The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

CANCER ZODIAC TAROT READING - UNEXPECTED INCOME MAY 2024

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cJ5mIkLhCyY
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Now that I think about it I have been doing this for some time now. I don't even need to get the joke, I guess I just really want to know what does it feel like to 'have fun with friends'. Not that it's that big of a deal, just wanted to dump this somewhere. I'm not THAT bothered by the fact that I was alone, am alone, and will be alone for the foreseeable future (At least not anymore). But this action just doesn't sit right with me...I don't think it's healthy, to put it like that? Am I really not lonely anymore or am I just numb again?

Am I wrong for reporting this Dr to the Medical Board?
Basically what happened is I went to the ED for concerns of Serotonin Toxicity. Or Serotonin Syndrome (SS). I was taking an adhd stimulant and just started an ssri. And more recently just upped my ssri dose. Upon upping my dose, I began shaking, sweating, no appetite, didn’t sleep for 3 days, was having moments of disorientation and confusion. Spouse also said my pupils were dilated. As the days went on my shaking got worse. My muscles, specifically my legs hurt so badly. I wanted to sleep. But I couldn’t physically stop shaking to sleep. And by day 2, my eyes were shaking side to side as well. My prescribing doc had told me about SS. She said “you won’t have to guess if you’re experiencing SS cause it will truly be so awful, you won’t have to wonder. Before going to the ED I looked up SS on UpToDate (the medical version of Google that doctors actually use) to make sure I wasn’t being over dramatic, that it wasn’t something I could handle at home, and just make sure my symptoms even remotely matched up. And they did. They matched up perfectly. It was saying for a Serotonin Syndrome diagnosis you’d need to take at least one serotonin drug AND have one or more of the following symptoms, 1- muscle twitching or jerking without stimulation (had that), 2-Muscle Twitching when stimulated or stretched, and restlessness and excessive sweating (had all of those) 3- Rapid horizontal eye movements (yep) 4- Shaking movements a person cannot control plus exaggerated reflexes (yep) 5- a fever (did not have that)
And that SS is a clinical diagnosis. Meaning there is no bloodwork no testing to confirm you have it or that it’s ruled out. So if you get labwork and nothing is wrong like a heart attack for example, but you’re having allll the SS symptoms, and you’re taking 1 serotonin drug, then it’s SS.
So I was like well heck let me go rule it out at least cause I’m just getting worse as time goes on and the longer I take this new upped SSRI dose with my adhd stimulant. And it was symptoms from hades. It was not fun.
In the ED my bp was 160/105, heart rate was 160’s. I told them I had concerns for SS because of the meds I take and how I just upped my Prozac dose. My symptoms. Etc. keep in mind. I’m trembling and jerking uncontrollably for 3 days now, haven’t slept in 3 days either. It was horrible. Doctor comes in, I reiterate everything to him ( as quickly as I can bc my teeth are chattering from my shakes) They do labwork and a urine analysis.
While I’m waiting for my results. The staff is outside my door talking incredibly loud. They are talking about a pt a few rooms beside me. The pt name, birthday, what they received as care, the patients ailments, etc. literally everything about this pt. And how we happened to have the same doctor that night (there was multiple dr in the ED that night, we just happened to share one). I thought to myself “Gosh that’s sad. When the doctor comes in here, if he seems off or sad, I need to give him some grace because that must be really hard”
So the doctor comes in. And tell me looks like all my labwork is good, that I should just go home and get some rest and that I have 30 protein and 70 ketones in my urine so I should also drink water and eat something. I told him again, I would love to rest, but I have slept in 3 days and I can’t sleep bc of my symptoms. He then prescribes me a sleep aid and immediately walks out of the room. I was confused because he never once mentioned the SS concern? Like ever at all? Just said my labs looked good.
So the nurse comes in with my discharge paperwork. And I asked her if the doctor remembered which pt and concerns I was having. Bc I understood it was a busy night for them and mix ups can happen. But my concern for SS wasn’t mentioned. She said he definitely remembered me. That he just doesn’t know the reason for my shaking or my other symptoms and my labs look fine. I told her that’s good my labs are fine but there’s not SS labs so how are we sure we’ve ruled SS out? She rolls her eyes and huffs and leaves. She comes back with the dr and he rips open my ED room curtain and punches the light on. And he goes “Look Kid. You’re going home! You’re not in any emergency whatsoever!!” I said “that’s fine. I just want to make sure we’ve ruled SS out as..” and he cuts me off and says “Look. You’ve had a FULL work up. Your labs are fine. You being here right now isn’t going to get you the answers you want” I said “I understand my labs are fine, but there’s no such thing as Serotonin Syndrome labs, it’s an exclusion dx so how are we sure we’ve ruled it out?” And he goes “You know what. Let’s have psychiatry come take a look at you and do a psych eval for you. But. How about this? I’ll be nice about it. You can do it inpatient tonight, or outpatient since you’re leaving. Your choice” I was absolutely appalled by this tactic. But I could see it for what it was. He was probably emotional over the other pt. Or was on a power trip and hated me having questions. Or both. So I said “I’ll do it outpatient. Thanks” and I begin shakily taking my monitors off so I can waddle on out the ED best I can and go on home. As I’m taking my monitors off he goes “Nope. Stop. Something doesn’t seem right about you. Are you safe at home? You seem really emotional and off” just to give him something to get off my back I said “I’m good. Just about to get my period I guess” and he goes “Mm makes sense. Well sounds good kid!!” And leaves.
What I think is incredibly interesting is that according to the hospital they addressed my SS concerns during my ED visit. So this would now mean that SS can now be diagnosed via labwork and heart and lung sounds. And no longer being on one serotonin drug AND one Hunter Criteria. Never mind the fact I was on 2 serotonin drugs and had more than one hunter criteria. And the fact that UpToDate says “there are no labs to indicate serotonin syndrome” this is now a medical catalyst!!! A complete 180 has been found by this doctor and hospital. Truly a break through. But nonetheless, I felt the way he spoke to me was absolutely insane and aside from him not addressing my SS concern but quite literally threatening me with a psych eval because I had questions?

