probably tie up loose ends and make the above themes reverberate across universes. Like, for 42:
2. Characters and DevelopmentsBy "reverberate," the Spider-Hero question is going to strike real nerves that change the Society and the world, making them examine the morality of the war they fight against anomalies like Spot; survival at all means and costs vs. idealistic stand against fate. And for certain Spiders, we could get more screentime with certain Society members and ex-members - preferably Spinneret and Spiderling, the Insomniac Spideys, and Scarlet Spider - and Endgame-ify Beyond's length.
3. FatesAnother element to be addressed is the room elephant of canon events. Their loopholes, their flexibility have to be expanded upon: They are fluid like time's arrows and oceans. For one:
At risk to himself, he'll unhesitatingly save lives while one/some of those who blindly followed him give theirs. As shitty as his Society's turned out to be, they still have their main directive of fixing multiversal incursions, and someone has to keep giving the orders, someone with the most drive and commitment (especially for atonement) Why on Miguel? Matured thinking aside, it evokes how science and philosophy works; cognitive science has this cliché of at least two sides theorizing extremes that are contrary to one another, and as time passes with discovery, the proof points to both sides having a point and deciding on a compromise; this of course goes beyond simple personal disagreement So who'll it be? Spider-gents and ladies, none other than Gwendolyn Maxine Stacy of Earth-65B In the vein of MCU Aunt May being her Pete's Uncle Ben delivering that responsibility quote, and through it occurs the Spider-Verse's true Ultimate Fallout/Death of a Spider event this way Gwen being slain and (certainly) coming back would be a wakeup call to both her world and the Society, as well as the latter group's morality in their internal strife and conflict against Spot. Redeem her image to everybody, Miles included, while allowing them to get together on solitary terms That way:
I'ma spitball here, but it's kinda like Nolanverse (TDKR) Batman, come to think of it. Maybe George is informed of and reveals his daughter's "demise" and publicizes her ident? The latter I admit is questionable Maybe Gwen goes to 1610B and RVs with Miles to Florence - there's this café on the banks of the Arno - for a fine evening sitting there and ordering a Fernet Branca XD (Potential) Foreshadowing
... "We wanted to craft this moment where Miles encounters this powerful figure in his life that he loved so much and he lost," says director Justin K. Thompson. "That's when he realizes that he is not really in his own dimension, as well as the gravity of what he has lost. In this reality, Aaron had to shake off his life of crime and became a surrogate father figure to Miles."
Interviewer: Will we see other multiversal variants of Gwen Stacy in the future even if they don't have spider powers, like you do with MJ, Uncle Aaron, and Miles?The Pete variants showed up after Blondie's demise, so they might reverse the sequence here - as I said, a bookend. Yea, all these signs totally bode well for the other blonde Spidey here https://preview.redd.it/kpz7vzvub64d1.png?width=1280&format=png&auto=webp&s=8d25e78b18f3fc82e58eb1516d1ac915fc130470
In DefenseNow calm down before you web pitchforks on me
Rachel Cole: You know what gives me the strength? My loss. We're alike that way, I imagine. Admit it, nobody who's a stranger to that particular pain could ever be as driven as us.It's relevant because Rachel's stance here was that people like them who fight for causes are solely inspired by loss, only for Matt to verbally skewer her. The subtext here, synthesizing it with the Spidey mythos is that it's misguided to think that losing forever more loved ones is the only way to make a true Spider-Hero. Flip the narrative and say "Villainy only happens if they're abused/poorly raised, alas, poor villain;" one is warranted to call it a vomitous insult to every abuse victim/improperly raised junior out there who became better than their elders/superiors - i.e. not go evil. Either way, the greater gist of this is losing a close one for good isn't the way, emphasis on "for good" Future ImplicationsWrapping everything up like above (I mean the objectives), one way or another (not necessarily mine), would show full commitment to the theme of forging one's own destiny right down to the metatextual. The Spidersoc let confirmation bias blind themselves to possibilities and seemingly have yet to expose themselves to the preestablished branch realities where, say, Spider-People lose nobody or a Gwen Stacy ties neatly her romance quest with a Spidey. The themes of doing your own thing openly and honestly and in safety - rather than requesting permission from broken systems - resonate much with an Excel list: People who are queeof colowomen/disabledBeyond that obviousness, we have disabled Spideys, Muslim Spideys (that female UK one), Blob-fat Spideys - even PLUSHIE Spideys, just to name a few, all to show the movie being the most diverse and inclusive Spidey work to date. These themes are so incredibly applicable to the lives of atypical people or otherwise people who live under systems that aren't designed for them to succeed. IE: POC, women, queer people, people with disabilities, etc. One can argue "doing your own thing" was what made ItSV such a breakthrough success and a decade phenomenon: Everything about the animation I get that a teen girl dying, even temporarily - especially one who resonates much with LGBT (transgwender specifically) themes - is real bad optics, but we went through this before with Luz Noceda (bi rep exactly) from The Owl House, and things landed on their feet :) If/When she comes back to crimefighting, this would be the moment she goes by Ghost Spider like her A self - a Gwen who fought fate and died for it, but another Spider loved her so much, he raised her from death to life in Ultimate defiance (getting flowery prose here) that prevails |