“She’s still your Mother”…really???
As the eldest child in a brood of children that numbers six children from three different fathers, I marched to the beat of the family drum that sounded the tune of “BREADWINNER”.
In the beginning, I wore it like a badge of honor because it was all I knew - it was all that was put into my head as a child. I used to hear my mother saying to her friends that “Angel is our breadwinner”. She said it with a sense of pride in her voice - and even though it was confusing to me, I accepted it as my fate - dutifully marching into the workforce, even as I watched most of my friends (whose parents were supporting THEM) head off to college.
All of them now have degrees and are striking out on their own to build their own lives - and, perhaps they will ASSIST their parents from time to time, but none of them have been harnessed with the expectation of supporting parents and siblings - let alone 5 siblings from 2 different fathers neither of which being my father!
Yes - you read that right - my ‘mother’ had a man that gave her Me, then she moved to another man who gave 4 more children, then she moved to a third man who gave her one more child.
OMG - what was she thinking?
And here I am - expected to support all of her children because she abandoned all of us long ago - just like the fathers.
But that’s not even all of it! I also receive requests for support from ‘the mother’, her sisters and occasionally the grandmother.
If you would like a definition of the phrase ‘deep resentment’, just go back to the beginning of this document and re-read it.
So let’s be CLEAR about the purpose of this writing:
I formally and categorically REJECT the notion that I bear any responsibility for supporting anyone other than myself in this life!
I did not ask to be born - but born I was - to absolutely irresponsible human beings who pinned their hopes on using me as a ladder of support in the future - by brainwashing me into believing that I ‘OWE’ my existence to my parent(s), and subsequently, that I OWE a lifetime of support back to a family that never nurtured me, rather they just groomed me for this ungodly role of BREADWINNER!
So, the above message says ‘parents’ here and there - but let me now distill it down to just ‘Mother’ because the so-called Fathers have abandoned all of us too - and it is mostly my smoking, drinking, gambler of a mother that has forced me to write a document such as this.
In fact - if I hear one more of her siblings say to me, “BUT, she’s still your mother”, I am going to SCREAM!
But, for now, this letter is me SCREAMING!!
Screaming, REALLY - she’s still my mother??
By what definition of the word ‘mother’ is she my mother?
If by the definition of being A Woman who pushed me out of her womb, then, yes, she is my mother by maternal designation.
But, by any other definition of the word??
As Mother’s Day came and went this year, I took to the internet to look at what the definition of a mother was as described by children whose mothers cared for them in ways I could only have dreamed of… here is a sample of what I read:
“selfless, loving human who must sacrifice many of their wants and needs for the wants and needs of their children”
“primary caregiver who provides love, support, and guidance to her children, helping them to develop strong self-esteem and confidence.”
In contrast to those descriptions of a mother - I read the view of psychologists who had provided therapy to children who were not blessed with the above definitions of a mother. One such view is in close alignment to my own experience:
“In my years as a psychotherapist, l've often seen a very different, and sometimes shocking view of motherhood: the narcissistic mother; the extremely neglectful mother; the exploitative mother, the hateful mother. It gives you pause.”
Yet, after years of neglect, abuse and abandonment, I am supposed to embrace my role as BREADWINNER and lovingly abandon my own dreams, work my fingers to the bone, turn over the fruits of my labor - FOR WHAT?
To take care of recklessly spawned children to whom I am only half-related?
To support a woman who claims to be my mother as she drinks, smokes and gambles everything away?
To support other fully-grown adults in her family?
no. No. NO!
YOU chose to have 6 children! YOU chose to abandon those children! YOU brainwashed me into believing it was all my responsibility- and, furthermore, you convinced me that the only way to show my love to you or to them required me to GIVE, GIVE, GIVE.
And the very moment that I couldn’t or wouldn’t give - I am reminded that I OWE YOU EVERYTHING!
REALLY? - that’s how you show a mother’s love??
So I have finally realized that this whole BUSINESS MODEL of ‘pumping out as many children as possible - just hoping, praying that 1 or 2 of them do well enough that you can suck the life-blood out of them for the rest of your life’ is a horrific business model.
IT IS ALSO ONE THAT I HAVE CHOSEN TO OPT OUT OF!
If you have read this far, you are likely a breadwinner or you are someone whose life is affected by one harnessed by the title of ‘breadwinner.
Even the word ‘breadwinner’ is revolting to me! The word ‘winner’ has no place in the description of a Filipino or Filipina unlucky enough to be given the title.
Do I feel like a Winner of anything? NO - except perhaps through my own enlightenment, I kind of feel like I am the winner of my freedom.
“The chains of a slave are broken the moment he considers himself a free man” - Mahatma Gandhi
“Modern slaves are not in chains. They are in debt.” - unknown
Harriet Tubman, when asked how she managed to save hundreds of enslaved African Americans via the Underground Railroad during the Civil War, she replied bitterly, “I could have saved thousands - if only I'd been able to convince them they were slaves”.
Are you a slave by the name, BREADWINNER?
The answer to this question is your first step toward FREEDOM.
If this message reaches one single breadwinner and helps them to understand that they have been enslaved by the very person/people that are supposed to love and protect them: their parents - and if it provides the impetus for them to escape their chains - then I will consider the telling of my story to have been a success!
Remember - the first step toward freedom is recognizing that you are enslaved.

Does anyone know what this could mean? The dreams are always pretty anxiety ridden and I’m always thinking to myself “why the f would I get this?” In one of the dreams I got a giant monster tattooed on my stomach and was pulling it out of me like a loose string on a sweater, another dream I got 20+ memorial tattoos for the same person (my best friend who passed), and last night I got this random guy’s name tattooed on me in huge letters on my arm who I don’t even know who the guy is in real life. I tried wiping it off my skin in this dream and when I did that, the tattoo turned into skin lumps that were still in the exact shape of the tattoo, and then that’s when I started literally ripping my skin off in my dream….