I naturally fell into babysitting around the age of 14. Through friends and family, I got leads for babysitting to score some cash, which definitely beat having to work at a restaurant. The job had its ups and downs, but overall it wasn’t a bad gig at all.
Yet, as many good experiences as I had, they were all eclipsed by one night.
A new family in town talked to my dad at work and it turned out that they needed a babysitter. I happily took the job and found myself watching their 10-year old boy a couple of weeks later. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the family themselves. They were the model citizens of suburban America, complete with the white picket fence and blue shutters. Nothing about their house was strange or even unique. Their son Avery was very mild-mannered and polite. Even their car was basic. Not that these were bad things, but I expected it to be a very boring night.
What I did not expect was the uncomfortable, inexplicable feeling that I got when I set foot in the house. A chill ran through me, but there was no draft. I rubbed my arms as I gazed at their staircase as we passed. They gave me a brief tour of the house before they left a note of instructions and all the usual information I expected from a job.
While trying to figure out what was making me so uneasy about the place, I noticed something about their basement door when I passed it. A padlock was placed on the door, along with a deadbolt in place.
"Any questions?” The father asked as my mind was pulled out of my curiosity.
"No, sir. Everything looks great!”
So they left and Avery and I played some games before I made dinner. A couple of times, I thought I heard Avery call me into the den. Both times, I found him sitting on the couch in what most recognize as the TV-zombie state. He denied having called me, and I went back to making dinner. After the third time, I told Avery it wasn’t funny and that he should stop.
“I’m not doing anything, I’m just watching TV!”
His voice went to that higher tone of pleading, sounding desperate for me to believe him.
“Avery, I know it’s my first time and sometimes you wanna test things out, but I’m trying to get dinner ready so if you call me again, I’m not checking on you, okay?”
“I didn't say anything.”
The child glared at the TV with a pouting face, and I began to feel bad. As many times as I’ve heard lies, I was starting to sense that he was telling the truth. So what was I hearing?
“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not mad. Promise.”
Avery turned his head back towards me, seeming to test if I was the one fibbing now.
“How about I let you stay up a little later if we forget about it?”
“Do you really promise?”
“Pinky promise.”
With our contractual pinkies interlocked, spirits were raised again and I was able to finish dinner. Although I didn’t finish without hearing Avery’s voice calling me once more. I ignored it, and when Avery didn’t mention it at dinner I figured it was him fooling around again. The whole time we chatted as we ate, I couldn’t help but feel that something was not right about this house.
As hard as I tried to not look, my eyes kept diverting to the heavy padlock and chain on the basement door. Curiosity got the best of me and as we were cleaning up, I couldn’t help but ask.
“So Avery, what’s the deal with the basement door?”
“What do you mean?”
His words did not match his demeanor. It was obvious he didn’t make eye contact as he forced his sentence out.
“C’mon, you know what I mean. The padlock, chain, and deadbolt. Y’all have dangerous chemicals down there?”
Avery’s face grew paler and he stared at the wall for a moment.
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I didn’t mean to…”
“Dad said no one can talk about it anymore.”
This really threw me off, and I couldn’t possibly finish my sentence now. A thick veil of tension materialized between us.
“So you…you guys aren’t allowed to talk about it?”
Avery shook his head.
“Ah, okay. That’s cool. No big deal.”
It was nothing but a big deal.
Was their dad doing something illegal down there? Or was it something strange that no one could do anything about it? Maybe their dad was in denial about something going on. There were waaaaaay too many questions going through my head now.
“Hey, how about we put on a movie?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“What am I saying? Everyone likes movies, right?!”
Now excited, we decided on a fun movie that quickly pulled our minds away from the mysterious basement door. Well, that’s not entirely true. Maybe Avery was distracted, but it was killing me. As we ate popcorn, I couldn’t help but watch Avery, wondering what was going on in that little head of his.
Was there something awful going on in the house and there was nothing I could do to stop it? Or maybe the dad was just…
“Stop,” I told myself inwardly.
Mulling over it all endlessly was not doing myself any favors.
So the movie ended, and I ushered the drifting child to his bed. Now, the house was all to myself until twelve, so I had a good three and a half hours to myself. Immediately, I began texting my friend to tell her all about the weird experience I was having that night. She dismissed it, saying that I was getting spooked by a new place. This annoyed me to no end. I’d been at bigger, way creepier-looking houses but never got weird vibes like this.
Then…I heard it.
“Stephanie…..”
I went instantly still and listened intently.
“You didn’t hear that, Steph. Just keep texting your friend and…”
“Stephanieeeee…”
There was no mistaking it this time. It was definitely coming from the basement.
The acoustics couldn’t have been from Avery upstairs. The voice sounded like a little girl’s. In fact, I’m not even sure he could make his voice like that, anyway.
Slowly, I stood up from the couch and approached the door. Maybe like earlier, I was just hearing things. Maybe being creeped out by the house was starting to mess with my head. That made sense…right?
“Stephanie?”
I jumped back from the door, almost wetting myself in the process. There was no way I could dismiss it as anything else now. There was a little girl’s voice coming from the basement.
“H-hello?” I responded.
I couldn’t keep my voice from shaking.
“Is this Stephanie?”
“Y-yes, it’s Stephanie.”
“Can you help me?”
“Who are you? Why are you locked in the basement?”
“My name is Meredith Rosenberg. They’re kept me locked up for a long time now. The police were almost on to them and that’s why they moved. Can you get me out?”
A cold shock washed over me and made it hard to respond. Was I actually babysitting for a family that kept a little girl prisoner?
“Oh my God…um….how long have you been locked up with them?”
“Ever since I can remember.”
I felt somehow hot and cold at the same time, and wanted to throw up. This all made sense now with what Avery had told me. Of course his father didn’t want him talking about the door…
“I just need to find the keys and I can…”
“They’re hidden in the garage underneath the metal shelf. It’s inside a magnetic key holder.”
“Okay, just hold tight.”
In a panic to free the poor girl, I darted into the garage and began feeling the space underneath the bottom shelf and sure enough, there was a magnetic key holder there. Running back, I popped the key holder open and began to insert the key into the padlock.
“Did you find it?”
“Yes, sweetie. I’m almost there!”
“Oh, please hurry! Sometimes they come home early!”
This sent me into even more of a rush, and I barely managed to fumble the key into the padlock. I finally heard the successful click of the padlock, pulled the chain off, and slid the deadbolt to the right.
“I’m coming, Meredith. Hold on!”
I turned the doorknob and threw open the door, only to be met with darkness. Now full of adrenaline, my hands felt around for the light switch. Finally finding my purchase, I flicked the light on which lit up most of the stairs.
“Meredith?” I called out.
Unless I was remembering it wrong, it sounded like her voice was just on the other side of the door a minute ago. In fact, it was quite strange that she wasn’t waiting for me at the top of the stairs. Wouldn’t you immediately run out of a basement that you were locked in for God knows how long?
“I’m down here!” The little girl’s voice called out.
Judging from the distance, it sounded like she was calling from somewhere at the bottom of the stairs. My brain suddenly began piecing all the details of this interaction together and the idea of going down into the basement became absolutely terrifying.
“Meredith, you can come up now! The door’s open!”
I couldn’t hide the tremor in my voice. Why I was scared of a little girl was beyond me, but much like the house itself, something felt very wrong here.
“I hurt my leg, owww! When you said you were getting the key, I went back down to get some of my things and got hurt. Ahhh….”
Her sounds of pain filled me with sorrow, but an invisible force was holding me back from taking another step into that basement.
“Can you move? Maybe pull yourself up on the railing?”
“I can’t! It hurts too bad!”
“Okay, sweetie umm…”
“What’s wrong? Won’t you help me?”
“I-I it’s just…really dark down there and…and I don’t want to get hurt too. Is there any way you can get to the stairs? Any way at all?”
“I tried to sit up, but my shoulder hurts too much.”
“I thought you said your leg got hurt?”
The words hung in the air like a noose. It was only after I said it that I realized there was several things seriously wrong about all of this. A question popped into my head I didn’t even have time to think about until now.
How did she know where the padlock key was?
A deathly silence took up the space between me and wherever this girl was. It was a standoff, and I couldn’t think of anything else to say. There were questions I could ask her to figure out what was happening, but I felt that her answers weren’t going to be honest. Perhaps at this point, the truth was too frightful to know.
"Meredith? Are you still there?"
It was a stupid question, but it was the only thing my mind could conjure. The additional silence only unnerved me, so I decided to try and get a better look. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I clicked on the flashlight. It didn’t do me any good because of the awful range, so I did the one thing I’d already told myself not to do…
I took a step forward...
Maybe it was the angle of the stairs or the lighting, but that one step gave me more information than I ever wanted to know. I caught a better view of the bottom step, which was essentially a ledge into a black abyss. Something looked different on this step, but it took a second to register what it was.
The step was wet, a pool of some unknown liquid overflowing into the darkness of the basement. I knew for sure that the father hadn’t mentioned any flooding so it would be way too random for that. So I stood there, watching in frozen curiosity as the puddle then suddenly rippled…and I realized the abominable truth.
It wasn’t water.
It was a puddle of saliva…and something was drooling into it from the dark.
A wretched chuckle emanated from the horrid void beyond the step, and it cemented me even further into place. It was a wet chortle, and positively evil.
“How did you like my voices?” The thing said from the dark. “I’ve been practicing."
The epiphany creeped down my spine…it was now talking in Avery’s voice. Everything in my body screamed at me to run. I heard the screams but I couldn’t respond no matter how hard I tried.
"A pity though…almost got you."
At this, the most gruesome face peeled back the shadows and revealed itself, along with its unearthly mandibles and small fountain of saliva. My faculties finally came to and I threw myself into the house and kicked the door closed. In mere seconds, I had the door bolted and chained. Leaning against the door, my chest heaved as I struggled to catch my breath.
Just as I felt I was safe, the door shuddered as a terrible blow rocked it. I screamed and ran upstairs to grab Avery.
I practically dragged the poor kid out the door and called the police. It wasn’t until the operator came on that I realized I was about to report a monster in the house. Thinking quickly, I told them that I heard a burglar in the home.
It wasn’t long before the police and Avery’s parents came home. Nothing was found, even in the basement, but I didn’t even care at that point. I just wanted the hell out of that house and away from whatever that….thing was. Avery’s parents kept glancing at me funny the whole time, probably because they knew I had their basement key. I shoved it into their hands before I hugged Avery and got into my car to drive home. That poor kid has to live in that house with that thing, but there was nothing I could do about it.
As long as I am alive, I will never….ever set foot in that house again.
And as for basements go, I can't go into them anymore. I just simply can't...

TLDR: boyfriend’s ex coworker and her boyfriend have been hanging out with my boyfriend and I. My boyfriend has gotten much closer to her boyfriend. I’m very hestitant of her because she has some self absorbed characteristics and over talks for hours. I feel like she hasn’t tried to get to know me at all. But she has extreme anxiety and insecurities. She got annoyed with my boyfriend because he didn’t invite her while he was out with other friends and she was home alone because her boyfriend is away. She kind of got me involved in that situation. We have set plans with her but the dramatics really turned me off. My boyfriend thinks we should go because he wants to continue being on great terms with her boyfriend. I’ve had bad experiences with previous draining and toxic friendships and want to be careful with who I hang with. I’m questioning if I’m being too hard on her and quick to rule her out.
Boyfriend met this girl at his last job and they became good work friends. They bonded quickly because her and I come from the same country. She confided in him in her dating life and says that he helped her through some things she was going through. I was well aware of this work friendship and know that it’s been just strictly platonic all around. I was actually really excited about potentially meeting a new friend. I’ve outgrown and have gotten rid of my old longtime toxic circle due to me not being a heavy partier anymore and just having 0 patience for passive aggressiveness and mean girl behavior. I just really wish to create a new circle of women that are supportive, working on themselves, and accepting. The very few women I’ve befriended like that all moved. It’s very hard to meet local women like that.
After he left that job, we got to hang out with her and her new boyfriend. It’s been really fun double dates and we’ve even hung out in larger group settings. My boyfriend has actually gotten very close to her boyfriend and they talk a lot more than he talks to her.
However, I feel like I can’t really get close to her because I feel like she doesn’t make an effort to actually get to know me. Her boyfriend has made way more of an effort than she has. Also just a few red flags which I’m not sure if I’m overthinking and maybe just not giving her a fair chance: talks A LOT. And never ever compliments me or other women. One time she insisted on her and her bf crashing a quality time date that my boyfriend and I had planned, even though he told her that we were doing one on one time together. When I hung out with her and another friend, she talked about herself for 3 hours straight of the lunch. The other friend told us how she recently got laid off and was very worried because she wasn’t getting hired at interviews, I didn’t like that this girl began to talk about how perfect her new job that she just got an offer for is. Proceeded to talk about this new job, her relationship insecurities, and herself forever. I gathered from what she talked about is that she actually might be extremely anxious and an overthinker from said anxiety. I kind of just excused that and wanted to give her another chance one on one. We went to dinner together but she talked a lot about herself. She was really anxious about her relationship and spoke mostly about that. I felt like although I did get to share more about myself this time, I felt so drained after this hang out. I just took her over talking as the fact that she’s probably very lonely because all of her close friends live in other states and countries is all.
Fast forward to now, her boyfriend has been away on a business trip and she messaged my boyfriend to try to make plans with us both. Unfortunately we couldn’t those dates and we just set something up for another date. She then sees on Instagram that my boyfriend was out with his friends on a GUYS night. He reposted a picture with his buddies…she kind of freaked out on him because he didn’t invite her knowing that she’s been so lonely lately and got upset because she feels like he prefers her boyfriend over her. He told her that it would be really weird if he invited her to a guy’s night given that I wasn’t even invited to that and I wouldn’t be there. She continuously texted hin and he just kept ignoring her messages. She then messages me after I got off the phone with him after he told me what happened. The vibe was so weird at first, it’s like she was trying to tell me that she was very successful and celebrating about her new job alone? Idk if this was a way to get me to feel bad that I hadn’t taken anymore initiative to hang out with her myself. And the she asked me if I would get mad if she hung out with my boyfriend at a group setting to which I said no not in a group setting but a guys night would be different because none of the wives or girlfriends in that group get invited. So yeah, I’d be annoyed if she got invited to that over me. I feel like she didn’t really get it though, she anxiously texted me how she feels like my boyfriend chose her boyfriend over her and she feels like if they were to break up she’d lose her friends. I get it, she’s got her own issues going on and stuff. But man, this just left a bad taste in my mouth because it reminded me of an old self absorbed and controlling friend that I had. I also felt like she came across kind of entitled to my boyfriends time and friendship if that makes any sense.
My boyfriend ended up hashing things out with her and thinks we should still continue with our old plans with her because he really wants to keep his friendship with her boyfriend. My boyfriend also works in mental health so he’s very understanding that she’s just got issues and is just anxious. I’m just so turned off by everything the more I look back and I’ve just been questioning more and more if this is even someone I should want to keep around. I just don’t get it, I personally would never hassle a male friend that is in a committed relationship to hang out with me whether I’m single or not. I’m also questioning that I could just being way too hard of her due to my own past experiences with controlling and toxic friends.

