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⚠️ WARNING: Maasverse Spoilers—Proceed with Caution ⚠️

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Part 1: Characters and Courts - YOU ARE HERE
Part 2: World Map, Items, Terms & Other
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Well, here we go. A master list of all things ACOTAR + the "real" world.

Now, do I believe every single name and location on this list was chosen by SJM with a specific real-world allusion in mind? Of course not. But when you look at the similarities, you'd be hard pressed to deny some of their very probable relations.
As far as this list goes, I've provided what was within my ability to find—coupling each with that which made the most sense relationally—though several definitions would appear to have zero connection to the story at large.
I can't promise perfection. Heck, I can't even promise 100% accuracy (though I did cross-reference the more obscure sources). And I will gladly welcome any missing pieces and/or additional insight you may have.
\Note: If a character or place/item is minor enough, I've included a reminder of their book roles.*

So come on, friends. Let's dive on in.

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UK + IRELAND

PRYTHIAN

A combination of Prydain, the old Welsh name for Britain, and Brython, which translates to “Ancient Britons” from Welsh.

HYBERN

A riff of Hibernia, the Classical Latin name for Ireland.

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Artist of Prythian map: P-dulcis on redbubble

*A continuing list of world map related locations is provided in Part 2 of this post (see link above)

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MAIN CHARACTERS

RHYSAND

Rhys (also Rhŷs) is Welsh in origin and means "ardent, enthusiasm." It has deep roots in Welsh culture and is the name of several famous Welsh kings and noblemen, including Rhys ap Thomas, a solider who rose to prominence during the Wars of the Roses.

FEYRE ARCHERON

Feyre is a variant of Feyre and is Old English in origin. It means "fair, beautiful." A similar name in Old Norse is Freyja (also spelled Freya), meaning "Lady," denotes a woman of nobility. In Norse mythology, Freyja is a goddess associated with love, beauty, fertility, sex, and war.
In Greek mythology, the Archeron is one of the five rivers of the Underworld and is often the principal river through which the ferryman Charon transports the dead. It said to be the River of Woe or the River of Misery.

CASSIAN

Cassian is Latin in origin, means "son of Cassius," and denotes one of the oldest families in Rome. Arguably the most well known Cassius was one of the leading instigators of Julius Caesar's assassination plot.

AZRIEL

Azriel is Hebrew in origin meaning "God is my help." In some religions, Azrael is the benevolent angel of death who carries souls of the deceased to the afterlife.

MORRIGAN

The Morrígan is a Celtic goddess associated with war and fate and is seen as a guardian of the earth and its people. Her name means "great queen" or "phantom queen."

AMREN

Amram is of Hebrew origin and means "exalted people." It is the Biblical name of Moses' father.
Note: This tracks with Amren being able to interpret The Book of Breathings which is a play on the very real The Books of Breathing, a collection of ancient Egyptian funerary texts.

NESTA

Nesta is the Welsh version of Agnes meaning "pure, holy." May also have potential connections to Nestor, a legendary Greek king who was known as a great warrior and for the sage advice he offered younger soldiers.

ELAIN

Elain is Welsh in origin and means "fawn." Elaine is associated with the Greek name Helen meaning "light, bright one."
Fun fact: Elain is an anagram of Aelin.

NYX

Nyx is the Greek mythological goddess and personification of the Night. She is the mother of Day (Hemera) and Darkness (Erebus). She often appears alongside other celestial deities such as Selene, Helios, and Eos.

ILLYRIANS

EMERIE

Emerie has Old German origins and means "home strength, brave, powerful."

ENALIUS

In Greek mythology Enyalius is a son of Ares but is also a byname for the god of war. He is often seen as the god of soldiers and warriors from the Ares cult.

DEVLON

Devlon is Gaelic in origin and related to the name Devlin meaning "fierce courage."

BALTHAZAR

Balthazar is Akkadian in origin meaning "God protects the King." It is a name commonly attributed to the wise man who gifted myrrh to the Christ child (the myrrh symbolizing the future death of a king). It is an alternate form of King Belshazzar who played a pivotal role in a coup d'état that overthrew a Neo-Babylonian king.
ACOTAR role: Balthazar helped Nesta during the Blood Rite.

PROTEUS

Proteus is a prophetic sea god in Greek mythology and means "versatile, mutable, capable of assuming many forms."
ACOTAR role: Proteus is Emerie's father and was killed in the war with Hybern.

BELLIUS

May refer to Belus, the Babylonian god of war.
ACOTAR role: Bellius is Emerie's cousin and was slain by Cassian during the Blood Rite.

KALLON

No clear references found, but kalon in Ancient Greek translates to "ideal perfect beauty."
ACOTAR role: Kallon incited the Illyrians against the Night Court leaders and was ultimately slain during the Blood Rite.

HEWN CITY

KEIR

Keir is Gaelic, meaning "dark," and is related to the Irish name Ciarán. In Greek mythology, the Keres (singular being Ker) were female death spirits who personified violent death. There is a suggested connection between the Keres and the Valkyries of Norse mythology, each representing opposite ideals; the Valkyries being benevolent deities in death, versus the Keres representing feasting destruction.

THANATOS

In Greek mythology, Thanatos is the personification of death. He is a minor figure, often referred to but rarely appearing in person (I see what you did there, SJM).
ACOTAR role: Thanatos is mentioned briefly by Keir during the alliance meeting with Eris.

THE LIBRARY

CLOTHO

In ancient Greek mythology, Clotho is the youngest goddess of the Three Fates and spins the thread of human life. Her name means "spinner."

MERRILL

Merrill is of British origin meaning "sparkling sea, sea-bright."

GWYNETH BERDARA

Gwyneth is Welsh in origin and means "blessed, happiness." In Irish mythology, the Lady Gwyn is a headless woman (cough, Catrin, cough) who chases wanderers at night. In Arthurian mythology, Guinevere has an evil half-sister—"False" Guinevere—who bewitches Arthur.

ANANKE

Ananke means "necessity, fate personified." In Greek mythology she is one of the primordial deities and is the personification of necessity and inevitability.
ACOTAR role: A Priestess who joins in the training to become a Valkyrie.

DEIRDRE

Deirdre is Gaelic in origin and means "broken-hearted, wanderer." The name is associated with a tragic heroine in Irish mythology.
ACOTAR role: A Priestess who joins in the training to become a Valkyrie.

ILANA

Illana is Hebrew in origin nd means "tree, bright light." It stems from the name Elena and is potentially related to the name Ileana, a beautiful young female fairy in various myths.
ACOTAR role: A Priestess who joins in the training to become a Valkyrie.

LORELEI

Lorelei in German in origin and means "alluring, temptress." In German folklore, she is a siren-like seductress.
ACOTAR role: A Priestess who joins in the training to become a Valkyrie.

ROSLIN

Roslin is Scottish in origin and means "rose, red-haired."
ACOTAR role: A Priestess who joins in the training to become a Valkyrie.

RIVEN

Riven derives from Old Norse meaning "to split, tear asunder."
ACOTAR role: A Priestess who avoids contact with strangers and whose background is unknown.

SIDE CHARACTERS

MADJA

Madja is Slavic in origin and may mean "splendid, noble one." In Arabic it means "the women with glory." It is related to the name Madeleine meaning "from Magdala."

NUALA

Nuala is Irish in origin and means "fair shouldered one." In modern Irish storytelling it means "born of the sea." It is considered a diminutive form of the name Fionnuala, a mythological figure who was the daughter of a sea god.

CERRIDWEN

Cerridwen is an enchantress in Welsh mythology. She is said to possess the cauldron of poetic inspiration and is regarded by many as the Celtic goddess of rebirth, transformation, and inspiration.

RITA

Rita stems from the name Margarita and comes from the Greek word meaning "pearl." The Greeks promoted pearls as a symbol of honesty and integrity.
ACOTAR role: Rita owns the "how does the IC not know the clientele is gay" bar.

SEVENDA

No clear connection found, though venda in Latin means "sell" while sev means "strew, spread" and enda means "end." Could also potentially be related to the number seven.
ACOTAR role: Owns a restaurant the IC frequents.

NEVE

Neve is of Latin origin and means "snow."
ACOTAR role: The jeweler from whom Rhys buys jewelry for Amren in ACOFAS.

POLINA

Polina has Latin origins and derives from Apollo, though it could also be seen as a variant of Paulina/Paul meaning "little, the younger."
ACOTAR role: The faerie who owned Feyre's art studio before her untimely death.

RESSINA

Resina means "resin of the pine." Plants secret resin as a protective response, guarding them from insects and pathogens.
ACOTAR role: Ressina opens the art studio with Feyre. She has green skin and stood outside her shop in response to Hybern's attack on Velaris, protecting the terrified faeries inside.

ARANEA

Aranea is Greek in origin and denotes a genus of orb-weaving spiders.
ACOTAR role: Aranea is the weaver who created the Void cloth.

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MAIN CHARACTERS

TAMLIN

From the "Ballad of Tam Lin," a legendary ballad from the borderlands of Scotland. Reminiscent of the fairytale Beauty & the Beast where a mortal woman plucks a rose and encounters a man in the forest, later learning he is captive to faeries. She must hold onto him as he is transformed into various beasts and upon his rescue, the faerie Queen muses that she should have taken out his eyes (Lucien, anyone?) or capture his heart (Tamlin's stone heart) to prevent his escape.

LUCIEN

Lucien is French in origin and means "light." Lucian was also the name of a Hellenized Syrian satirist who was known for his tongue-in-cheek style is said to be the inventor of comic dialogue.

ALIS

Alis is a variant of Alice and translates to "noble, exalted."

SIDE CHARACTERS

IANTHE

Ianthe is Greek in origin and means "she who delights." In Greek mythology she is a water-nymph daughter of Oceanus and a companion to Persephone when she was abducted by Hades.

ANDRAS

Andras has Welsh origins and means "manly, brave."

BRON

Bron is Old English and means "brown."

HART

Hart has Irish origins and means "hero, brave, firm." A hart is also the term for a male deer and in Celtic mythology, the white hart is said to appear when one is transgressing a taboo (Tamlin's whipping of his other sentry comes to mind).

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MAIN CHARACTERS

BERON VANSERRA

Beron is French in origin and is a pet form of the name Bero meaning "bear."
Vanserra is a combination of the prefix van meaning "from, of" and serra meaning "saw, view from a high place" or "mountain range." Vanserra can be said to mean "of the mountains."

ERIS

In ancient Greek mythology, Eris is the Greek goddess of strife and discord. Her Roman equivalent, Discord, is the goddess of chaos. She is associated with the war goddess Enyo who is frequently associated with the war god Ares.

SIDE CHARACTERS

JESMINDA

Jesminder is Indian in origin meaning "flower queen."

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MAIN CHARACTERS

TARQUIN

Tarquin is of Latin origin and means "ruler, strong soldier." Two of the seven kings of Rome bore the name.

VARIAN

Varian is of Latin origin and means "variable."

CRESSEIDA

Cressida derives from Chryseis and means "golden." She is a character associated with the Trojan War and is the archetype of a faithless lover.

SIDE CHARACTERS

NOSTRUS

Nostrum comes from the Latin noster meaning "our, ours." Nostos is an Ancient Greek literary theme concerning an epic hero returning home, often by sea. It is deemed a high level of heroism or greatness and focuses on the hero retaining or elevating their identity while often resisting temptation.
ACOTAR role: The High Lord prior to Tarquin who was slain by Amarantha after participating in a rebellion Under the Mountain.

BRUTIUS

May refer to the Latin name Brutus meaning "heavy, dull."
ACOTAR role: Mercifully slain by Rhys Under the Mountain after his attempted escape.

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MAIN CHARACTERS

HELION

Helios is the Ancient Greek god personifying the sun. He is often depicted with a solar crown and drives a horse-drawn chariot through the sky. He played a significant role in ancient magic and spells and is the son of the Titan Theia and brother to Selene.

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MAIN CHARACTERS

KALLIAS

Callias is Greek in origin and means "beauty, beautiful voice." He is a diplomatic and wealthy figure in Ancient Greece.

VIVIANNE

From the Latin word vivianus meaning "alive." Commonly associated with the Irish name Bébinn meaning "beautiful, fair one" and is the name of an underworld goddess in both Irish and Welsh mythology.

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THESAN

Thesan is the Etruscan goddess of the dawn. Greeks identified her with Eos, the goddess and personification of the dawn. She is sometimes depicted with wings.

NUAN

Nuan is Mandarin and means "warm, genial."

THE PEREGRYN

The peregrine is a falcon renowned for its speed.
Fun fact: The peregrine is the fastest member of the animal kingdom and can reach speeds of over 200mph.

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AMARANTHA

Amaranths is Greek in origin and means "unfading." The amaranthus flower, often deep red in color, is said to symbolize immortality as it blooms for so long.

BRANNAGH

Brannagh is of Irish origin and denotes a "beautiful female with hair dark as a raven."

DAGDAN

In Irish mythology, the Dagda is considered the chief god of the Tuatha Dé Danaan. His name means "the good god, the great god."

CLYTHIA

In Greek mythology, Clytia is a water nymph who loved the sun god Helios. Helios left her for another woman after coming under the influence of Aphrodite. Clytia exposed the affair to the other woman's father, but eventually lost herself in mourning for Helios's love. Her name means "glorious, renowned."
ACOTAR role: Amarantha's sister.

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HISTORICAL FIGURES

THEIA

Theia is a Titan and is the Ancient Greek goddess of sight and vision. She is the parent of Helios, Selene, and Eos. She is most known not for her own role, but for that of her childrens'. Her name means "goddess, godly."

SILENE

Selene is the Ancient Greek goddess and personification of the moon. She is the daughter of Hyperion and Theia and sister to Helios and Eos.

HELENA

Comes from the Green name Helen meaning "shining light." There are various Helens in Greek mythology: Helen of Troy, Helen a friend to Aphrodite, and Helene the Amazonian who fought Achilles.

FIONN

Fionn is of Irish origin and means "fair-haired." In Irish folklore, Fionn Mac Cumhaill was a leader of a band of young hunter-warriors.

PELIAS

Pelias is Greek in origin and means "rock pigeon." Pelias was the king of Ioclus while Peleus was the king of Phthia. Peleus was husband to Thetis, father to Achilles, and left several (men and women) dead in his wake, both through means of accident and betrayal, fleeing more than once to escape punishment.

OLEANNA

Oleanna derives from the Greek name Helene meaning "sun ray, shining light."
ACOTAR role: The High Priestess who dipped Gwydion in the Cauldron.

REPORTED DECEASED

CATRIN BERDARA

Catrin is Greek in origin and means "clear, pure." It's commonly used in Wales and is connected with the ancient goddess Hecate, who is the goddess of witchcraft, sorcery, and necromancy.

MINOR CHARACTERS

TANWYN

Tanwan is of Welsh origin and means "white fire."
ACOTAR role: Tanwyn was a Valkyrie and Cassian's former lover.

OSIAN

Osian is Welsh meaning "young deer" and derives from the Irish legendary poet and warrior Oisín, who was regarded as the greatest poet of Ireland and a warrior of the Fianna (small warrior-hunter bands). He was a demigod son of Fionn Mac Cumhaill and Sadhbh.
ACOTAR role: The author of A Brief History of the Great Sieges

RABATH

Rabath is an anagram of Bharat, one of the names of India. Derived from the Sanskrit word bharata, meaning "to bear, be maintained" it can also mean "one who is engaged in search of knowledge."
ACOTAR role: Lord of the Western Wind and ancestor to Merrill.

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JURIAN

Jurian is Greek in origin and means "farmer, earthworker."

GRAYSEN

Graysen is of English origin and translates to "son of the steward/gray-haired man."

NOLAN

Nolan is Irish in origin and denotes a "child of nobility, champion."
ACOTAR role: Nolan is Graysen's father.

ISAAC HALE

Isaac is Hebrew in origin and means "one who laughs or rejoices." Hale is Old English in origin and means "nook, recess" and denoted someone who lived in a nook or hollow.

TOMAS MANDRAY

Thomas is Hebrew in origin and means "twin." No clear reference to Mandray, though Mandrew is Greek and means "man, warrior."
ACOTAR role: Tomas was Nesta's former betrothed.

CLARE BEDDOR

Clare is French in origin and means "bright, clear." No reference found for Beddor.

AUNT RIPLEIGH

Ripleigh is Old English and means "shouting man's meadow." It is connected to the name Ripley meaning "strip of clearing in the woods."
ACOTAR role: Aunt Ripleigh is the feigned aunt Feyre takes care of.

Ms. Laurent

Laurent is French in origin and means "from Laurentum" and "bay laurel."
ACOTAR role: Ms. Laurent is the mortal caretaker of the Archeron estate.

BRIAR

Briar is of British origin and means "thorny bush of wild roses, brambles."
ACOTAR role: Briar is the mortal woman rescued by Feyre and Azriel.

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HUMAN QUEENS

VASSA

Vasilissa is Greek in origin and means "queen, empress." It is also the name of a Christian child martyr who was left unharmed during her capture, but after her release was slain in a field as she prayed.

BRIALLYN

Briallen is a Welsh name meaning "primrose." Primrose comes from the Latin word meaning "first" and the primrose flower often represents youth and renewal (SJM, you dog—this may be my favorite tongue-in-cheek naming thing you did).
ACOTAR role: Briallyn is the first queen who enters the Cauldron and is rewarded with immortality as a withered old hag.

