Hi guys, keen to hear your thoughts on a recent incident faced in NSW Sydney as tenants.
Been renting and living in a small duplex home with my partner for about a year and things were going well until the first inspection was carried out by our REA when lease was due for renewal.
She noticed there were shower leaks and some dampness around our bathroom walls near the floor. Apparently water has been leaking from inside the walls of the shower. I’m not sure if this is a common or niche problem in houses but it didn’t bother us enough for us to raise this observation as an issue to the REA. We genuinely did not know there was a shower leak issue that needs to be reported. Prior to this unfortunate incident we’ve been reporting things like AC not being cool and smoke alarm not working. We pay our rent on time and have not missed any so I’d like to think we are generally good tenants.
The landlord has covered the costs of the shower leak repair for both ensuite and common bathrooms. However in our master bedroom the floorboards (made of bamboo) have been damaged slightly with water leaking out from the shower dampening it. The REA said the landlord would like us to work on this repair. As bamboo tiles seems to be phasing out, it was tough looking for supplies in the market with the original coloured tiles and clip-on system. We looked for alternative solutions but failed to resolved as no handyman or service vendors were able to find supply of the original tiles.
The REA sent a vendor over to for a quote amounting to more than $2000 and that covers replacing nearly the full bedroom as the clip-on floorboards needs to fit in nicely one by one (like a jigsaw puzzle if you get what I mean). The area damaged was only a relatively small area covering less than 10 affected floorboards but now approximately 30-40 floorboards will need to be replaced.
Is it reasonable of us to put forth a request to the REA to split this floorboard repair costs with the landlord as the repair costs are way too high for us? Both landlord and REA are expecting us to bear full costs because as tenants we failed to report the shower leak issue in time to prevent dampening of the floorboards. Are we 100% liable if we genuinely did not know that water was leaking out from inside the walls?

22M, taking 40mg Vyvanse as of about a month ago.
Going back to Sunday, upon waking up I was stuck in a “Hypnopompic” state and was unable to properly wake myself up. I was meant to go out for breakfast for Mothers day and I missed it. I woke up for a few minutes at a time as I remember checking my phone, but I physically could not stay awake until about 1:30pm. I had retail work at 2:30, and I felt drowsy and achey the whole time.
Yesterday I woke up feeling fine after sleeping for probably 9-10 hours, but at about 3:30pm during work I started having the same aches and complete lack of energy. By the end of my 4 hour shift I had to literally sit on the floor for a couple minutes, which does not happen normally.
Today I once again woke up feeling refreshed and perfectly fine, but did not have work. I write this at 7pm, and am currently feeling the aches and tiredness again. It probably started getting worse at about 5pm. I’m also getting mild headaches. I have no other fever-like symptoms, no head cold, just headaches, full-body aching and drowsiness/lack of energy.
What’s going on? What can make you feel fine for a few hours upon wakeup but gradually get worse over the course of a day? I’ve experienced the sleep hypnopompia state before of being unable to wake up for a few hours but not with anything like this afterwards. Thanks in advance.

Hey Reddit, AITA for abandoning my best friend on her death bed? I need some perspective on a situation that's been eating away at me. Strap in, because it's a wild ride. So, picture this: I'm a 21-year-old female, part of a tight-knit group of friends. One of us, let's call her Lily, was dealing with some health issues. She is the kind of person who falls sick frequently so we were pretty used to it. This one time she calls all of us from her home saying that she’s been diagnosed with ALS. It took a toll on everyone from the group. We all started crying and having mental breakdowns because the thought of losing our best friend was unbearable. She even mentioned that the only cure for it is a surgery which is very rare and has been performed on only 4 people till now and all of them have died. We tried to be there for her, offering support and care as best we could. We started to get more concerned when she mentioned that her chances of survival are only 15%. Everything was going great and suddenly she started showing symptoms which got all of us very worried. As the days passed , the details of her condition kept changing and her behavior became more erratic, doubts started to creep in. the fact that no one in the university ( doctors ) knew about her condition bothered us . She comes from a very loving family hence her family not being concerned about such a big disease bothered us . She was not even going for physical therapy or taking any medication for the upcoming surgery. She had asked us not to tell anyone about her condition but she proceeded to tell the most irrelevant people about her condition as if she was trying to gain sympathy. This is when we decided to take matter in our own hands . We called her mom , we mentioned how we are concerned about her health and want to know what’s exactly the scenario. That’s when we were slapped by the reality as her mom had no clue what ALS is or what surgery she is talking about. Things started to make sense and we decided to confront her . The day of the confrontation didn’t go as planned . She kept on screaming and called her mother a pathological liar. Then came the date of the surgery. We were on summer break at that time but she didn’t miss a chance to send personal messages to everyone saying how much she loves us .But the next day? She's out partying and getting tattoos to cover up the marks. Talk about a plot twist. Feeling blindsided and betrayed, we began to distance ourselves from Lily. It wasn't just about the surgery shenanigans – she'd been spreading rumors and betraying our trust for her own gain. It felt like the friendship we cherished had been built on a foundation of lies. But now, here's where I need your judgment, Reddit. Am I the asshole for pulling away from my best friend in her time of need? I feel like I've been through the emotional wringer, but part of me wonders if I'm being too harsh. So, lay it on me. AITA?