Ok, so I said I would return with the rest of Nathan's story and here I am. My higher-ups already know of my misdeeds when I uploaded part 1 so I don't think I'll be around much longer. Anyway, I spoke to Nathan some more and he was fully willing to finish his story. After hearing it myself and transcribing it, I fully understand why he's in a tube and why I'm monitoring him. After you read this, you will understand why as well. Let's get into it!
Barely standing and gasping for air, Nathan takes a moment to stop running and realizes he has no idea where he is going. He begins looking around to see if there’s anywhere to hide or even, hopefully, find food or at least water. After a moment, he finally spots a few buildings in the nearby distance.
With high hopes, Nathan sprints past the remaining trees ahead and makes it to the buildings. Only one specific building catches his eye. A large sign that reads GROCERY stares at Nathan from the top of the building. Without hesitation, he rushes inside and much to his amazement, there are aisles!
Nathan quickly but quietly scans each aisle. Sadly, he sees nothing. Not until he sees a small pile of snacks lying next to a fallen end cap at the end of an aisle. Excitement dances through Nathan’s body as he runs to the food and begins eating it like a wild animal. He devours every ounce of food he finds until he suddenly hears an unnerving sound.
Listening closely as possible, Nathan hears the sound of cracking bones and ripping flesh. Afraid, yet curious, he looks around the corner of the aisle and spots the legs of a woman lying in her own blood and entrails. Upon further inspection, Nathan sees what he believes to be the creature he and Charlie had seen before. It’s a large thin four-legged animal that most likely was a wolf at one point but is now just a beast. It’s feasting on the entrails of the woman’s corpse and refusing to take its taste buds away from its food. That is until it hears Nathan, who accidentally steps on a bag of chips. It swiftly averts its attention to Nathan and the sight of its face is terrifying. Its face is half torn and its eyes show exactly how bloodthirsty it is. With blood and entrails dangling from its teeth, the beast fully turns its body to Nathan and lets out a deep and disturbing growl.
Believing this to be his final moments alive, Nathan backs up and stumbles into the wall with his eyes closed and fists clenched. He is ready for the reaper to take his soul. The beast closes in on him and readies itself to charge its prey but is suddenly distracted by the voice of unwanted company. “Heel, you stupid mutt!” It’s once again Subject Zero, who is this time covered in large amounts of blood. The beast diverts its attention to Subject Zero and prepares for a fight.
Unsure as to why Subject Zero didn’t just let the beast kill him, Nathan, stands and stares in terrified confusion. As Nathan watches, Subject Zero is attacked by the beast after a failed attempt at taming it. Directly after its attack, the beast is grabbed and bashed against a wall then thrown to the floor. The animal, no longer looking like a beast compared to Subject Zero, stands again and viciously sinks its teeth into Subject Zero’s arm but its life is soon ended. With a large and swift pull on the animal’s rear legs with its teeth still bore into Subject Zero’s arm, its body rips apart and its entrails fall out onto the floor. “I knew you were a waste,” Subject Zero says with disappointment in his voice.
Nathan quickly snaps back to reality and runs out the nearby emergency exit. No longer caring about hunger or thirst, he just keeps running and doesn’t stop even when he stumbles from exhaustion. Inevitably, any hope he once had, is lost when in the not so far distance he hears, “Just because the mutt didn’t kill you, that doesn’t mean that I won’t!”
Still running further into the woods, Nathan begins to stumble. He finally stops and falls to his knees as he begins to believe he is going to die here. He falls onto his back and lies in the grass around him while releasing a long but relaxing sigh. Nathan can feel the cold hard ground beneath him as he looks up to the sky.
Filled with raging guilt and regrets, Nathan stares up to the sky in silence. It gets so silent, he can hear everything around him. He hears the wind sing through the leaves of trees. He can even hear water flowing nearby. Water! Unsure of where, he looks up quickly and listens. Finally, he spots a creek nearby and climbs to his hands and knees.
Unable to fully stand, Nathan crawls his way to the creek ignoring all of his surroundings. He reaches the creek and practically bathes himself in the near freezing water in an attempt to feel refreshed. Afterwards, he begins to guzzle the water in handfuls.
After many handfuls of water, Nathan notices something odd. The water tastes metallic as if you were sucking on an old copper penny or silver spoon. Upon this realization, he also notices the color of the water seems off. Unsure of why, he looks around only to find something far more disturbing than he imagined. An amalgamation of mutilated corpses sit nearby rotting on the rocks of the creek shore.
Realizing he had just drank water contaminated with rotting corpses of innocent people, Nathan starts getting a sick feeling in his stomach and attempts to look away but can’t get his eyes off the sight. Finally breaking, he begins gagging vigorously. He loses control and starts puking uncontrollably before ultimately collapsing from pain and disgust.
Nathan finally gets up after lying on the ground for a moment. Hoping to find at least some form of shelter, he manages to get himself up to his aching feet and stumbles his way down the creek. Eventually, he reaches the end of the creek where a large pipe is sticking out from the ground at an angle. The pipe, being large enough to fit a man, seems like a perfect place to shelter in. Before fully deciding to sleep there, Nathan looks inside hoping that it may lead to an exit from the dome but is quickly disappointed when he sees only dirt and mud. Nathan no longer cares and decides to climb into the pipe. He manages to make it an adequate resting area. Soon after, he is unable to keep his eyes open and finally falls asleep.
“Nathan, wake up. You’re going on live television.” A very familiar voice whispers to Nathan. He opens his eyes expecting to see different surroundings, but instead, he sees Charlie sitting next to him in an unfamiliar building. Obviously confused, Nathan hesitates to even move but decides to go with it. He’s led out to a room with a male interviewer, revealing that he is on a live television interview.
The interviewer looks to the camera and says, “Welcome to TalkTime, I’m your host, Tim Wiesly, and today, we have Nathan White. Just in case you don’t know, Nathan is a brilliant reporter and reports anything in the most brilliant ways. One specific story he covered about his near-death experience is what we would like to talk about today. So, Nathan, could you tell the viewers more about your experience?”
Nathan hesitates at first but oddly starts believing that he made it out of the hell he was in and just dissociated. He starts telling the interviewer everything that happened to him.
“Well, Tim, for starters, my colleague and I had found evidence that Envirodome was a test facility. Little did we know, one test they ran there was still in the facility after decades. We then found all the missing people over the years but they were unfortunate and passed away at the hands of the facilities test subject. I eventually lost my colleague and had a run in with a rabid animal as well but I got away and managed to find a place to sleep. After that, I climbed out and decided to… to…”
Nathan stops in his tracks as he realizes he can’t remember what happened after the tunnel.
“Wait. Wait, this can’t be real. I vividly remember Charlie going insane. And all those other people started losing their minds and they all started killing each other. I remember all that, yet I can’t remember a damn thing after falling asleep in that tunnel! What the fuck is going on?”
Charlie comes running out and attempts to calm Nathan but fails as Nathan screams back.
“You’re dead! You’re fucking dead! I know you are! You aren’t real. None of you, none of this! None of it is real!”
Soon after realizing everything is fake, all of Nathan’s surroundings start changing. Everything around him becomes morbidly dark and people become mutated corpses, all of which walk over to him. They all start screaming at Nathan, resulting in him breaking and he loses his mind to the brink of insanity. Out of the dark shadows, Subject Zero walks into the area as if he were a dark god who created him and was ready to destroy him. Suddenly, everyone surrounding Nathan abruptly stops screaming and looks at him. Then they all in perfect sync say, “You’re losing control, Nathan.”
Nathan angrily stands tall and yells, “Leave me alone!” After this fierce scream with his eyes shut, Nathan suddenly hears nothing but the sound of running water. He opens his eyes only to find he was still in the town under the dome. Only, now, it is somehow nighttime. Suddenly, he’s startled by the sound of splashing water. Nathan quietly looks up from the inside of the tunnel he’s lying in. In a decent distance away, Nathan sees two mannequins throwing multiple bodies into the already corpse-filled creek. Although, one body stands out amongst the rest. Charlie's. His body is mangled and mutilated. Nathan feels sick and guilty as he stares at his dead friend.
Soon, Subject Zero’s voice is heard, resulting in Nathan realizing he needs to sneak out of the area. He quickly climbs out of the tunnel and looks around. He decides his best option is to go in one direction until he hopefully reaches an edge of the dome. He believes it may help him reach the overseer’s office where the self-destruct button is.
With his new plan, Nathan quietly sneaks away until he accidentally rams into the edge of the dome. He becomes angry at first for being dumb enough to run into it, but eventually realizes he could be on his way to salvation.
Nathan, still tired, stumbles around the edge of the dome and looks strange considering the walls are simulated to look like more land. Even though Nathan can barely handle all the stress, he still forces himself to keep moving with high hopes to avenge his deceased friend. He keeps going until he stumbles over a small brush pile. He falls onto his face and notices blood pouring from his nose.
Assuming his nose has broken from the fall, Nathan quickly checks it but oddly there is no pain and the bleeding has already stopped. He’s confused but doesn’t care as he’s determined to escape. He gets up and eventually reaches an odd looking spot of the dome wall. With a closer look, he realizes it’s a door. Full of hope, Nathan quickly opens it and discovers a staircase leading to the overseer’s office.
Nathan runs up without hesitation. He reaches the top of the stairs and makes it to the controls. Being dark, Nathan feels around for a light switch but as he thinks it, the lights come on. Now with light, he sees papers lying everywhere, all with information of the dome. Apparently, the government had the technology to make all this without ever letting the public know. It was built with a self-destruct button as safety measures if anything within the dome went horribly wrong. Although Nathan thought it would be an explosion as most self-destruct buttons cause, the dome was made to disassemble itself as it counted down, allowing the slight possibility of reaching the only entrance and exit doors of the facility.
Nathan realizes he may actually have a chance to escape this hell and avenge his friend. After a small pause, he gets back to searching for the self-destruct button. He stumbles across a glass casing labeled ‘FOR EMERGENCIES ONLY’. Nathan opens the casing and prepares to press the button but is quickly distracted as a voice breaks the silence.
“This place hasn’t been real after all these damned years?” Subject Zero reacts angrily as he slowly walks toward Nathan. “I knew this place seemed a bit small, but now that I know I can get out of here, I’ll bring my tests to the whole damn world!”
“Why would you even want that?! Every single test you have done with that fucking serum has been a failure!”
“No… No, I’ve perfected my serum.”
“What the FUCK do you mean?”
Without a single other word, Subject Zero rushes toward Nathan. Nathan quickly reacts and raises his arms in defense. Suddenly, Subject Zero flies backwards as if he was shoved with incredible force. They both now know Nathan was the cause.
“That. That is what I mean.” Subject Zero says with a grin on his face.
“No, no, what the fuck. How?!”
“You really think I didn’t take the opportunity to inject a new version of the serum into you.”
“But- but there wasn’t an injection hole. Everyone else had one.”
“That’s the great thing about it. I perfected it so much that your healing is far greater than even mine AND you didn’t lose your mind like I did. That’s all I ever wanted…”
“Screw you…” Nathan clenches his fist and swings a punch at Subject Zero. Realizing things move just from his thought now, Nathan opens his hand and telekinetically throws things at Subject Zero. The two begin to have an all-out super powered brawl as Subject Zero explains to Nathan that the serum is why every pain he’s felt while in the dome went away nearly immediately. The telekinesis just happened to come into play later on. Then suddenly, Nathan is slammed through and out the overseer’s office windows. Subject Zero jumps down onto him.
Nathan gets weaker with each hit he takes but still fights on. Before he gets up, he notices that where the broken window is, the walls show their true colors of concrete gray and glass. Aside from the window, Nathan notices the door to the office is still wide open. He quickly gives Subject Zero a powerful kick to his abdomen and jumps up to run.
Nathan runs quickly up the stairs and to the self-destruct button after leaving his enemy on the ground outside. As he reaches the button, Nathan looks out the broken window at Subject Zero and prepares to press the button.
Nathan slams his hand onto the button as Subject Zero yells out in hatred. Nathan, expecting something to happen, waits. Subject Zero laughs hysterically but then suddenly is cut off by a loud voice projecting across the whole dome. “COMMENCING SELF-DESTRUCTION SEQUENCE.”
Nathan notices Subject Zero is distracted and uses this as his chance to escape. 10, 9, 8…… The countdown begins and the sun begins to rise as Nathan runs out of the office and past the unaware Subject Zero. 7, 6, 5…… The countdown continues and the facility begins to collapse as Nathan passes through the woods where he drank from the creek and soon passes the concrete room where the other people were held captive. 4, 3, 2…… The countdown gets closer to an end as the dome collapses quicker and Nathan rushes past the old house he was stuck in before. Soon enough, he gets onto the road that led him and Charlie to the town inside the dome and gets even closer to the door but suddenly Subject Zero is following behind. This time, he’s so angry and determined, Subject Zero uses his telekinetic powers to control the mangled corpses that he’s kept. He’s headed for either the door or Nathan, but Nathan doesn’t care.
1…… The countdown comes to an end and the entire dome collapses above. Subject Zero, far behind with his army of corpses, stops and accepts what is coming but Nathan keeps running in hopes to escape before the weight of a million tons comes crashing down onto him. Soon enough, the dome becomes nothing but rubble.
The entire area where the dome once stood, is now a ginormous pile of rubble and all that stands are a few trees and small bits of buildings. Nothing could have lived from inside. Unless you were close to the doors.
Nathan, barely standing or even really alive, stumbles around the rubble. With his new powers, he uses his telekinesis to move a large piece of steel revealing a small group of men nearby. Within this group are a couple of men who are clearly scientists of some sort but the others are clearly military. Nathan runs to them with hopes of help but suddenly…
“Stop right there!” One of the men yells out angrily but with a quiver in his voice. “Put your heads above your head and don’t speak!”
“Wait! I just need help!”
“I said put your hands above your head!”
Nathan is confused so he looks around in the hopes that maybe Subject Zero is who he spotted. Sadly, the guns are all being aimed straight for him.
This is the end of Nathan’s story. But it isn’t the end of mine. After hearing Nathan's story, I have an understanding of why he’s in the tube here. I can firmly admit that I’m terrified. I had no idea this is why I was sent here. I was led to believe he was just a possible danger and I needed to monitor him and continue brain scans. Little did I know, this is why.
I know it seems a bit strange and even unbelievable but I have no real reason to not believe a man trapped inside a tube. But now that he has spoken to me, he’s asked me to help him. However, I have no idea how. Aside from letting him out, there’s nothing else I can do. The higher-ups here are strict and have specifically told anyone working here not to listen to Nathan. On top of that, they're already suspicious of me. I suppose, getting his story out is one way to help him but he also wants out of here.
I don’t know what to do, but I do understand I’ve already gone too far by even listening to him. Hell, he may even be as dangerous now as Subject Zero from the story he told me. If he is, I could release a madman into the world. If he isn't, I'm letting an innocent man suffer alone in a science facility. Screw it. I’ve come to terms with what must happen. I’ll release him the moment I can, if I even can. Once this story is shown to the public, I may end up terminated. Not from my job, but from my life. If this happens then I’m sorry to Nathan. If Nathan turns out to be a danger as well, then I’m sorry to all of you. For now and possibly forever, goodbye.
PART 1:
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/1d7hsgf/im_a_scientist_and_a_man_in_a_tube_is_telling_me/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