Hey I'm a Dutch guy, 28 years old.
I like to game and work out.
I also like mountain biking and swimming, waking outdoors
I love to listen to podcasts and music as well.
I work full-time.
The weather is getting better, so I'm happy!!
Hit me up if you want to chat, tell me a fun fact about you. (I'm 6'9)

As we are getting a trailer for a much changed version of the Second Age today, I decided I would share what a first season in a series might look like for the story of Tolkien’s Second Age, while staying very close to the timeline and characters. I’ve taken some ideas I’ve seen from other creators who have made similar attempts at this, namely Council of Rings and Tolkien Untangled, but most are my own. As of now I’m not aware of a complete outline that exists for the first season of this sort of adaptation. In any case, this outline is essentially a summary of a complete text with 10 chapters that exists but is still in progress.
I’ve split the season into 10 episodes, as I think that’s ideal, and into pairs of 3-episode arcs I call Sagas, which will cover certain time periods. But each of these sagas will more or less function like a contained story, following certain characters during periods of their lives. And each is about 3 episodes between 50-60 minutes, meaning each is the length of a long film.
I started with a compressed timeline where season 1 would take place between 1200-1600, starting with the year Annatar arrives in Ost-in-Edhil. In this timeline Tar-Aldarion would essentially switch places with Tar-Surion. I think that the actual canon timeline allows for a very interesting look at the differences in passage of time between elves, Númenoreans, and Middle Men. It's more challenging but also more rewarding. The drawbacks of the canon timeline are that Aldarion dies close to mid-season, whereas in the compressed timeline we could follow Aldarion as he ages throughout the season. Therefore the whole season takes place between SA 725 and SA 1600.
That being said, there are still a few alterations and non-canon additions. The big alteration is that Annatar steals the nine when he leaves Eregion around SA 1500, instead of when he destroys Ost-in-Edhil around SA 1695. The other non-canon additions are Middle Men characters, which there are few examples during this time period, that Annatar can begin to seduce with the Rings of Power.
This was just a bunch of fun for me, but I hope this effort will demonstrate that we can have a great story that stays faithful to Tolkien’s timeline and characters.

Sagas of the Second Age: Season 1
Saga 1 (Episodes 1-3): The Mariner (covering events from SA 725-750)
Elrond. In the first prologue scene around SA 440, Elros as an old man arrives in Mithlond to visit his brother Elrond. Elros is fulfilling a promise to Elrond to visit him when he senses death is near. The two brothers spend time together before Elros departs back for Númenor.
Aldarion. Three hundred years later around SA 725 in Númenor, Aldarion and Erendis witness the corination of his father Tar-Meneldur in Armenelos. The next day, Aldarion sets out from Númenor with his grandfather to spend a year at the court of High King Gil-galad, but he is told by Meneldur not to go beyond Mithlond. Eventually, Aldarion decides to travel outside Mithlond, against his father’s wishes. Elrond offers to join him, seeing an opportunity to spend time with his brother’s descendant. Together they discover the dwarf cities of Ered Luin, and then the future site of Vinyalondë at the mouth of the Gwathló. Aldarion discovers the that the Men of Middle-earth are not as evil as he was told by his family in Númenor, and that some even speak the same language of the Edain that he does. Elrond and Aldarion then travel to Amroth’s kingdom in Belfalas. While Amroth is showing Aldarion the black lands of Mordor in the distance, they are ambushed by orcs, and narrowly escape with their lives. Before departing back for Númenor, Aldarion says goodbye to his new friend Elrond and the High King Gil-galad. Back in Númenor, Aldarion meets Erendis again and proposes to her. She asks if he is done with his travels, he says he is, and she accepts.
High King Gil-galad. Gil-galad endeavors to heal the trauma of Middle-earth. While Aldarion is travelling the lands of Middle-earth, he goes to settle a conflict between kingdoms of Gwaithirum and Breeland. A battle ensues between these kingdoms of Men and Gil-galad is unable to stop it. Before Aldarion departs back for Númenor, Gil-galad tells him that he would very much welcome his help in mediating the conflicts of the tribes of Middle-earth, as Aldarion speaks their language. Gil-galad perceives the return of the shadow of Morgoth, and departs to discover the source.
Galadriel. By lake Evendim, Galadriel admits Celebrimbor into her company. Despite the history of their families and some initial distrust between them, they realize they have a shared vision for continuing the great works of Gondolin. Together they discover the dwarf kingdom of Kazad-dûm. Galadriel is able to convince the dwarves of the mutual benefit of their cooperation in crafting. Durin III is eventually convinced, he agrees to allow and to help with the establishment of the future capital of Eregion: Ost-in-Edhil. There the works of the Noldor and dwarves will benefit each other for many centuries.

Saga 2 (Episodes 4-6): The Stirring of Númenor (Covering events from SA 1075-1350)
Elrond. About three hundred years later in SA 1075, Elrond arrives in Númenor to see his friend, now king, Tar-Aldarion. He is also tasked to ask the Númenoreans to prepare for war, as Gil-galad is now certain of the return of the shadow of Morgoth. Tar-Aldarion, now an old man, has reached an age where he must yeild the sceptre, in the tradition of the Kings of Númenor. He decides to leave Númenor’s official response to Elrond as a decision to his sucessor. Aldarion has only had one daughter Ancalimë with Erendis, and it is clear that there has been much friction in the marriage. His sister’s son Soronto is the nearest male heir. This situation causes a conflict in Armenelos between supporters of Soronto and supporters of Ancalimë, also between those who want to heed Gil-galad's call and those who don't. Ancalimë is seen as the elf-friend, while Soronto is staunchly against the armament of Númenor. Aldarion decides to change the law succession in Númenor in favor of Ancalimë. When Ancalimë is crowned, she reverses her initial position to heed Gil-galad, and decides to preserve Númenor as a land of peace.
Galadriel. Ost-in-Edhil is a great city now, and both elves and dwarves are seen thriving. A visitor from Aman arrives who calls himself Annatar. He demonstrates himself to be akin to the Noldor in his love and expertise with crafts, and says he was a student of Aüle. He wins the favor of Celebrimbor and the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, the crafter's guild, and soon becomes the favored partner of Celebrimbor. As the friction between Galadriel and Annatar increases, Annatar moves the Gwaith-i-Mírdain turn on Galadriel. She decides to depart to Lórinand by route of Kazad-dûm with her daughter Celebrían, while Celeborn stays behid in Eregion. Galadriel is graciously welcomed in Kazad-dûm, and her relationship with the dwarves grows greater. At last, she arrives in Lórinand and meets the King Amdír.

Saga 3 (Episodes 7-9): The Rings of Power (covering events from SA 1500-1590)
Celebrimbor. More than a hundred years later, sixteen Rings of Power are forged in Ost-in-Edhil. Celebrimbor and the Gwaith-i-Mírdain agree that seven of the rings should be gifted to the dwarven kings, as a token of thanks for their help in building Ost-in-Edhil. Celebrimbor, however, decides that the rings are too dangerous for Men. Annatar and Celebrimbor have a heated disagreement on this point, and Annatar accuses Celebrimbor of withholding the bliss of Aman from Middle-earth. Annatar absconds with the remaining nine rings. Sensing that he has been deceived, Celebrimbor crafts the Three in secret. He gives two to Gil-galad, and the remaining to Galadriel, and admits that he was wrong to doubt her.
Gil-galad. Minastir, the heir of Númenor, stays in the halls of Gil-galad as Aldarion once did. Minastir meets with the descendants of the Middle Men Adlarion befriended, though many more generations have passed for them than for Minastir. Aldarion’s travels are a tale that some believe to be myth. Gil-galad and Minastir travel the lands of Eriador and mediate the conflicts of Middle Men.
Elrond. Elrond travels to Númenor for the first time in several hundred years on order of High King Gil-galad to implore once more that the Númenóreans to prepare for war. Tar-Teleprian, the second Queen of Númenor, rules in Númenor now. When Elrond arrives and presents the request of Gil-galad, there is a conflict between supporters of Ancalimë’s policy of isolation and those who believe that they should heed Gil-galad, the latter being lead by the Lord of Andunië – Silmariën’s heir. When Elrond presents further evidence that the shadow of Morgoth has returned, Tar-Teleprian ultimately decides that Númenor must prepare for war.
Annatar. Annatar begins seducing the Kings of Men and gifting rings. Annatar arrives in the halls of a Gwaithirum king called Halmir, a descendant of one of the generals of the battle in the first saga. Annatar tells Halmir that the Noldor are withholding the power of prolonged life from mortals, and gifts him a ring. As Halmir is an elf-friend, his ancestors all being loyal to High King Gil-galad, he refuses Annatar’s suggestion. Eventually, Halmir succumbs to his curiosity and doubt and puts the ring on, entering the Realm of Shadows. He perceives immediately that his decay has been slowed, and indeed that the Noldor may have deceived him.