DEMETRA

Demeter was the mother of Persephone, an Ancient Greek goddess of the harvest and an emblem of growth.
ACOTAR role: Demetra was the golden queen who provided the mortal half of The Book of Breathings to the Night Court and was subsequently slain by the Attor.

ANDROMACHE

Andromache means "fighter of men." In Greek mythology, she was representative of the suffering of Trojan women during the war and was famous for her virtue and fidelity. Andromache was also the name of a famous Greek Amazonian who fell at Troy.
ACOTAR role: Andromache was the former mortal lover of Mor.

FAE CHARACTERS

DRAKON

Drakon is of Greek origin and means "dragon."

NEPHELLE

In Greek mythology Nephele, meaning "cloud," is a cloud nymph who is considered the goddess of loyalty, generosity, peace, and shyness.

THE SERAPHIM

A seraph is a celestial being regarded as belonging to the highest order of angels in Christian angelology.

HUMAN CHARACTERS

MIRYAM

Miriam of of Hebrew origin and means "sea of sorrow." She is the Biblical daughter of Amram and Jochebed and sister to Aaron and Moses.

URSTIN

No plausible connections found. Potentially an anagram for Rustin, an English name meaning "Rust's estate" or Surtin, a Middle English name meaning "reliable, trustworthy."
ACOTAR role: Urstin is a cousin of the Archerons via their mother.

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MAIN CHARACTERS

THE SURIEL

Suriel is a Hebrew name meaning "God's prince, divine authority." May also reference Sariel, an angel from Judais tradition, one of the seven holy angels. He is considered to be a primordial power invoked for his protective powers.

ATTOR

Possibly an altered form of the German tatter meaning "goblin, puppet." Likely inspired by the Ahool, a bat or primate-like winged cryptid said to live in the jungles of Indonesia.

DEATH GODS

THE BONE CARVER

Self-explanatory.

STRYGA AKA THE WEAVER

Stryzga is a female demon in Slavic mythology similar to a vampire. Stryzga stems from the mythological Strix of Ancient Greece, referring to birds of ill omen (and also witches) who fed on human flesh and blood.

KOSCHEI

Koschei is a common villain in East Slavic tales. He is often given the epithet of "the Immortal, the Deathless" and is said to hide his death inside nested objects for protection. He often takes the role of a malevolent rival figure who competes or entraps a male hero's love interest.
Fun note: The love interest trapping tidbit has interesting connotations for both Lucien (regarding Vassa) and Azriel (regarding Eris). For a breakdown of the Azriel x Koschei scene in ACOSF, see HERE.

PRISON INMATES

BRYAXIS

Bryaxis was a famous Ancient Greek sculptor. His name may mean "delight, lust."

LANTHYS

No information or connections found (and it is KILLING me).

LUBIA

In Albanian mythology, the lubia is a multi-headed, serpentine-like, female watestorm demon-dragon. Her irresistible taste of flesh leans toward that of young girls.
ACOTAR role: Also called Seven-Headed Lubia, imprisoned for preying on girls on the western coast of Prythian.

ANNIS

The Black Annis is a bogeyman in English folklore, depicted as a blue-faced witch with iron claws who has a taste for human flesh, especially that of children.
ACOTAR role: Also called Blue Annis, imprisoned for her craving of female flesh.

VESPERUS

In Greek mythology, Hesperus is the Evening Star. Her Roman equivalent is named Vesper.
ACOTAR role: Vesperus is the Asteri found beneath the Prison.

MINOR CHARACTERS

MIDDENGARD WYRM

Midgard is the realm of human beings in Norse mythology, ie Earth. Wrym is an Old Norse word and refers to a wingless and limbless dragon.

THE BOGGE

Bogge is a Middle English word meaning "frightening specter" from which the term bogeyman originated. Bogeyman have no specific appearance and conceptions vary drastically by culture.
Fun fact: A boggart is a supernatural being from English folklore and also derives from the term bogge (Harry Potter facts, yo).

NAGA

Throughout various Asian religious traditions, Angus are a divine or semi-divine race of half-human, half-serpent beings residing in the netherworld.
Fun fact: A female naga is called a Nagi or a Nagini (more HP facts, yo).

MARTAX

A manticore is a Persian mythological creature similar to the Egyptian sphinx. The martax describe in ACOTAR has a head like a lion's and three rows of teeth. A manticore has the body of a lion and eats its victims whole with its three rows of teeth. The term manticore stems from Latin and Ancient Greek.

PUCA

Púca is Irish for "spirit, ghost" while puca is Old English for "goblin." They were said to be shape-changers.

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MEALLAN

Meallán is Irish in origin meaning "small pleasant one."
ACOTAR role: Helion's pegasus.

ELLIA

Ellia is of various origins and can translate to "beautiful fairy maiden" with hints to the "Otherworld."
ACOTAR role: Mor's horse.

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For Part 2: World Map, Items, Terms & Other, click HERE

Hi.
I'm recently hunting down my brake pull of my good old Golf mk6.
Under hard braking, there's noticeable pull to right.
Does not pulls steering wheel to right and correctable with minor steering input,
Here's what I've done.
Replaced front brake pads, rear rotor and pads, replaced brake fluid. Checked guide pins moving fine and piston returning smoothly, brake fluid flows fine through bleeder valve.
Checked for alignments, suspension systems(bushings, wheel bearing, ball joints, shocks, etc..). Everything was fine, except my car pulls right when I'm driving because of bad alignment caused by hard driving but even right after alignment, car still pulls to right when braking so not alignment related issue.
My last alignment spec was
Front Caster Left 7.98deg Right 7.84deg Front Camber Left -1.81deg Right -1.88deg
Larger caster and camber is caused by Caster bushing and roll centecamber adjust ball joint.
Toe 0.06deg
Rear Camber Left -1.27deg Right -1.36deg
Toe 0.06deg
Thrust angle 0.00deg
I had accident in front right side of vehicle and got fixed, but it was two years ago since I noticed brake pull so I think it's not related. Also measured all body dimension from workshop body repair manual, everything was dead center.
Done braking force test and there was no big difference side to side. But it's final braking force test which doesn't measures response time of each wheel's brake system..
What I've found is when I measured thickness of old front brake pads, driver side inner brake pad was 2mm thicker than passenger side inner one. No difference in outer pad.. So I'm thinking maybe front brake rotor is cause but I thought there should be brake judder if there's any warp or deformation of rotor but I don't have any of them, only pull.
Any suggestion is appreciated. Thanks.

I am helping my uncle out, as his house has fallen into a bit of a sorry state and while he likes starting projects, he’s less keen on finishing them. He is also notoriously tight, and any necessary repairs will likely have been done as cheaply as possible (if at all). There are a few things concerning me, that I was hoping to get some opinions on. Unfortunately, he’s not particularly forthcoming on when/how long these things have been an issue for. I’m not sure if these are separate/interconnected or all caused by the same underlying issue.
Firstly, quite a few of the bricks have blown, mainly on the external side wall particularly around the chimneys (I’m not sure how long this has been an issue). I imagine painting the bricks was an attempt to solve/literally paint over the issue and knowing him has probably made it worse.
Also, there are quite a few cracks up the external side wall, particularly on the chimneys, and also on the adjoining rear wall above what used to be a door, but which was at some point replaced with a rather interesting looking window with a wooden bit below (calling it wooden may be kind here – it looks and feels more like some sort of board, and not something that would offer much support to the wall above) it also looks like it has a wood lintel. There is also some cracking of the plaster inside the first-floor room on the reaside corner, particularly above the windows and where the chimney joins the wall. One crack seems to go all the way through as there’s a crack on both the outside and inside in a very similar place (above the side window) but the others don’t immediately appear to go through.
There is also visible damp below both window ledges on the inside in this room, so maybe the sills are angled incorrectly or they’re cracked, or the window itself isn’t actually waterproof, again I’m not sure if that could be causing/related to the other issues.
Finally, I am hoping I am just overworrying/my eyes are playing tricks on me, but the external side wall does appear to bow very slightly outwards in the middle (smoothly with the maximum bowing at around the first floor level). If it is, it is only doing so slightly, and I may well be imagining this issue.
I realise he realistically needs a structural engineesurveyor to take a look but was hoping to get a rough idea of what could be causing the issues and what the possible resolutions might be to encourage him to get some professional advice. I am hoping it is mainly damp in the chimneys/windows that is hopefully resolvable, rather than subsidence, the chimneys falling over, or damp that has been there so long it has entirely compromised the wall, but I don’t really have a clue. The neighbours are really lovely and I’m rather keen to ensure that they don’t have my uncles wall enter their living room.
Pictures: Left Chimney (1,2) Right Chimney (3,4) Side Wall (5) 1st Floor Inside of Side Wall (6) Rear Wall (7,8,9) 1st Floor Inside of Rear Wall (10)

Hey everyone,
I have an idea for the summer to create a table top english style pool table to sit either on top my dining table or preferably to overhang the table. I'm using chat gpt to help with proposing dimensions for my table.
Dining Table • Length: 63 inches (160 cm) • Width: 36 inches (91 cm) • Height: 30 inches (76 cm) Pool Table • Overall Length: 68 inches (173 cm) • Overall Width: 41 inches (104 cm) • Playing Surface Length: 60 inches (152 cm) • Playing Surface Width: 33 inches (84 cm) • Overhang: 2.5 inches (6.5 cm) on each side
So these are the dimensions. Does anybody have any ideas, tips or tricks? I want it to be have the best possible playing surface so plan on using moisture resistant mdf, a good cloth that would provide the best roll and spin possible accompanied by a set of balls that would allow me to do this.
I'm a bit concerned of how to go about creating the right angle and curvature of the pockets and rails so if anybody has tips for this too. I know the size is a bit less than a standard 5ft table but I like english pool and I think the lighter cue ball could assist in playability and spin etc. So please if anybody has any tips or concerns etc please let me know!!!!!
Thanks

Trigger warning - religious differences
I always bragged about how awesome my extended family was. NO family is perfect, but I heard horror stories and always counted my blessings that I had strong ties with my Aunt and uncles since I was raised an only child. That was until a few months ago when my last living Aunt, whom I considered a second mom, shattered me.
Ok, some backstory here. My aunt is a Jehovah’s Witness. Now before you get all judgy, I have always loved her, my uncle and her son with all of my heart. I still do. I respect that they have found faith and live by this code on the daily. I have met many people from their congregation and loved them all (ok, a couple of exceptions). I also appreciate the community they have and love they all show each other. If it weren’t for the religion itself, I would have converted.
I, however, am pagan and have always been since I was about 5 (even the first book I signed out from the school’s library was about witchcraft). Not raised that way, but always found spiritual comfort in nature and the natural world. I have a very strong connection and dedication to my Powers That Be and work every day to help the world be a better place. My Aunt did not know my religion until about 7 years ago. That being said, she and I would have very philosophical conversations when we hung out together. Even at the age of 8, I would listen to her preach to me and ask questions to which she never had answers. I remember her telling me how only 144,000 people would be allowed in heaven and didn’t I think that would be wonderful knowing that our whole family could be together again after we died. We’d all be in heaven if we were all Jehova;s witnesses. I had gone with her many times to do field service (door to door) and asked her why they do that if there’s only a certain number of people allowed. Didn’t that lessen her chances of getting in because I’m sure there were many people more deserving than myself. How did she know for sure she’d be one of the ones to get in and was that fair to keep bringing people into the religion when all the spaces were probably already filled up?
At 8 years old, I had many questions and was just trying to figure these things out. Since she was an adult, I figured she had the answers. My questions were not with malice, just for a want of better understanding. When she didn’t have the answers, I'd ask my mother and grandmother. While they were extremely amused, they said they never understood either. They never said anything bad about her or her attempts to get them to convert, just allowed me to explore religion and spirituality as I wished so I could make my own decision of what was right for me.
Once I was an adult, I avoided talking to her about religion, but found that if I didn’t ask questions and just let her talk, it made her happy. I know she’s a good person at heart and that’s all that matters. After my Mom passed, my aunt and I talked almost every week. I loved talking to her and she became even more like a mom to me. She gave me encouragement and we supported each other through health and emotional crises. I’d make it a point to try and visit at least once a year for a few days so she could visit with my daughter and I. We’d always do lunch with her friends and I loved it. I fell in love with some of the people in her congregation and wished we could live closer to hang out more. I, however, never wavered on my spiritual beliefs, but I have never cared about the religion, race, or sexuality of anyone. If we got along, we were friends and that was that.
My aunt and I had come to an understanding that I would not convert and that we would love and respect each other regardless. Religious talk was off the table for the most part until both of my uncles (my aunt’s two brothers) passed and she had a very hard time dealing with it. She was the last surviving sibling and she was sinking into a depression. I’d talk to her at length and listen to her as she mourned the fact that she would never have contact with them (and my mom) in heaven because they never converted. When she asked me what I believed, I told her that I believed that the soul lived on after the body died and that I believed in reincarnation. I explained my beliefs were closer to hindu and buddhism than christianity (so she had context). We had very long talks and she expressed that she respected my views and actually found comfort in talking with me.
That was until my daughter and I opened our store about 3 years ago. It’s a metaphysical shop and we have crystals, teas, gifts, jewelry, candles and more (about 10% strict;y pagan). My aunt was happy for us until it dawned on her that we might sell pagan stuff. I told her what we sold and she asked me if I was a witch. I replied that I suppose that was one way to describe me, but, again, I considered myself spiritual and that I followed a path closer to buddhism, hinduism, native american. I sent a couple of pictures of the jewelry that we made and she said when we came down, we should bring the jewelry making.
We did, I brought down our best crystals to wrap and bracelet materials and my daughter and I made her a necklace with a very expensive stone (A $200 piece). She brought her friends over and they picked out crystals that they wanted, made bracelets and such. We had fun and I was happy to do it, though I wasn’t expecting people that I had never met before. Still, we had fun. My daughter and I also brought her a basket with local items from our hometown, (Raw honey, handmade stoneware mugs, cutting board, herbal tea and some other items made by us as well) She was thrilled. My aunt and uncle had taken a couple of bad falls a few months before and so my daughter and I made them hand carved cedar walking sticks as well because we knew they went for regular walks and thought it would help their balance. It felt amazing to lavish expensive and heartfelt gifts on them as I has struggled so long with money. I was finally in a place that I could do it. To say the gifts probably totalled in excess of 1K is on the low side, but I was still happy to do it.
Besides the fact that they tried converting my daughter when I wasn’t around, it was a lovely visit. The only problem I had was with a new person my aunt introduced us to. This woman, we’ll call her Dee, ignored me and only talked to my daughter. She was my age if not older, but conversed with my daughter, 17, like I wasn’t there. They traded contact info and Dee insisted that they keep in touch while my daughter was in college. Dee said she was going to keep an eye on her. I thought that was odd, but I did enjoy the feeling of having an extended family sort of since I actually had no family besides my Aunt.
Let’s jump forward to the following year and we were struggling financially. Not horrible, but unable to lavish the gifts that we did the year before. Instead, I created a beautiful aromatherapy candle, some delicious herbal teas and we found a couple of very rare antique tea cups that had amazing value to them (about $100 a piece). We made a basket for her and I decided we would cook for them. (gluten free, soy free, dairy free etc). Our visit went so well, it was great to see them. We just enjoyed hanging out with them and talking. They loved the meal we made for them and the dairy free organic chocolate I made. Everything was great until the day we were leaving. Dee showed up and again ignored me, talked to my daughter and chastised her for getting a pet snake as that was an animal associated with the devil. My daughter is one to push the envelope a bit and said how she wanted to get a tattoo as well, one of a snake. Both my aunt and Dee were shocked and said she should never get a tattoo.. Again related to the devil, I went to the bathroom as I was not involved in the conversation and knew my daughter could hold her own. Little do they know that my daughter is also trans. I told her not to say anything to them just yet. I came back to them talking about how college was going and I thought my aunt and Dee would faint when she said her college roommate was male. She quickly explained that it was fine because he was gay and how awesome he was (he is btw). She quickly realized what I meant when she saw their reaction to him being gay. It wasn’t that she was living with a boy, it was that he was gay and “why did he choose to be gay.” I tried redirecting the conversation a couple of times, but they ignored me.
They finally let it go, but just after Dee left, we were getting ready to depart as well. My aunt returned the basket I made for her (minus the expensive tea cups). She said she could not accept them as they were touched by the devil. Shocked, I asked what she meant. She said that because they came from my store, they carried Satan's influence and she could not have them in our home. Truthfully, I explained that I made those items for her and that the only things that came from the store were the teacups. She was confused why I had gotten upset. When I explained that I gave her a gift and if she didn’t want it, she could regift it or throw it away. That gift came from my heart with all the love I have for her and that I didn't need to know her opinions about the gifts because It insinuated I, myself, was evil and it was extremely hurtful. She basically continued on insisting that I was just not aware of how much Satan had a hold of me. All I could do was tell her how much I loved her and leave.
I didn’t take her calls and cried about this for over a month. I finally felt strong enough to talk to her and again she insisted that because those items touched my hands, they were influenced by satan and she wished I could understand how they just can’t have that influence in their home. Frustrated, I asked how she could shop at grocery stores or buy anything from department stores because she can’t guarantee that those items didn’t touch hands that were influenced by satan. Also , I asked her how they could have eaten the food I prepared for them and why did they even invite me into their home to begin with if that’s the way she felt about me. She suddenly needed to go.
We talked a few times since then but it always came back to religion. At one point I asked her again why she would even invite us to her home if she felt that way. Her response was to save my daughter. The pain and heartache she has inflicted is immense, but I cannot bring myself to argue the point because I’m afraid if I make my point to her, it will break her. She’s in her 80’s and I believe has the beginnings of dementia. Her religion brings her comfort and I don’t want to say anything that might make her doubt her religion at her advanced age.
I’ve decided it is probably best for both of our mental health to stop all contact with her( with the exception of sending cards telling them how much I love them) even though I’ve always seen her as a second mom. AITA for making this decision and not trying to work things out with her or allow her to believe that I still might convert?
*** Please understand this is not a bash on any religion. Everyone has the right to believe in whatever religion they wish. That includes me, so if you feel the need to bash them or me for our spiritual choices, you can move along ***
I have never felt like I needed to hide any part of me from my friends, family, and the public in general. Not until now. Buckle up, this is a bumpy ride.
I've always been kind hearted, almost to a flaw. I took care of my grandmother, my step-dad, my mom and helped with a family friend during long term and terminal illnesses. I had my daughter and, without her father's help, raised her on my own with very little to no support. I helped friends with their farm who left me homeless in the end because I want interested in an extramarital affair. I lost my home and all that I loved including my husband because he lied to me and never paid it mortgage while I was recovering from an illness. In short, I have had a tough life, but it has never made me turn my back on anyone who needed help or in difficult family when they were ignored by the others. That's just some background before I tell you this situation.
Three years ago, after a bout of covid, my daughter was suicidal. She had been in the top three of her HS class and yet at that point almost failed her junior year. Not knowing if she would have the emotional strength to face college and adulting in general, I set up a plan B for her. I started a store in her name and that way she'd have something at least to fall back on if she was unable to function in the m-f 9 to 5 world. We started slow by doing craft fairs, seeking crystals, candles, jewelry, and gifts. We were kicked out of one because the person running it assumed we were witches. She was not wrong exactly as we identified as pagan, but we lived our life closest to the Buddhist and Hindu traditions, not traditional wicca. These were people who knew us for years and were considered acquaintances if not friends.
Our business flourished and we ended up opening our brick and mortar that fall after remodeling our garage/ barn and turning it into a store front. Even though I run it for my daughter, it is hers and we work together to keep it going.
In the past few years I've lost my mom, and two uncles. I have no family besides my mother's sister and her husband which we were pretty close. My aunt knew that I was pagan and had tried recruiting me into her religion since I was 5. Even at that tender age her religion never made sense and I would ask her questions to which she never had answers. I accepted her and respected her and her religion even though I didn't agree. I loved the people she introduced me to that were in her church and I always got along with them. That is until we visited the year after we started our store. My aunt was thrilled about us bringing crystals down and making jewelry with her. We met a new friend of hers (middle aged woman) who ignored me completely and oozed affection on my daughter. She got my daughter's contact info and contacted her frequently. Trying to convert and ”save” her. My daughter wasn't having it as even though she was in a delicate state, she is very level headed and strong willed.
This year we visited and we brought herbal tea, candies, and rare vintage tea cups for my aunt. The day we were leaving, she handed back everything but the vintage tea cups and told me she couldn't accept them because they were touched by Satan (aka made by my hands). To say I was devastated is an understatement. This woman was always like a second mom to me and we had grown closer after my mom passed away. It was a 20 hour drive home and I cried most of the way. I cried for weeks after a well. Thinking of it now still brings me tears. As she was telling me that Satan had a hold on me and that she was trying to save me, all I did was remind her how much I loved her and my uncle. Every time since then that we have talked, she says the same thing, but now she told me I was a lost cause. I feel like trying to stay in touch is detrimental to her mental health ( and my own). I don't want to give up or abandon the last of my family, but I can't talk to her and endure the endless insinuations that I'm evil because I don't believe in her religion. She took a bad fall and broke her arm. The last time we spoke, she talked as if it was my fault for bringing the devil into her home.
While I could usually brush this off as delusional ranting, it hits hard because the same day she fell, my dad died. I know the Powers That Be only give as much as we can handle, I just wish they didn't have so much faith in me.
They are in their 80s. I know in all the pieces of my broken heart that they'll never be able to accept my daughter and I unless we change religions and it has crossed my mind just to say we have to put her at ease, but I can't lie like that to them and we cannot betray ourselves like that either. By