I've seen a lot of these on the sub at one time or another, and I thought it'd be cool to put them all in one place and crowdsource any that I'm missing. (FYI, my interest is mostly in Greece/Rome, so a lot of the references to other cultures/mythologies go over my head.)
FAMILY NAMES:
Lykos: Lykos means "wolf" in Ancient Greek. So "sic hunt lupus" is pretty literal for Darrow.
Barca: The Barca family were perhaps the greatest enemies of Rome in its entire history. Hannibal Barca (crossing the Alps with elephants guy) is the most famous, but his father Hamilcar and brothers Hasdrubal and Mago were also huge pains in the ass. (And for me, they have to go down as having some of the coolest names in all ancient history.)
Telemanus: The family name of Ajax, the enormous Greek warrior who fought at Troy. Ajax and Diomedes were considered the greatest warriors in the Greek army after Achilles. Checks out.
Augustus: The chosen name of the first Roman emperor, Octavian Augustus. Augustus wasn't a family name, but rather a title picked specifically by Octavian to fit his political needs. (He needed something fancy, but not too-kinglike.) It can be translated variously as "magnificent" or "venerated" or "revered."
Julii: One of the ancient Patrician families of Rome. The most famous member of the Julii clan, of course, is Julius Caesar, the dictator who brought the Roman Republic to its end. Their family claimed descent from the goddess Venus.
Fabii: Another of the ancient Roman Patrician families. They claimed descent from Hercules. Early in Rome's history, their entire family line was nearly wiped out when 306 Fabii males died in the same battle. The sole male survivor had been too young to go to war. Probably the most famous Fabii is Fabius Verrucosus, the first Roman general to have any success fighting Hannibal Barca. (And by "fighting" I mean "running away and avoiding pitched battle at all costs.") The strategy allowed Rome to recover from some serious losses but made Fabius incredibly unpopular. Some of the ancient sources describe him as a cautious and submissive child who grew into a lion-esque defender of the Republic.
Bellona: The Roman goddess of war. She was famous for her battle bloodlust, but I don't know if there's a more specific connection.
Raa: Ra was the sun god of ancient Egypt, but that’s all I got.
Grimmus, Valii-Rath, and Lune: I couldn't find anything for these. (The first person to comment, "Actually, Lune means moon in Latin" is a pixie.)
FIRST NAMES:
Darrow: This is obviously a deeply symbolic etymological reference to the Gaelic word for "oak tree," which is itself a nod to the troubles of the Irish working class and a foreshadowing of Darrow's wisdom and strength of char...Oh. PB said he just wrote a bunch of words on a whiteboard? And then he mashed them together until he found one that sounded cool? Gotcha. No, totally, that works too.
Diomedes: This is one of my favorites. Besides Achilles, Diomedes was the greatest Greek warrior in the Trojan War. The account of Dares the Phrygian describes him as "brave, dignified, and austere." Hm. So there's a brave, dignified, austere warrior who is the second-most deadly fighter of his faction behind only a rage-filled madman. Where have I heard that one before?
Atlas: The Titan who was forced to hold up the sky. Ironically, I think this is basically how the Fear Knight sees himself -- burdened with brutal but essential purpose.
Octavia: The female version of Octavian, which was the given name of the first Roman emperor.
Orion: A literal hunter in the stars. Pretty blunt, but that feels on brand for her.
Lysander: There are a couple Lysanders, but the most famous is the Spartan king who defeated the Athenians and ended the Peloponnesian War. Unlike many of the other Spartans, who were relatively isolationist and conservative, Lysander wanted to replace the Athenian empire with a Spartan version. There are some other interesting parallels, most notably that several of Lysander's victories over the Athenians were the result of scheming, surprise, and betrayal, rather than outright war. Weirdly, none of the ancient historians mention that he was a backstabbing little asshole.
Cassius: The internet says that the name means either "helmeted warrior" or "hollow/pointless," so I'm not sure if there's anything there. The most famous Cassius is Gaius Cassius Longinus, who is notable for his instigating role in the assassination of Julius Caesar.
Nero: Famously fiddled while Rome burned. (Pixie number one: "Actually, it was a lyre, since the fiddle wasn't invented yet." Pixie #2: "Actually, actually, he was more into acting than music, and his initial crisis response to the fire was pretty good.") Whatever. (Though for real, the historiography behind Nero's reputation is super interesting. Turns out that burning a bunch of Christian monks is not a good long-term PR strategy.)
Romulus: Killed his brother in order to found a city/empire in his preferred location. I was so sure this name would pay off and it just never did. A reminder to take all this with several grains of salt.
Virginia/Sevro/Adrius/Ragnar: I think these are also in the "they just sound cool" category. I guess you can start making anagrams and finding etymological connections, but it all seems like a stretch to me.
Other prominent names that just seemed like too much of a stretch: Faran, Arcos, Victra, Regulus Colloway, Votum, Falthe, Flavinius, Dido, Tactus, Roque. I'm curious if someone sees direct ties for any of these. (I accidentally went into full Pepe Silvia mode here, so if you find yourself reading about 12th-century Italian noblemen or the etymology of "saffron," you've gone too far.)
And there are really cool histories for Cipio, Cicero, Electra, Niobe, and a few others, but they didn't feel like big enough characters to include.

When someone you love just disappears, it messes with your entire life. For me it was my 13 year old brother David. I loved my older brother so much. We were living in a small farm town in the Pennsylvania countryside. At that time we were living in one of the oldest houses in town. Our house was built sometime in the late 1700s.
On the night he went missing, I remember my parents weren’t home that night for whatever reason, but back in the 80s it was considered okay to leave your kids home alone. Me and my brother were both sitting on the floor in the living room, listing to the radio broadcast. My brother asked me to fill him a glass of Hawaiian Punch. After I went to the kitchen and poured him a glass, he had completely vanished from the living room.
I remember that exact moment as clear as day. I thought he was playing a trick on me, I played along but when I search every room in that damn house, not a hair was out of place. He couldn’t have gone outside because I was by the front door the whole time, and the windows were sealed shut since by the previous owner. The basement door in the living room was wide open. The only place he could’ve gone. When I left to fill up his drink it was shut. I was horrified of the basement as a kid because there’s no electricity down there and it litterly looked like a dungeon. I yelled his name from the top of the stairs countless times but he never answered. Even though I was 11 that basement still scared me.
I remember that night, sobbing uncontrollably, and when my parents finally pulled into the drive way the next morning, I was still in tears when I told them about David. Mom and dad checked the whole house.
I then told dad about how the basement door was wide open, and when he walked down into the basement. I remember sitting on the couch next to the basement door, hoping my dad would walk back up with David, but when Dad walked up those stairs his face had gone completely pale. In his hands were my brothers clothes from the night before. I can’t describe how horrified I was. He dropped them onto the ground, and walked upstairs to where mom was. I then got on the ground and crawled toward the clothes. Exactly what my brother was wearing before he disappeared. I sorted through them. Everything he wore that night, shirt, pants, underwear, socks. Everything stripped from him.
I could here my parents voices from upstairs. My mother than came sprinting down the stairs and got on the phone with the police. My dad ran outside and into the field.
When the police finally arrived the entire police team thought he must have gone outside and got lost in the near by forest, but I knew for a fact he was in that house. The Police officers spent weeks searching the woods and fields near our house. The police checked the basement, but said there was nothing. They closed the case about a half a year later. The entire town assumed it was a kidnapping. I knew it was something to do with that basement but I could never get myself to go down there.
After his disappearance life continued for our family, we turned David’s bedroom into a guest bedroom. I hated how my parents did that, it felt like they were trying to move on. I was unable too, loosing David was a huge damper over my entire family. Something that would hang over our heads our entire lives. Moms way of copping with the grief was just erasing all memory of him. I hated her guts for that.
Every-time I looked at that basement door growing up, I could feel something behind it. I remember one day when I was 16, I was putting DvDs away in the living room, I was sitting a few feet away from that door and I smelt something familiar. The smell was seeping through the cracks of the door. It was what my brother smelt like. I got up and nearly ripped that door off the hinges. I ran downstairs into the darkness. The entire room smelt like David’s old bedroom. It was pitch black, but I knew he was in there. I started screaming his name, I screamed his name for hours until Dad finally came down. Dad couldn’t smell it. He thought I was insane. I remember I couldn’t talk for weeks after that.
Nowadays the 30 year anniversary of David’s disappearance is rolling around. I can say it’s been along 30 years without him. I’m now living alone an hour or so away from my childhood town. I had to get out of there as soon as possible, when I turned 18 I started looking toward apartments in town, and by my 20th birthday I was out the door. My parents continued to live in that house. My mom developed stage 3 breast cancer about 3 years ago and was forced into a group home closer to the hospital. My father was given the option to move with her and sell the home, but he decided to stay there and continue farming. My Mother and father had a tough relationship ever since I left the house so Dad didn’t mind the quiet.
Later on, my dad fell off his tractor and broke his knee, and is now unable to walk without a cane. He then moved in with mom then sold me the land for free and insisted that I moved back into that house. I wanted nothing to do with that house. I had to pay taxes for that house on top of my own taxes. I then allowed tenants move in. They were young couple, late 20s. Of course my stubborn old man was angry with me for letting a desperate couple live in the vacant house. They’ve been living in that house for almost a year now and they called me up last week complaining about a decaying smell coming from the basement. By that time I had learn to adapt from David’s death. I told them I’d check it out the next morning. That was the biggest mistake of my life. I woke up early the next morning and drove to the house. It felt odd driving back their. Those fields, it all felt so familiar. I tried not to think about how scared I was of that basement growing up. Fortunately my dad finally added electricity down in the basement.
I pulled into the driveway. They were both waiting outside for me. They said it smelt like something was rotting down their. I had everything I’d be needing, asbestos masks, medical gloves, eye protection. I worked as an air duct cleaner a few years ago so I have some background knowledge.
I walked into the house, and headed for the basement door. I never seen what It actually looked like down there until now. I opened the door and could immediately smell it, something was rotting in there. I turned on the light switch. Ahead of me was an empty room. It was small. Looked to be about 15 by 10 feet big. This basement had been haunting me for all these years, seeing it with the lights on felt off. The walls were stone, except for one. One of the walls stood out, it was wood instead of stone. The smell was clearly coming from the wood. The wood was rotting. I walked over and I thought the best idea would be just to tear the whole wall down. I started tearing pieces of rotten wood off the walls. Light started to seep into the other side. There was a secret room in the basement. I stopped and infront of me I saw what looked like human flesh. I couldn’t describe how horrified I was. I would rather go to hell than relive that terrible moment.
I started smashing that wall with all the force in my body until it finally gave in. The creature infront of me, just the sight of it made me want to claw my eyes out. It was in a fetal position The skin wasn’t pale, it was white, and it looked like the flesh had been melted to the bones. The fingernails and toenails stretched halfway across the room. The worst part was that it wasn’t dead, it was breathing. It was alive. “David” I said in a terrified voice. It slowly lifted its head and looked at me. The face looked completely mutated, but those eyes, those eyes were my brothers eyes. It tried to speak. It tried with everything in it. That thing was my brother David. I had so many question’s. How was he alive? what did he eat? How could he breath? What the fuck happened? I kept the questions to myself. That was my brother in that basement. This whole time he’s been in that fucking basement. I didn’t say another word to him. I ran upstairs and out to my car. I opened up my glove box and grabbed my gun. By the time I got downstairs, David had stood up. Dragging his long nails behind him. “Julian” he growled. I then shot him in the head.
At the top of the stairs were the tenants questioning the gun shot. They walked down the stairs to investigate. By the time I heard them scream I was already out the door and backing out of their driveway.
I didn’t shoot David because I was scared of him, I shot him because I of how awful the situation was. That was 2 days ago. I’ve been driving ever since. The only time I stopped was to fill my gas tank. I don’t know where the hell I am, last time I checked it said I was in Kansas. I don’t know what to do. Should I join Davis in the afterlife, or should I try to move on. The most sickening thing is not knowing what happened. “What the fuck happened” I keep asking myself. “What the hell happened”