Saga 4 (Episode 10): Orodruin (1600)
Sauron crafts the One Ring in Orodruin, and Barad-dûr, the largest fortress ever built, has been completed. We Annatar standing on at the height of Barad-dûr wearing the One, below his vast legions of orcs.
As soon as the One Ring has been crafted, Galadriel, Celebrimbor, and the others realize they have been deceived and that Annatar was in fact Sauron, and they remove their rings.
The Men who received Rings of Power from Sauron realize too late they are deceived, as they are completely subservient now to the will of Sauron.

I'm asking you this mainly because i saw Frame Rater's TSE video, and he said that he thinks Exotech Larva is the best boss in the entire series, while i don't agree with that, i do agree that Exotech Larva is the best boss of TSE at least (if not even TSE and TFE, but not too sure about that). That got me to want to ask you guys whether you think Kukulkan or Larva is the best boss of TSE...Mordekai is immediately out of the question xd.
For me i think Larva is better than Kukulkan because while i do love the sheer chaos of Kukulkan's fight, it can be cheesed by getting the secret serious damage in the arena before him, while Larva's fight cannot be cheesed with power ups like that, instead any power up you could've had by the time the fight starts would be at least nearly over by the time the fight begins. Plus, you fight Larva alone while you fight Kukulkan WITH other enemies, which while it makes the chaos of the fight pretty fun, it doesn't mean you focus on Kukulkan all the time, while Larva's dangerous enough to the point where you'd get punished heavily for taking attention away from her. That, the fact that you can't cheese the fight with a power up and the fact that she has heavy resistance to Cannonballs makes the fight better in my opinion . Plus As Above So Below slaps so damn hard.
What do you think? Larva or Kukulkan? I'd like to hear your reasons.

Edit: If you are going to comment on the length of this post, please don't. This is not a simple snark but rather an actual critical think piece about feminism and Taylor Swift.

Introduction

Pertaining to Taylor Swift, "Female Rage" has deviated from its intended meaning after Swift debuted a new performance of The Tortured Poets Department during the Eras Tour. Now, according to Swift's use of the phrase, female rage is interpreted as public backlash against Swift's dating choices rather than as a response to the broader injustices against women and women's rights. This post examines Taylor Swift's flawed feminism, philanthropy, branding, and the controversial trademark petition for the phrase "Female Rage: The Musical". Swift's background as an entertainer, indeterminate politics, and alignment with capitalism over feminism pervades her legacy, again threatening her public tolerance as not just an individual but as a brand.

Once Upon a Female Rage...

If you were cognizant in the early 2010's, you've heard countless jabs at Taylor Swift in the media. Magazines, radio, or online. Music critics did not take her seriously as a songwriter; parents put a woman on an unrealistic pedestal as the ideal role model for their children; she dated too much and used men as lyrical fodder. No matter the story, it inevitably spread, conjoined with everyone's respective opinions, and you'd be left to wonder, "Why does everyone hate this girl so much?"
Taylor's target demographic has always been young or adolescent girls, more so when Swift herself was one. She made music that spoke to the awkward misfit, cultivating a para-social relationship with fans on MySpace, then later twitter, Instagram, and YouTube, where Taylor posted relatable vlogs showcasing the life of a homegrown American girl. Taylor had a delayed public "growing up" and, compared to her female pop contemporaries, Swift never "gratuitously sexualized her image and seems pathologically averse to controversy" (and, apparently, never even had a sip of alcohol until she turned 21). She was more than happy to spin this narrative to allude to an inherent moral superiority above other women in the industry (Better Than Revenge, heard of it?), engaging in the very slut-shaming that she herself endured (the Madonna and Whore archetypes). The victim complex arose with the need to prove Taylor as a different type of pop girl. Based upon her holy and clean image, Swift had been dubbed "a feminist's nightmare", and that "[To Swift] other girls are obstacles; undeserving enemies who steal Taylor’s soulmates with their bewitching good looks and sexual availability." Feminism and Tennessee-Christian country values don't exactly mix, it seems.
Years later, Swift befriended Lena Dunham and thus experienced white feminism osmosis, where Dunham taught Swift that real feminists defend rapists, makes insensitive jokes about rape and abortion, and prioritize all-white casts. Swift then declared herself a feminist in 2014, saying,

"Becoming friends with Lena – without her preaching to me, but just seeing why she believes what she believes, why she says what she says, why she stands for what she stands for – has made me realize that I’ve been taking a feminist stance without actually saying so."

I suppose the male-centric songwriting subject that permeates Swift's discography contained covert feminism and that we just didn't see that. Perhaps, the "Bad Blood" song and music video were written only in jest and not about poor Katy Perry, for Swift, as a feminist, would "never make it a girl fight" or tear other women down (though all Katy did was date your terrible ex-boyfriend and allegedly steal three backup dancers from your tour). In 2013, Swift said, in response to Tina Fey and Amy Poehler's joke towards her serial dating, "There is a special place in hell for women who don't help other women."
There was that time in 2015 Taylor said that Nicki Minaj was "invited to any stage [she is] on" (as if Taylor expects to have access to every stage, award, and platform that Nicki might not otherwise have as a black female artist...yikes!) in response to Nicki's criticism of the white + thin VMA nominations. Later, Nicki responded with confusion, as Swift continued, "It’s unlike you to pit women against each other. Maybe one of the men took your slot..". Of course, this 'beef' was 'squashed' when Nicki performed with Taylor at the VMAs, with Nicki quite literally only having 38 seconds of stage time without Taylor. Maybe all that parading around with a legion of famous white women - similar to the way Taylor might've done with her numerous 1989-era handbags - was in fact a stance against gender inequality, and that this display of "girl power" should be enough to constitute Swift as a feminist icon.
Even while Swift says that Dunham informed her feminist outlook, she dances around the exact contents of those beliefs: "what she believes, what she says, what she stands for" is not exactly insightful towards what beliefs Swift might have inherited. Taylor never broaches women's rights topics such femicide, FGM, forced pregnancy & marriage, sex trafficking, women in slavery, women's financial and political oppression, women's educational rights, women's health, or women's autonomy, so we can assume she only gives a fuck about "girls supporting girls" (whatever that fucking means).
Despite some questionable (and sometimes vindictive) behavior, Taylor as a young woman did not deserve every media lashing that she received. We cannot deny that most headlines and criticisms perpetuated a misogynistic rhetoric which has plagued Swift for a majority of her career. Acknowledging events such as the development of her ED, her sexual assault trial, "Famous" lyric and MV depiction of Taylor, and the explicit Twitter deepfakes, for example, as both disgusting and unfortunate things that happened to a young woman in Hollywood does not negate the fact that Taylor is mostly a performative feminist.

Get Your Fucking Ass Up and Be a Philanthropist, It Seems Like Nobody Wants to Be a Philanthropist These Days

In 2013, Taylor Swift cut the ribbon at the grand opening of the Taylor Swift Education Center at the Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville, Tennessee. The donation amount - $4 million - was the largest individual artist gift ever donated to the Country Music Hall of Fame, which is, of course, mentioned on Swift's website. The two-story facility features three classrooms, an instrument room, and an interactive children's exhibit gallery. Swift also performed at "All for the Hall" charity shows and has donated numerous artifacts from her career (such as notable guitars, tour costumes, etc) to the museum.
This was over 11 years ago, and it is still the only notable philanthropic contribution Taylor Swift has made.
For a woman of her net worth and stature, and a woman who recognizes the difficulties for women in film and music, you would think that Taylor Swift might establish a scholarship program for women to study the arts or something. Perhaps Swift might even consider becoming a member of organizations that support female artists, or one that supports LGBTQ+ causes (since she is now proudly an ally), yet she remains superficial with her graces. Broader philanthropy, such as donating relief aid to Palestinian women or women impacted by violence and discrimination will probably never receive any financial support from Miss Swift because then she'd be using her money towards philanthropies involving anyone but white entertainers.
She even says herself in Miss Americana, "My entire moral code as a kid and now is a need to be thought of as 'good'." Well, she's certainly thought of as good, though her actions say otherwise. She's more than happy to do a vaguely altruistic song and dance for a clip-worthy interview quote and mass appeasement, then fuck off to one of her mansions on a 20 minute private jet flight, rather than actually contribute to anything pertaining to the causes she has endorsed. Yet, far too many people continue to give a woman such as her their money, time, and energy, and she hoards these resources to herself.

I Like Some of the Taylor's Songs, But What the Fuck Does She Know About Feminism?

Swift continued with her self-proclaimed feminist campaign, positioning herself as a political activist and LGBTQ+ ally in the Miss Americana documentary. The primary focus of the documentary consists of the sexual assault trial, Andrea Swift's cancer diagnosis, Taylor's ED and body dysmorphia, media scrutiny, and, largely, finally speaking up about her politics publicly, mostly her opposition to the 2018 Tennessee Republican senate candidate, Marsha Blackburn, and Blackburn's beliefs. Swift says, following a scene discussing her experience during the trial,

"I just couldn't really stop thinking about it. And I just thought to myself, next time there is any opportunity to change anything, you had better know what you stand for and what you want to say."