As If It Were Kismet: Prologue
Matt tore through the brush, blind in the dark. He didn’t care where he was going. He only knew he needed to be elsewhere. Far from here.
Behind him a creature howled that shocked his mind. It’s form was cruel and dangerous, though female. Nothing like the young woman she had once been. Nothing but a girl, a small and slight female.
It’s guttural growls and howls only grew closer as Matt tried to pick between seeing where he was going and getting away. The few times he looked he caught sight of the creature behind him. Hopping through the air with a speed that told him he was being toyed with. As if he were a mouse being played with by a cat.
But the reflex in him to run kept him going. His adrenaline going as hard as it could. The tightness and burning in his core tensing and locking up as his legs felt like there were being burned from within while taking on more of a heaviness.
His lungs were starting to betray him as he tried to gulp big breaths of air but only rapid and shallow breaths were all that he could manage. His brain was starting to burn….and then he was falling.
Falling down the side of a hill he saw the creature dart in a spring towards him, imperceivably fast almost. Catching him in mid air it seemed.
Managing to wrap its body around him and cushion his impact against the ground as they rolled. His mind barely took in what was happening during the roll. Only starting to understand what was happening once they were still.
The creature's triple D-cup breasts were unmistakably pressed hard against his back as he laid facing up at the night sky.
For a few seconds the world stilled and the needle light pain hitting the center of his brain took over for the cooking heat his brain had felt. His whole body felt heavy and reluctant to move.
Even if he could have really moved, a dull ache came over his limbs making them feel stilled and trapped as if by immeasurable amounts of sand that had engulfed him.
Slowly the arms holding him started to move. Moving so the creature's hands could start exploring him. Causing Matt to unstoppably let out a pathetic moan that made him go cold inside as hands lifted up his shirt and started to touch his exposed stomach and then his chest.
He would have whimpered so pathetically had he not still been in the depths of terror.
As its hands felt and groped his pecs he tried to situp as if to get away. For his efforts, his reward was a hand around his throat and a collection snarls and growls against his ear. A beastly, guttural voice spat words at him while somehow holding a feminine tone.
“Don’t move….I don’t know if I can calm down…”
Her words were not helped by her moans in his ear and the subsequent kissing of his ear. The flesh of his ear going between her lips as she moaned and seemed to pant. Releasing it and licking the side of his face with a moist warmth. He could feel its spittle, viscous and coating his flesh where the tongue touched. He could smell something in his saliva. Something that subtly entranced him.
Matt went stock still with fear and the confusion of mixed arousal. He barely perceived her right hand traveling lower on his body. A surprised moan and shudder echoed in the night from Matt’s lips as she took ahold of him. Her hand above his pants but still….stimulating him.
A light squeezing and almost probing of her digits kept him aroused and confused within her grasp. Resigning himself to the strange fate, Matt looked up at the stars as his mind tried not to shatter under the strange maelstrom of events and sensation that had started mere minutes ago.
His mind was only more confused as a slight figure, feminine in build, how it seemed to thunk the ground audibly as she landed on her feet out nowhere. Her knees barely bending under the pressure of the landing. Yet dirt was kicked up anyways and some of it onto Matt. Feeling it pepper his shirt and pants as it fell.
The figure, lit only faintly by moonlight, roared some dark tone Matt could only perceive as a demon as her eyes went bright with a crimson light. A light in the darkness that should not have been. “Let him go you bitch.” Was its words following the roar. Spittle escaping its mouth with faint droplets hit Matt's face.
The creature holding him by his throat and crotch seemed to tighten the grasp of both hands as it roared back. “HE IS MINE!”
The figure paused with a moment's hesitation. He was also her quarry. She had felt his fear without him knowing. His confused arousal. His fear. His terror.
And now he laid at the center of a struggle between two monsters. Unsure of who he wanted to win.
As If It Was Kismet Ch. 1
Matthew Berkshire hadn’t seen his mom in two years. Not that he had seen her much over the last six years.
A messy divorce between messy people and mom’s chaotic want for a life in Alaska had been one of the most…upsetting times in life. Setting him up for so much of what had defined his life thus far but then that had really started two years before he ever turned.
His ear buds were basic and simple. A part of cheap five pack, common for his life as he was known to lose little things. Small things. They had a mix of metal and hard rock playing in them. Some classics, some alternative. Whatever made him feel something, anything. Even if it was hate. Anger. Rage. It was better than feeling numb. Not belonging.
The escalator down to his lone bag to go with his lone carry on showed his mom waiting for him. His had a type, that’s for damn sure. Not that it helped him in the genetics department as he was stuck at 5’9” to go along with his mother’s five foot even as his dad stood six foot. Forever leaving him to feel small, to pale, under his dad’s shadow. Did he ever stand a chance?
The guy next to her with the unkempt former seventies porn stache was “Dave.” He’d met him twice when his mother came and visited him in Florida. To his credit the guy didn’t look annoyed. Kind of concerned kind of which made Matthew want to break his frozen look but he was well practiced. Having removed any note of sadness from his face through much…tribulation.
His mother’s look on her face betrayed a hint of worry as the bruises on his face lightly showed up close. Saying his name was his like a distant echo that belonged to someone else.
Dave cut in and pulled out his right headphone. “What the hell bud, they knock you hard enough to hurt hearing? Your mom’s asking how you are doing.”
Matthew pulled out the other bud and grunted an empty “sorry.”
“You still have bruises after two week? What did they do to you?” His mom’s voice was full of worry. Something he hadn’t heard in….too long. Too long to make him feel anything. To ever make him believe there was any sincerity to her words. To not think her voice and mannerisms were an act. An act by someone who…wasn’t really there.
“It’s only fair. I took a nose. Fractured a couple orbital bones. Left one with having to get his jaw wired shut. And one will never walk right again for what I did to his knee cap.” Matthew said it all with a bored and disinterested tone. Perhaps well rehearsed.
“My man, handing out ass kickings, not bothering to take names.” Dave was quick to be the typical man’s man about it. Matthew wasn’t quite done yet. Lifting up his shirt to expose the right side near his kidney. Revealing a nasty scar from a six inch blade. “Luckily they gave me this first so they could rule it all in self-defense. The fuck didn’t get it in more than inch before I ruined his knee cap and then I took the nose of one of the fucks holding me.” Now he chose to smile keeping the well practiced dead look in his eyes.
No retorts. No questions. Just horrified looks on their faces. As he liked. As he preferred. They could hate him. They could be disgusted by him. But by God they would fear him.
“Well the doc did a good job sewing you up.” Dave commented uncomfortably. “Dissolving sutures. Ain’t they grand.” He smiled again and let it abruptly fall off his face and started walking to the carousel for the baggage claim.
Waiting and making small talk with Dave as his mother stood in silence. He was not the little boy she abandoned. The little boy she left with an angry man. While never hitting him. Left him in constant fear till he turned twelve and just didn’t care anymore. Something snapped. Broke. And he didn’t care if he died. Didn’t care if he stole. Didn’t even care if he killed. He just knew not to get caught. Something left over from his grandfather’s wisdom which came to make more and more sense with each passing year of life since that thing inside him broke.
Finally his bag came around and Dave went to try first to grab it but Dave practically leapt ahead of him. “Is that your grandfather’s rucksack bag?” his mother asked in a perplexed voice.
“Figured it’s been around since Viet Nam. So it’d serve me better than any of the worthless stuff they called luggage.” Dave commented after Matthew’s words. “Well hell yeah I still got mine from Desert Storm. You know the first one.” Dave laughed and Matthew eyed him oddly. Be it in the south or whether it was Alaska, country boys are country boys he guessed.
The car ride to the two people’s house, as Matthew thought of them. Was uneventful and full of vistas he imagined metropolitan types wetting themselves over. At most they meant isolation to him. Furtherness from the world as there were no mountains in Florida. And what mountains he had last seen in another state had been when he was eight. Another life, to Matthew it felt like. A life alien to him.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 2
Dave and his mom’s place was some two story type tucked into a tree line far up an elevated point. It was by no means the highest point in the mountain but it certainly felt up there.
Rocks were where the driveway should have been Matthew thought. Grabbing his backpack and rucksack from Dave’s jeep was no hard thing for him. Matthew was in formidable shape for someone his age, maybe even five years older. He had gotten a mix of fairly big shoulders and arms along with the chest to go for it when compared to most kids his age. A side effect of working out at least twice a day. First thing in the morning, some time in the evening, and the school’s gym when had had a good semester in school before he had to leave Florida.
Dave tried to come up and help him but Matthew walked past him towards the house. His mom was not sure what to make of his demeanor. Matthew was not the sweet kind boy he had once been. But she had been gone from his life essentially for a long time.
Ushering him into the house she cracked some joke he did not hear. He was too busy looking about and seeing a mix of old outdated decorating mixed with the strange and odd flair of his mother. Color contrasting against drab and dated. Like brightly painting over an old home that was falling apart he thought.
“Your room is this way Mattie.” His mom brightly intoned.
Without expressing any interest he followed his mother. Still faced and nonplussed. Just going along with the current. Pushed and pulled with its roll like a piece of driftwood.
The room was simple. A single small bed. A set of rubber weights with a curl bar and barbells. “Your dad said you were into weight lifting so we got you a bunch of stuff. Dave says it looks like his department’s gym almost. The woman’s smile felt very alien to him.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ve got most of my stuff from home.” Matthew starting unpacking his rucksack and pulled out cables of repetitive and mixed colors. A single plastic barbell handle. The ruck sack could be filled with water bottles for added weight during pushups he figured. Remembering a Michael Keaton movie he watched with his dad post-Batman movies where he played a convicted killer using plastic bags filled with water for weights.
Matthew caught movement outside his lone fairly large window that could let him step out onto the roof of the house given its layout.
He saw a number of people running together through what he guessed was the backyard of the property, not that it had any fences to mark boundaries
They wore clothes that looked similar yet different from each other at the same time.”Oh those are the Johnston’s. Really nice bunch of people. Been on the mountain for a long time Dave tells me.”
Matthew looked at the group of people running and noticed the lack of resemblance. “They are related?” Matthew quizzically asked. Seeing a black and possibly a hispanic person amongst the bland looking white people.
“Oh well they are all adopted but for one or two of them…besides the parents of course. The family has a long tradition of taking in orphans they say. Real nice of them to do that don’t you think.”
Matthew looked at his mother and the hosier accent made no sense to him as he arched his left eye brow. Her and his dad were both from Florida. Born and raised. Sure her parents were from New York city but…
Matthew shook his lightly without turning to look at his mother as his vision was grabbed by one of the runners in particular. A girl of moderate height. Soft brunette. A plain beauty he figured with a slim build….and lack of remarkable breasts and rear to make any note of but….girls in general were his type at his age.
She was pretty enough. He couldn’t deny that but he found himself transfixed by her visage.
But the way she turned and looked at him, especially at that distance felt very disconcerting to him. Even if she was smiling like…she was a taste of a bright shiny day. Somehow.
Matthew’s mom noticed the exchange and smiled to herself with closed lips. “Oh that’s Vicky. She’s your age I think. Very sweet girl, who does the charity functions. You know bake sales, blood drives, car washes and the like. I think you should get to know her. Might be good for you.”
A truck horn sounded a couple of beeps in rather succession. “Oh that must be Mack, he said he might come by later this evening but he seems early.”
Matthew’s mother turned and left his room. Leaving Matthew to exchange a few looks with the alluring Vicky as she turned her head away from him to talk to the others in her group and look back at him.
Still Matthew’s left eyebrow was arched. In a way that reminded him of Spock from Star Trek that he and his grandpa used to watch on some streaming service or another.
As he heard ambient chatter elsewhere outside the house he figured to check it out as the alluring sight of Vicky would be around he figured. It was dull to stare at artwork. He was a boy who preferred jet skis and the like. Something he could ride and enjoy immensely. Even if at times it got him stabbed.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 3
Matthew sauntered out of the house and down the rockway that stood in for a driveway.
A few new people had come over from what he could first surmise of the situation. As he got closer it was obvious they were indigenous people. A couple of grown men…and a girl?
She was mousey. Maybe five foot. Hiding behind glasses and a big camo jacket that was far too big for her. It looked made for a grown man and the backwards trucker hat on her head kept her long black a beautiful mess of sorts.
She was cute in a way. A little androgynous but she had a cute energy to her. She reminded him of the more tomboyish Puerto Rican girls he had gotten into back in Florida. Given the deer corpses in the back of the truck….probably more dangerous to play with given the men in her family.
Small chatter passed between the adults when the girl noticed but turned away, trying to hide the tiny hint of a smile.
“Oh Mattie, this is Mack. He works with Dave at the sheriff’s department and John, he’s with fish and wildlife.” Matthew nodded at his mom’s words with some blankness as he looked at the deer the in the back of the pickup truck.
“Gale tells us you hunted with your dad some in Florida and Georgia.” Mack offered with a light hearted laugh camouflaged by his big simple and cheery but husky way he spoke.
Looking in the back of the truck he spoke. “We used lever action thirty-thirties and Mosin Nagants in seven-six-two-fifty-four-rimmed.” Mack and John whistled in an exaggerated fashion. Leaving Matthew to wonder if they were mocking him.
Mack spoke. “Well we just used thirty-odd-six in a custom gussied Garand.” That caught Matthew’s attention. “You have a Garand…” Matthew finally demonstrated interest in anything. “My dad has an SVT-40 and a Hakim 8mm but he always wanted a Garand but was too cheap to buy one.”
Gale, his mother, chimed in loudly. “Oh his Dad loved his guns but was such an odd duck about how he bought or why he bought them. Never made sense to me how he wasn’t a collector but he didn’t get the latest and greatest.” Gale laughed uncomfortably. At least it seemed that way to Matthew.
Matthew pointed to the girl with an underhanded pointing hand. “And who is this? A cute little mute mouse or does she have a name?” Dave and the other men laughed.
Mack again spoke. “Well you people call her Rebecca, she’s my adopted daughter.” Matthew was taken aback by what he heard. “You people?”
Rebecca kindly spoke with a soft but almost melodic voice as she struggled to maintain eye contact. “White people or rather not members of our tribe. It’s just easier to appease the colonizer kind of thing. Borrowed from when the Jesuit missionaries chased us up here.”
Mack stepped in. “It’s just easier to have white people names than have them try to say our tribal names. And we don’t want them shortening or Anglicising our names kind of thing.” Rebecca stepped back into the conversation cutting off her adopted father. “It’s an insult to our history basically.”
Matthew cocked his head sideways raising his eyebrows shortly before letting them drop. “Well as soon as I’m eighteen I’m out of here and back to Florida so I’m a sort of involuntary colonizer of sorts. So I won’t be taking any of your land from you. The Seminoles on the other hand are still shit out of luck.”
Rebecca’s smile caused Matthew to reflexively smile. Mack made the moment more awkward. “See Becca, I told you someone off the reservation would like you some. You just have to be creative.” Mack laughed in a chiding manner…Matthew presumed. He sensed that he was the butt of some kind of cultural joke. Like marrying a white guy was some sort of insult or mark of shame. That kind of thing.
Rebecca turning away from him was not something he had been expecting. Her then getting in the truck in a huff left the group in a silence for a moment.
Dave spoke to break the awkward silence. “Well just bring the truck to work on Monday and leave it for me to grab up.” Mack acknowledged Dave and they started to get off as Rebecca looked at Matthew for another instance. Matthew couldn’t look away for some reason as the two seemed to lock eyes for an instance.
Till Vicky and family seemed to come jogging down the road. While Matthew’s eyes diverted from Rebecca’s. Hers did not till she realized he was looking elsewhere. And her vision found Vicky and what had been a hint of smile on her face turned glum and disappointed.
Matthew did not look away from the vision of Vicky but instead of a starry eyed fool looking longingly. It was a baffled look. Well baffled for him, with his eyes drawn narrow and night with a focus.
There was something about her…he couldn’t quite put a name too. The way she appeared to him. One second brunette. The next second blonde or blonde like. As if the color appeared in her air and disappeared in fractions of seconds. Much the same way her body almost seemed to…shift…very subtly…smoothly. A nicer bum. Larger breasts. And then back to a simple and plain form. Feminine no doubt. Attractive. But not so…remarkable.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 4
The next two days passed without incident. Nothing of any real substance or challenge to note.
Matthew got settled somewhat and started working out almost immediately. Exploring around the woods but Dave told him not to go far. Especially without a hunting rifle. Dave had left a simple semi-auto Winchester out for him. His bear gun as Dave referred to it with its four round magazine. But Matt figured till he got some practice with the rifle to leave it alone. He made a hiking stick like his grandpa taught him and treated it over a low fire. He would take some electrical tape for the end his hand would grip around. Plenty enough to ward off anything smaller than a bear he figured.
The ride to school was a pain in the neck but simple enough. Dave would let him use a clunker pickup truck he had laying around. It wasn’t pretty but it would get him to and from. Even if it was from the eighties and still backfired on occasion. But for now Dave and his mom took him on their way to the sheriff’s department.
It wasn’t much of a school. It wanted to be modern but its fifties original construction was very obvious. It serviced the pipeline families and familys’ of fisherman who worked the seasons in between their time at the pipeline.
Matt was to report to the principal for some reason Dave and his mom wouldn’t share. Which annoyed him but he figured it was to read him the law of land. Small towns with their big views of the outside world and like.
Dressed in jeans, a grey sweatshirt under a light jacket with steel toed boots set him more apart then he expected. His buzzed head didn’t help matters. Already he was feeling like a stranger in a strange land but he was quite strange after all. And he liked it that way. Normal people were so pathetically disappointing to him.
A secretary or assistant or some such led him to the principal’s office. Where it reeked of real wood that was old and fabric and upholstery that needed to be updated for the last twenty years, Matt figured.
“This is Matthew Berkshire, Principal Andrews.” The man was turned with his back to the door and he was quick to wave her off as he turned her around.
He was an older man. Fat and large. Tall with a body built like he had once been fit and a demeanour of annoyed and irate already as he fixed Matt with a scowl and look of disgust. Another worthless government whore. Matt thought to himself. His father and his grandfather had bestowed unto him a natural disrespect for government workers and the figures that wore unjustified authority as a shield but pretended the weight of the state was not at their back ready to crush all who resisted. Little figures of valor pretending to be mighty and alone but acting with the tyranny of the state and all the backing.
“Mr. Berkshire, please sit down.” His tone wasn’t unusually hostile, just gruff. As if he had better things to do.
Matt complied and took a seat in the chair while maintaining a friendly facade. Not everyone was an enemy. And not everyone needed to be an enemy. Even if anybody could be any enemy. There was no reason to make enemies you didn’t have to. Another of his grandfather’s bastardised wisdoms.
“Well I looked over you file and you have quite the history Mr. Berkshire.” Matt resisted qiuping back a joke. Instead he waited for Principal Andrews to continue as he remained nonplussed and looking as if he felt no need to respond. A simple head tilt with dead eyes looking back at the principle as if he was not even there would suffice.
Matt’s reaction or lack of a reaction rather made Principal Andrews only narrow his eyes with examination. He was not used to a kid not responding to him. Especially with his gruff and hard act going on.
“Well by all accounts you moved here after some problems at your last school. A fight broke out and you did some real harm to your fellow students it appears.” Of course, he would take the side of the perpetrators. School administrators always did. Especially when they weren’t white. Just a fact of the times. Cowardice and pathetic mediocrity was the way they leaned, like good government workers sucking the dick of Big Daddy government. Worthless whores.
Matt chose to reply. “Oh you mean the criminals that stabbed me. Got arrested at the hospital and then pled to felonies. Yeah Florida, with the American counties are good like that.” Principal Andrews went real still. No shame. No fear. No penitence. He didn’t like that.
“Well be it as it may Mr. Berkshire we don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour here…” Matt cut him off responding with a deadpan tone. “You mean self-defense meant to save one’s own life while the cowardly and pathetic school workers look on with zero interest but to keep their money rolling in and will allow known gang members with records of violent acts and crimes that should have them expelled many times over, where in certain Democrat counties such cowardice and idiocy empowered a couple school shooters?”
Principal Andrews looked at the Matt with a note of disgust. “Look here Mr. Berkshire, your beliefs matter not one bit here. This isn’t Florida. We don’t like our way of life being disrupted by outside agitators who have problems with authority.”
Matt did his best not to roll his eyes and let the older fat man drone own as he dead-stared him. Lifeless and without emotion.
The man came to a finish and Matt spoke up without having listened to him or paid him any attention. “Great now that’s taken care of. Can I please get to class and finish my sentence of two years at your wonderful school?”
Principal Andrews huffed and snorted before calling in Vicky. Vicky stood in the corner after entering with a quiet and seamless presence. Matt felt disturbed and tried not betray his feelings as the young Vicky was perceived and not perceived to be moving.
Principal Andrews made the introductions and Matt nodded back. She was to be his chaperone for the day. They had the same classes and she was to show him the ropes so to speak. The ins and outs of the school. The locations of their classes.
He recognized her. It was hard not to. The way her appearance seemed to shift fluidly almost. The petite and skinny brunette ever so lightly had a big bust and blonde hair with curves added when she seemed to shift before his eyes. Like watching a film but each frame had a different person.
Matt didn’t say anything about it. Even if he did he would only be acknowledging his crazed state, if he had one. If.
Unlike an obedient puppy dog he got up in a slow and awkward fashion and followed behind her as his oddly disproportionate frame allowed. Causing her a note of concern for some reason. As if she was seeing something she shouldn’t have been….Or he was just weird. And Matt could admit to himself he was just weird. Part of his charm, he would jest about it at times. Not that he had many people to jest to now.
As If It Were Kismet Ch. 5
Following Vicky into the hall off to their first class was simple. She exchanged small talk and he slightly smiled as if to obviously suggest he was just being polite.
Inside his head, Matt was trying to figure out if he was having a psychotic break. The way Vicky looked kept changing and he looked at the other people around him and they stayed the same.
He was searching his mind as they were walking. And thus he wasn’t paying attention to where he was looking and so fell to his face forward over his feet seemingly out of nowhere.
A series of laughs erupted as it sunk in that he was obviously tripped. Like in prison this was a challenge to his superiority. If he let this pass he would be mocked and sneered at by this same group of boys. He wouldn’t walk to them like he was going to do nothing like a little bitch.
In a rage he turned and punched the stomach of the first face he saw. Some typical blonde haired wannabe jock. He knew from experience not to aim for the ribs. Instead he needed to aim for where he thought the belly button was.
Yells and screams blindly echoed around him as his after the punch he followed up his elbow of the opposite arm slamming into the face of the jock. Harder than a fist, the elbow struck the jock’s jaw and seemingly dropped him against a locker. Just in time to catch an errant and soft punch to the nose that sure enough hurt but did little to slow him down as his dad had taught him to fight through the pain. Blood and scars happened. They were a natural consequence of life to a man.
Taking the punch and falling further into his red state Matt headbutted the punch thrower before another guy arm bared his throat from behind. Which he managed to get his grip on the arm over a letterman jacked and jerk the unprepared boy to the side with him still latched on.
A few feet away from the lockers Matt knew his only chance was to jump and push off the lockers and knock the boy to the ground and so he did. He heard a thunk of the boy’s skull bouncing off the ground and he turned to pull out of the grapple.
The beatings he had taken from his father, the grapples, being choked unconscious. Had prepared him for fighting little bitches who didn’t know what a fight was. It wasn’t gay porn with rabbit punch fists flying.
Blood was running down his face and the pain started to hit him as the threats had been eliminated. Only then did he remember to breathe. Taking breathes as Vicky came up to him with tissues and took a hold of his nose.
“Owww owww owww what the fuck my nose could be broken.” He said to Vicky as she pulled his head up and back.
“It’s ok Carl. It’s done.” Matt tried to look to see who Vicky was talking to. It was a boy taller than his 5’9” by more than a small margin. The boy eyed him bored and annoyed before speaking. “What happened here?” An unoriginal line but one Matt couldn’t be a smart aleck about. “Well you see there was an outbreak of tripping and we all tripped over my dick. It happens.” Matt was about to laugh when Vicky seemed to pull up while still gripping his nose causing Matt no small amount of pain which he audibly evidenced.
Vicky spoke in a tone he wasn’t expecting. As if she was accustomed to issuing orders. “Keep Iris away from the hall till we sanitize the site. We have blood from at least three people contaminating the site. And have Jake bring me a spare jacket and shirt for this moron.”
Carl seemed to acknowledge her orders and seemed to blink away. Maybe the punch hit harder than he expected. He had no time to wonder as Vick took her hand away from his and pushed him against the lockers. With ease he had not been expecting from her form and stature.
Before he could respond Vicky licked his blood covered chin and then his lips and spoke to him. “Focus on me you little blood bag.” Her tone had an annoyed yet feminine sneer.
“Look into my eyes. Look at me. You belong to me. You are just another food source in a collection of food sources.” Her eyes were a beautiful hazel Matt thought. Almost green. Pretty like jewels in some old treasure collections. The eyes he could get lost in before kissing her. Finally Vicky was just a slight and petite brunette and he thought she was beautiful.
She would make a hell of a girlfriend. Some cute thing he could see laying on the beach in Florida on their sides laughing and smiling before trading light kisses while hands wandered innocently. Before his mind could drift further he felt her lips on his. It took him a second to mentally grasp the kiss but his arms were around her back as her hands were at his sides. His eyes reflexively closed as he saw hers close.
It was ineffable to Matt. Beyond words, what was happening. The kiss, the moments beforehand. The way his brain tickled with electricity and gentle warmth. He had never had a kiss like this and he had traded more than a few kisses with at least a few girls.
The kiss was like a warm bath with his consciousness slipping beneath the surface. Their lips only parted to try new angles and approaches as Matt struggled to take in breath. It was a moment he could have stayed trapped in for….he didn’t know. But a curt throat clearing by another girl pulled them out of the moment.
The girl was taller than Vicky. Blonde. With slight curves. Vicky addressed her bewildered and gobsmacked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Tina?”