Intro

It’s not much of a stretch to say that violence is the primary form of interaction in video games. With a handful of exceptions, most video games involve guys whacking other guys, with varying degrees of brutality. Even chill games fall into this - Stardew Valley has sections with combat in them! Considering the pervasiveness of violence in video games, there has been a ton of amateur and academic commentary on the topic. However, while this is a well-established school of thought, I haven’t seen people try to apply this to Fire Emblem specifically.
So, let’s do that now! In this post, I’ll be exploring how violence in Fire Emblem is implemented - what limitations are placed on violence, how it warps wider game and narrative design, and what it implicitly says and does not say. I hope this post doesn’t come off as too early-2010s “makes you think”-y, but I do think there are multiple interesting things worth talking about here!
Despite the length of this post, "a brief discussion" is an appropriate title, as we won't be able to go into depth on everything. After all, video games are holistic works, so the attitude towards violence is relevant to every aspect of their design. However, I have managed to wrangle some of these threads into the following structure: first a discussion on the fundamental mode of interaction in Fire Emblem, then how stories are constructed with regards to violence, and ending with the aesthetics of violence and how they relate to characters. Also, as FE is a huge series, be aware that I am gonna be making some broad statements which may not apply to each individual plot point of every game. I actually planned to write 3 case studies around Thracia 776, Fates, and Three Houses (which have the most interesting attitudes to violence in the series IMO) which point out these deviations, but this post is way too long and full of tangents already. If people are interested, I’ll make a followup to this post which goes into them in more detail. Also also, because of the nature of this post, I’ll actually give a useful TL;DR for once:
TL;DR: Nintendo games must be fun mechanically, and they can’t be too uncomfortable narratively. If you try to provide a counterpoint by saying “oh this Kirby final boss is super dark it eats 100 morbillion galaxies”, you do not deserve rights. IntSys has to keep to this as a 2nd party publisher, but they also have to deal with the fact that their games are at least nominally about ‘war’ (or at least they put their toes into that particular thematic pool). This conflict between making a fun video game for children/teens and the wider framing of the narrative leads to interesting narrative and aesthetic tensions. also fun is cringe, misery is based

“Do you like hurting other people?” (or The Fundamental Mode of Interaction)