We must ask ourselves, though: when has Swift ever spoken up to change anything? Okay, pulling her entire catalogue from Spotify because they didn't pay their artists enough and similarly pulling her catalogue from Apple Music are changes that she leveraged due to her revenue potential and power, but they are not pertinent to the average woman's rights. Moreover, these are issues that directly impacted Taylor's income, which was enough reason for her to protest in the first place. Swift has sold the most units for a female artist in first week sales, is the first female artist with 100k monthly Spotify listeners, is the first female artist to win the Album of the Year Grammy 4 times, and is the first female artist to do X, Y, and Z, all while being inoffensive and family-friendly to boot. The actual Taylor Swift seems unwilling to compromise the brand of Taylor Swift by contributing in meaningful ways to feminist causes, especially if it is for women outside of America and Hollywood.
The reason political anthems such as "The Man" and "Only the Young" of the Lover era feel disingenuous and corporate is because, well, it is. Taylor has taken every opportunity to advance her career or public image at the expense of other women. What is truly genuine to Taylor's outlook on other women is vying for male attention, taking down female competition, and vocalizing feminist injustices only if they directly impact her and her money. Some will argue that it's satisfactory for a woman with such a huge platform to even TALK about feminism, but that just isn't enough. It's even less impressive when you candidly look at the scope of her feminist lens: "If I was the man, then I'd be THE MAN", or "I really resent the ‘Be careful, buddy, she’s going to write a song about you’ angle, because it trivialises what I do", and, of course, "We all got crowns". Feminism, but only when it happens to me. It gets worse when you look at Taylor's track record of copying other famous women and removing other female artists as potential threats to her pop prowess.
It's good for PR to align yourself with certain blanket feminist and political beliefs, therefore good for branding, therefore good for ticketing and merchandise sales, therefore good for business. And Taylor Swift is a business.
She's not a feminist. Taylor Swift is a capitalist.

I Can't Pay Those Sweatshop Workers a Livable Wage or Benefits! How Else Would I Make My Billions?

Recently, Taylor's team filed to trademark the phrase "Female Rage: The Musical" after Taylor said during Paris N1 of the Eras Tour,

"So you were the first ones to see The Tortured Poets at the Eras Tour...or as I like to call it, 'Female Rage: The Musical'."

This trademark petition was filed last week on Saturday, and news comes about just as numerous unofficial fan-made merch designs have cropped up with this phrase plastered on Fruit of the Loom basics. I'm of the opinion Swift's team motioned for a trademark so that they can send out cease & desists to all those that make knockoff merch, which disrupts potential sales for Bravado, UMG's choice merchandising company; however, since it was filed earlier, perhaps Swift has bigger plans with the bizarre use of the gendered phrase. One Swiftie referred to the phrase "female rage" as "a funny Eras Tour joke". Could it be a possible fourth version of the Eras Tour Movie? Whatever the reason, the motion to capitalize off of such a concept is disgusting, but not unsurprising, for a woman that profits on her vain feminism.
Swift, through her company, TAS Rights Managements, has also trademarked over 200 phrases, including "1989", where she owns the property rights to this calendar year on keychains, phone cases, sunglasses, stationary, bags, beverage ware, clothing, entertainment services, your subconscious, and, of course, Christmas ornaments.
The vapid consumerism in Swiftie culture is, frankly, disgusting. Bravado's sustainability statement is non-existent, the quality control is abysmal, and the materials they use are horrible. The materials, such as acrylic and polyester, are made from petrochemicals. This means they are non-renewable, shed microplastics, and are quite toxic in production. The manufacturing process to make all of those lazy-rushed Eras Tour logo graphic tees is a huge blow to environmental well-being. Apparently, though, Swifties don't give a fuck. They sell out products in seconds and either have to face the manufactured scarcity or buy from a scalper that resells for 200% of the already ridiculous retail price. This doesn't include the environmental impact of vinyl records, CD, and cassette production, of which Taylor produces many variants that sell unsustainable amounts.
If we're talking about women's rights violations, why is no one acknowledging the women that work in the inhumane sweatshop conditions that have to pump out fugly t-shirts and hats? The millions of plastic microfiber dander they are inhaling, or the toxic dyes that touch their bare skin? Are they being compensated fairly for their skilled labour and are they in safe working environments? Do these women have minimal bargaining power, and do they have authority over their worker's rights? Is Taylor Swift female raging at their injustices? Does Taylor Swift ever feels bad that her wealth was built on the backs of women of color, disadvantaged by the demands of the global economy and garment industry? Do you think she ever says a little white feminist prayer for them before she goes to sleep at night?
What's even crazier is not that Taylor herself doesn't care, it's that Swifties don't care. There CANNOT BE ethical billionaires. You only make a billion dollars if you are exploiting other human beings for capital gain. Based on public perception of the possible "Female Rage: The Musical" trademark, it seems like Swifties are already asking for merch with this phrase. "If Taylor made it, I'd buy it." Oh, cool. So not only do you champion Miss Swift's avarice and billionaire status, but you also are unashamed to admit to your blind consumption of her music and merchandise, no matter where they might originate in production or sincerity. Just as Swift takes and takes and takes, Swifties' consumerism of Taylor Swift cannot be quelled.
The tortured artist's most vulnerable and sincere poetry...available now in 21 different versions!

I Am Tortured Poet, Hear Me Whinge

Look - even if Taylor's intention is to characterize TTPD as more "tortured" and "angry", the main thread of the album is "I was ghosted by my decade-long situationship with a controversial indie boy and my fucking stupid fans wrote a 'Speak Up Now' open letter prompting me to drop him" anger, which is adequately expressed in the lyrics and performances. The extent of Taylor's "female rage" on TTPD is on tracks such as "Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?", which contends with relentless media scrutiny; "But Daddy I Love Him", where Swift firmly states she'll date whoever she likes no matter how "Sarahs and Hannahs" may react; and "The Albatross", a track mythologizing her reputation and the consequences of dating her. Of course, these coincide with deep psychological wounds that formed during Swift's early years in the media, and so, from her feminist perspective, these subjects tackle the misogyny and double standards that she faced.
Yet Taylor Swift still has no grounds to be claiming that TTPD best exemplifies female rage and therefore she, in the context of this album, is female rage incarnate. As the daughter of a stock broker and mutual fund marketing executive, Taylor was born into wealth and allowed privileges like trips and subsequent relocation to Nashville all so that she might get a record deal. Her father even invested at least $120,000 into the then-fledgling label, Big Machine Records, which ensured Taylor's place with Borchetta after leaving her dead-end development deal with Sony. The fact that her parents were able to buy her a fucking brand new guitar for Christmas and pay for music lessons says so much about the financial security and safety of her childhood.
Money is privilege and protection, and despite Swift's experiences with misogyny and loser boyfriends, she does not know what female rage is.
Her rage is derived from her frustrations with her obsessive fans pulling the moral superiority card on Taylor in response to her rebound with Matty Healy. That's literally it. She's just pissed that the monster she created is no longer obediant, it's become a feral, sovereign entity that depletes the world of its natural resources and thinks it is more intelligent than it actually is because it's mommy has started to talk to it with big words. Apparently, 'illicit', 'elegy', 'nonchalant', and 'precocious' are considerably big words for the oafish monster, and I find it strange that this level of literacy is present in a group of fans that allegedly have GPAs of 3.5 or higher, but I digress.
Taylor Swift has never been one paycheck away from destitution. Taylor Swift has never experienced racial discrimination. She may have instances of gender discrimination, but she possesses the ideal white, blonde American beauty standard and therefore reaps the benefits of being a conventionally attractive woman. Taylor Swift has sufficient social capital. Taylor Swift is a billionaire woman prolonging her victimhood though she, as a woman, has mostly had control over her image and music (unlike her contemporaries). Taylor Swift is NOT entitled to be championed for her "female rage", nor should she be. Taylor Swift has never even been the struggling artist, for fuck's sake. I don't give a fuck if she's trying to fill the empty lunch tables of her past. Taylor Swift purporting herself, her unpolished album, and her lukewarm feminism as a musical bleeding with female rage is asinine.

Sigh Try and Come For My Job, Poors

Out there in the world right now is a 23-year-old woman, a recent college grad, who works as a barista. She has to wake up and get ready to go into a minimum wage job because she cannot get a job in her field. She doesn't have healthcare benefits or sick time, so she has to go into work no matter how she's feeling. All day long she is berated by vicious customers and creepy men, and, exhausted from being on her feet, she knows she has to go home to her shitty roommate that never does the dishes and her roommate's shitty dog. To comfort herself, she considers getting a treat, but thinks against it when she remembers that matcha lattes cost $15 and they taste like milky dirt. She knows that she needs to buy groceries this week, and so the woman resolves to go home, but notices that her gas tank is low. She goes to put gas in the car, but the pump stops at $27.86 because that's all that she has in her checking account. The woman, bereft and reeling, sinks into the driver's seat. "Well," she thinks, her head in her hands, "at least I don't have Taylor Swift's job. I just couldn't imagine."
Fame is somewhat of a choice. If at any moment Taylor feels that she is misunderstood, misconstrued, or overwhelmed by public opinion, she can LEAVE the public eye - Lord knows she has the retirement fund and residuals to do so. In "I Can Do It With a Broken Heart", the TTPD song about meeting the demands of your career-zenith mega-tour while in the relationship trenches, Taylor ends the song by rambling,

"You know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart...you know you're good...and I'm good, cause I'm miserable, and no one even knows!...try and come for my job."