I originally posted this as a comment but the guy deleted the post so reposting here…
The following is some information I’ve noticed that I’ll call a synchronicity between all the events going on. This is a document from the State of NY trial for Mark Hotel vs Weinstraub uploaded to government servers four days ago.
If you look at this document:
https://iapps.courts.state.ny.us/fbem/DocumentDisplayServlet?documentId=Whuxu1lEwI4LpVrGSKu1sA==&system=prod
You can see a timeline breakdown of events that draw a trail linking Weintraub to an unknown celebrity that just happens to match Drake's schedule perfectly and EP telling of some events on Twitter.

1. ⁠First on August 10th 2021 this document discloses Weintraub's reason to have beef with a celebrity over the situation with a bike leading him to be banned from the facility.
2. ⁠On July 17th 2023 a very interesting event occurs that suggests that Weintraub is timing is protesting to align with the arrival/departure of a certain VIP and also mentions an altercation with protestors sitting on the carpet. (Similar event occurs on another day Drake would be there July 18th with paparazzi attacking the protestors)
3. ⁠I want to mention July 21st because there are some interesting tidbits the protestors where chanting there around groping and things of that nature that are relevant to what we discuss here.
4. ⁠July 22nd is the most interesting tidbit of all and I think clearly shows Weintraub has beef with a certain somebody for that I'll let it speak for itself.

July 22, 2023: At approximately 8:20pm, Security Supervisor Mr. Anthony Gutierrez identified three of the protestors standing on the sidewalk. They remained there, in front of the team, without doing any activity. At 9.15pm, a fourth protestor joined them. After waiting in silence for a few hours, at 10.55pm, the protestors screamed "The Mark has “mice"—a statement previously chanted by the Defendant—only when a VIP hotel guest walked out, and then they left the area. The VIP and his entourage questioned the hotel management on the issues of the protestors' comments and wanted to know why they started to yell specifically when the VIP guest was leaving. Once the VIP left, the protestors left shortly after.
It is extremely curious to me that all of these days line up and even more curious if you look over the entire document at some of the stuff Weintraub and his protestors were chanting at "VIP #1".
There is no way this is playing out in court at the exact same time (This document literally was just uploaded), the diss tracks, and ebonyprince's cryptic messages that also involve the exact same dates on accident.
One other thing I would like to note the man that punched the protestor in the face and got into repeated altercations with them was promoted to head of front office shortly after; same guy from AK47's video last night.
Edit: Side note bad faith comments will be insta blocked not dealing with y’all today :P

As If It Were Kismet Ch. 5
Following Vicky into the hall off to their first class was simple. She exchanged small talk and he slightly smiled as if to obviously suggest he was just being polite.
Inside his head, Matt was trying to figure out if he was having a psychotic break. The way Vicky looked kept changing and he looked at the other people around him and they stayed the same.
He was searching his mind as they were walking. And thus he wasn’t paying attention to where he was looking and so fell to his face forward over his feet seemingly out of nowhere.
A series of laughs erupted as it sunk in that he was obviously tripped. Like in prison this was a challenge to his superiority. If he let this pass he would be mocked and sneered at by this same group of boys. He wouldn’t walk to them like he was going to do nothing like a little bitch.
In a rage he turned and punched the stomach of the first face he saw. Some typical blonde haired wannabe jock. He knew from experience not to aim for the ribs. Instead he needed to aim for where he thought the belly button was.
Yells and screams blindly echoed around him as his after the punch he followed up his elbow of the opposite arm slamming into the face of the jock. Harder than a fist, the elbow struck the jock’s jaw and seemingly dropped him against a locker. Just in time to catch an errant and soft punch to the nose that sure enough hurt but did little to slow him down as his dad had taught him to fight through the pain. Blood and scars happened. They were a natural consequence of life to a man.
Taking the punch and falling further into his red state Matt headbutted the punch thrower before another guy arm bared his throat from behind. Which he managed to get his grip on the arm over a letterman jacked and jerk the unprepared boy to the side with him still latched on.
A few feet away from the lockers Matt knew his only chance was to jump and push off the lockers and knock the boy to the ground and so he did. He heard a thunk of the boy’s skull bouncing off the ground and he turned to pull out of the grapple.
The beatings he had taken from his father, the grapples, being choked unconscious. Had prepared him for fighting little bitches who didn’t know what a fight was. It wasn’t gay porn with rabbit punch fists flying.
Blood was running down his face and the pain started to hit him as the threats had been eliminated. Only then did he remember to breathe. Taking breathes as Vicky came up to him with tissues and took a hold of his nose.
“Owww owww owww what the fuck my nose could be broken.” He said to Vicky as she pulled his head up and back.
“It’s ok Carl. It’s done.” Matt tried to look to see who Vicky was talking to. It was a boy taller than his 5’9” by more than a small margin. The boy eyed him bored and annoyed before speaking. “What happened here?” An unoriginal line but one Matt couldn’t be a smart aleck about. “Well you see there was an outbreak of tripping and we all tripped over my dick. It happens.” Matt was about to laugh when Vicky seemed to pull up while still gripping his nose causing Matt no small amount of pain which he audibly evidenced.
Vicky spoke in a tone he wasn’t expecting. As if she was accustomed to issuing orders. “Keep Iris away from the hall till we sanitize the site. We have blood from at least three people contaminating the site. And have Jake bring me a spare jacket and shirt for this moron.”
Carl seemed to acknowledge her orders and seemed to blink away. Maybe the punch hit harder than he expected. He had no time to wonder as Vick took her hand away from his and pushed him against the lockers. With ease he had not been expecting from her form and stature.
Before he could respond Vicky licked his blood covered chin and then his lips and spoke to him. “Focus on me you little blood bag.” Her tone had an annoyed yet feminine sneer.
“Look into my eyes. Look at me. You belong to me. You are just another food source in a collection of food sources.” Her eyes were a beautiful hazel Matt thought. Almost green. Pretty like jewels in some old treasure collections. The eyes he could get lost in before kissing her. Finally Vicky was just a slight and petite brunette and he thought she was beautiful.
She would make a hell of a girlfriend. Some cute thing he could see laying on the beach in Florida on their sides laughing and smiling before trading light kisses while hands wandered innocently. Before his mind could drift further he felt her lips on his. It took him a second to mentally grasp the kiss but his arms were around her back as her hands were at his sides. His eyes reflexively closed as he saw hers close.
It was ineffable to Matt. Beyond words, what was happening. The kiss, the moments beforehand. The way his brain tickled with electricity and gentle warmth. He had never had a kiss like this and he had traded more than a few kisses with at least a few girls.
The kiss was like a warm bath with his consciousness slipping beneath the surface. Their lips only parted to try new angles and approaches as Matt struggled to take in breath. It was a moment he could have stayed trapped in for….he didn’t know. But a curt throat clearing by another girl pulled them out of the moment.
The girl was taller than Vicky. Blonde. With slight curves. Vicky addressed her bewildered and gobsmacked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Tina?”