OK LISTEN I KNOW I LITERALLY JUST SAID THAT I DIDN’T WANT TO COME ACROSS AS A EARLY 2010s “VIOLENCE IN VIDYA BAD :O????” PERSON BUT I SWEAR I’M GOING SOMEWHERE WITH THIS
The best place to start when talking about violence in video games is to think about the primary form of interaction in said game. In the case of Fire Emblem, this is in the in-chapter gameplay. Sure, in objective terms the player moves arbitrary objects across a 2D grid which perform subtraction on arbitrary objects controlled by the computer, but this is always framed as controlling a squad of soldiers to engage in (typically lethal) combat with enemies (who are normally also soldiers). When you’re not doing this in-chapter gameplay, you are preparing for the next chapter of combat. This involves surveying the area of combat, preparing weapon loadouts, etc, however more recent entries also include light life-sim-esque elements. To summarize, Fire Emblem’s interactivity involves ordering violence as well as the preparations to order said violence.
For players, this strategic thinking is extremely fun and is the primary draw of the series! You have all these tier lists of who’s better at killing, discussion of the maps where you do the killing, complaints about the length of gameplay sections where you don’t do killing, etc. This is by design, as while I don’t know the core brand tenets of Nintendo, I imagine the Reggie quote “If it isn’t fun, why bother?” is carved into a solid gold statue of Mario in the office lobby. This then is enforced on all associated studios, including IntSys and so Fire Emblem. While I would disagree with that Reggie quote (especially the bit where he says “If it’s not a battle, where’s the fun?” which is a wild statement to make about an entire medium), this approach to making games is ultimately fine, and so IntSys tailored the strategic gameplay to be satisfying to your dopamine receptors. You could analyse what the normalisation of violence even in ‘just for fun’ games says about wider gaming culture, but I won’t get into that here. In any case, let’s dig into a few specifics of FE’s interactivity.
One thing that’s interesting with regard to strategy games is the detached perspective of the player. You order units and observe the resulting violence, but it’s not tactile, you don’t directly swing the sword or shoot the bow or cast the spell like with action games. This adds a layer of separation between the player and what fundamentally happens, at least within the framing that the game provides. It’s not like Call of Duty, where your relationship to the violence is very visceral, where you view everything down the barrel of a gun. OK, I probably shouldn’t use a series that I have very little personal experience with (I only listen to the supplementary lore material, so let’s talk about Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice. While you’re not directly in the driver’s seat, John Sekiro reacts to your every input with extreme responsiveness, so overcoming the game’s challenges i.e. stabbing people is incredibly visceral and satisfying. While this violence is fantastical in nature, there is sufficient blood and explicit sword-action to clearly say “oh yeah you are violently killing all of those bozos with a katana”. Coming back to FE, not only are you far more detached from the violence, it is presented in an extremely cartoony manner… but let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, we’ll get to the aesthetics later. Point is, Fire Emblem gives the viewpoint of a stoic commander, who Does What Needs To Be Done™, and not the viewpoint of an actual soldier who has to do the actual killing.
Now let’s view the player’s perspective on violence from a different angle. Fire Emblem intends for its combat to be relatively relaxed on the player side of things - the turn-based nature allows the player to calmly think through all of their moves, and you typically have perfect information on the enemies. The only exceptions to this are Fog of WaSame Turn Reinforcements, which are rare and typically unpopular amongst the fanbase. This leans into ‘combat as sport’, where (going back to the Reggie quote) you have a fun time picking apart a puzzle with the tools you have, and we all collectively enjoy this! This is a valid way of designing strategy games, and I like what IntSys has done. However, it’s not the only way of making these games - for example, in Total War you have to juggle all your battalions in real time whilst the enemy is bearing down on you, and the XCOM games always have Fog of War and limited information on the enemies, with you never knowing what kind of awful new monster is going to suddenly charge at you. Don’t get me wrong, neither of these follow ‘combat as war’, the principle that violence should properly mimic the stress, tension and unfairness of actual conflict. Hell, neither of them are particularly mature either - Total War is the strategy game equivalent of smashing action figures together, and XCOM emulates a pulp sci-fi alien invasion story. However, the additional pressures these games have make them hew slightly closer to actual conflict, putting you more in that mindset in a way that the clean fun Fire Emblem doesn’t really do. Again, I want to say FE’s approach to violence in in-map gameplay is fine, but when all three of these franchises have an explicit narrative framing of ‘warfare’, it does make Fire Emblem’s narrative a little more… stretched.
Finally, I want to briefly mention the maps. To steal from a brilliant Jacob Geller video, these are Worlds Designed For Violence. At least outside of the Kaga games, the maps you fight on are primarily designed around how the player interacts with them, i.e. fights on them. While I imagine the narrative designers and artists at IntSys are involved throughout the map design process, the gameplay flow probably takes precedence most of the time. Maps are not designed to resemble realistic places that you have to fight through, they are instead designed primarily to provide fun gameplay experiences before being dressed up by the artists to look realistic/fit the specific story beat. This is a more consistently entertaining approach to map design - heaven knows we have a lot of Kaga castle assault maps which are as fun as actually assaulting an entrenched position IRL - but this lack of friction could potentially take the bite out of the intended vibe, neuter any commentary on violence throughout the story.
You may have noticed that we’ve only talked about the “in-map” gameplay for now, when there’s an entire second half of these games, i.e. all the gameplay between the maps. Don’t worry, we’ll get to all of that, but this may fit better in:

Something something “ludonarrative” something something (or Narrative Implications)

(To clarify, here I’m going to talk about the wider plots and narrative structure as opposed to characterisation, as that fits more into the aesthetics of the series)
It’s not bold to say that the narratives of games have to warp around the core gameplay structure. Especially in AAA video game production, the narrative designers usually have to take a back seat to the systems and level designers, at least outside of the initial rough outline they provide in the original game pitch. In this case, the job of the writer is to form vaguely coherent connective tissue between individual levels, setpieces and expensive pre-rendered cutscenes. This must be a very difficult job, and is probably the reason why most video game stories are the way they are. I am not privy to IntSys internal meetings, but I imagine they abide by this paradigm, trying to give a reason for why you fight 20 battles which roughly align with plot beats that were decided years ago.
Put another way, the writers of Fire Emblem must contrive a reason why the characters fight a vast number of violent battles in a strategic manner. This has a pretty easy solution - war! We have found something it’s good for, as whenever the gameplay designers decide that an extra map is required, the writers can just insert “oh no there’s a blockade of enemy soldiers in the way, guess you gotta kill them all”. This is the case for almost all the games and is a fair enough narrative choice, as it’s frankly one of the few scenarios where you could reasonably contrive so many battles, but it’s worth examining this in a bit more detail.
Even in the framing of warfare, there are still a lot of skirmishes, which sometimes the narrative or tone fails to support - or at least, their presence means that violence isn’t taken that seriously. Let’s take an example from early in Awakening: Emmeryn sends the Shepherds to negotiate an alliance with Regna Ferox. On the way, they are ambushed by Risen on the Northroad (1), have to fight the border guards who think Chrom is a bandit I think??? (2), and then after arriving they need to take part in Regna Ferox’s ritual combat to secure their alliance (3). These beats aren’t necessarily bad, and I actually think Awakening uses these opportunities quite well: the Risen are established as a constant threat to the world (except not really in the main story but that’s a whole other thing), “Marth'' gets more development, we set up Regna Ferox as fighty people who like to fight, and while the middle encounter is very tenuous it does set up a funny joke in Cynthia’s paralogue. However, I want to communicate that if the map/encounter designers need X maps between plot points A and B - in this case, needing low-stakes trials in the tutorial period - then there’s gonna be a fair bit of narrative filler. That is to say, there must be multiple combat encounters that kinda just happen, which makes violence a lot more casual in the narrative. See also the myriad examples of “oh shit random bandits attack!”, used to have a lower stakes map, with bandits appearing and vanishing as needed. This works fine enough in the context of ‘combat as sport’, allowing your favourite scrunglo to build up a triple-digit body count, but this casual attitude circumvents potentially interesting ideas with regards violence. Taking the example further, banditry and its causes are never seriously explored, as bandits are just treated as a filler enemy (except in Based As Hell Thracia 776).