Yeah, obviously we wouldn't know, you recently passed the billionaire threshold and are the most famous and in-demand performer in the world right now. Taylor Swift makes an estimated $10 to $13 million dollars A NIGHT on the Eras Tour. Furthermore, the Eras Tour movie grossed $261.6 million globally, (which, as the producer, Taylor takes home 57% of the ticket sales) not counting the streaming revenue from Amazon Prime Video and the estimated $75 million deal that Disney paid to have it on Disney+. We're not even considering the income from cheap plastic popcorn buckets and drink cups plastered with colored squares in her Era-specific likeness.
It's funny. Taylor Swift often said that being famous wasn't hard, that she "isn't complaining". I'm sure it is difficult to always have to present in a good mood, else you'll end up misrepresented in the media, and I'm sure it's invasive to virtually have no privacy or semblance of anonymity. Still, Taylor Swift shows up each night of tour and performs. For a majority of her career, she has penned her sad songs while on the road. Most of "Red", her breakup album, was written in the thick of the Speak Now World tour. Now, some Swifties say they almost "feel bad" for attending the Eras Tour with Swift's revelations in this song, that they have had a 'dimmed experience' upon hearing Taylor's misery whilst performing. Despite the fact that Taylor said that "this was the happiest she's ever been" at Gilette Stadium in May, the lyrics "boohoo, woe is me, smile for the cameras and make the fans happy!!!" are jarring for Eras attendees.
While Taylor Swift was making double-digit millions a night in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil and feeling miserable, Ana Clara Benevides Machado passed away due to heat exposure. The concert promoters, Time For Fun, are now the subject of a criminal investigation due to their lack of adequate hydration and safety. Taylor Swift cancelled the Sunday show that was to follow and offered VIP tent tickets to Benevides Marchado's family, which was a kind gesture, but perhaps incongruous to the incident of which they were offered as consolation. Everyone grieves differently, of course, but I'm not sure attending the very show at the very same venue that my daughter or sister passed away in two days prior, where the singer CONTINUED the show despite her death, would be healthy for closure.
There was no female rage at the show as Swift never saw Benevides Machado pass out. There was no female rage towards the disregard for fans as humans while Swift elected to proceed with her Brazil tour dates despite the country being in historic heatwaves (at risk of overheatting herself). If Taylor Swift was so shaken by touring with a broken heart or a fan's passing, she wouldn't have added an additional North American leg of Eras just two months after the Matty breakup. She's brokenhearted but willing to mend the cracks with your money and move onward with her worldwide female rage induced pillaging.
No matter what happens, even if you die at a Taylor Swift concert, Taylor collects a big fat check and flies away. She doesn't know you as anything other than a conversion rate or earning potential despite what her nearly 20-year long parasocial relationship with fans might otherwise indicate. She knows that, while some Swifties are without disposable income, they feel obligated to spend on a "48 Hours Only!" exclusive vinyl variant instead of necessities because they are so entrenched in Taylor Swift's intoxicating celebrity, they'll prioritize materialistic fandom before their needs. This is good enough for her because this means she can expand her real estate portfolio and finance her cat's lavish lifestyles. They're worth an estimated $100 million dollars. Her three cats could pool their net worth and solve world hunger.
While you and I might be denied bereavement leave and barely surviving the current political and economic climate, Taylor Swift has to, instead of gets to, perform for stadiums at full attendance for three nights in a row across the globe. You and I might be replaced by AI at our longtime jobs, but Taylor Swift is threatened with losing more and more money each time you listen to a "Stolen Version" of her songs. If we don't buy every variant of all of her albums, then who is going to pay for the fucking cats?
It is tone deaf to spend as she spends and lives as she lives in this economy, but this is her reality. She was able to donate $100,000 to all of her tour truck drivers, and that's wonderful, but it leads me to wonder about the ethos of the 2020s where one woman can hoard such life-changing amounts of money. Remember in 2014 when she gave a fan $90 ($120 in today's money) to get Chipotle because she had no fucking clue how much it cost? This is a 34-year-old woman who is increasingly out of touch with the reality for working class people and women in general. Normal everyday adults must wake up and go to their thankless jobs, and yet Taylor Swift, despite all her riches, incessantly references the lows of her life and career as a public figure and entertainer to farm sympathy and drive sales. And still, the corporate women have latched onto "I cry a lot, but I am so productive! It's an art!" as their cubicle battle cry.
Do you think that, from up in her private jet, Taylor Swift gazes at the world through her poetic, tortured eyes, and thinks, "All the little people, in their cars, walking, going about their lives...all those girls that don't support girls...do they know that I've made an album about female rage?"

Conclusion/TLDR

Thank you for reading. I would love to hear your critical insights towards this entire ordeal: TTPD, the trademark, the implications of it all.
TLDR: Taylor Swift is a bad feminist and is delusional to think that the TTPD eras set exemplifies female rage at women's injustice.

We will be playing a modified Tomb of Annihilation campaign on [Roll20], the modifications include minor or major changes to locations, characters, motivations and storylines but will not alter the rules of 5e or stray too far from what is generally known about the Forgotten realms. I will also add new locations and will adjust existing things around player characters.
The most important aspect of the game is the fact your characters will be "origin' characters akin to those found in Baldur's Gate 3, essentially they are concepts deeply tied to the campaign. The goal is to have every character feel like the main character.
At its core ToA is a hexcrawl meaning there will be survival aspects and a lot of travelling through mostly uncharted wilderness with random encounters, a majority of which will have been determined randomly. You might get lost and end up not talking to anyone else for a few days, you most likely will have a guide though and a few npcs following along.
Despite this I prefer D&D when it has "soul", I don't have fun playing 5e like a plain boardgame so expect roleplay and even combat should be tied to some narrative, actions should be described in detail. Most of the time in a session will be spend in-character and hopefully immersed.
I will make sure the random encounters always have something unique about them like a strange new creature, a small story or a connection to a player, I'll reroll any that repeat to often and curate them as a whole.
I like my players to be mindful of everyone present at the table, being in the spotlight shouldn't be a struggle and you should always try to involve someone else when doing things, even if it's just asking questions about another character's culture at camp. You know when to shut up and when to speak up. Answer the last question with "Cheese"
The game will never be completely divorced from the central plot in favor of a player character but my goal is to have your personal story be in-line with the main one, for example by having the bbeg be your childhood rival.
This game will contain all sorts of violence and darker things but I do not intend on running a game centered around those aspects, if anything it'll be the opposite as I believe player characters should be special and although not all of them can succeed they have a chance at making great things happen. No ERP.
I've DMed and played for about 4 years now, I've run and played this module several times which I why I'm confident enough to make changes and additions to it.
To apply fill in the following form:
https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScwMSzcKeMxrIKZKq9dZopK_hzH75l4ol49xO820lmXOtf4UA/viewform?usp=sf_link
If I like your application I'll contact you on discord for a short call after which I'll know whether or not you'll be a good fit, you'll be able to ask any questions you might have during this call, having questions ready is always a +.