There have been an increasing number of juniors visiting this sub asking for advice about writing essays. Below are some tips and advice for making your essay stand out as excellent. Feel free to ask questions because I will answer every single question in the comments.
I know from experience that many of you are struggling to identify a good topic for your essay. Conventional wisdom says to start by brainstorming a list of potential topics, and chances are, you have already started a mental list of ideas. You might think you only have a few choices for topics, based on your activities or experiences, or essay examples you read, or the rough draft you already started (or worse, that GPT started...). I advise, however, that you put down your list of topics and back away from it. Forget that exists for a moment. Seriously - thinking about this initial list tethers you to certain ideas that might not actually be your best options.
Now you can begin brainstorming with a clean slate.
Start with thinking about what you want to show in your entire application, not just one essay. Every single component in your app has one purpose – to tell more about YOU. Filling out the rest of the application by rote and focusing solely on the essay is short-sighted and will leave so much potential untapped in your application.

It's About You. Tell Your Story - And Be The Protagonist

An admissions officer’s goal is to understand you fully, in the context of your background and the rest of the applicant pool. They will begin this with assessing your academic abilities and potential. Then they will evaluate how you will fit into the student body they’re trying to curate. All of this can be somewhat broad and diverse and touch on several institutional goals. But they will dig deep to find out what each applicant is like, what your core values and motivations are, what kind of student you will be, how you will contribute to the vibrant and intellectual campus community they’re building, etc.
Your goal with essay brainstorming is to ascertain how to powerfully tell your story in a manner that will fit these criteria. The entirety of your application (again, not just one essay) aims to showcase your abilities, qualifications, and uncommon attributes as a person in a positive way. Before you begin outlining or writing your application, you must determine what is unique about you that will stand out to an admissions panel. All students are truly unique. Not one other student has the same combination of life experiences, personality, passions, or goals as you do. Your job in your application is to frame your unique personal attributes in a positive and compelling way. How will you fit on campus? What personal qualities, strengths, core values, talents, or different perspectives do you bring to the table? What stories, deeper motivations/beliefs, or formative experiences can you use to illustrate all of this?
It is always helpful to start with some soul-searching or self-examination. You might not immediately know what you want to share about yourself. It’s not a simple task to decide how to summarize your whole life and being in a powerful and eloquent way on your application. Introspection prior to starting your application takes additional time and effort rather than jumping straight into your first draft. But it is also a valuable method to start writing a winning application that stands out from the stack.
You'll see the advice everywhere that all essay prompts are really about the same thing - you. The goal of each essay then is to showcase who you are, what matters to you, and how you think. I guarantee if you're on this sub enough, you'll hear the advice to "show, don't tell" when writing about yourself. But what does this mean really, and how do you do it well? How do you even get started on an essay that does this?

Introspection Questions

It’s often easiest to start thinking in terms of superlatives, especially those related to personal insights -- what are the most meaningful things about you, and what do you value the most? Here is a list of questions to help you brainstorm broadly before you narrow down your focus for writing:

• What are your interests?
  
• What sparks your curiosity?
  
• About what topics do you enjoy reading?
  
• With whom do you enjoy spending time? Who has impacted your life the most?
  
• Reflect upon “superlatives” in your life. What moments were most memorable, formative, enlightening, enjoyable, or valuable? What physical possessions, experiences, dreams, or lessons could make your superlatives list?
  
• Stop and think about what things, people, or circumstances in your life are really unique, fascinating, or outlandish. Are there any that really have a lot of "cultural flavor" (whatever your culture is)?
  

I have a free introspection worksheet with over 100 questions like this designed to help you find ideas worth exploring in your essays. You can find it on the A2C Discord or download it directly here.

Find Your Story And Arc

Think of a small anecdote or story from your life that you could share that serves as a microcosm of who you are and what is important to you. It will massively help you narrow this down and find a gem of a story if you first start by thinking about your application arc or theme. This is the one-phrase summary of your entire application. It could be "brilliant entrepreneur who started her own successful business" or "talented athlete who wants to study economics and finance as they pertain to sports", or even "avid baker whose hobby sparked an interest in chemistry". It doesn't have to be related to your intended major, but it can help your arc be stronger and clearer if it is.
Once you have an arc determined and a story to share, think about what you want that story to say about you. This is where it can help to think of this as something you would share on a date - what impression does it make about you to the reader? Once you know this, start showing, not telling this attribute of yourself through your story. For example, instead of saying that you're compassionate toward others, you show an example of a time you were compassionate, then elaborate on why, and what it means to you.

Essay Brainstorming Techniques

If you are having trouble finding a story, or simply have writer’s block once you have picked your topic, here are some ideas to get your juices flowing:

• Stream of consciousness writing -- Start writing whatever is in your head, and don’t stop for 30 minutes. You probably won’t use what you just wrote for your essay, but it will help you find a starting point.
  
• Journaling -- Answer the prompt as if you were writing in a journal. This will get you in the habit of writing about yourself and establish comfort with the concept. It will also take you to a new level of introspection and self-awareness.
  
• Twitter X style -- Write several rapid-fire responses to the prompt in 280 characters or less. Choose an idea from these responses to expound upon in your essay.
  
• Read each essay prompt, then go through your introspection worksheet responses and connect the stories and insights to one or more of the prompts. Some students like using color coding to visually see how their different ideas might work together.
  

Why Essays Matter

Here's the thing a lot of people don't realize about college admission: it's not an award for being the smartest, most accomplished, or most impressive. It's an invitation to join a community. Far too many students think that if they can just show that they're smart enough, they'll get in. Yale even says right on their admissions website that 75% of their applicants are academically qualified to succeed at Yale. But only ~4% are getting in. That should tell you that they're looking for more than just top tier test scores and grades. To be perfectly clear, you will need top tier grades and (optionally) test scores to show that you're qualified, and the vast majority of my students come to me with this part already in the bank. But what sets the admits apart? It's personal insight - sharing who you are, how you think, what matters to you, and how you engage community. You can't just say "/IAmVerySmart, please admit me," or even "I did a cool thing guys! Isn't that neat!" You need to go deeper and show them your core values, personal strengths, motivations, aspirations, character traits, foundational beliefs, personality, etc. And you need to do it in a charming, winsome way that makes them like you and want to invite you to join their community.
So how do I get students to do this? All of my students complete that introspection worksheet. We go through it and find the stories, examples, anecdotes, conversations, memories, relationships, and other things from their life that will help us craft a strong and personally insightful narrative. We also make lists of the values, strengths, and key personal qualities we want to showcase. Once we have some topics, outlines, abstracts, or rough drafts, we talk about which stories to tell where, how to tell them well, and what details to include to present the best they have to offer. Then we refine, edit, polish, and enhance over and over until the story sings, but more importantly shows their heart and soul. We also go through all the other application components to ensure consistency, quality, and distinctiveness.
Here's why this works so well: at most highly selective colleges there is a primary reader (or 2-3) who will review everything first and then present it to the admissions committee, who then votes on whether to admit you. That presentation typically goes one of three ways:

1. Total enthusiasm, energy, and excitement. They strongly advocate for admission and paint a clear picture of how you will contribute to their goals and community. Everyone in the room picks up on that energy and is leaning forward in their chairs, looking for reasons to admit you. This is quite rare, generally less than 5 out of every 100 applications, even among those which are "fully qualified." When you do this right, you show depth, meaning, and valuable personal insights so the reviewer is learning about who you are and how you might engage the community they're curating. You come alive off the page as a person, not just another file.
   
2. Business as usual. You're another great applicant in a pile of great applicants. They share a basic review of the facts, your profile, stats, strengths, weaknesses, etc. Maybe someone on the committee finds something they love, and they really push for admission. More likely, not and you get deferred/waitlisted even though there wasn't anything "wrong" with your application. They just didn't love you enough to commit.
   
3. "Here's a stack of 20 applications that I didn't find all that compelling, so we won't present them individually, but you guys are the committee and you make the decisions. So let me know if there are any you want to talk about." In this case, unless there's a letter of endorsement from an athletics coach or your last name matches several buildings on campus, you're probably not getting additional consideration, much less admission. They will regret to inform you.
   

Everything we're doing is designed to help them get to know themselves, present the best they have to offer, and land in that first group. Having top tier essays is the single best way to get there. Get started on brainstorming in the next few weeks so you'll have time to get a few essays completed over the summer.

I’ve always been really into ghost stories, or urban legends in general. The White Lady, haunted dolls, vampires, black eyed children, that kind of stuff. I know that, today, people my age aren’t big fans of that kind of horror anymore, preferring it things like the Backrooms, analog horror, all the new kinds of scary media. Honestly, I get it, things do need to evolve, and when we see everything that’s happening in the world, it’s understandable that a good old ghost story don’t do the job anymore.

Still, the “old fashioned” horror (it’s not that old, but things move fast on the internet) is always my jam. I grew up watching youtubers investigating haunted places, ghost hunting, with all their accessories, EMF meters, their little radio thing that they use to listen to radio frequencies so that they can hear any interference, their antenna that beeps when something approaches it, voice recorders, special flashlights, and let me tell you that all this, it was doing it for me.

So, since my, probably 7 years, I dreamt of doing these things myself. Of course, I tried everything a young boy is able to do, like Ouija or stupidly walking around my house with my phone filming, hoping that some random deceased person with unfinished business will show up to, I don’t know, have a chat. I wish I could say that other people’s judgement doesn’t affect me, but that would be a lie, so, going in to high school, I had to socially tone down my interest for those things in order to have friends. None of my friends and classmates knew about my persisting passion for ghosts and creepy stories.

I realize that keeping this such a secret is a bit ridiculous, especially approaching my 18^th birthday, but, you know, it would be even weirder to reveal it after hiding it for almost 6 years like it was something super taboo. So here I was, I started hiding my passion at 12 to avoid other’s judging it, and I’m now still hiding it at 17 to avoid others judging the fact that I hid it… A bit pathetic I got to admit.

Anyway, everything started a few days ago. I have an art history class at school and the teacher really likes to give us big works of research. This time, he had a new idea, the whole class will be divided into groups of two, and each group will receive a building from our city that the teacher had choose for his architectural and artistic interests, and we’ll have to give it a visit and write an analysis on the different things we’ll notice and link it to what we saw in class. Since all the buildings were not public places, he had asked the authorization of every property’s owner.

Honestly, this could have been worse. This actually sounded kinda cool to do. Now, what I was concerned about was who will be my partner. Obviously, I was hoping for one of my friends. After explaining the rules and exact instructions for the work, he started to announce the groups. I was waiting to hear my name, anxious, as all my friends were slowly starting to be put into their groups.

“Joshua!” The teacher said (yeah that’s my name). “You will be with…” I was holding on to my chair. “… Elizabeth!”

I turned to Elizabeth, and we looked at each other. Neither one of us seemed excited. It wasn’t a terrible pair, I thought to myself, I just didn’t know what to think of it exactly. Elizabeth was a pretty popular girl, not that I was an outcast or anything, but she was still way more popular than me. I didn’t know much more about her, despite the fact that we were in the same class since my first year of high school, but it looked like she was going to be an okay partner.

The teacher then gave us our building. I won’t reveal the real name of what he gave us so I’ll call it “Guaraldi’s Street 22”. Apparently, it was a pretty old house that had somewhat of an historic value to it. The teacher gave us some information so we wouldn’t stumble there without any prior knowledge. The owner was an old woman who had always lived there. She was apparently very glad to open her doors to young students and was ready to answer any questions we could have. He warned us that she had a weak audition and that we would have to speak loudly. The teacher then recommended us to do a little bit of research before going there, so we could already have some idea of where we were entering.

I then found myself in front of Elizabeth. I think the last time we even talked to each other was months ago when she was distributing a test to the class and that I said “Thanks”, so, yeah, not a lot of background. I noticed, and I don’t know why it took me so long, I guess I never paid much attention to her, that she was dressed in kind of an old style, she wore some clearly used dungarees. The date the teacher had scheduled for our visit was on Sunday, and we were Thursday.

“So, hum, I guess, we can both do research on our side, and we’ll meet, maybe at lunch break tomorrow to get on the same page. Is that good for you?” She asked me.

“Yeah, that’s good, we can do that.”

“Okay, then, see you tomorrow.” She said.

“See you.”

On that she turned her feet and left for her break. The rest of the day went by and I got back home. As usual, my mom wasn’t there, she often has to work late as she’s a single mom to me and my little sister Rosa. I ate my diner and went to my room. I opened my computer to start my research. It wasn’t hard to find information, even though things were repeating themselves a lot: “so much historical meaning for the city”, “a perfect example of “art-deco” architecture”, “a house filled with stories”. There was a lot of talk by local medias about it, but not much actual facts.

It was so weak, that I had to go to page 2 of the search results on google, or, as I like to call them, “the abyss of the internet” (I’m exaggerating a bit, but it’s not often that you have to go there).
Then, something caught my eyes. It was a forum about paranormal experiences, and the address was mentioned on a post. I immediately clicked on it and read the whole thing. It wasn’t exactly the most thrilling story I’ve read, but here’s what it basically said.

Apparently, the owner opened the house as a cottage during the summer, and the person posting was narrating what he experienced during his passage there. He described a very special and kinda suffocating vibe that was apparently all around the house, and the feeling of being observed all the time. He also talked about hearing voices at random moments. They were brief but often mentioned his name. The end of his testimony talked about his last night, when he said he saw a little child with no facial expression in front of his bed, who slowly started to climb into it and grabbed his legs, trying to pull him outside of his bed. The poster said he eventually succeeded to push the kid away, despite his unreal strength, and that the boy ended up running out of the room, laughing. When he spoke to the owner about it the next morning, she said that it must have been his imagination playing tricks on him, as she didn’t believe in paranormal and that nothing similar ever happened to her.

This wasn’t much, it could have been a complete lie, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t peak my curiosity. The story was as basic as it could be, but it was so specific for it to happen in that place, which was absolutely not famous, and even less for any paranormal events. I kept that in the back of my mind and continued my research, but I didn’t find much more, so I went to sleep.

As I was lying in my bed, I was thinking. What if the person who posted his story said the truth. This was the first time I was going to enter somewhere that old and charged with history, this could be the perfect place for my first ghost-hunt. But of course, I was going for school and won’t be alone, plus, it’s not really respectful to the owner, who kindly opened the doors of her family house to us. And even if I wanted to, I’d be constantly with Elizabeth, so, it was not really an option. I looked at the EMF meter I received for a birthday on my shelf and thought to myself that this would be for another time.

The next day, as planned, I met with Elizabeth at lunch break. We started to share the results of our research, where I did not include the post from the forum for obvious reasons. We talked a bit before coming to a clear conclusion.

“Yeah, the thing is, we have the same exact stuff, there isn’t much interesting infos to be found online, except very surface level stuff.” She said.

“Yes, I think we should prepare the questions we want to ask the owner instead.” I answered.

“You’re right, do you think you can have yours for Sunday?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

We exchanged a bit more and eventually went back to class.

On Saturday, I prepared a few questions to ask the owner.