As Ssykrex glides into the gymnasium he finds himself bemused by the amount of new students. He feels a twinge of guilt for taking advantage of the gentle giants fearsome appearance but it isn't his fault these new heavyworlder's are great for business. If even a third of these new pupils stick around he might finally turn his dojo into something respectable. As Ssykrex makes his way to the center of the padded mats he sizes up the new group. A variety sensory organs peer back at him, he can taste their nervousness in the air. Around 60ish locals from the surrounding system all around 3-5 units tall, perfect.
"Greetings Gentlebeings!" the reptilian Auzkul exclaims "and welcome to Self Defense amongst the Stars, My name is Ssykrex and I will be your instructor this evening"
He pauses a moment to retrieve a beaten up holo emitter from his satchel placing on the floor before continuing.
"The subject of today's lesson will be how to defend oneself from the Galaxies newest xenos... Terrans" During the pause he uses the end of his tail to activate the emitter, a fuzzy blue 3d render sputters to life. He gives the emitter a smack and the picture clears showing a rotating Terran standing in a neutral pose. Ssykrex beams in pride as a variety of fear responses are let out, he knew giving the render an intimidating expression would set the mood.
"In today's lesson we will go over the BEST methods you can use to defend yourselves from a Terran, that being said however the best defense against ANY xeno who wishes to harm you is to simply not be there!" A few faces look back him in confusion, Ssykrex continues.
"Flee! Scream for help! Get away from them as fast as possible and as safely as possible. That is your first and best defense. What I will be teaching you today I hope you never need and should only be used as a last resort." A few faces look almost disappointment that they shouldn't be fighting for their lives but it is better to be a coward and live than die to some hab block ganger.
"However sometimes slithering away is not possible, you are cornered in an alley or there is no where to run. In those instances you can and should use what I am going to teach you, it may save your life. This is especially true when regarding Terrans as these primates evolved as persistence hunters" A few faces perk up as the 3d render changes from a neutral pose to one of the Terran running. Ssyrex can't help but think how silly the thing looks flinging it's appendages one in front of the other but a quick flick of his tongue tells him the room does not agree.
"Their stamina is reported to be near limitless and as such running from one when help is not immediately near by is not recommended. They will simply catch up to you and then you will be back where you started except now you are tired." He let's out a small chuckle.
"First lets go over some things you should not attempt" The rendered Terran stops running, returning to a neutral position, the skin disappears revealing the Terran's musculature and bone.
"Being from a heavyworld their muscle, bones and skin are much tougher than the galactic average and while not impervious to laceration or piercing is nearly impossible incapacitate quickly though these means. A Terran can lose 15% of it's blood before it starts to feel any effect and will be incapacitated only once they've lost more than 30% of it. Their internal organs are also protected by their thick musculature and dense bone making it very difficult damage one in a fight" The Terran's torso becomes translucent showing the Terran's inner organs, small noises of disgust can be heard from the class.
"So when cornered by a Terran it is best to first disable them by striking fiercely and quickly at one of their weak points, many of which are located about the head" The skin of the render is returned, it focuses on and enlarges the head of the grimacing Terran.
"First this area of the skull is particularly vulnerable to blunt or gouging attacks" The nose and eyes are highlighted red.
"Like most of us Terrans do not enjoy having their sensory organs attacked, and while their "eyes" are recessed into their skulls successfully jabbing or scratching them will make it much harder for a Terran to pursue you. The nose similarly if stuck with enough force can actually kill a Terran by forcing the bone into the brain." The render shifts cutting off the top of the skull, the red sections now highlighting the chin and neck of the Terran.
"Second are the jaw and throat, also known as the "Windpipe" while I wouldn't suggest these as a first choice if your not capable of being precise they are the quickest way to incapacitate a Terran. If possible a quick blow to the side of a Terran's jawbone will actually cause their brain to jostle within the skull and render them unconscious. A blow or laceration to the "windpipe" will cause quite a bit of pain as well as prevent them from breathing. It is very difficult for a Terran to do anything if it cannot breath much less chase you." The 3d render returns to the Terran to a standing neutral pose.
"This however does present two issues for most of us, one of which I'm sure the majority of you have already thought of" The Terran render doubles in size dwarfing the Auzkul, the Terran's head now nearly touching the ceiling.
"Terrans are incredibly large, on average being 8 units tall but some can even reach 11 units. If I were to try and coil up then leap at a Terran's head I would barely reach their neck and I'm taller than most of you while on my stomach! The second issue is this" The render changes from a neutral position to the Terran standing in a conventional "boxing" pose it's arms held in front of it's face and torso.
"This common fighting position is incredibly adept at protecting most of a Terran's weak points and even an untrained one will take up this position just as a result of seeing it so often in their media. So what is there to do? How can we not only bring the Terran's head down within our reach while also moving their powerful limbs out of the way? Well let me introduce you to the Terran's true weakness" The render focuses and zooms on the Terran's waist the red now highlighting a spot between their legs.
"The Groin"

He’s alright now. I love that shitty joke. I also have a shitty sense of humor. But that’s obvious, isn’t it?
I’d tell you my name, but let’s keep the anonymity on that for the time being. I like to have that kind of barrier when I’ve spoken to deranged medical students and a woman who thought she could be physically turned into a car. I wish I was joking.
I’m from Minnesota. I’m Latino and bi. I’m also a Gemini and my MBTI is ENFJ. I study business, I used to study sociology but then I dropped out of uni. Long story. I work as a server at a hotel for events such as weddings, birthday parties, business retreats. I love it and I hate it, the pay is why I’m still there.
I love listening to music, my favorite genres are rap, r&b, and alternative rock. I love to write from fiction to journaling. I love pretty much art in general, traveling, learning new things, and going out. Also play video games, but I haven’t had much time lately. I’m pretty much a pothead so I hope you’d be fine with that lmao. I feel like I can get along with anyone as long as you can put effort into the conversation lol.
I’d appreciate if you tell me a bit about yourself once you message me. Also Id prefer that you’re from a timezone (CST) close to me since we’d be able to chat instead of one of us being asleep. I’m cool with moving onto a different platform later on.

Here’s my experience with a former roommate who turned out to be a stalker because of some legitimate concerns. Note: all names of people and places, including my own and my GF, have been changed for anonymity.
TLDL: A former roommate who had legitimate concerns turned into a raging stalker while framing me and my GF as a stalker.
For context, I’ll mention a little bit about my GF Angel. Both me and her are from my hometown, for anonymity let’s call it Greenville, she went to this nicer private school called Central Christian High school and played on their soccer and hockey team. Since I absolutely hated my high school, East high, I decided to support her high school, going to her games, theater performances, etc. In other words, I became a major fan of her high school teams rather than mine. Along with this, I took a creative writing class for my senior year of high school and in that class the teacher had us all come up with a pseudonym for fun since many authors do that. My GF helped me out with this since we both like to write. After a couple of hours of not being able to come up with one, we used a random letter generator online and came up with D K Hanson. Somehow the name stuck with me and I decided to keep it. During this time, me and my GF had finished reading Fifty Shades of Grey (don’t judge lol) and we became hooked on it. Because of this I decided to write my own. Of course, I only included the clean parts for my class project. After hours of decided what the plot was going to be, who the characters are, we decided to write about two college students falling in love, mainly since both of us were extremely excited for college. Down the road I wrote five different drafts not knowing I was going to eventually publish it.
Now here’s the part that involves my former roommate. Me and my GF both moved to the same city for school, but attended two different colleges. She helped me move in since my move in time was in the morning and hers was in the late afternoon. When we were getting my stuff in my dorm room, my roommate Dan comes in and instantly him and my GF start talking. It turns out both of them went to the same high school. I know I selected on the dorm application that I wanted a roommate with similar interests, but I never expected this. Later on, about a month in we were in my room and she helped me write another draft of my novel, and we joked to Dan that my pseudonym matched his name but it was a coincidence. The three of us laughed it off and I assumed it was all good, maybe then it was. Around this time the conversation of Minecraft started, and I told Dan I had an account for the game but lost interest so I decided to give him the account. The rest of the school year went by fine and honestly there isn’t much to talk about since it was all uneventful (expect maybe for some dirty dishes, the usual conflicts).
A year later and I was able to self publish my novel and write two sequels. I was so excited that I finally got my own work out on the market. The sales were decent, enough to food each month. About three months after getting my novel published, I got an email from the dean of students requesting a casual meeting to get my side of the story on an issue. I asked Angel fi she knew if I did something to anyone and we both weren’t sure. I got in a meeting with the dean the same day. She discussed a report from Dan saying I wrote my novels about him. I was shocked, but at the same time took it as a joke. She showed me a laundry list of concerns he had in my novel, some of which included: the main characters being identical to him, the pseudonym matching his name, the protagonists house matching his, etc. While many drafts of the novel were written when we were rooming together, the first set of drafts were done way before. None of the characteristics changed. I set up another meeting with the dean for the following day so I could bring in proof such as timestamped drafts, a video from snapchat (also timestamped) showing me choosing my pseudonym, along with more time stamped photos of me and Angel and her high school for various events. The dean was satisfied with our evidence and she even brought up my housing application where I selected to live with someone with matching interests. She also recommended I reach out to Dan recognizing his concern and offer to change the characteristics. I agreed and sent him an email saying:
“Hi Dan,
First off, I would like to apologize for any potential similarities between the characteristics of (redacted book title for privacy) and your won personality. I would like to reassure you that the characteristics are heavily based upon myself and my girlfriend Angel. To make you more comfortable, I would be more than happy to hear your concerns as to which exact similarities make you see yourself in my novel. Let me know and I’ll make the necessary changes ASAP.”
Within a day, Dan replied in a homophobic manner (my book involves gay characters):
“Dude, you INTENTIONALLY wrote your f*cking (redacted homophobic slur) ass book about me. Take the f*cking thing down NOW. No changes, just want to see the book down. F*cking creep.”
This, of course, was reported but nothing was done as they claim there’s no way to prove his personal email is actually his, although the context kinda proves it anyway.
A year down the road, me and my GF Angel went to various places throughout Greenville, parks, restaurants, etc. About half the time, he’d show up there and make a scene claiming we had followed him there. Every time he would take pictures of us while telling us we were going to be exposed. It wasn’t until we went to a Red Robin twice in a month where he did the same thing and the manager was able to pull up the security footage of both incidents showing us there an hour prior to Dan showing up. We later found out he was making fake Snapchat accounts pretending to be people I knew from high school just to see our location on the Snap map. After we figured this out, we turned our location off in the app which made these incidents stop.
About a month later Dan showed up at Angel’s house and went into the back yard where we were. He demanded that I take my book down and he wasn’t going to leave until I do. I told him that wasn’t going to happen and the opportunity to change the book is long gone. He continued to refuse to leave which caused us to get the police involved where he was arrested. This, along with him following us around town, allowed us to get a restraining order against him.
As if the drama was over, a few months later I received a random texts with one of them saying:
“GET OFF THE MCFREEDOM SERVER AND QUIT STALKING DAN!”
After repeated texts about a Minecraft server I used to play on in high school, I decided to investigate since I gave Dan my Minecraft account. Sure enough, on the forum for the server there were numerous screenshots of my account still being used with the name of account changed to disgusting sexual names with some of a few of them being: DanHasAHotAss, SpankingDan, StalkinDan, etc. Along with this, numerous passages from my novel were shared on the servers forum, which keep in mind the novel is strictly for adults and this is a Minecraft server. There was also posts showing pictures of Dans face on numerous items like pillows, glassware, and candles. Looking at the dates of the forum posts, this occurred from 2018 - 2021. Since it was clear Dan was doing this to frame us as his stalkers, we decided to go to the police, of whom did nothing saying they can’t prove it was Dan. I was able to submit a help request on help.minecraft.net explaining the situation, and thankfully they deactivated my old account.
I never, in a million years, expect this to happen from someone who I shared a room with in college. So yeah, this is my roommate from hell.