Dear SiMadam Maple Hams,
A lot of these claims are not the fault of the Naval Experience Program (herein referred to as the NEP).
The NEP has no control over the activities of PAT platoon units. If these units do not place their Sailors into their next courses - then they are failing their own sailors.
I know a lot of actual sailors who have been wasting away on pat platoon waiting for their initial trade course to start.
This has been normal since time immemorial. It was bad during COVID because measures were in place and courses were outright cancelled, but prior to that - most trades were running 1-2 courses per year. Now some trades are running 3 courses a year.
I would also like to point out that NEP candidates cannot compete with any sailors waiting for their trades course because NEP candidates first have to actually sign a contract after picking a trade. Once they pick a trade, they will have to wait with the rest of these Sailors in PAT platoons.
Now I’m seeing 1 year contract NEPs, with no trade and no requirement to extend, getting NETP before actual sailors.
Also not the NEP's fault. Any unit can nominate a Sailor for NETP. You can email the NFS(A/P) NETP Booking Cell and the people there are very nice and helpful and will happily load Sailors. All you need to do is ask for the course list, pick a course date, fill in the form with the Sailor's name, rank, and service number - and boom. That Sailor is loaded.
Between May 16 and October 01 of this year, there are a total 8 NETP Courses scheduled and are capable of handling maybe 20-25 Sailors.
And the sad fact is... They have had to beg units for people to enroll - otherwise they would have to cancel the course... I know for a fact they had to cancel two courses this year already, so if you personally know any units that have Sailors that need NETP, then please give them a call!
They’re doing dive courses, I even heard of some attending clearance diver selection (might be a rumour), before actual sailors who have been requesting it for years.
For the third time, this is also not the NEP program's fault, nor is it outside their control.
FDU(A/P) publishes a list of scheduled courses every year. Rescue Swimmer, Port Inspection Diver, Supervisor Courses, Ship's Team Diver, Clearance Diver - you name it.
A person interested in this course must first submit a memo through their chain of command, Dive Officer, and complete a checklist with their unit's Health Services to pass Dental and Part 1 and 2 medicals (actual requirements vary depending on the course).
This process can last weeks to several months - and that depends on how much support a Sailor gets from their CoC and Health Services unit.
Now again, like the NETP situation if units do not support their Sailor's applications, then that Sailor goes no where. The NEP is not actively nudging these Sailors off courses.
If anything, the NEP is actually making some of these courses possible because FDU(A/P) is not getting enough people who are properly processed with completed checklist to actually show up ready for the courses!
So far this year 1 course almost got cancelled - but because the NEP was able to provide bodies, they were able to run the course!
As I write this, a course in June is also currently in jeopardy of being cancelled due to not having enough enrollees.
The NEP is actually at the back of thr priority list. First are ships, then individual applicants, and lastly somewhere are the NEP.
So no, the NEP is not stealing spots off Sailors who have been waiting years for their dive course.... The NEP is doing everything right within their power to make sure their candidates have gone through official channels to get their applications and checklists completed, and by doing so, providing enough bodies for FDU to actually run courses.
And yes - one NEP candidate from the East Coast and one from the West Coast have completed Clearance Diver training.
One did not get selected however, but that is the Clearance Diver unit's perogative. (Its called Selection after all).
But can you really fault these two NEP candidates for passing a physically and mentally demanding course...?
The programme is a complete ruse designed to make these people have a fun year that they can brag about to their friends and hopefully they’ll sign a real contract.
Not gonna lie, that is the intention.
We want sailors. We NEED sailors.
If it gets them through the door of recruiting, and if they sign a new contract to continue being in the Navy - then by all metrics the program is working.
And so far, I have seen only 1 person out of 75 that has voluntarily released in the 1 year this program has run.
Morale in the fleet is getting beat down lower everyday and watching these people come in and take your spot on the course or sail you’ve been dying to get isn’t doing any favours.
If the argument is that *"NEP candidates are having fun, but people in the fleet aren't" *then something else is wrong in the fleet, and the NEP is not the cause of that - with the reasons I have listed above.
Each and every unit, ship, and organization within the CAF and the fleet are near seperate entities - each with their own challenges.
Saying that the NEP is making life worse for these units has no basis in reality. The NEP is not all knowing, nor does it have the power to make random people's lives miserable.
It's like saying HMCS Montreal is having fun sailing, while HMCS Frdericton and HMCS Chalottetown are sad because their ships are broken. It doesn't make sense.
It doesn’t even make any sense for the navy to be spending the money on these people getting courses they don’t need.
First off, the way the military does things is we are given a budget at the start of the fiscal year.
This budget is identified and allocated way in advance of an intented purpose.
For example, the CAF is given a budget. This budget divided between the Army, Navy, and Air Force. This is further divided into other units within these branches.
The Navy and the CAF has identified the need to create a program to encourage civilians to join the Navy, and retain them after their initial contract. The Government has approved this program and allocated a portion of this years' budget to fund this program.
This program, the NEP, is doing its best with the money allocated to them to ensure that the sailors under their care are taken care of and given enough positive experience so that they hopefully willingly sign another contract, so that our Navy has enough Sailors in the future to sail our ships and complete our missions.
If we don't move heaven and earth to get these Sailors now - then even people who have joined the Navy normally like you and me will be unable to sail in the future because ships are just severely undermanned.
Also I would like to share a personal anecdote...
My RQS3 course had 12 people. Of those 12, after four years 6 had left the forces due to one reason or another.
In my trade, you can apply for a Specialist skill within a Specialist trade.
The Navy will train you and fly you to whatever ship to complete your course. Basically whatever is needed to ensure you pass that course.
All you have to do is study hard.
I have seen people who pass this course - and then end up not sailing and then they lose their qualification.
This, after the Navy spent so much resources, money, and man hours into getting these Sailors qualified, but then they just up and decide this isn't for them.
The argument of "why are these NEP candidates getting this and that when they leave anyway?" is severely misguided when you and I both know there are already people in the Navy who throw away opportunity to the winds...
So hopefully dear SiMa'am Maple Hams, please reconsider your opinion on the program.
In short, the NEP is not stealing resources from othe units.
The NEP is operating within the resources and mandate given to them - and in some cases, actually directly or indirectly contributing to the success of other units in the Navy by providing an investment of manpower that we badly need.
If we were like other NATO countries, then I would argue that this program is unnecessary if we consider the option of outright mandatory military service and conscription.
But we are not like those other countries, and we do not have the option of conscription...
So we have this program instead.
For your consideration, SiMa'am.
PS, I would personally like to extend my thanks to the crews and personnel of the following units for supporting the NEP program:
HMCS St. John's (they have been our most supportive unit).
HMCS Ville de Quebec (thank you for taking time off your busy schedule for allowing job shadowing for the NEP candidates).
HMCS Chalottetown (thank you for taking care of our candidates during your deployment. we know the sea state between Iceland and Halifax was bad, but that didnt let your crew from throwing the NEP candidates to the side).
HMCS Harry Dewolf (your willingless to employ NEP candidates allowed them to become familiar with the platform, and sets the candidates up for success)
NFS(A) Scheduling and Booking Cells (you have always accomodated our requests and has never let us down when we needed help)
Tribute Tower Galley (thank you for employing our candidates and for providing them with delicious food - some of our candidates have never eaten this well in their life)
Juno Tower Accomodations and Booking Cell (you are the first people we contact to get our NEP candidates set up after CFLRS, and without your help we wouldn't even be able to do anything)
CFB Halifax Dockyard Gym and CFB Shearwater Gym (thank you for accomodating our fitness related requests, including letting us borrow the gym so our candidates can see what it is like to swim for their life before they apply for courses)
FDU Atlantic and Pacific (we apologize if we had sent people who were not physically able to complete the courses you offer - to be fair, they are really hard, but we are working on making the quality of people we offer to send better. Hopefully we can continue sending candidates to fill in courses so they do not get cancelled).
Clothing Stores (thank you for setting up our candidates with their kit!)
Base Logistics, Maritime Operations Group, Fleet Padre's office, Fleet Master Sailor and Junior's Mess, FMF Cape Scott, Halifax MFRC, SISIP, PCC(A/P), Health Services Stadacona, TEME, CFLRS, Recruiting, Public Affairs, MARLANT/MARPAC, and the various units all over - for reasons too many to list, we thank you for supporting the program in all the unique ways you do.
Despite what some may say about the Naval Experience Program - all of you have given the program all the support the program could ask for and more.
If you all didn't care, then we wouldn't be here.
Disclaimer: These are my own opinions and does not reflect the official position of the NEP, the Navy, the CAF, or the Government of Canada.

We will be playing a modified Tomb of Annihilation campaign on [Roll20], the modifications include minor or major changes to locations, characters, motivations and storylines but will not alter the rules of 5e or stray too far from what is generally known about the Forgotten realms. I will also add new locations and will adjust existing things around player characters.
The most important aspect of the game is the fact your characters will be "origin' characters akin to those found in Baldur's Gate 3, essentially they are concepts deeply tied to the campaign. The goal is to have every character feel like the main character.
At its core ToA is a hexcrawl meaning there will be survival aspects and a lot of travelling through mostly uncharted wilderness with random encounters, a majority of which will have been determined randomly. You might get lost and end up not talking to anyone else for a few days, you most likely will have a guide though and a few npcs following along.
Despite this I prefer D&D when it has "soul", I don't have fun playing 5e like a plain boardgame so expect roleplay and even combat should be tied to some narrative, actions should be described in detail. Most of the time in a session will be spend in-character and hopefully immersed.
I will make sure the random encounters always have something unique about them like a strange new creature, a small story or a connection to a player, I'll reroll any that repeat to often and curate them as a whole.
I like my players to be mindful of everyone present at the table, being in the spotlight shouldn't be a struggle and you should always try to involve someone else when doing things, even if it's just asking questions about another character's culture at camp. You know when to shut up and when to speak up. Answer the last question with "Cheese"
The game will never be completely divorced from the central plot in favor of a player character but my goal is to have your personal story be in-line with the main one, for example by having the bbeg be your childhood rival.
This game will contain all sorts of violence and darker things but I do not intend on running a game centered around those aspects, if anything it'll be the opposite as I believe player characters should be special and although not all of them can succeed they have a chance at making great things happen. No ERP.
I've DMed and played for about 4 years now, I've run and played this module several times which I why I'm confident enough to make changes and additions to it.
To apply fill in the following form:
https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScwMSzcKeMxrIKZKq9dZopK_hzH75l4ol49xO820lmXOtf4UA/viewform?usp=sf_link
If I like your application I'll contact you on discord for a short call after which I'll know whether or not you'll be a good fit, you'll be able to ask any questions you might have during this call, having questions ready is always a +.

During the 'fake ending' of 2.2, we engage in a navigation meeting with the Astral Express Crew to vote which planet to go to next. Of course, given how much time and effort goes into creating a planet, it's unlikely the player will actually be able to choose to next destination. In 2.3, it is likely we'll have the next planet revealed, with no choice of which it will be. Still, we can have a little fun speculating things.

Where are we Going?

During the meeting, we are given 4 options: Lushaka, Patrevia, Melustanin and Edo Star. Depending on the decision you make, the result of the vote will change. However, one opinion seems to appear in every vote: Edo Star.

Option	Votes
Lushaka	3 votes for Lushaka, 2 votes for Edo Star
Melustanin	3 votes for Melustanin, 2 votes for Edo Star
Edo Star	All votes for Edo Star
Patrevia	(I don't have this data)
I can't make up my mind	All votes for Edo Star

Unlike the other planets which the Crew is only interested in for their touristic purposes, Edo Star is in mortal peril.
Edo Star has been under attack from the Antimatter Legion for a while now. In the discussion, they mention distress signals from the planet have ceased, and the IPC wants the Express to investigate. Now, this last part might have been false, given we're in the dream at that point. However, the Antimatter Legion part is something we know to be true from the Destruction of the Destroyer text.
It's reasonable to assume the crew will end up pivoting towards this destination in the end.

But then... what can we expect? Well, here's some speculation:

1. It may be the most treacherous planet we've visited yet, being in an Ion Storm region and being besieged by the Antimatter Legion.
2. It's possible there will have already been great damage and destruction to the planet's civilisation
3. While this may be a bit of a Planet of the Hats interpretation, it is likely Edo Star will be heavily inspired by Japanese culture, given the use of the name Edo.
4. According to Forla, Edo Star has great houses of music where they sing ancient ballads, so we might get some Japanese vocal works.

Notably, Edo would not be the only Japanese inspired world, as Izumo is similarly Japanese. However, Izumo is gone. If we ever explore what Izumo was in a Simulated Universe or similar mode, Edo and Izumo may appear redundant if they don't make sure to have a distinct aesthetic. However, there should be enough to work with to make that distinction.
https://preview.redd.it/hc4vn0otvd0d1.png?width=2925&format=png&auto=webp&s=2a22051be09153435464e0b6a359f708ee4d9773
If we assume for a moment that the planet depicted in Sparkle's Myriad Celestia trailer is in fact Edo Star, that distinction should not be an issue. While both are futuristic, Edo's portrayal is more neon, whilst Izumo is more sober, relying more on abstract shapes and designs.
https://preview.redd.it/2nkt948ovd0d1.png?width=2919&format=png&auto=webp&s=e4c1ba433d566c4372b47b2dd8eef59b691176e9

Part 2: Who will be there?