Then came today, Sunday. The meeting was planned at 11AM. I woke up normally, took a breakfast, got dressed, everything. Before leaving my room, I took one last look at the room and I saw my EMF meter. It was like he was begging me to take him. I grabbed it and left. I didn’t know if I would actually use it, but I had it. It had an option where instead of lighting the small lamps he was vibrating, so I activated that and put it in my pocket.

I arrived at the house and Elizabeth was already waiting for me. We knocked and we could hear the owner walking towards the door saying “Yes, yes, just a second.” She opened and she looked like the sweetest thing ever. She was short and had a naturally kind face. We could see that she was clearly dressed and make up for the occasion. She welcomed us and let us in happily. The hallway was very pretty, I understood why our teacher got us this house, it was indeed very interesting. The walls were covered with paintings and old pictures, mostly portraits. On everyone of these, the people had a very serious look, but that’s not unusual for old pictures.

We walked to the living room where she served us tea and we sat together.

“So, I think you have some questions for me?” She asked. You could see that she was very glad to talk. “Don’t be shy, I’m open.”

Elizabeth started to ask her first question then I did, and we could ask her everything.

The house was her family’s for many generations, but it hadn’t always been theirs. All the persons in the hallway, paintings or pictures, were previous habitants of the house, and they went as far as the 15th century, so, yeah, it was all pretty old. She said they could only know the identity of some of the first generations but that a lot of the people were non identified. She answered a lot of other questions regarding the architectural and artistic heritage of the building, and she was surprisingly very interesting to listen to. Her enthusiasm and kindness were contagious, and we both couldn’t help but ask more questions.

Eventually, we arrived to the end of our list, and it was time for us to visit, take notes, analyze, all that. She asked us not to touch anything, as a lot of things had a lot of value, but let us wander free in the house. She said she’ll be making cookies for when we’ll be done. Elizabeth and I found ourselves alone in the living room and finished our tea.

“God,… She’s adorable.” Said Elizabeth with a smile.

“Yes, she’s so sweet, I wasn’t expecting that.” I said.

“Let’s, maybe start with there.” She said, pointing to the room besides us.

We got up and entered it. The walls were covered by huge bookshelves. Elizabeth started to take notes, looking at the room, and I started inspecting the books. There was probably a more than a thousand books, and some of them looked super old. I read the titles of some of them, and the least I could say was that it needed to be rearranged. “Cooking Asian Food”, “Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince”, some old book with the title erased, and even a CD in the middle, it was a bit random.

We eventually moved on to the hallway. It was a bit oppressing with all those eyes who seemed to observe us. Elizabeth did mention how it felt a bit weird and we started to take notes again. At some point, my look stopped on one painting at the back of the hall. It was a young lady, dressed classically, maybe a bit poorly even, for someone who would have lived there. She was kinda pretty, if I’m being honest. But the reason why it caught my eyes was that it was the only one who was smiling. All the other people represented looked dead serious, but her, she smiled. A sweet, even caring and warm smile. I noticed that it seemed like she was staring at me. Of course, a lot of paintings give that same impression, but it was more intense on her.

My heart skipped a beat. I was sure that I just saw her winked to me. I let out a gasp. I was convinced she winked at me. The vibe went from slightly oppressive to extremely heavy. Then we both heard it.

“Elizabeth.”

An unrecognizable voice had just whispered. Elizabeth turned to me.

“Did you say that?” She asked.

“Elizabeth.”

A younger voice this time. We were facing each other, so we knew it couldn’t be one of us this time, and the owner was in the kitchen. Elizabeth’s eyes opened wide and she slowly walked towards me.

“Elizabeth.”

She jumped.

“WHAT THE… fuck?” I let out. We were looking around us.

“Joshua, I don’t like this…”

“Yeah, me neither.”

We were frozen in place, with all the paintings looking right to us.

“Elizabeth.”

That time it was a deep voice, and it came from behind us. We turned. Slowly, all the faces of the paintings and pictures started to clearly move. They were opening their eyes wide and opening their mouths, maintaining their serious, and now even melancholic look.

“Holy shit, holy shit, what the fuck is that, what is it!” Elizabeth was mumbling, panicking as I was starting to breathe faster.

All the people started to say her name together on repeat: “Elizabeth, Elizabeth, Elizabeth…” I turned my head to the painting of the young lady from earlier, and she was the only one that wasn’t moving, still the same smile, she looked at peace.

I don’t remember exactly what I was whispering at that moment, but we were both freaking out.

We heard some scratching noise. Long, dirty hands with sharp nails, almost inhumans, were piercing the pictures and paintings. The eyes of the people were becoming all black, and their jaws were opening more than humanly possible as they kept on repeating her name. The hands were all getting closer from us. We were now touching one another, completely surrounded by those hands. Then, they moved way faster and a lot of them got their nails right into Elizabeth’s skin and pierced it while descending all over her body.

She screamed loudly out of pain. It was a terrifying scream. All the hands got to their pictures and back inside of it while closing what they pierced. Soon, the pictures and paintings were back to normal, but Elizabeth was bleeding from all over her body and was on the floor, crying. I got to her level and tried as much as possible to reassure her, but I wasn’t very effective as I was myself in shock and terrified.
We heard the owner walk towards us.

“What’s happening to you two? I heard screams, are you okay?”

She entered the hallway and saw the scene. She looked completely shocked.

“But what happened?” She asked.

Both of us were unable to answer to her, we had no idea what to say that wouldn’t make us sound crazy, so we just looked at her with whatever faces we were making at that moment. She didn’t wait long and went to take a first aid kid. She sat down and put some bandages all over Elizabeth, as I was reflecting on what happened. When she was done, we both wanted to leave, so we said that we had what we needed for now. She looked sorry and packed some cookies for each of us. As we opened the door to leave, she articulated one last phrase.

“I hope you’ll come back.” She had a look and a tone of sadness. We got out and were now on the street.

We both looked at each other. She was covered in bands, like she got into a huge fight. I started to speak but she lifted her hand.

“Not today. Another one.” She said. “I’ll see you at school.” And she left.

I got on my way too and gave one last look to the house. The old owner was watching me from her window, and I couldn’t tell what her expression was.

I was too tired so I ignored it and went back to my house.

I’m posting this now that I’m back at home. I have no news of Elizabeth, but she did add me on Instagram, so…

I have no idea what I should do now, I have so many questions, so, if anyone has any theories, I’ll take it. I’m also open to questions of course…

The idea that Judge Gull can demand a finite end to this trial, before it even begins, seems absurd.
Expert witness testimony alone could eat up a few weeks. And how much time each witness will take on the stand will vary. Some days the side presenting case in chief may be able to present numerous witnesses in a day, other witnesses could be on the stand for multiple days, each. And then you have rebuttal and closing.
I don't really see how this trial is done properly, even in a month. We are on day 23 of the Chad Daybell trial.
From VERIFIED PETITION FOR PUBLIC FUNDS--

....there are approximately sixteen (16) expert witnesses identified by the parties, including in the areas of cell phone forensics, geofencing, Odinism, ritualistic killing, blood spatter, DNA, ballistics, psychology, psychiatry, false confessions and forensic pathology.

i emailed this to agencies that deal with hunting and wildlife problems
pasts@varam.gov.lv
info@wildlifesos.org
reportmisconduct@undp.org
there is no obvious place to report this and expect a serious hearing from someone fluent in English and scientifically minded
the following is what I wrote a month ago after the event
i can't judge after hand how much danger i was in but i would treat it seriously
luckily has not happened again in this country for a month. hopefully never happens again. although the next time i will have the benefit of having experienced it already
when police arrived i demanded prison for the dog owner in clearest possible way i could. after my speach was done they did not ask me a single word. they could tell i was furious of fear. and better to talk another time. i am so drained from global security work that i can't follow up on this but this should be available for anyone to read that might experience it themselves or take upon their self to wander around this globe as i do
i will probably feel guilty if the owner lose his dogs or hunting permit or reputation in his community. i am not going to judge anyone extremely harshly
if they ask me to fill out a criminal report according to some kind of format standards i am not going to do it myself an experienced prosecutor that has done it before is free to report this or pass it along. just not going to fill in report fields in some kind of form. you do it for me if you want to. i am not doing it. should be enough information to find
http://geohash.org/u6p4gj36
is the exact location and anyone can guess where the dogs came from probably the nearest mansion two thousand metres away to the east across p111 near upsede. upsede mansion. good luck asking them about it they don't speak a word of English here development is seventy years behind the west

preface

this is so incredulous that it could be picked up by news
still in shock six hours later at dawn
just the title should give you the general idea
i have never heard of such outrageous neglect in dog keeping in my life
the dogs escape unnoticed at night and hunt without human supervision and presumably return in the morning without anyone doing anything about it
this dog owner would make the top ten list anywhere in history
the dogs occasional howl brought up pictures of wolf movies the grey with that guy from Schindler's list the guy that played Oscar Schindler fighting with wolves with broken glass and a big knife to his death but i can safely discard all theories besides a runaway hunting dog militia on four legs in a large pack sounded like at least ten animals
in that immense fear of a completely unfamiliar situation in a life of hiking around the globe thoughts whirled around all possible night mares before i realised it is obviously hunting dogs all else is pure fantasy wolves are absolutely ruled out
they did not retreat when they sensed my presence but stayed in full alarm perhaps as when they encounter prey on a supervised hunt to alert the humans. even though they knew they were alone and no one to alert, they knew i was probably not prey, did not know enough to EVER be alone unsupervised anywhere but home preferably inside, but did NOT know or predict the length of the prison sentence they just brought on their owner by this nightly escapade. whoops
the locals will predictably put the lid on but the power of the internet is a wonderful thing
i can not imagine any circumstance that would make this less than prison anywhere in the union or West europe. now this is the old east. no one understands English etc. one escaped dog barking in the forest. fine. slap on the wrist. possibly losing care of the animal...ten rabid hunting dogs in full alarm scaring the life out of a hiker resting at night. shake those bars for three months. watch that prison television. and there won't be any Marlborough or beers in prison

the entire report

the exact location is near the highest hunting tower on the old railway trail passing by upsede north east of liepaja that is used for hunting commonly judging by all the towers lining the road there
This began around Four hours after dark on the early night of Sunday 28 April 2024 or exactly 1:00 o'clock
I will first describe exactly what happened and after that separately my interpretation in hindsight when recalling these events three hours later when I can calm down
This is a rather long story so I will get to my point right here before the story
What can I do if I encounter a dog pack like this again except tell at them and calmly leave. What if they hunt me or behave like they are guarding a territory. However remotely that might seems. There is a reason this is a serious crime. Too much uncertainty
Can you confirm that this kind of incessant barking is absolutely impossible in any other animal
In no circumstance whatsoever would any wolf pack or any deer flock behave like this even if I stood right on their den with ten kids inside
The occasional howling is something that dogs still retain from their wolf origin not long ago
It is not unlikely that a pack of hunting dogs alone would howl occasionally
Despite yelling at them several times there was no yell back from a human. Very likely the dogs escape at night without anyone caring about it extremely dangerous and frightening to a hiker that need. Rest at night not the fright of a life time
I could not imagine that in a relatively rich country anyone ever would drive their dogs for a night hunt. Would be absolute insanity. Neglect and alcoholism depression (försupen dumhet Swedish) I can easily imagine. Not outright insanity. Even if night hunting permits are sometimes issued in Germany for "animal control" "population control" of wild pigs. This is a completely separate topic that I will not say more about than that I am working on these issues on and off. My view as a progressive world ambassador could not be further from the idea of shooting at anything anywhere for any reason. Except tranquilizer darts for humane population control of CAPTURED animals not hunted. Captured. It is clear in Sweden that shooting anything anywhere with fire arms does not belong in the future society. Now this is all I will say about this. We are working on this as fast as is possible. The education effort still left on this planet is still enormous and daunting
Regarding dog behaviour in detail I know very little despite inspecting a manuscript by the foremost scientist on the subject that work in Budapest that is most famous for working on the Philippine paradise fish ten years ago before they changed to dogs and removed their aquarium
Dogs in particular have very little room in the professional literature since most pros are not anthropo centric. All mammals share common traits like an early recognition of friend and foe. Dogs in particular has almost never been studied at least not dogs for guarding or hunting. There might be one single work perhaps by one single biologist or behaviour ist ethology biology for shepherds dogs that life with grazing livestock
All books cover territory selection and protection and pack hunting or other flock behaviour. But almost nothing has apparently been possible or interesting to anyone to publish as a professional seeking a career in science in ethology animal behaviour or population biology. so i am not the only one drawing a blank when trying to explain the behaviour with any satisfaction more than anecdotal that is hard to call science

what I experienced

A sudden bark that I expect to be a roe deer that bark and run away. happens all the time
Although the bark was not quite right. more like a dog which I have never encountered at night
Suddenly a roaring festival of barking and occasional howling
The distance is extremely uncertain but perhaps five hundred meters
The direction was towards road p111 to the east toeards Upsede. i am by the big tower. There is one house near the road that the dogs could belong to if they crossed p111
Now my primal instinct set in and I envision a pack, a large pack, of wolves near their den the core of their territory. Frothing over my intrusion and ready to approach in full alarm
In hindsight this is just the occasional howling that caused this and everything about this speaks against wolves
IF wolves can behave like this or has been observed or heard doing this in ANY circumstance whatsoever I absolutely need to hear about it because it would bear on my future expeditions
If there is this single wolf dog hybrid pack maybe only one in Europe that I happened to encounter I absolutely need more information. feral dogs that would possibly go unnoticed in Belarus has crossed over to Latvia?
I have never heard of anything like that
All wolf incidents as rare as they are in Poland or anywhere have been with lone wolves that are sick or hungry and have lost their feir of humans
I have never heard of an aggressive wolf pack in Europe or anywhere on the planet
I have seen wolf droppings so many times and spent so much time day and night in wolf territory that I would never expect them to be so aggressive about human scent or sound like that
I have certainly had wolves near me many times but never heard a peep. In Sweden and Norway on long expeditions all summer and even winter and on and off for years from Spain to France Belgium Germany Poland and now here in the Baltics for one month so far direction Finland
The pack was in full alarm with barking and an occasional howl that dogs will still use. But much less than wolves. Wolves never bark together like this in any circumstance I have ever heard it seen if
It is with near certainty the pack of dogs that have hunted there before that happens to live on the farm on the opposite side of the road and escaped west around thousand metres into the forest.
Perhaps they do this regularly but no one cares
And now I happened to be there
Hiking and trekking and wild camping is MUCH more common in Sweden and Norway than anywhere in the world even Finland that is a close second. It is the Scandinavian spirit. As has recently been proven paleo lithic pre farming humans breed into the farming population only in Scandinavian nowhere else in Europe. I am personally absolutely at peace in nature and hate combustion engines that bother few others
Without getting off track completely I am continuing my expedition around Europe and almost all ground breaking record breaking endeavour of exploration has come from Scandinavia specifically. First settlement of the new world five hundred years before another European country etc etc etc first man on the south pole endless list of did what no one else could ot would. I am not placing my breed on a pedestal just explaining that if anyone would encounter something like this most likely it would be a Swede and the locals are most likely entirely puzzled why I am not living my life in doors at home or in a comfortable guest house
But this is beside the point just a side track to explain my presence in this rare encounter

in hindsight what happened

It is clear to me now that a pack of large hunting dogs. Not the small loud ones. Tax in Swedish. I have never owned a dog or hunted. I am a scientist. So I don't know much of anything about dog breeds. But presumably Large dogs that can hunt and kill on their own that have been trained to not kill the prey but only stalk it or drive it and make a loud alarm to draw the apes (not condescending just scientific classification of my species)
This is all speculation I just can't imagine what I heard to be a pack of tax (Swedish) small rabbit hunting dogs. These were large animals certainly with courage to act alone without humans
But I don't know anything about common hunting dogs in this region or anywhere so I can't suggest what breed it could have been that could behave this way
When I yelled at them they silenced for a moment then the roar continued
They had no intention to move back. I called for a police to meet me on road p111 and moved. I could hear the dogs for one thousand metres which gave me the impression that they moved after me at a safe distance perhaps curious about what I was
Again. If wolves can ever in any circumstance behave with this curiosity or aggressive confidence on human scent AND loud roaring. I yelled at them as a three hundred kilos silver back gorilla would try to show how big and powerful he was. No wolves ever no matter how big their biggest packs are in Europe would do anything but withdraw. These animals stayed at a distance and gave me the impression that they followed me on the road even. But not close
Distance is extremely uncertain but my best guess would be five hundred meters
This location has been used before for hunting and these dogs have been released during supervised legal (presumably) hunting in this exact location
They have smelled or sensed a wild animal and followed it into the forest where they have hunted before