Yeah, this is gonna be a long one.
And before you click-clack your keyboard after you read the title, "They're not related! They just look a lot like us because that's how mortal minds process 4D beings!" just know that you're wrong. If they were truly hyper-agonal 4D beings with alien geometry we can't comprehend, why can we loot armor off of them and wear it as a puny, vile 3D pathetic mortal? Why can we cut the head off of a Xivilai and trust that it'll die when we do it? Our bodies and those of Daedra match up perfectly. There's no illusions there. They have a circulatory system like we do, the organs in their bodies are in the same exact places we have organs in ours, the whole "4D eldritch horror" explanation feels cheap and very rough around the edges. It makes next to no logical sense. This is probably a case of characters bullshitting, not actual lore.
Tell me, how many times have Daedra outright lied to us? How many times have mortal and Daedra alike told us that Daedra are full of shit in the games? There were lorebooks in Battlespire and ESO that said that Daedra can't feel love and all this other nonsense, when we know they can. There are multiple accounts of Dremora falling in love with mortals, and I'm sure everyone here knows that Lyranth wants to tie the Vestige to her bed in ESO.
With Daedra and emotions, I'd bargain that their clans and kingdoms and everything in between are just really repressive of emotion, like with male gender roles in our society. Emotional men are almost universally considered weak. If men show emotion, they will forfeit respect, relationship status, reputation, etc. Human society dictates that men must be emotionless, and I believe Daedric society is pretty much the same, but way stricter and all-encompassing, instead of just the men.
Most likely, a lot of them are horribly repressed and psychologically damaged, resulting in angry, sadistic killing machines because they are taught that cruelty is the only outlet to express themselves. Daedra live eternally, meaning they are exposed to millennia of psychological conditioning to the point that they believe they're emotionless. The reason why cases like Lyranth are so rare is because most Daedra are completely mentally broken, so far gone they can't be salvaged.
It's said that Fargrave's inhabitants are overall "happier" and more in-touch with their emotions than other Daedra for this reason-Fargrave is outside the bounds of any clan or Oblivion plane, meaning there's going to be a cultural divergence, especially since Fargrave is a place that mortals and Daedra cohabit. It's a more forgiving environ overall than, say, Coldharbour.
Which segways into our next bit, Daedric evolution, biology, and reproduction. I get that Lyranth also said that "oh, Daedra that look alike aren't actually related." Well, then I must ask, what the hell is a Xivkyn then? The lore explanation for the Xivkyn was that Molag Bal "combined the essences" of the two species. We don't know what the fuck that means, and seeing how he "combined his essence" with humans to create vampires, I'd wager the methods he used weren't exactly pleasant. He's the literal god of rape, I'm sure he isn't gonna shy away from pulling a Saruman to make super-soldiers.
A horse and a donkey can breed to make a mule, everyone knows this. Let's say that Dremora and Xivilai can do the same. This actually would make sense lore-wise, considering TES is another one of those stories where everything came from the same place. The et'Ada.
Some of the et'Ada, the original spirits, decided to fuck off elsewhere while the rest made the world. These spirits became the Daedra. Instead of creating and populating Mundus, the Daedra created and populated their own realms in Oblivion.
The et'Ada that settled Nirn eventually morphed into Men and Mer. But what about the et'Ada that settled the Deadlands or the Shivering Isles? Well, they would have became the lesser Daedra. The reason Dremora look similar to elves (even in ESO) is because Dremora and Mer have a common ancestor. Everything sapient does. Xivilai are just much, much closer to Dremora than Bretons are evolutionarily, hence why they can breed.
"But...Daedra can't breed" I hear you say. This is...another lazy piece of lore that doesn't make sense. A militarist hierarchy would need a constant flow of new meat to push around while the generation before them ranks up. You can't structure one around people being beat up and tortured for eternity with no escape. Think about it. In order for rank to mean anything, it has to be special. A small group of people given eternal lives wouldn't really have rank at all, because everyone has a literal eternity to rank up, and eventually, everyone would be a Valkynaz. Meaning that "Valkynaz" would be an empty title with no meaning, because it isn't special.
In order for rank to exist in an eternal society, people would have to be confined to their roles with no chances of ranking up, or eventually everyone would. And if you do that, the much larger lower castes would rebel against the higher castes because eternity is a long time to be tortured for, meaning that every single Daedric clan would be wrought with civil war at every turn and would barely function as an army, let alone a government.
Every dictatorship needs new blood to beat on, otherwise it will fall. Every society is built on the backs of its youth. Every society HAS to be able to breed, especially a society like the Daedric clans. Don't pester me about eventual overpopulation, if Oblivion is truly infinite, that wouldn't be a problem. Infinite daedra for infinite realms. Makes sense to me.
I'd imagine the sapient Daedric races would give live birth because they have...noticable features that are only present in mammals. Torvesard also has a navel, indicating live birth. As for the Battlespire text on the clan-bond, I'd take that as "we do have parents, we just don't know them." Daedra, or at least Dremora, would probably be raised communally. This would make them loyal to the clan and the clan alone, and they wouldn't prioritize their family over their government or their superiors.
As for their language, they definitely have their own. People say they don't have one, and the names are in Ehlnofex. The thing is, the lesser Daedra diverged from the et'Ada that became the Ehlnofey, why would they speak the Tamrielic proto-language? And "Zynoahz" is definitely not an Ehlnofex word from what we've seen of the language. What the Dremora chant in the Imperial City sounds more like Spanish than Ehlnofex too.
But that's my two cents. Hope you liked hearing it.

The story takes place in the medieval time of kings and queens. In the place where there are four kingdoms with the names of the four seasons. Two large arranged marriages begin a terrible event, which will change everyone’s life, turning them into other people. Belle, the queen discovers that her own son was killed by her husband under the command of his mistress. Cassian, has a bad relationship with his father, after the death of his mother, he is hated by his people, is a man without mercy to his enemies. But after discovering that his father plans his death in a war, he is forced to team up with Queen Belle to prevent the war from happening, as her husband is also plotting against her for his death. The two embark on a journey in search of an unknown kingdom never seen, but always spoken of in mystical stories of the kingdom. In the midst of all this obstacle that arises, Cassian is injured, Belle kidnapped by outlaw men, but manages to escape to the kingdom ruled by women. Meanwhile, in his kingdoms, King Cassian’s best friend joins his father at the beginning of the war. Read more

Throwaway account because my Reddit username is the same as all of my other social media accounts.
I (27 NB) have known my wife (27F) since we were 14, right after she had her daughter. We ended up bonding over the fact we're both victims of SA and nobody believed us. She had her daughter after getting assaulted by one of her CCD teachers and nobody believed her because "he was a church man and a follower of god". I got assaulted by my childhood best friend and nobody believed me because "girls can't rape girls".
When we were 21, I had been dating a guy for several years and we were roommates with Christina and her daughter. I came home on him raping her on the couch one day. But I was in severe denial about it and I ended up breaking off my friendship with Christina and staying with him. I called her a liar and believed my boyfriend. I didn't accept what I saw until months later, when I found out my boyfriend had written a lengthy journal entry about what he did to her and all the sick fantasies in his head about the entire situation.
It took time, but Christina and I made up. Then we ended up in a relationship about three years ago and I finally accepted my true gender identity and she was the only one who accepted me. We got married about 6 months ago. She works as a special education teacher and I'm an event photographer and also help design local billboard ads with a small company. We have our own house and we have a dog and three cats. Her daughter has her own room and we have two other rooms. One's an office and one's going to be a nursery because Christina's pregnant. (We started the treatments with an anonymous sperm donor about a year ago, after we got engaged, and her mom helped us pay for it.) Genuinely, our past is not picture perfect by any means, but our present is closer than either of us have ever thought it would be.
The only issue we have is that Christina's daughter absolutely hates my guts. She never listens to me and is always fighting me. It started when we asked Christina's daughter if she'd like for me to adopt her. Christina has never talked to her daughter about what happened between us. But Christina's older brother still hates me and thinks that Christina is a wimp for forgiving me at all and then turning around and marrying me. Which I get. I still have a lot of hatred for myself, but we've been in therapy and we've moved past the entire thing as best we can (and still are working on it). And when Christina's brother found out their mom was paying for Christina's fertility treatments, he started to egg on Christina's daughter and tell her all about our past and the things I've done and now Christina is always screaming at me that I'm a "backstabbing wh*re" and a "traitor b*tch" and Christina's a "spineless p*ssy" and all kinds of other horrible names.
Christina cut contact with her brother completely and won't let her daughter see him or talk to him. We're both trying really hard to manage her emotions right now. But we both also understand she's a teenager and hitting that crazy age. She's not violent, just really verbally nasty about it. But we both also know that Christina's daughter didn't know she was a product of rape until Christina's brother laid all this on her and she found out. Christina's never lied about her daughter's father to her, but she never wanted to get into it with her until Christina was older and the teenage stage was ending.
Christina and I put her daughter in therapy. We're also watching her and she hasn't shown any hostility towards the new baby or the fact Christina's pregnant either. We're doing everything we can to work on it. And I keep trying to remind myself and Christina that everything's going to be okay. And Christina does the same for me. It just really sucks. I carry so much guilt about it and knowing the little girl I loved for so long and was so bonded with now hates me. It's just really weird and extremely heartbreaking and I hate it. I also hate her brother. Which also breaks my heart. He used to be really nice. And I don't blame him for being mad at me. He supported her when I participated in breaking her (again). But I wish he hadn't drug Christina into it. Because it's not only hurting me and my mom, but it's hurting her too.

He’s alright now. I love that shitty joke. I also have a shitty sense of humor. But that’s obvious, isn’t it?
I’d tell you my name, but let’s keep the anonymity on that for the time being. I like to have that kind of barrier when I’ve spoken to deranged medical students and a woman who thought she could be physically turned into a car. I wish I was joking.
I’m from Minnesota. I’m Latino and bi. I’m also a Gemini and my MBTI is ENFJ. I study business, I used to study sociology but then I dropped out of uni. Long story. I work as a server at a hotel for events such as weddings, birthday parties, business retreats. I love it and I hate it, the pay is why I’m still there.
I love listening to music, my favorite genres are rap, r&b, and alternative rock. I love to write from fiction to journaling. I love pretty much art in general, traveling, learning new things, and going out. Also play video games, but I haven’t had much time lately. I’m pretty much a pothead so I hope you’d be fine with that lmao. I feel like I can get along with anyone as long as you can put effort into the conversation lol.
I’d appreciate if you tell me a bit about yourself once you message me. Also Id prefer that you’re from a timezone (CST) close to me since we’d be able to chat instead of one of us being asleep. I’m cool with moving onto a different platform later on.

He’s alright now. I love that shitty joke. I also have a shitty sense of humor. But that’s obvious, isn’t it?
I’d tell you my name, but let’s keep the anonymity on that for the time being. I like to have that kind of barrier when I’ve spoken to deranged medical students and a woman who thought she could be physically turned into a car. I wish I was joking.
I’m from Minnesota. I’m Latino and bi. I’m also a Gemini and my MBTI is ENFJ. I study business, I used to study sociology but then I dropped out of uni. Long story. I work as a server at a hotel for events such as weddings, birthday parties, business retreats. I love it and I hate it, the pay is why I’m still there.
I love listening to music, my favorite genres are rap, r&b, and alternative rock. I love to write from fiction to journaling. I love pretty much art in general, traveling, learning new things, and going out. Also play video games, but I haven’t had much time lately. I’m pretty much a pothead so I hope you’d be fine with that lmao. I feel like I can get along with anyone as long as you can put effort into the conversation lol.
I’d appreciate if you tell me a bit about yourself once you message me. Also Id prefer that you’re from a timezone (CST) close to me since we’d be able to chat instead of one of us being asleep. I’m cool with moving onto a different platform later on.