If we do go to Edo Star, what can we expect from the characters? Let's have a looksie.
First, let's talk about the people we already know:
1. The Astral Express Crew:
Of course, our core members will be along for the ride. As for who stays on board the Express this time: I don't have much of a theory. I'd be inclined to think March, because she's the only one who hasn't stuck behind yet, but there's not much to go on.
https://preview.redd.it/9qpw0v8eaf0d1.png?width=1277&format=png&auto=webp&s=d893b6dbe5e96b2cb5f85545f0f47334f920b250
2. Black Swan and Boothill?
While it was a nice dream to have them join the ride for a bit, I'm not convinced this will actually happen. Black Swan has her own agendas and travel methods, and Boothill doesn't seem like he'd have business on Edo Star, and he has a hunt to do. Well, 2.3 will likely reveal more. Who knows? Maybe they'll have reasons to come along after all.
https://preview.redd.it/poh15foexe0d1.png?width=365&format=png&auto=webp&s=cad37485b4e22571bd5d1d5d0edf94de9c40cc36
3. Sparkle:
As the character most heavily implied to come from a place like Edo Star, Sparkle being a returning character for its plot would make sense. However, as a Masked Fool travelling the cosmos, she could also just be mucking about wherever. If she is from Edo though, we can at least expect some mention of her background there. That said, there's no guarantee the planet we saw even is Edo Star to begin with.
Other Masked Fools like Sampo or Giovanni also always have a good chance of popping up.
https://preview.redd.it/hgfgpd3o8f0d1.png?width=184&format=png&auto=webp&s=71d8daef85bdd3238508c55af78c7c4c7b4e9c93
4. IPC/Genius Society/Intelligensia Guild characters:
I know, these three factions aren't the same. But I'm mentioning them for the same reasons: All of them could easily have business at Edo Star. Be it to investigate the Ion Storm, or to deal with the Legion situation.
5. Stellaron Hunters:
It would be a bit odd for them to go completely silent, as it appears they need to be pretty hands-on with Trailblazer's trajectory to achieve their goals.
6. Acheron:
While I think she'll probably slink into the background after what happened now in 2.2, I don't think this is the last we've seen of her. While I don't think it would be a good fit for the main Trailblaze Mission, the idea of a side mission that's just Acheron landing on Edo and engaging with the world with both familiarity and alienation could be very interesting to watch.
https://preview.redd.it/nhir0tt19f0d1.png?width=184&format=png&auto=webp&s=4babc782a0c9d34a8adfbf8aa86979dde2753216
7. Tingyun:
This one's a bit more of a stretch. We know Tingyun likely got involved with the Legion somewhere on her trips, so it's not impossible we may find traces of her at Edo Star.

But what about the people we don't know?

NEW characters: HSR mentions a lot of names, but there are none so far that have any known relation to Edo. Also worth noting is that 'newcast' characters outnumber the 'variants' from previous game with over 3 to 1. We will definitely see a lot of new faces. In fact, Penacony only had 1 character so far we can assume without question is a variant (Acheron), while the rest were all newcast.
But you can't really speculate based on nothing. So what are the variants we can expect to meet? To be honest, there are way too many characters that could work for Edo Star versions. Yanqing and Kafka have shown us miHoYo does not mind picking some of the more obscure figures. But once you start counting side characters and stigmata, well, the list becomes absurdly long.
So let's stick to some highlight candidates:
1. Yae Sakura/Kasumi/Miko:
Yae is a prime candidate for a new version. A mainstay figure with versions across Guns GirlZ, Honkai Impact 3rd and Genshin Impact. Who has a big life sized statue dedicated to her at miHoYo HQ. Who's one of the most popular characters in the roster, and has her own song. I can't imagine miHoYo not including her.
This also brings good odds of some variants of Yae Rin and Higokumaru/Hellmaru to show up. Yae's little sister and the Bake Kitsune that is often tied into her narrative.
https://preview.redd.it/k4o96pl6df0d1.png?width=982&format=png&auto=webp&s=9c20138db0ef87c0b37b37632c6747e91379e833
2. Kallen Kaslana
While it's not unheard of, it's uncommon for a Yae not to have a connection to a Kallen. Kallen Kaslana has two major facets of her identity: Her adventures in Europe, and her adventures in Japan. In fact, in one world, she rose to dictatorship trying to resurrect her beloved Yae.
(Yes, this is official art posted by miHoYo)
3. Theresa Apocalypse
Theresa is an odd character. Perhaps with the most flexible identity of the recurring main cast, Theresa has done it all. She's had different names, hair colours, eye colours and even nationalities and ethnicities. Nevertheless, in several of her versions she ends up tied to Yae or Japan in one way or another, making her a decent candidate for appearing in some shape or form on Edo Star.
https://preview.redd.it/chygo5engf0d1.png?width=1180&format=png&auto=webp&s=a388b95076125b0769b3f336a5807ea659dc5f29
4. Shigure Kira
Playing roles in both GGZ and HI3, Kira is an often overlooked multigame cast member. Shigure Kira seems like a prime candidate for Edo Star. Not only does she have a Japanese background, but she also fits perfectly with the one thing we do know about Edo: The music houses. Why? Because in HI3 Shigure Kira is an idol who cannot sing. Additionally, she's typically regarded as one of the strongest warriors around, which could allow her to fit both into the cultural landscape of Edo Star and the war with the Legion.
https://preview.redd.it/6p8xqmiehf0d1.png?width=625&format=png&auto=webp&s=9ca33251cec8d88d8597e19bf14b242e3a0d3813
5. Hokushin Mei
Raiden Mei's ancestor Hokushin Mei is mostly prevalent in GGZ. (Mei is the given name. It's not a direct lineage). It could be a way to bring in another Mei while tapping into a different identity.
https://preview.redd.it/0nnzlw9whf0d1.png?width=640&format=png&auto=webp&s=3cc4e36b82fb13302784d452ba07a436e668e733
6. Raiden Mei and Raiden Ryouma
Yes, I know, there's already Acheron. But we also have two Bronyas already! It's not unlikely another Raiden Mei would appear. The only think that makes me think she won't is that it could be considered a bit soon.
But another avenue they could explore is to instead use her dad. Ryouma. Appearing in both GGZ and HI3, but with a bigger role in GGZ, Ryouma is one of those dudes players would love to see playable, and HSR could be his first opportunity to become it.
https://preview.redd.it/lzymnpvnif0d1.png?width=1024&format=png&auto=webp&s=9c97e99b1ab1978d48fcc292b4f37d1aabf29156
7. Murata Himeko and Murata Ryusuke
Another Himeko?! Another Himeko. She is Japanese. It could be a good opportunity to delve into the Express Crew themselves running into variants.
Similar to with Ryouma, they could instead bring in Ryusuke. This could be especially interesting if he runs into Welt, as Earth's Ryuusuke tried to kill him before.
Making deals with eldritch beings to get space powers isn't something that'd be out of place in a plot about a war with the Legion.
https://preview.redd.it/e81vnr2vjf0d1.png?width=358&format=png&auto=webp&s=8bbc3636dc26a29efa7c5d1153ab60a49bdba294
8. Any fitting character from GGZ
While it's clear GGZ still influences the identities of the multigame cast (such as Seele's Belobog design taking from her Firemoth version), we have yet to see a character in HSR we can say beyond doubt is based on a GGZ character. GGZ does have a lot of characters tied to its Japan though, and several with Japanese backgrounds too. Perhaps Edo Star could give us the first. Perhaps not. We can't know until it happens.
https://preview.redd.it/6thpa5vklf0d1.png?width=617&format=png&auto=webp&s=6869be1a24a54285f4bcdbf99dd70d7e74980a94

And if it turns out we don't go to Edo Star after all.... Well, it was fun anyway.

What do you think? Will we be visiting Edo Star next? What do you think the planet will be like? What faces do you expect to see?

surprised no one has pointed out the connection between END OF THE ROAD BOYZ/cold visions as a whole and this song yet, but there are some serious similarities in the lyrics throughout the whole album. i think the strongest case for the reference is the fact that "boys" is spelled "boyz" despite the original "end of the road boys" tweet being spelled normally. plus we already know bladee isn't too shy to directly reference other artists, like in LOWS PARTLYY with the smith's "panic"
Boyz II Men:
"When I can't sleep at night
Without holding you tight
Girl, each time I try
I just break down and cry
Pain in my head
Oh, I'd rather be dead
Spinning around and around"
literally could just be taken from cold visions and it wouldn't be out of place, themes about insomnia due to emotional distress, "spinning around and around" referenced directly in END OF THE ROAD BOYZ; "You know this shit go round and round and round like a ferris wheel // And you know what goes around comes around like a carousel"
Boyz II Men:
"Although we've come
To the end of the road
Still I can't let go
It's unnatural"
FLEXING & FINESSING; "I know I'm falling off but, shit, I can't let go" and maybe a reach, but WODRAINER; "Thought it was over, I'm back // Thought I would quit, I can't"
i'm not gonna assume what it could mean for bladee's personal life cause if he wanted to say it directly he would have, but i think it's a fun little easter egg in the album. lmk what u think or if u have any other insights!!

i know all these family vloggers stan’s will go to bat for the people that call out these channels. but can we all just agree they need to stop posting their kids walking around in diapers, in the bath tub, crying and throwing tantrums. no one talks about the fact a lot of these people post their kids crying like abbie herbert, alyssa fluellen. for some reason they think it’s funny to post and seems like they egg it on.
no one talks about the fact these kids will see this when they are older the parents all say that they record everything for their kids to look back at some day as if it were like home videos parents will record of their kids growing up. kids get embarrassed when the parents show other people these kinds of videos imagine what these influencer kids will feel seeing this when they get older. and they get teased, bullied, and made fun of for these kinds of videos.
even if they homeschool their kids they can still get bullied online.