will anyone stop this. how common is this

The police said they would call the nearest farms and ask about their dogs and the hunters that set up the hunting towers there in that old railway road where the dogs live that they bring to hunt there
But unfortunately I don't expect them to do anything when the response is "I know nothing". This is obviously a massive incident since I told them I am a scientist that will likely enquire with other scientist and if they cover this up it will explode big time. this is not s minor incident
Jägarna is a popular Swedish movie about the sad reality of this kind of stuff. anything related to mis management with hunting or dogs is so deeply rooted in human behaviour since the stone age that the local police do anything they can to forget about it. "Probably just a barking deer" or "wolves are common in the forest" and might bark despite my sincere explanation that this is hunting dogs not wolves and carries a prison sentence if heard in front of a magistrate
if you imagine "i like logic circuit design" the absolute opposite is "i like dogs and hunting". it's as different as a von Neumann machine is from sticks and stones in technological achievement. and a massive education effort is still needed for that population should they not cause a complete collapse of civilization like 1930s Germany. you might like NATURE you certainly don't like fire arms or dogs. has nothing to do with investigating nature. it is not conscious behaviour. but only photographers and hunters visit nature? you are obviously not a scientist ("what is this?" looking at bowling ball in small Lebowskis bath room. "you are obviously not a golfer")
I don't expect them to even ask anyone and just hope I forgot about it or they never have any other hikers near that spot at night
The "police report" that I received when they returned from the spot I told them to investigate was exactly that "it was probably just a deer and now I will go home and sleep". that only told ne that the pack had moved or did not respond to a car or they went to the wrong place or most likely could not be less motivated to find them
I gave the female officer that spoke English a stern explanation what would happen in Sweden. Prison. Absolutely nothing else than prison. Grave negligence in dog oversight. No hunting license and no dogs for the rest of his life
This is extremely serious that this is seen as a minor mistake that hunting dogs are stalking wild animals alone at night. Only in Sweden do we understand clearly that HUMANS are in the forest at night sometimes. We have palaeolithic blood lines and the world's foremost paleo biologist among other things. I am a renowned explorer. My father and uncle is one of the world's foremost wildlife photographer for WWF NG etc. Wild life is strictly monitored and controlled and this kind of neglect is absolutely treated with utmost sincerity
Our society is not in a state of civil war. Escaped hunting dogs hunting alone at night. Prison. Period. And the local police that tries to suppress it or treat it with a yawn will be investigated by internal affairs and released from service and prohibited from similar work with a responsibility to investigate seriously
We in sweden have the most aggressive policy in the world to combat this suppression of neglect related to hunting from the local community or any kind of coverup attempt or failure to investigate serious neglect, crime or not, we are not "paragraph riders" (paragraf ryttare) we investigate serious problems. anyone can understand how serious this is before digging after paragraphs

more about dog behaviour in general that might be relevant

Regarding dogs that hunt alone. I will not name any names but I have met a couple that lived in a remote valley in Portugal where their two large extremely aggressive dogs (even after ten minutes they were extremely uncomfortable with my presence and would not listen to their owner's calm regarding my encounter near their caravan on Canary islands) hunt together and bring home food. Literally drag it home to the family. Needless to say they have no kids and I will not say more about it more than the point that large dogs can easily on their own learn to hunt wild game. Possibly several breeds. They are still all close relatives of animals that do exactly that to survive. Guard territory identify intruder stalk and hunt prey is their basic behaviour anything else would result from actively counter acting instinctive behaviour that has become common to convert security staff patrol units and killers to social support animals because morons absolutely need to own a dog
Recall that in less developed countries like Chile dogs bark all night EVERYWHERE and run free in the day
I was in Chile for six months and never encountered dogs at night but had to suffer through the incessant noise if "guarding" at night. EVERYONE has night guard dogs. it is completely incomprehensible if you ever passed first grade with honours that they blindly follow a relict tradition for no other reason. Those dogs are GUARD dogs that have no experience of hunting ever. And when they encounter a human in the forest during their daily adventure they are never aggressive that far away from home
In western Europe outside Spain almost never dogs that bark all night. Same in Latvia. Two weeks in Lithuania don't think I ever heard a dog at night. A welcome serenity from Chile that I just arrived from after completing my record breaking expedition there

This story was inspired by the following prompt: https://www.reddit.com/humansarespaceorcs/comments/1cqvbwk/humans_are_known_for_building_veryvery_large/
General Kim was awakened from a sound slumber by klaxons. Years of military training kicked in and he was out of bed in record time. Checking the data pad briefly while pulling on his uniform he saw something terrifying.
“Attack in progress. Launch in 10:34.”
An attack? Who? Where? How? What kind? General Kim was soon out the door to his quarters. He was at his battle bridge before the launch countdown had reached 10:00. Similar scenes were playing out throughout the ship, as generals checked in with their battle bridge statuses.
In the ship’s primary bridge, two kilometers from General Kim, Admiral Sol looked at her command display with satisfaction. 100% readiness in less than two minutes. She was pleased. She addressed the 10,000 soul the crew over the PA system. “An allied colony is under attack by enemies unknown. Wormhole travel will take approximately twenty minutes and thirty-four seconds. Prepare for battle.”
General Kim scrolled through the scant field assessment data. There wasn’t much. A large multi-species colony was being bombarded from orbit. No signs of enemy ground forces. The primary wormhole comms array was out, but an old Subspace system was still functional after 120 years of dormancy. “And THAT,” said General Kim, “is what preventative maintenance is for.”
“General, sir?”
“Sorry. Just thinking out loud. Their W23 system is down but they’re still in touch using an SB-Class 3.”
“I think I’ve seen one of those in a museum!”
“Our grandparents saw them in museums. You make do on the rim.”
Launch and wormhole transit went off with clockwork precision. Soon, the ship exited its artificial wormhole. It was immediately bombarded by the unknown hostiles. Explosions of varying kinds went off on the ship’s hull, ripping gashes in her armor.
“Damage report?” Admiral Sol asked.
“Ablative armor at 97%. No other damage reports.”
“Excellent. Inform me when the preliminary weapons analysis is in.”
Meanwhile, the Admiral's counterpart in the invading fleet, Imperial Agent Skrald, was still screaming, “What is that THING?”
“I’ve seen moons smaller than that ship,” said one of his lieutenants.
“We have to have a record of it. You can’t build something that big in complete secrecy!”
“Imperial Agent Skrald, I think it’s the, “Blade of Scoth.”
“That ship’s an old myth! It can’t possibly-“
“We've carved a notch!”
“Send the biggest we’ve got,” the Skrald replied.
A “notch” was a divot in the ship’s hull of the right shape to prevent weapons files from glancing off the armor.
“We’re being hailed, sir!”
“Tell them we don’t talk to burnt food and end the transmission,” the Admiral replied.
Imperial Agent Skrald watched with glee as the missile made contact with the notch and detonated.
On her ship, Admiral Sol asked for another damage report.
“Lower-port ablative armor section 374 at 40%, pinata layer is fully exposed.
“Can it take another direct hit?”
“It was only a gigaton blast. One more should make a perfect crack.”
“Excellent. Order the candy away from the blast point just to be safe.”
“Already done ma'am.”
“Make a note to find out who gave that order so I can commend them on their quick-thinking.”
“Yes Admiral.”
While the invading fleet pivoted their attention to the new ship, a second Terran vessel, the “Rule of Two Rogers” exited its artificial wormhole on the far side of the planet. A swarm of smaller craft flowed from the ship into the atmosphere below.
Imperial Agent Skrald, ignorant of the “Rule of Two Rogers,” was shouting with excitement. “Hit it again! Fire another!” The second missile flew through space, connecting with the underlayer exposed by the last missile. At first, it looked like the ship was spewing out debris, but the debris started flying in formations and shooting at his ships.
On the human ship, the Admiral smiled with satisfaction as she heard the report, “Piñata 86 has been breached. The candy is flowing. I repeat, the candy is flowing.”
“All stations, fire at will,” she replied.
The eyes of Imperial Agent Skrald opened wide as the surface of the massive ship lit up with a multicolored array of missiles, lasers, torpedos, and something that seemed to fire AFTER destroying one of his ships.
“It’s a rainbow of death,” he said, shocked into immobility by the way his fleet was being erased. He came back to his senses when his ship was rocked by debris impact from his erstwhile fleet.
“It’s too big to land!” He yelled. “All ships to the surface! I repeat, all ships retreat to the surface!”
The debris tore off one of his ship’s nacelles. “Did we need that to land?” He yelled.
“Only to get home sir,” an officer replied.
“Good.”
Admiral Sol watched the battle with satisfaction. This was the Blade of Scoth’s first battle in over 100 years. As a descendant of the famous Ambasador Sol, she took her guardianship of the BoS very seriously. A report came up on her screen. The hostiles had been identified. It was one of the Naga Imperium factions, or they were at least using the faction’s ships, weapons and known tactics. “Bastards,” she muttered.
“Admiral?” Lieutenant Cutter said.
“Analysis says it’s the ‘Naga Imperium of the Bone.’ The colony's 20% Naga. They’re slaughtering their own. Have we established direct contact with the colony yet?”
“Not yet Admiral. They don’t seem to have any short-range communications working. We’re still limited to what’s coming over their old subspace system.”
On the planet below, Sally McCool, a Naga hatched and raised in the colony, like her parents and grandparents before her, looked to the night sky. The missiles had come down, glowing brightly as the stars before they impacted. Now, the bright glowing objects had become larger, but many were breaking up and vanishing into nothing. Were these larger bombs, or was the enemy tumbling out of space?
She watched with growing horror as one approached the ground near the south okra field. She took a deep breath, and braced herself to be vaporized by whatever was about to land. Unable to watch, she curled into a ball on the ground, hoping death would be quick. She expected a nuclear flash, obliteration before hearing the blast. Instead, she heard a massive crash, crumpling metal and exploding components, and a long grinding sound as something huge cut into the soil. A rain of stones and soil covered her.
Sally looked up, and took several seconds to process what she was seeing. It hadn’t been a bomb. It had been a ship, and it had just crashed into one of their fields, carving a huge channel as it ground to a halt. A cloud of smoke was rising. Suddenly, a disk-shaped ship shot through the cloud of smoke. She recognized it from her history classes and old war movies. A flying saucer, painted with concentric circles of red, white, and blue. It was a Steve. A Steve class fighter. They were special. Why were they special?
Another saucer flew overhead. This one was red and yellow.
Sally remembered why the Steve battle saucers were special. They were exclusive to a ship called “The Rule of two Rogers.” The Steves were for battle, and this red and gold ship, as it landed she remembered, “It’s a Fred!” She yelled. She waved her arms, calling out to the ship. “We have injured! We have injured!” The side of the saucer opened up, and a multi-species crew of medics poured out.
While medics swarmed the colony providing aid, the best day of Skrald’s life had turned into the worst in a matter of minutes. He looked around his battered bridge. Even the emergency lighting could only manage flickering glimpses of the sparking wreckage around him. The only functional display was informing him the sewage system had ruptured and was pouring into what remained of the ventilation system.
“Is anyone else alive?”
“I TOLD you it was the Blade of Scoth you idiot!”
Skrald straightened his posture as much as the sharp pains in his abdomen would allow. “How DARE you speak to a member of the Imperium that way! I’ll eat you myself for that!”
“Good luck with that. I’m surrendering to the colony.”
“THEY’LL EAT YOUR FLESH AND MAKE SHOES FROM YOUR HIDE!”
“How’s that any better than you eating me?”
Outraged at the insolence, Skrald lunged in the direction of the taunting underling, smashing his snout against a hunk of metal he hadn’t noticed in the dim, flickering light.
Hours later, sunrise came to the battered colony. Most of the fires in the colony proper had been put out, but some of the Naga wreckage was still burning bright. Emergency contamination domes had been put up over the upwind wrecks, to contain as much of the toxic smoke as possible.
General Kim was on the ground, commanding the cleanup crews from both ships. He’d taken a brief break from those responsibilities to speak to one of the captured Naga.
“The guy in the fanciest duds tried to eat you when we took you into custody. Why?”
“I used to be a pilot,” she said. “Until that moron weaseled himself into enough power to do THIS!” She opened up her arms, as if to gesture at everything around her. “The only reason I’m even here is because I objected to this madness. That royal waste of scales wanted to personally mock me when he won. He even put that in writing on the paperwork for my ‘Away Without Leave’ warrant.”
“Weren’t you on his bridge?”
“Yes. You look confused, or at least that’s what my translator is telling me about your expression.”
“I don’t have a lot of combat experience. Nobody does these days, but hand-picking someone for your bridge crew because they have no confidence in you sounds like a bad idea to me.”
“This whole mission was nothing but bad ideas.”
“Please, tell me more.”
Meanwhile, in the darkness of space, a third ship of Capybara / Human design moved silent and unseen. Complex sensor arrays had been tracing the path the invaders had taken, seeking their origin. Data flowed in on interstellar communications problems, often evidence of ships passing though communications tunnels. The Starship Peggy Carter and her crew were on the trail, and the ship had a reputation to uphold. Latin mottos had fallen out of favor decades before she was built, so her motto was written in English.
“Those we fail to defend, we will avenge.”

All the rest, I have seen before, same tactics, etc.. except this one thing. Tents/ camps in university. Seen that in Occupy Wall Street. Wearing masks to conceal identity, seen that. Blocking of roads, clashes with police, graffiti, boycotts etc… seen all that before except the “Do not speak to rule”…”we are not allowed to talk”,…”no comment”…”if you got something to ask, speak to the media liasion officer” (I dont think its solely about press,… the protesters are discouraged from speaking not only to the press, but other people (outsiders) like non-protesters or from other other side etc…).
That is new. I dont remember any protest movenent which forbade its supporters from speaking freely. When the Pro-Palestinian movement started back in October, protesters were freely talking about it, explaining to strangers/ passerby their cause, etc… but not these days and not these student protesters, they arent that interested in talking. So much so, other protesters might make some comment to remind themselves, dont speak to others etc… if they see you engaging with an “outsider”
This is the irony. They profess freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, freedom to protest….AND YET by their very action they are NO LONGER interested in speaking (at least not individually, there is no room for respect of differences of opinion). It probably started wanting to engage in a dialogue, communicating, talking with others, with the university respectives etc… but not anymore, they are more interested in just telling you want they want you to do, they are not interested to listen to you or hear your excuses/ explaination, and if you dont give in to their demand, they will act out.

1. This is a big problem on many levels, seemingly intelligent or educated young people voluntarily surrendering their freedom of speech to a designated official of the protest movement to speak for them. Why ? Because they were told not to speak to others…how obedient ? They were probably told for your own protection,…trying to conceal your identify,..or you are not well verse with the issue, let someone else better, knows what they are doing (clearly you dont know enough) and in position of authority speak for you. You just keep quiet, repeat the chants, do what you have been told. Its quite easy for more radical or more vocal groups to use them and push the movement to a more violent path.
   
2. Because they are not talking to outside their circle,… they dont know much about the subject matter. They only know whats being told to them. They are not questioning, critically analyzing, debating the information / stories provided to them, starting to sounds a lot like cult, not an expert on this subject, perhaps the could unknowingly fall victim to group think.
   
3. I predict they wont go away anytime soon, they have proclaimed they will continue protesting. They will always have more demands and try to push for more and more…the protest movement started on the streets, then some blockade on roads leading to airports / ports, now on college campus, they will continue to make target big companies on the BDS lists, storming congress #2, riots on streets etc… i am not saying student protesters are violent or seeking violence by nature, but their compliance and their silence make them complicit to any illegal acts or violence carried out in the name of Pro-Palestinian movement.
   
4. If student protesters fail at negotiation with their university. Ask yourself what hope is there for a peace negotiation between Israel and Hamas ? None. You are not too different. You make demands. You dont want to talk. You want the otherside to agree to your demands…if you are not able to get through to your university, just think …who can help ? Mediator. There are mediators negotiating between Israel and Hamas…who are your mediators? I think your alumni will be an ideal mediator, they understand students, they also have good relations with the university admin. They might also give the students a reality check. They might tell the students if their companies are looking to hire any students arrested or suspended.
   
5. On the bright side, students ranked the middle east conflict the 9th concern, after heathcare (1st), education (2nd), Climate change (5th) etc..only 8% students participated in either side of protest. 90% says blocking pro-Israel students on campus are unacceptable. 81% support holding protesters accountable for destroying school property.
   