First / Previous / Royal Road / [Patreon](Read 12 Chapters Ahead)](https://www.patreon.com/ObsequiumMinaris)
XXX
"Kayla, move!" Pale shouted as she hurriedly reloaded her weapon, then began to pour fire down on the advancing horde. Several people dropped dead under her onslaught of bullets, but they kept coming, and she was forced to retreat backwards, Kayla following after her.
Pale reloaded once more, continuing to shoot even as she ran away. Her and Kayla sprinted deeper into the forest, trying their best to lose their pursuers, but it was no use – Pale wasn't sure how many she'd cut down, but it simply wasn't enough, as she could still hear them all lumbering through the forest after them.
"What do we do?!" Kayla shouted.
Pale looked around, frantically looking for something they could use. Her gaze landed on the nearby trees, and her eyes narrowed.
"Burn the forest."
"What?! But-"
"Now, Kayla!"
Kayla didn't argue further, instead obliging Pale's request. In an instant, several trees went up in flames, which began to spread through the dense, dead foliage with ease. Once she saw that the fire had been started, Pale grabbed Kayla and pushed her deeper into the forest, then followed after her, taking shots at anything that moved behind them.
The fire spread rapidly, and before long, Pale heard a chorus of panicked screams erupt from behind them. That was both reassuring and worrying – the former because it meant her impromptu plan had bought them some time, and the latter because it wouldn't be long before the flames reached them, as well.
"Back to the beach," Pale commanded.
Kayla bristled. "We can't leave-"
"We aren't. But we need to leave the forest now, while we still have a chance."
Kayla hesitated. Pale instantly grabbed her and forced her to stare into her eyes.
"Do you trust me?" Kayla nodded. "Then listen. We need to get back to the beach, and fast. Understand?" That earned her another nod. Pale let her go, then without another word, began to double-time it back to the beach. Behind her, the forest continued to burn, the bandits still screaming as they were set upon by the flames.
Eventually, they reached the beach, and Kayla doubled over, gasping for breath. She looked up at Pale, and through gulps of air, managed to get out, "What… is your plan now?"
"This. Cover your ears."
Pale snapped her fingers. For a moment, nothing happened, but then, something came streaking across the sky, almost faster than either girl could track it. It fell into the forest, and the moment it did, the entire thing went up in a massive explosion. Kayla was knocked down by the shockwave, landing in a heap on the ground; all she could do was stop and stare at the crater where the forest had once stood, watching the smoke curl up from it into the sky.
"W-what…" She swallowed nervously. "What did you just do?"
"250-millimeter explosive shell," Pale reported. She offered Kayla a hand and pulled her to her feet.
"And… you have more of those?"
"Only a few."
"Y-you… you couldn't use something a little less destructive?"
Pale's face darkened. "That was the less destructive option."
Again, Kayla swallowed nervously, her whole body beginning to tremble as she surveyed the destruction once more. After a moment, Pale checked her weapon to make sure it was fully loaded, then began to march back towards the forest.
"Wait!" Kayla called. "You're going back in?"
"Of course," Pale said without looking back. "We still need to get your father back." She cast a glance back at Kayla over her shoulder. "You coming or what?"
Kayla didn't need to be told twice.
​XXX
The girls marched through the remnants of the forest, Pale listening as Kayla dry-heaved behind her at every mutilated body they found. By her estimate, a good portion of the bandits had died to smoke inhalation or been burned to death before she'd even called in the artillery shell. There must have been a few mages with them, because she could see traces where they'd attempted to douse the flames with water or earth, only to be caught by surprise when she called down the shell on top of them.
There were a few odd survivors, still managing to cling to life through ruined limbs or grievous burns; Pale, for her part, was careful to put them all out of their misery with a single well-placed shot. Kayla whimpered at every man she executed, but she paid it no mind.
This was war as she knew it – brutal, without mercy, and on a certain level, inevitable. As far as she was concerned, these men had signed their own death warrants the moment they'd made a mad dash for the two of them with murder in their eyes. Putting them down was necessary for the success of the mission, same as it always was.
They made it through the remnants of the forest easily enough, emerging out the other side and marching towards the town. The women and children were still there, and upon seeing them and only them exit the forest in one piece, many of them screamed and began to rush them; Pale tensed, raising her weapon just in case, but it proved unnecessary for most, as the people simply ran past them and towards what remained of the trees, trying in vain to search for their loved ones.
"Gods…" Kayla muttered. "I… I didn't think-"
"Don't feel bad," Pale said without looking over to her. "Those men did the same thing to countless other people. Ultimately, they had this coming to them."
Kayla said nothing in response. Pale could tell she wasn't happy with that answer, but it was all she had to offer at the moment.
The two of them made their way to the center of town, where Sven's house was situated. He was still there, Kayla's father still bound and kneeling at his feet. When he saw them approach, his eyes widened.
"Kayla…" he breathed, tears filling his eyes.
"Dad!" she called. She was about to rush him when Pale stopped her by holding out a hand.
"Wait," she said.
"Wait?! My father is-"
"Sven wants you to rush in." Pale turned her attention towards the bandit leader, giving him a pointed look. "He's waiting for one of us to do something stupid."
"Pale-"
"Don't argue this point with me. I can tell just by looking at him that Sven is a cut above the others we've had to fight."
"You have me at a loss, I'm afraid," Sven Greymane said evenly. "You know who I am, and yet, I know nothing of the two of you."
"And we'll be keeping it that way. I'll make this simple – hand over the girl's father or this town will be razed to its very foundation, along with everyone in it."
"Pale!" Kayla protested.
Sven merely smirked. "I think not."
Pale bristled. "Did you not see what happened to all your men in the forest? Do not try to test me, Greymane."
"First off, those weren't all my men. Those weren't even a fraction of my men. Did you truly think I was warrior-king over just this little village?" Sven shook his head. "I have a great many men at my disposal, young lady, not that you will ever get to meet them in-person. As for your little ultimatum… there is one problem with it – if you were going to raze this town and everyone in it, as you claim, then you would have done so already without having to expose yourself to me." His grin widened. "You know what I think? I think whatever you did in the forest, it's much more indiscriminate than you would have me believe. You can't risk doing that again for fear of killing the girl's father, because you need him back for her."
Pale scowled. Sven barked out a laugh. "Ah, I knew I was correct! Well, now that I have you figured out, let's say we have a little chat, hm? Tell me who you are, otherwise I'll kill him right here."
Sven drew his knife again, placing it against his captive's throat. Immediately, Kayla screamed.
"No, don't!" she begged. "Pale, please talk to him!"
"If you kill him, you'll lose your only hostage," she warned. "There will be nothing stopping me at that point."
"You still won't be able to use your strange magic without killing yourself and your friend," Sven pointed out. "And before you say you'll simply walk out and use it once you're a safe distance away, I assure you, that won't happen, either."
"And why is that?"
"Because I'll have killed you both long before you've made it to the outskirts of town. Simple as that."
"You're awfully confident."
"Because I know your weapon doesn't work on me." Sven stretched his arms out. "Don't believe me? Try it. I'll give you as many free hits as you want, even. It'll just make killing you all the sweeter."
Pale's scowl deepened, but she didn't take his bait. Instead, she stood there, trying to desperately think of some way out of this. The only thing that was clear to her was that Sven was right – he must have been a mage of some kind, because just like earlier, her bullets kept pinging off some kind of invisible barrier before they could make impact with him.
That meant her only option was to get up close and personal with him.
Grimacing, she slung her rifle, then drew her pistol in one hand and her own knife in the other. Sven grinned at her once more.
"Ooh, how daring!" he complimented. "It's not often that I find someone with a backbone like you, whoever you are. Tell me, before I kill you – what's your name?"
Pale didn't rise to the challenge, instead beginning to cautiously creep forwards, her pistol trained directly on Sven's head. After a few seconds, his grin faded.
"I said, what's your name?"
Still, she offered no response. Sven's face suddenly contorted in rage.
"Such dishonor…! Very well, then – I suppose I will simply have to have my fun another way."
Then, before Pale could react, Sven pointed past her, at Kayla. A large mound of earth and stone suddenly tore its way out of the ground, and came flying towards her. Kayla was unprepared to deal with it, and Pale heard a dull crack followed by a moan of pain come from just behind her. Instantly, her eyes widened in shock, and she whipped around.
"Kayla!"
Kayla was lying in a heap on the ground, a trickle of blood flowing out from a crack in her forehead deep enough to expose part of her skull underneath. Still, against all odds, she wasn't out of the fight – she struggled to her feet, wincing as she did so. A wave of relief washed over Pale, though it was quick to fade when she heard Sven rush her down.
She turned just in time to avoid having her throat slashed by Sven's dagger. Her heart skipped a beat, and Pale instinctively tried to bring her .45 around, but Sven intercepted it. Pain blossomed across her dominant arm as he impaled it with his knife, forcing her to drop her pistol, the gun discharging a shot that harmlessly pinged off of his barrier before landing on the ground. Before Pale could recover and go for a stab of her own, Sven brutally kicked her in the torso, sending her skidding across the ground; she landed next to Kayla, but leaped to her feet.
"Interesting," Sven observed, his gaze dropping to the discarded handgun lying at his feet. He went to bend down and pick it up, and as he did so, Kayla fired several bolts of lightning at him, but they had no effect. Pale tensed as he picked up the gun, and then aimed it at them.
"How does it work, I wonder?"
Sven's finger stroked the trigger, and the gun barked, discharging a shot into the ground a few meters away from him. Slowly, a wide smile split his face.
"Oh, I like this," he observed, aiming it at them once more. "I like it a lot."
"Kayla, behind me!" Pale shouted. Kayla ducked behind her just in time for a shot to ring out; it struck Pale directly in her body armor, her plates catching the round, causing her to let out a grunt of discomfort as she felt the lightweight depleted uranium deform slightly in order to contain the bullet.
Sven was unperturbed, however – he continued to pull the trigger even as Pale started to advance, her knife in hand. He fired again and again; his technique was off, but by sheer luck, he managed to get a hit in her left shoulder. Pale grunted as she felt the .45 caliber hollow point burrow its way into her shoulder, missing the bone by mere millimeters.
She was counting his shots as he advanced, and by this time, she knew he only had one left. Sven took aim at her once more, and Pale tensed.
Then, at the last moment, Kayla's father moved. He jumped up from his spot on the ground, latching onto Sven's arm and throwing his aim off. The gun discharged one final time, but it wasn't a miss – instead, Pale watched as the round erupted out of the man's back.
"Father, no!" Kayla screamed.
He fell to the ground, clutching at the hole in his torso with wide eyes. Blood poured from his wound; Pale grit her teeth at the sight of it, but there was nothing she could do about it, even as he fell to the ground and laid there motionlessly. Kayla tried to charge past her, but Pale stopped her, holding her there.
"Let me go, damn it!" Kayla screamed, tears pouring down her face. "Father! Father!"
Across from them, Sven stared at the gun, its slide locked back. He attempted to raise it towards them and fire it again, but got nothing. He shrugged, then unceremoniously dumped it on the ground.
"I suppose that was a fun play-fight," he blithely stated as Kayla dropped to her knees and began to sob, her eyes locked on to her father's corpse. "Now then, what to do with you two…? The Beastkin would make a good slave, but the other seems a bit feisty to be a good slave… then again, perhaps her weapons could be useful, if she knows how to make more of them…"
Pale grit her teeth, rage welling up within her. With a final, desperate cry, she reached for her rifle, raising it and dumping another full mag directly into Sven. Just like the last one, it had absolutely no effect. Across from her, Sven shrugged.
"It can't be helped, I suppose," he stated, taking a step towards them. "I'll find a spot for you two yet."
Pale didn't wait to hear more. Instead, she dropped her rifle and took Kayla by the hand, then began to run. Kayla tried to fight her, but Pale wasn't having it – she used all her strength to drag Kayla along as she ran out of the camp, and as she did so, with her free hand, she snapped her fingers just as they reached the treeline.
Unlike the last artillery strike, this was no mere single shell. Behind them, the night sky was suddenly illuminated by an entire orbital bombardment. Kayla gave another choked sob as she watched the entire bandit encampment go up in explosion after explosion, knowing that if her father wasn't already gone for sure, he would be now.
Pale dragged Kayla back to the boat and threw her in, then climbed in herself before pushing off from the shore. She gave one final look behind her, but Sven seemed to have stopped his pursuit at some point, as he was no longer following them. She breathed a sigh of relief as the wind struck the boat's sail, propelling them forwards across the sea. Pale stared up at the night sky as it was rocked by a final few explosions, listening to the symphony of destruction she'd left behind her, as well as Kayla's crying. A hollow pit formed in her stomach as the realization of what had just happened sank in.
She'd failed.
XXX
Special thanks to my good friend and co-writer, Ickbard for the help with writing this story.

in Cringe, Natalie develops these different kinds of ‘cringe’, including in-group cringe. she exemplifies all of this with trans communities: people cringe at people who they are similar to (at least in one way that is important enough to differentiate an in-group from the out-group). through cringe, they start creating this idea of being ‘true’ members of the in-group and they start persecuting/investigating ‘fakers’/‘trenders’/whathaveyou so that they can say ‘I am the real X not a fake X like that person’ with a nice megaphone
I feel like Natalie hints at/entertains the idea that this persecution fetish might be based in some sort of insecurity of the ‘true’ members about their membership status: are they really the real deal? don’t they sometimes have doubts? or are not ‘in line’ the way they think everyone else should be? etc — basically persecuting ‘trenders’ to exorcise the ‘trender’ within
today, I had a somewhat unhinged interaction with someone on reddit and their whole thing seemed to be identifying people who ‘fake mental conditions’; and sure enough: fakedisordercringe is a thing (because of course it is) — while my first impression of that space is not that it is mostly populated by people who will fight anyone in a thread and allege that everyone is faking everything (except for the person themself, of course), but the idea of ‘cringe’ is in the name, so I guess it applies
if we apply this in-group cringe to persecution fetish through insecurity pipeline to mental health: is it a common theme in mental health spaces that people are insecure about their diagnoses? like, after I was first diagnosed, I spent a lot of time over at bipolar2 and there was a running joke that basically you questioning your diagnosis is just a symptom of slipping into (hypo)mania and the next thing you’ll do is quitting your meds cold turkey. so I thought it might be specific to this community [side note: the idea of ‘you disagreeing with an external judgment means that you’ve lost your ability to make sound judgments and you’re proving the correctness of the judgment’ always gives me chills]
and of course, there are people who feel good in the morning after their mom made them breakfast but feel bad in the evening after receiving a C on a test who then take to the internet to talk about their rapid cycling bipolar disorder. or people who like things neat and organized who them proclaim to ‘be’ OCD. but I guess my questions are this:

1. is this a thing? is there some sort of Rose of Dawn of the clinically insane?
   
2. are such insecurities about one’s diagnosis really a general thing? I don’t mean at the very beginning, but generally?
   

I feel like my point is somehow trivial (like, ‘duh, of course it’s a thing!’), but it seems so different to Natalie’s trans example: while trans people are motivated by making sure that people understand they’re ‘real’, i.e. not some sort of fad or confusion or mental disorder, the same can’t be said about people with mental health diagnoses, can it? like, yeah, of course it sucks when people think you alphabetizing your books is identical to having blood-crusted hands from washing them 66 times 6 times a day or whatever, but that’s only the external view: what does this look like to others? while that’s def also a thing for trans people, I feel like the community-internal pressure is much greater. but it seems silly in mental health spaces? like, how do you do ‘having been diagnosed with bipolar disordeschizophrenia/depression/whatever’ wrong? there can’t be any pressure applied within groups to adhere to the truscum-equivalent of psychotic disorders? can there?
I hope I’m making sense. also: when I write ‘them’ about trans people, I do mean me. so all of this is written aS a tRaNs wOMaN
ETA: I’ve read too much anti-/critical-psychiatry in order to say that I ‘have’ ‘bipolar disorder’ without two sets of scare quotes and I sometimes…idk…smile at thoughts of mine like ‘I really thought having a severe mental illness would be more interesting’ or something like that. but, in the end, some things clearly haven’t been working out in my life time and again (perfectly encapsulated by my mother when I told her I’d drop out of my PhD program to move back to Europe and if I can move in with her for a while: “yeah, don’t worry about any of that. but please just stop resetting your life every 4-5 years”) — I feel like even though I have developed quite the aversion of turning this diagnosis into a part of my personality, I also don’t feel like I’m insecure about the question whether or not ‘something is up’, you know? — ok, this was very rambly now

My name is Joe Clarkson.
When I was a small child, I was gifted. Great at a lot of things, and adequate at most. That all changed when I moved to Oakfield. Not too far away, but somehow not in the same state.
Oakfield was a small town, somewhere near the Canada-US border, yet my parents never told me which state it was in. They couldn’t. Dad got a really good job offer.
I started third grade there, I was eight, and would turn nine later in the year. On my first day of school, there was nothing really academic, thankfully, so I had no chance to show off my proficiency.
However, the walk there was interesting, with the edifice that was the mental hospital. Edifice for the town at least, it was only a couple stories tall. It stood in the distance, and you could see it from the school yard, and the street there. Always looming.
I was bored between the three recesses, each being a little breath of fresh air on the otherwise stagnant school day. That was, until the last one.
It was the afternoon, and I hadn’t really made any friends yet. I was just sitting by myself under a tree, when I saw a rough looking man, standing behind the chain-link fence I was seated next to.
The fear of strangers had been forced adamantly into my mind by then, and I whimpered, backing away.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said. That’s what someone who wanted to murder you would say.
But, considering the fence, I deemed I was relatively safe from this haggard man, and so, I approached. He was coughing.
“I don’t have much time. Take this paper,” he said as he passed a sticky note to me. “Follow what this says. Take it seriously, and you will be fine.”
I heard Ms. Smith calling out to me and approaching and turned away for a second before looking back. The man was gone, the coughing silenced.
Knowing if the teacher had seen the man that she would with no doubt take the note from me, I stuffed it in my pocket, then waited for her to approach.
“Joseph, what are you doing over here? Who were you talking to?” she snipped.
Quick thinking saved me here. “Imaginary friend.”
“Well, you should know better than to do stuff like that. We don’t do strange things like that here.” She paused. “You’ve learned your lesson, but I will talk to your parents about this.
She left, and soon recess was over. That day as I walked home from school, I looked for the man, but he was gone.
As said, my parents had a word with me about imaginary friends, and how I was too grown up and that they would have to send me to the ‘psychiatrist’ for it.
I of course paid them no heed.

Later that night, I opened the note. It had barely legible scrawl, unlike Mrs. Smith who had perfect handwriting, which I was sorely jealous of. This is what it contained:
If you are reading this, I may be able to save you. I need you to follow these guidelines:

1. Hide your identity
2. Socialize only when necessary
3. Be unexceptional
4. If someone is following you, find a crowded place to be

They will forget about you.
I have proof, so that you will believe me. Look at your classmates. Think about their defining features, whether physical, social, etc. They will change. For now, you have to trust me.
Once you have memorized this, destroy it.
The fourth rule seemed common enough, and the others seemed not too hard to follow. It was weird, but considering I had nothing to do at school, I decided to play along, holding in my laughter as I presumably tricked everyone. I would not laugh soon enough.

Xavier was a new kid. He moved in around the second week of school, when I was beginning to get bored of the ruse. He was bright and funny, yet Ms. Smith never laughed at his jokes. She got tired of him quickly, unlike me.
I was friends with him, we would play on the playground, mostly tag, but I made sure to never outrun him, nor anyone else. One day, we were playing tag, and I was chasing him. It had lasted longer than normal, and I was beginning to get very tired of the charade, so I decided to try and win this time.
We ran for so long, he eventually ran into the school, and I chased him, laughing, panting as he sprinted through the halls. The teachers were very mad at us and shouted at us often. But none chased.
However, after around fifteen minutes, we had slowed down significantly, and he stole away around a corner. When I turned the corner, Xavier was gone.
I didn’t see him for the rest of the day.
The next day, I went to school, ready to interrogate him about where he had gone. And, sure enough he was there. But when I asked him, he said he had gotten bored, and left it at that. It explained nothing, and I was grumpy about it for the rest of the day.

Xavier made jokes after that. But they were different, not funny. But Ms. Smith sure seemed to think so. She always chuckled at them, as did many of the other kids, and I chuckled along to follow suit. Xavier said to call him by his middle name, Steven. I didn’t talk to him much after that. The ‘psychiatrists’ had probably made him normal.
I dug through my backpack and eventually found the note from the man. It had been a few weeks now, and I hadn’t destroyed it.
I have proof, so that you will believe me. Look at your classmates. Think about their defining features, whether physical, social, etc. They will change.
Sure enough, it had happened.
I heard a knock at my door. My mom spoke in an indifferent voice.
“What are you doing in there, sweetie? Hopefully not talking to your imaginary friend again,” she said, giving a faint chuckle.
“One second mom!” I shouted, as I read through it a few last times, before shredding it, then scattering the pieces.
She opened the door. Her eyes grew frustrated for a single moment.
In an instant, I smiled slightly, rising, I coughed, partially because of my recent cold, partially to cover any anxiousness in my voice.
“Is it time for bed yet?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I went to sleep.

The man appeared in the newspapers. He had been taken to the mental hospital, locked away forever. I never disregarded what he had said, however.
I heard my mom talking to my teacher.
“Something’s wrong with him, he’s been acting weird. Watch over him, okay?” my mom said. “I’m worried.”
The only thing she should be worried about is my stupid cough that won’t go away.

I blended in throughout the years, getting a mix of B’s and C’s, as well as an occasional A. I didn’t raise my hand in class often, limiting myself to once a week. I chatted with a few other friends, though spending time with them left me unsettled.
On my sixteenth birthday, I ran away. I had just got a new car, drab and grey, courtesy of my father. I told them I was going to take a drive around the park. They believed me.
As I took it out, slow and steady, I noticed something. Ms. Smith. She was in her own car, tailing mine. I didn’t acknowledge her. The school hadn’t given her my address, yet she had been waiting for me.
I drove around the park a few times, then checked my mirror, making sure to not move my head. Ms. Smith was gone. I changed my route.
Moving through the town, I could tell something was off about the buildings. The same buildings everywhere, the same few colors of cars, no one outside, everyone inside at once. They were all gathered around a dinner table. Every single house.
I increased my speed, and my car started to screech, so I quickly slammed on the brakes.
I drove for a while, barely staying awake. After a few hours, I was back in town. Not in the distant byways.
Ms. Smith was behind me again.
In a moment of panic, I turned my head back, checking to make sure. Ms. Smith grinned. I waved at her, then continued back to my house. To this day, I’m not sure why I turned back. I wish I hadn’t.
As I approached my house, I remembered the fourth rule, and realized home would not be safe. I slammed the gas and veered in the direction of the high school. There was a football game going on, and there were lots of people there.
Ms. Smith had apparently been lost in the confusion and was not following me as I approached the field. I snuck in, then sat on one of the bleachers. Everything was normal, except for the highschoolers not being as rowdy as I had expected. I had seen things on television back at my old home, yet there were none of the old television programs here.
There were also no telephone wires. No outside communications. I realized this as I sat up there, next to one of my distant friends, Cody.
“Why are there no phones?” I whispered out loud.
Cody turned to me. “Of course there are.”
He turned back to the game.
“John’s doing so good today, would you look at that!” Cody said.
I heard my name being shouted. My parents had found where I had been, and were mad, they climbed up the bleachers, and I saw no use hiding from them.
“Cody, what have you been doing to our little boy?” Mom growled. She turned to me, “He’s a bad influence, sneaking off like this. Someone else will take care of that, come with me.” On the supervised drive back to my house, I noticed telephone poles lining the streets.

“What are you doing?” Mom asked.
“I’m calling Susie, from my old school. Just want to keep in touch,” I responded dully.
“She probably moved. That’s not her number anymore.”
“Their house was passed down through generations. Not likely,” I accused.
Three days later my mother came up to me. She turned on the news, then ushered me over.
“Breaking News: Local teen found dead, hit by car! Identity confirmed to be Susie Coleman, of local high school...”
I blocked out the rest of the speech. There was a picture of her corpse, and it was her, blood trailing from various wounds.
“That’s horrible!” I exclaimed. “Now I see why my call didn’t go through.”
The thing was, there was no news channel that broadcast things outside of the town. I barred my windows and door that night, then slept in my clothes hamper. I held my coughs in. When I woke up the next morning, things in my room were moved. My worst fears had been confirmed.

For the second time in a week, I tried to escape. Dawn would not strike for a few hours, and I knew no one could see me. The town was on lockdown, hunting for a ‘missing person’. I stole my mom’s car, not daring to use my own.
From the minute I pulled out of the driveway, I knew I was being followed. A car trailed behind me; the windshield tinted enough that I couldn't see the driver, but I knew it was Ms. Smith.
I floored the gas, uncaring, driving as fast as I could to the nearby forest. I jumped out of the car, placing my mom’s purse on the gas pedal to keep it running. It would hit ahead and throw them off my trail.
I entered the forest.
Stumbling through the trees at night was not a pleasant experience. I cut myself on branches and twisted my ankles trying to get out.
I made my way to a clearing. There was something moving there, a body. It was moaning and screeching, drenched in blood. Susie. She stopped when I drew near, then stared at me, eyes devoid of pain. Devoid of expression.
I ran out back into the forest and heard a limping figure behind me. Adrenaline pushing me as hard as it could, I slowly heard the limp grow stronger and stronger, becoming a full run.
Curving around a ditch, I tripped, falling into the hole, then heard the footsteps draw nearer. I saw the ditch led to a drainage pipe. I hid in there, making little noise, and waited until she left. Screams of anger echoed through the night.
After catching my breath, I peeked out, coughing. Nothing but the cool night air. Slowly, I made my way out. In the distance, I could see a light.