6. NYC says half of those arrested at two pro-Palestinian campus protests were not students https://www.npr.org/2024/05/04/1249188864/nyc-columbia-city-college-gaza-protests-palestinian-campus 😱 50% are not event students,
   

Let me add some links
Poll https://www.axios.com/2024/05/07/poll-students-israel-hamas-protests

First
Previous
Sorry for the delay in getting this part out; been away visiting family so not had much time to put fingers to keyboard, plus I managed to have my phone eaten by a roller coaster and it took a while to get it replaced and be able to get into a few things - stupid two factor authentication! Anyway, I hope you enjoy.
+++++++++++++++++++
Y’Lek and K’Rim slowed their mad dash as they neared the armoury; there was no telling whether the Swarm agents had left any traps for them and the armoury was full of extremely energy dense materials and weapons which could potentially jeopardise the structure of the ship if employed in the right way. Grabbing some handy footholds they stopped and considered the imposing door in front of them.
After a few moments of effort K’Rim had eased off the casement off the door’s locking mechanism but could detect nothing amiss with the crystalline structure beneath. Bypassing the outer interface she placed a grasper to the innards and a small spark of bioelectric energy jumped into the crystal which glowed briefly as the uniquely patterned waveform was parsed and compared with the patterns of those permitted access. The door slid aside as they were granted entry with no unwanted surprises being triggered.
With a relieved chitter Y’Lek started inside only to be pulled back sharply as K’Rim pulled on his leg.
“Stop. Just because the door opens, doesn’t mean that it is safe.” K’Rim warned as she pulled a small disc out of one of her utility pouches. Snapping it easily she gently tossed it through the doorway after slowly counting out a grasper of seconds. The exothermic reaction had reached the point where the disc glowed fitfully in the infrared, while it emitted a clear UV light. K’Rim watched it carefully and her antennae twitched with the effort of picking up any slight sound.
The glow-disc struck some of the lockers which filled the armoury and ricocheted off around the room but nothing seemed to react to the heat and movement.
With a decisive clack of her mandibles K’Rim pulled herself through the doorway and into the armoury. Y’Lek followed close on her tarsus. It was immediately obvious that several sets of warrior equipment had been removed, along with copious numbers of weapons.
Y’Lek was surprised when K’Rim didn’t make for the remaining warrior gear but instead to the emergency pressure suits. Seeing the confused tilt of his head K’Rim explained “Although the room appears safe, we don’t know what they may have done while they were here but it is safe to assume that they would have ensured any of the most dangerous equipment could not be used against them.”
She passed a bundled pressure suit to Y’Lek and continued “The emergency gear and non-powered weapons are the least likely to have been tampered with and have the least amount of capacity for harming us even if they have been so we will have to make do with them until we can thoroughly check the rest of the equipment.”
Y’Lek thought for a moment before bobbing in agreement and starting to pull on the pressure suit, careful to sheath his claws with the hardened “gauntlets” integral to the suit before powering up the spiracle gas exchangers and carefully sealing them in place against his thorax. “Yes, I can see the risk now. Though it will potentially leave us vulnerable, it is better to be certain of our equipment than to die of over confidence.”
The emergency pressure suit came together quickly, living up to its name and the pair were quickly sealed against the cold, dry, and slightly strange tasting air that the aliens had been pumping into the Far Flung Seed and supplying them with a more familiar and moister mixture.
K’Rim passed him a set of the ceremonial but still functional weapons and the harness to hold them. They wouldn’t hold up long against a fusion blade or a particle lance but they were durable enough to give them a chance and were completely inert so could not have been sabotaged.
Only a couple of minutes after entering the armoury they swam back out into the corridor and sped off towards the arboretum.
+++++++++++++++++++
Smithy quickly sprayed a fluorescent marking on the uneven and root covered tunnel junction to identify which way they had come from. “How can such a small ship have so many damn tunnels?” he growled to himself.
“It’s not the size of the ship, it’s what you do with it that matters” quipped Hall.
“Yeah? Well, apparently in this case it was fill it with bloody tunnels.” deadpanned Smithy in response.
“Can it.” broke in Stroud before anyone else could get involved “You can discuss the relative merits of alien design philosophy on your own time; for now you need to focus.”
A chorus of “Sergeant” came back over the radio and the remainder of Delta and Echo buckled down and continued sweeping what even Stroud was prepared to admit was a seemingly endless series of tunnels with apparently zero overarching logic to their layout. Up until a few minutes ago they had been getting directional updates from some supposedly friendly ET’s in the control room but apparently they had suddenly just buggered off so now they were picking junctions that appeared to take them in the vague direction that had been indicated to them.
Stroud again cursed the fact that the maintenance drones brought by the initial engineering team hadn't been able to access this part of the ship and map it due to the tightly sealed blast doors that had protected the forest from the vacuum. Who could have imagined that there would have been so much structure hidden underneath and between the normal corridors and rooms? The three dimensional map they had been creating as they advanced was like something Jackson Pollock and H R Giger might have come up with on an acid trip.
They approached another intersection and slowed. After a quick glance between them, Mears and Jackson moved forward, taking cover behind Mears’ shield. They crept up to the junction and Jackson poked the muzzle of his shotgun, and its camera into the ragged space beyond. The feed showed several small tunnels radiating off at all angles, way too small for any of them to fit down. One navigable tunnel appeared to curve off back in the direction they came from, while another looked like it might go the right way.
Suddenly the camera and the end third of Jackson’s gun disintegrated into a cloud of superheated vapour, shards of glowing metal and smoking composites. With a scream Jackson jumped back, the outer weave on the gauntlet of his left hand shredded and smouldering. In a stunning display of muscle memory he ejected the internal magazine and disconnected the weapon from the backpack feed almost before his mind had caught up with what was going on.
Hands grabbed him as he was yanked further back into the corridor. He flung the remains of his shotgun down and it clattered and bounced down the tunnel in the vague direction of the junction. Jackson was conscious of Mears backing up towards him, shield held protectively to block as much of the tunnel as possible, while Smithy grabbed his forearm and inspected his hand. Stroud stepped over him and took up guard on Mears’ shoulder, weapon trained forward and sweeping what could be seen of the slightly larger space beyond this section of the tunnel.
Another “FOOOM!” as the tumbling wreckage of the shotgun was vaporised as it spun across the opening of the tunnel.
“Fuuuuuuuck me!” said Jackson, at last able to form words as the adrenaline induced tunnel vision started to clear.
“Well, how about you start by showing me whether you can still use your fingers and we can take it from there, eh?” Smithy said from where he was turning his hand from prone to supine again. “Looks like the inner layer of your glove is intact but both Simmonds and Jones complained of numbness after being hit. How’re you feeling?”
Jackson gingerly flexed his fingers and made a fist a few times but grunted as he felt the tips of his fingers tingle where they pressed into the material of his gloves “Feels weird - tingly like I sat on my hand or something.”
Smithy grunted to acknowledge this “OK, well shout out if it gets any worse; got it?”
He pulled Jackson to his feet and slapped him on the shoulder before they both turned back to face down the tunnel again. Jackson surreptitiously flexed his hand a few more times as he pulled out his sidearm and secured its retaining strap to his right wrist. He wasn’t too hopeful that the small pistol would be able to do too much against the ET’s, but it was better than walking around with nothing.
Stroud backed away from the junction where he had been very gingerly checking all the passageways with a camera barely poking out from the mouth of the tunnel they were in.
He stood up and turned to the security team “Ok, looks like there is something stuffed into one of the narrow tunnels - kind of like those shoulder guns the ET’s have, along with a stand and power supply. My guess is it has some kind of automated fire mode and decided that it really didn’t like Jackson’s gun waving around in front of it. Question is, how are we going to get rid of it? We can’t leave it behind in case we need to come back this way in a hurry.”
“I guess it will probably shoot anything we throw at it so grenades are out?” mused Mears
There followed a number of suggestions and comments.
“Can we get an angle on it and just shoot it?”
“How about we let Jackson distract it some more while the rest of us blow it away?”
“We need to avoid the power pack if the two dead ET’s from the corridor are anything to go by.”
Stroud listened for a minute before cutting the chatter short. “Ok, so I think our best bet is to use the ballistic shield to bait it, while someone else blows the top off it from the other side of the tunnel; Mears you and Jackson handle the shield; keep a tight hold on it as those shots release a lot of energy when they hit. Smithy - I’ve marked its location so you hug the other side of the tunnel and draw a bead on it. Wait for it to hit the shield before popping out and taking your shot; and for the love of all that you hold dear do it fast, Ok?”
The team nodded in agreement.
“I will be there to pull Smithy back as soon as he has popped out of cover, just in case.” concluded Stroud before ushering them to their positions. After a few moments of shuffling around each other in the tight space they were ready.
Smithy led the countdown. “Ready. Steady. Go!” Instantly Mears and Jackson shoved a third of the ballistic shield out into the corridor and planted themselves on top of the section remaining in the corridor only a moment ahead of a bright flash and the shield heaving under the impact.
Seemingly almost simultaneously Smithy leaned out and fired, the boom of his shotgun mingling with the “foom!” of the vaporising surface of the shield. Stroud almost bodily lifted him as he pulled him back from the edge.
For a second they were still as they sprawled around the opening.
“A good hit!” called Stroud as he reviewed the few frames of footage from Smithy’s gun camera between jumping out and back in again.
Mears stood up and inspected the sorry remains of his ballistic shield, now missing most of the top edge. “Great, well I hope there aren’t too many more of those hidden around as I’m running out of shield.”
+++++++++++++++++++
N’Dar’s antennae quivered inside his protective suit. That last series of weapons fire had been far too close for comfort and he still had two more locking systems to bypass. With a furious click of his mandibles he redoubled his efforts, running his bioelectric patterns through a series of filters, amplifiers and other signal processing systems to trick the door into thinking he had a right to open it.
The rot take the claw that had been delaying the aliens! He was supposed to have more time than this!
Next

Just kidding, it's not a memoir. Yes, I'm back at it again with everyone's favorite topic. Anyway, there's a few reasons 6s despise being called 6s and why they might mistype so easily:

1. 6s are naturally attuned to sentiment analysis.

What do I mean by this? I mean that 6s are very carefully listening to the things that people say, the chatter that goes around, because they don't want to be left out of the loop. It doesn't matter what variant the 6 is, this "attunedness" is one of the defining and characteristic traits of 6s. In unhealthier 6s this verges on the edge of paranoia, sometimes even dipping into it fully, where the 6 feels like you are talking about or more specifically against them. Usually the arguments stem from some sort of misalignment or misunderstanding of language choice where the hyper-specific language of the 6 in question doesn't match the environment. To combat this, mirroring the 6's language choice will do wonders.

2. 6s are inherently distrusting because of their ambivalence to authority.

There's a misconception that 6s somehow like being told what to do, but that is not the case. Really what they want is clarity. 6s will not accept anything that does not resonate with their truth. The ambivalence of authority and trust that 6s have often spawns from mistreatment, so when you try to tell a 6 "what they are" even if it may be true, the instinct is to deny or shut it down. Unless framed properly, 6 brain interprets it as something along the lines of "I KNOW YOU MORE THAN YOU DO" "YOU ARE LESS THAN" "YOU DON'T KNOW YOURSELF" "YOU'RE NOT [desired trait] AND NEVER WILL BE" so of course the instinct is going to thrash against it unless you have evidence of the contrary that isn't belittling. This distrust, though, is natural to the 6 so calling it out as some sort of failing isn't going to get you very far at all.

3. There is a genuine undercurrent of belittlement and predation.

Being openly vulnerable in this world invites harassment and scrutiny. Despite being a Head type, 6s are a bit unfortunate with being naturally expressive of their emotions. 6s wish they could simply be straightforward about things and have their needs respected, but they are aware that it's only going to lead to more trouble. Because they feel the "trouble" anyway, a more counterphobic 6 tends to get into arguments about this expressiveness, while the phobic 6s try to keep it under the hood. Predators often see young 6s as targets which is what spawns and then reinforces the natural defenses that 6s have. On the flip side though, this sudden vulnerability is a shocking component that 6s have and can catch people totally off guard even in good ways if they aren't prepared for it.
A lot of people genuinely see 6s as "weaker" 8s at best or whiny children at worst, and a lot of those people are also unconscious 6s themselves.

4. The 6 descriptions outright suck.

We all know this to be true, but the descriptions of 6s don't do it much justice leading to the community to form unjust stereotypes and give all of the positive 6 traits to someone else. Think about the various stereotypes - Analytical, intellectual? Sorry, that's a 5. Strong, tough, protective? That's an 8! Caring, sensitive, devoted? No, that's a 2. Creative, emotive, deep? That's a 4! 6s are left with... drumroll loyal, which might as well be spitting in their face to the type that is most inherently distrusting and sensitive about their natural human vulnerabilities. Pragmatism, the thing that 6s do best, isn't something that is often valued and 6s often don't see themselves in it. 6s have become flanderized and their Head type nature has been completely lost, with the rest of their traits scattered across other types. Notice how you never see anyone saying an 8 is 6-like?
Back to the first point, 6s are so attuned to this that they will reject it because they sure as hell don't see themselves as more "loyal" than anything else, nor would they consider that a strength even if they did. 6s aren't some nondescript type, but from the descriptions you'd think they are. 9s have a similar problem of being delegated to something less than and generic but their psyche doesn't demand they fight it, so they typically don't. This problem really isn't unique to the Enneagram community, it's genuinely fucking everywhere, but this is just how it happens to play out here. It's similar to "sensor discourse" in the MBTI community. This is a double whammy for the 6s who happen to feel alienated from society as a whole, because again you're essentially telling them that they're not only boring but that they don't experience the alienation that they do. "You make up all of society as a whole!!" No, no we don't. 6s are just one of the more vocal types.

5. 6s have naturally low self-worth and struggle with identity.

The burden of consciousness comes at a cost, and for 6s it means they typically start out with a low sense of self-worth. Growth for 6s is accepting this burden of consciousness and becoming a truly confident being. Some 6s take on a more aloof or rash persona to combat this, but true confidence is not something that can be faked. Unfortunately though this can be so convincing that even the 6 is not aware of their self worth, as "what they feel is what everyone feels" (unconscious projection). It can't be understated that these mechanisms are truly unconscious so they won't even know they are doing it, which means until the 6 can identify it within themselves they have to fight and test it. They will idolize and project onto other things until they realize what they are looking at is actually what they are.
Being an attachment type, 6s can struggle with identity. Unlike 9s, they typically are only aware of what they are not. It isn't until the patterns have crystallized and become identifiable to the 6 that they feel they know who they are. This is again not something that can be touched externally, but accepting what they are in the moment goes a long way.
To avoid the problem of 6s complaining or mistyping, it takes pretty much the same thing it does for everything else wrong with the world: An open discussion, but also empathy. 6s crave an understanding more than anything else, so showing them that you are trying is often good enough to put down the knife. Basically, let the 6 come to their own conclusions. Even the most aggressive counterphobic 6 is usually going to mirror you when you willingly disarm yourself in front of them, which is why this is the tactic that 6s learn to use to disarm others: Not to put the self down, but to distract or exaggerate so the argument is blown out of proportion into absurdity. You can then come back and tackle the actual problem if you frame it as more of a suggestion, and eventually the 6 will realize once they've absorbed it in a way that resonates with their own logic.
Personally, the only people historically that have snapped me out of my aggressive moments were the kind ones. The rest I could easily brandish as "against me", but not the kind ones. Try to be more kind with the things you say, even if you are joking. As much as I like the dog joke, doing it all the time without content of substance about 6s is just going to reinforce all of the trigger points. If you're going to be joking about someone or something in general, it's best if you don't "punch down". Hopefully this post will change at least some things people think.
Woof woof.

Is there a generally agreed procedure – or at least a handful of useful techniques?
Background:
I'm learning about concavity in curves of functions, specifically identifying the turning points and inflections in such curves.
To do this I'm building sign diagrams of f(x), f'(x) (first derivative) and f''(x) (second derivative).
For example:

x	-1	0	1/2	1
y'	-	-	+	+

• By working out the signs of the 1st derivative, I can determine the turning points of the curve.
• By working out the signs of the 2nd derivative, I can determine the inflection points of the curve.

The functions tend to be polynomial, e.g.:

• f(x) = x^2 - x^4
  
  • so that f'(x) = 2x - 4x^3
  • and f''(x) = 2 - 12x^2
• f(x) = x^4 - 3x^2 + 6x
  
  • so that f'(x) = 4x^3 - 6x + 6
  • and f''(x) = 12x^2 - 6

So far my "technique" is pretty scrappy.
First I determine zero points (by inspection, completing the square or applying the quadratic formula).
Then I just punch tiny permutations into my calculator, e.g. `1.0001^2 - 1.0001^4`, etc, randomly to see whether they're negative or positive, and scrawl down the results. Then I try to throw together a sign diagram that seems right.
I would prefer to follow a consistent method that can generally get me accurate results.
So far I've got this short list:
A) Inspecting for obvious forcing of the whole result.
E.g. in an expression like: 2x^2 - x^2, the result can only be positive, because both sides square x and the left side only doubles that value, so will always be larger than the right.
B) Factoring/grouping.
Factor the polynomial into groups of multiplications if possible, then solve the sign of each group separately, then combined them in the end.
For example:

1. x^4 - x^3 - 5x => (x^2 - 3x)(x^2 + 2x)
2. Make two sign diagrams, one for (x^2 - 3x) and one for (x^2 + 2x)
3. Then combine the signs, i.e. - * - = +, - * + = +, + * + = +

C) Tabulating permutations.
Drawing up a table of values of x (columns) and groups of the polynomial (from the Factoring/grouping above).
For example:

x	-1	-1 + 0.001	0 - 0.001	0	0 + 0.001	1 - 0.001	1
(x^2 - 3x)	2 (+)	≈ 3.995 (+)	≈ 0.003 (+)	0	≈ -0.002 (-)	≈ -1.998 (-)	-2 (-)
(x^2 + 2x)	...	...	...	...	...	...	...

This can then easily be converted to a sign diagram.
D) Applying values of powers of fractions.
I noticed it's common that a fraction raised to a power will give a radically (no pun) different result to the whole polynomial.
For example:
6x^3 - 6x will be:

• Negative for fractions; e.g. (6 * (0.5^3)) - (6*0.5) = -2.25
• Positive for whole numbers; e.g. (6 * (2^3)) - (6*2) = +36

So it might be useful to quickly identify where powers are applied to fractions and solve for them early.
I'm thinking of memorising (or at least being able to quickly build from memory) a table like the following:

x	2	3	4	...
1/2	1/4	1/8	...	...
1/4	...	...	...	...
1/6	...	...	...	...
...	...	...	...	...

E) Inverting the polynomial (or grouped parts of it) to find zero points.
For example, given: 5x^2 - 1.
I can invert 5x^2 to get sqrt(x/5) so that sqrt(1/5) gives me a zero point of the expression.
Then I can add/subtract tiny amounts to build the sign diagram around it.
E.g.

x	sqrt(1/5)-0.001	sqrt(1/5)	sqrt(1/5)+0.001
	-	0	+

What do you think?
Am I generally right to try and find a systematic method or at least a collection of tools to solve this kind of problem?
If so, are there any good books out there that cover such methods, so I don't have to discover them on my own by trial-and-error?
Or if not, then maybe this would be a good topic for a math book or blog post that I should write on my own!