It took only a few more minutes to make it to the source. It was a gas station, and the man in there greeted me with something I had not seen in years. A warm welcome.
After getting some food and water – for free since I didn’t have my wallet on me – the man began to question me about my appearance.
“That’s a crazy story coming from Oakfield. Nothing ever happens there. I suppose they want to not be noticed, from your story. By the way, son, what is your name?”

1. Hide your identity

“You don’t need to know that” I said, still tense.
“Come on, it’s not that big of a deal.”
“No.”
“Son, I just want to check your records, make sure you’re not a nutcase,” he sighed. “Afterall, you don’t want to have to go to the psychiatrists, do you?”
I backed away, and the man began to grow agitated, shouting for me to come back and tell him my name. I ran out and started down the road. There were no cars.

A day or so later I reached a town. A normal one, with normal people. No one following me. No one trying to take me away. It was hard to get back on my feet of course, going to high school in the day, then working at night to make ends meet.
I never told anyone else about the town. No one. That is until now. You see, last night I found something. A trail of blood leading to a field.
“Joe, come back...” it said. “You can’t leave Oakfield. It can’t get out.”
They still follow me. They do not want people to know about this, because they do not want people to know about Oakfield, and whatever goes on behind the doors of the mental hospital. I intend to go where they cannot find me.
No one will take me seriously. After all, nothing ever happens in Oakfield. And to them, I am insane.

[D&D5e]
Hey there.
Well, i just migrated to foundry with some friends after 2 years of FTP Roll20. I really like all the things foundry alows to be made, specially the amounts of customization you can have in your game. To celebrante this migration, we are starting a shitposting campaign, which means you can use pretty much any homebrew class, Race and whatever the hell your sick heart desires.
Well, i decided to run with the homebrew class+race combination of a Yellow Sun Kryptonian. It is a really cool interpretation of Superman character into the dnd rules and settings. Now, the class has a lot of custom features, as its to be expected, so following the guidance of a YouTube video i decided to compile those features in a compendium before setting up the actual class.
This is where my nightmare began. The First feature is called Man of Steel, which has three effects: Unarmored Defence using strength and constitution. Evolving unarmed attacks and a damage reduction of 1 against damages from sources non-magical.
Of course, i decided that the best approach would be to break It into three different features, one for each effects. Starting by the Unarmored Defence, i set up the feature, all goes well, until i find myself creating the passive effects for the trait, surprise surprise: I cant just set the values to be simple stuff like modifying the ac to a simple formula. I have to figure out How to describe those effects in a script like fashion, referencing the systems names!
I feel bamboozled, as all my years of homebrew debauchery have proved to be useless compared to my immense dumbassery.
So i turn to the my last hope, The mages of internet, seeking all forms of advice and guidance for this endeavor.

So there were at least two versions of Game 6 and the first one ended with most of the participants being sacrificed by Arthur Byers. We know Fiona and Luchino were in the game with him (Luchino ended up in the second version of Game 6) and there were at least 3 participants who were not named at the moment. All of them were turned into puddles of water (except Luchino).
Martha had been tracked to her last location and while we don't know exactly how long she'd been there, if she was to become Evelyn's successor, it's possible Martha intended to be tracked there in order to potentially and permanently get Lamb off her tail (much like how Evelyn willingly walked into a trap 10 years before). The price of freedom after all...
So Evelyn arrives and she ends up participating in a game and given that Byers was a Senator and Luchino was a well respected Professor and Fiona was a Priestess this could've been a game where the participants were people who had a form of authority or high standing in the eyes of their peers. Potentially this means it's possible Knight and Miles were in this game too.
Well things happen and aside from Luchino, the participants of this game essentially turned to puddles of water. In turn this would mean that Martha was free from Lamb but not so much from the next game.
This is at least a theory for now.

Atsushi Netoku (Special grade sorcerer) (Im glazing on my Oc too much so dont get mad for what happens next MKAY??) Anyway, hes a Special Grade sorcerer who was aquainted with gojo and geto in their Younger years and is Married to shoko ieiri. And had a child Named Jhin Netoku, (i simp for shoko, the bloodline ends with meee)
Current age: 29 Height: 2,3 weight: 18.5 Cursed Technique: Cosmic shift: Balance (秤):

• Base State: Create physical objects, stop the flow of cursed energy, halt viruses/sicknesses, enchant objects.
• Maximum Output: can enchant specific objects (makeshift cursed tools), convert energy into physical objects.

Chaos (カオス):

• Phase 2: Transfigure cursed energy into weapons, copy physical attributes, simplify the use of RCT.
• Maximum Output: Adapt body to cursed techniques,(not like mahoraga, so dont start) deflect attacks.

Judgement (判断):

• Final Phase: Take or erase aspects of cursed techniques, siphon energy, heal without using positive energy. (the aspects of the taken technique can be applied to self, or others)
• Maximum Output: Break domains, use tendrils as weapons.

Simple Techniques:

• 顕現 (Manifest) (Kengen_?): Infuse living objects with essence/soul, granting supernatural properties. (so basically necromancy)

Domain Expansion: End of Times (リョウ・イキ・テン・カイ:終末):

• Abilities: Reinforce/reshape landscape, transfigure and use cursed energy, gain new abilities.

Additional Abilities:

• Anhilate: Erase opponent’s cursed energy, apply effects based on landscape.
• Obliterate: Telekinesis, induce stress through illusions.
• Army of God: Summon soldiers with techniques based on encountered individuals.

Drawbacks:

• Transfiguring when low on energy may destroy limbs.
• Stopping cursed energy flow for hand-to-hand combat. (meaning if you stop someones cursed energy, to make it fair, yours will be stopped as well)
• Copying attributes links damage between the user and the copied individual. (meaning whatever damage done to the copied attribute of the opponent transfers over to the user)
• Kengen requires a significant amount of positive energy. (obviously)

Backrgound: Netoku comes from a line of sorcerers Called The netoku clan. His family being one of the richest Families in the Jujutsu World. As a Child, Netoku was overly pestered about Being the Heir to The clan Which agitated Netoku causing him to harbor slight hatred Toward his father, and Agitation toward the Netoku clan And eventually accepted His fate Becoming the Priest. After going to jujutsu high and claiming his position as grand priest at the age of 18, He treated his son diffrently waiting until the age of 16 to begin training jhin to take his place as grand priest.
Younger years: with gojo and geto, they had a lot of goofy adventures until they were Split apart by geto's dissapearance, And Netoku was sent individualy to take care of a Mission in Shinjuku, And like gojo, was ambushed not by an assassin, but A cursed user under the Name of Vengance. Vengance severerly wounded Netoku, Even going as far to sever his leg and leave him to bleed out impaled ontop of a skyscraper in Shinjuku. suprisingly this Aggrivated netoku causing a new Quality Of cursed energy to explode from within Netoku. This aggrivation caused him to quickly locate and dispatch vengance by tearing his heart out.
Adolesence: Like gojo, Netoku's talents were quickly recognized as he became a teacher at jujutsu high, teaching alongside GOJO SATORU (the strongest) when gojo is out training yuji and nobara, He put Netoku in charge of Megumi training him to manage his Shinigami Properly.
Clan history: Title: Whispers of the Netoku
Prologue: The Unseen War
In an age where the sun set on battlefields stained with the blood of samurai, the land known as Japan was fragmented, a mirror shattered into warring states. It was a canvas of conflict, painted with the ambitions of those who sought to etch their names into the annals of time.
Chapter One: The Gathering Storm
Amidst the cacophony of clashing steel, a group of visionaries emerged from the mists of war. They were the unsung founders of the Netoku clan, each a master of their own destiny, yet bound by a shared vision of unity. Their tale was not one of idyllic heroism but of raw survival, of forging order from the chaos that threatened to engulf them all.
Chapter Two: The Pact of Shadows
Under the cloak of night, the founders convened in a hidden grove, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames of a solitary fire. There, they forged a pact—a covenant to combine their strengths and create a bastion of power that could withstand the tempest of their era.
Chapter Three: The Rise of the Netoku
The path of the Netoku was fraught with peril. Resistance met them at every turn, for the established clans viewed this new union as a threat to the old order. Yet, through a blend of cunning, valor, and unyielding will, the Netoku clan carved their place in the world, their name whispered with a mix of fear and respect.
Chapter Four: The Hidden Hand
Sukuna, the King of Curses, watched from the shadows, his presence a silent testament to the clan’s origins. His words to his brother Harushi revealed the facade of the fabled history:
Sukuna: “Oh, my dear twin, you do love your fables, don’t you? Real-life clashes don’t play out like fantasy epics. They’re messier, grittier, and far less dramatic. But if you prefer romanticized versions, by all means, keep your illusions intact.”
Epilogue: The Legacy Unveiled
The Netoku clan’s history, shrouded in secrecy, was a tale of ambition and alliance, of the indomitable spirit of those who dared to dream of peace in a time of war. Their legacy, a clandestine manuscript, would one day be revealed to the world, shedding light on the true origins of a clan that had become legend.
Random clan traits/facts:

Golden Sight: The Sensory Sigil of the Netoku Clan

At Birth:

• Sight: Duller than the average person.
• Other Senses: Heightened to incredible levels, compensating for the reduced visual acuity.

Pupil Shapes and Emotions:

• Triangle: Anger
• Square: Sadness
• Slits: Happiness
• Circle: Neutral
• Octagon: Hate
• Stars: Joy
• Dilation: Arousal
• Hearts: Love

The Netoku Family: A Legacy of Cursed Energy

Founding Era: Asuka to Heian

Zenji Netoku

• Title: Benevolent King
• Traits: Known for fairness, peace-making, and aversion to conflict unless necessary.

Hana Gojo

• Relation: Zenji’s lover and Sukuna’s former concubine.
• Legacy: Mother of the Netoku clan.
• Personality: Sassy and selective, traits that captivated Zenji.

Kojo Netoku

• Role: Founder and high priest of the Netoku clan.
• Beliefs: Practices Daoism and Buddhism with pride yet humility.

Akira

• Relation: Kojo’s brother.
• Personality: Cocky and prideful.

Layla

• Relation: Akira’s lover.

Nara Era

Fuji

• Achievement: Strongest user of the shift technique, capable of extended combat.
• Disposition: Humble despite his prowess.

Jessie

• Relation: Fuji’s daughter.
• Title: 9th user of the shift technique and the era’s smartest sorcerer.

Golden Age/Heian Era

Sukuna

• Role: Progenitor of the Netoku clan and the king of curses.
• Nature: Ruthless, uncaring, and cannibalistic.

Asami the 7th

• Title: Queen of curses before Rika.
• Relation: Sukuna’s favored concubine.

Modern Era

Atsushi Netoku

• Title: Current user of the shift technique.
• Traits: Humble, playful, empathetic, and devoted to family.

Shoko Ieiri/Netoku

• Profession: Doctor at Jujutsu High.
• Relation: Atsushi’s consort/lover.
• Challenges: Struggles with a smoking addiction.

Jihn Netoku

• Future: Heir to Atsushi and a grade one sorcerer.
• Personality: Cold to outsiders but opens up around family.
• Education: Studying under Gojo and his father at Jujutsu High.

Cultural and Religious Diversity

• Daoism and Buddhism: Practiced by various clan members.
• Christianity: Followed by Atsushi and his immediate family.

Inter-Clan Dynamics

• Zenin Clan: Historical attempts to steal the Great Malevolence blade.
• Gojo Clan: Received a peace offering from the Netoku clan.

Artifacts and Weapons

• Great Malevolence: A blade with the power to absorb and release negative energy, cut through limitless, and wield cryomancy.

Future Prospects for Jihn Netoku

• Expectations: As the heir, Jihn must navigate the legacy of his lineage and the expectations of his role.
• Challenges: Potential conflicts with historical rivals and the pressures of modern sorcerer society.
• Growth: Opportunities for emotional development and assuming a leadership role within the clan.