Another narrative consequence of needing so many fights is that… you need to fight. That is to say, any anti-war sentiment or appeal to diplomacy in the series is fundamentally undercut by a) strategic combat being a core appeal of the series and b) narrative beats needing to be structured around fighting enemies. It’s a struggle to have moments of diplomacy and reconciliation when you had a fight within 3 minutes of said moment, lest some people start screaming that things are getting boring. This also makes any appeals to pacifism kinda moot. Xander’s quote about “war bad” in Conquest is utter bullshit, as a huge part of the marketing around that route focuses on the coolness of the tactical combat and its challenge. Eirika and Ephraim can never be equal, because Ephraim’s “fighting is fucken awesome” is encouraged by the gameplay, and Eirika can NEVER save 11037 because we need a final boss and no-one else fits the bill.
Speaking of, in video games it’s best practice to have a big bad guy you fight at the end of the story, the toughest mechanical challenge coinciding with the narrative climax. In Fire Emblem, you have one grand final battle which decides the fate of the war and/or world, before cutting to a brief wrap-up and then credits. This is an attempt to make these games satisfying, which is fine, but this is at odds with an anti-war message (which FE often gestures towards) - that is, actual wars tend to be deeply unsatisfying in a narrative sense! Oftentimes, after a decisive battle, things just kinda keep going for a little while afterwards with casualties continuing to pile up until peace terms are agreed. In the few cases where there is a final battle, it’s more of a formality as the decisive moment occurred months ago. See World War 1 and… World War 2 for examples of each, not to mention a whole host of war-related books and films. The problem with doing this in a video game is that it would require having multiple one-sided fights past the most climatic fight, which would be unfun, and we return to that fucking Reggie quote again. While video games can effectively explore this anti-war narrative space - This War of Mine is a fantastic example - it just doesn’t gel with the fun games that IntSys wants to make. I bring this up in the context of FE because Fire Emblem has such an aesthetic focus on warfare compared to other video games, so it sticks out even further. Even in FE6/FE9 where the war is effectively over in the final few maps, the enemies still remain extremely challenging, because if they didn’t things would be boring.
A few minor things that didn’t fit in above before we wrap up this section. First of all, in making an action packed story, Fire Emblem neglects an important aspect of army life in warfare - the “hurrying up and waiting”. In the majority of cases, the breaks between fights is under 10 minutes, it’s just glossed over. Fire Emblem Three Houses is the exception to this, but there it’s more framed as school life. Some people may say “what’s the point in having large amounts of timewasting where nothing happens in my game about war” and to that I would say fuck you, I want to play Jarhead Emblem. Next, Fire Emblem involves fighting people AND monsters, but these targets are typically given equal narrative weight, outside of maybe a funny line of dialogue about someone being afraid of monsters. In 99% of cases, enemy soldiers you fight have no more humanity than literal monsters. The death of any of your beloved soldiers is a tragedy with big sad death quotes, the death of those poor fuckers is quite literally a statistic which is proudly used to rank how well your guys have done at the end of the game. Finally, the limited scope of the violence the series can show limits the potential impact of scenes. In some cases, this is good as the implication is enough, e.g. the ‘Monica’ scene in Sacred Stones is wonderfully grim and would be weakened by anything explicit. However, a number of other scenes are neutered by the limitations on violence. This fundamentally relates to the aesthetics of the series:

insert prozd tweet/skit here (or Aesthetics, Tone, and Characters)

I’ve been talking a lot about ‘the violence committed’, and this might have seemed a bit weird to you. It’s a true statement, but because the violence is mostly cartoony and abstracted - bad guys disappear into nothingness, there’s no blood, etc - it’s hard to think of it in that way. It’s basically impossible to place Fire Emblem in the same artistic sphere as, say, All Quiet on the Western Front. This aesthetic sense was partially tech-limited in the early NES and SNES games, which was grandfathered into the more graphically complex titles, but it’s also related to how the aesthetics unavoidably warp the tone of the work. IntSys needs their games to be relatively lighthearted and unconcerned with the consequences of its violence, as one of the core appeals of these games is the charming cast of characters. As you would expect, it would be a lot harder to appreciate your goofy blorbos and their lighthearted chats about nothing if you could see the brutal consequences of their triple digit body counts. If violence was more realistic, there would be a lot less “ooh I like training and/or this one hyperspecific food” or “I like peace, but I guess violence may be possibly needed sometimes” and there would have to be a lot more trauma and dourness. There are also age rating concerns, as you can’t exactly sell Come And See Emblem to pre-teens. And once more, to clarify: Fire Emblem as it exists now is fine! I like the lighthearted tone of this series, and I like the characters that reside within it. However, a few problems do arise from IntSys’s approach to violence, as occasionally they brush up against darker ideas but (due to similar reasons to the above) they can never commit to them, which neuters their potential impact. This is especially troublesome with regards to characterisation, as the little dudes are a core appeal, so if something is off that could cause problems. In a sense, at points we have severe aesthetic tension.
A fairly useful case study to see how this affects characterisation is with Mozu in Fire Emblem Fates. Mozu is a charming character, a genial country bumpkin with a bit of an edge at times, who has fond memories of her hometown. This lines up with the lighthearted tone of her recruitment paralogue, where (checks notes) her entire village gets massacred by inhuman monsters, with her mother literally being murdered right in front of her, and she joins up with Corrin’s party because there is literally nothing left of her old life. I understand that people who experience extreme trauma do still manage to live meaningful lives, and that IntSys wouldn’t want to have a character who is a barely functional traumatised mess for 90% of the campaign. However, this doesn’t explain the sheer dissonance between the relatively normal and well-adjusted Mozu who quietly remembers her lost loved ones, and the fact that her village got My Lai’d a handful of weeks ago in the game’s timeline. IMO this would work a lot better if there were a few survivors (instead of literally everyone else dying), with Mozu actively choosing to leave her old life to help others instead of being forced to leave by circumstance. This reduction in scope would mitigate the dissonance between the character and what actually happens to her. This is by far the most extreme example in the series, however I’m sure you can think of others. My issue here is not with having ‘normal’ characters, or with them suffering tragedies, my issue is the dissonance between the two when viewing the scope of said tragedies. This is just one way the series wants to get into darker territory, then swiftly backing off instead of delving into the consequences.
This aesthetic restriction also affects the potential impact of dramatic scenes in the main story, limiting what the focus of these scenes can actually be. This little bit will involve heavy spoilers for Genealogy of the Holy War and Spec Ops: The Line (I KNOW THESE GAMES ARE VERY DIFFERENT WITH VERY DIFFERENT INTENDED DEMOGRAPHICS IN VERY DIFFERENT CULTURAL CONTEXTS, SHUT UP). Both have a very important narrative moment around their midpoints, involving fire magic/white phosphorus respectively. In each game, the deaths that occur are utterly horrific when you think about them. In FE4 the focus is on the drama of the plot twist and effects on the characters, with the actual effects of the violence being left to implication. We don’t know if this was the original intent of Kaga and the team, or if this was enforced by various tech- and publisher-related restrictions, but in either case we do not see anything explicit. In any case, in Spec Ops: The Line, the horror and graphic nature of the violence is completely inescapable, and therefore forms the core of the turning point of the story. The specifics of the violence itself are crucial - the game does not work if you don’t see the consequences of the white phosphorus - and it leads beautifully to the complete descent of its endgame. You may be saying “of course you couldn’t show that violence in FE, it’s a kids game” which is true, and in any case the scene in Genealogy is very good, even without showing the violence. I imagine if we get a remake in the year 202X we wouldn’t see anything explicit anyway, partially due to the publisher but also because the scene doesn’t necessarily need it. The point I am trying to make is that the aesthetics form a limitation on what Fire Emblem can explore, narrative space that the series fundamentally cannot reach.
One more thing, and this isn’t really about the games themselves but the impressions leading into them, and how the aesthetics can affect that. Do you guys remember when the intro cutscene of Three Houses was released a few weeks before release? I do, and I also remember the collective shock of the community when seeing the early previews. It was so drastically different to everything that had come before, and consequently was really intriguing - you can see a lot of speculation in the above comments. To clarify, I don’t want to pretend that 3H is some kind of super mature ultra gritty war story, or that blood = good game, but that beginning cutscene gave one hell of a first impression. Even though the game isn’t that much darker than any other FE game, the sheer unexpectedness put people off-kilter in a kinda awesome way. Does the game actually deliver? YMMV, but I think this (and some of the later cutscenes, such as the mid-game Dimitri one) work quite well. Sometimes, a little injection of harsher violence can go a long way.

Conclusion

Frankly I don’t really have a conclusion, sorry. As you can see, there are so many disparate strands, I can’t possibly make one grand thesis statement. Maybe the inherent contradictions of having warfare in a family friendly video game weakens the potential end result? I guess, but I don’t want to imply that what we have now is bad, as it is pretty good tbh. So, uhh…
…
OK, if I had to say something, it’s more about the process of making this. Having to try and think about how violence intersects with a video game you like takes you in a number of different directions. Ultimately, this process was really fulfilling for me, and I would recommend that you do the same (for FE or anything else)! Trying to analyse something you enjoy from a perspective not usually applied is pretty neat. If you guys have any thoughts (on the points above or your own), I’d be very interested to hear them!
Also, if people are interested, I’ll try to make a few case studies. I would focus on Thracia 776, Fates, and Three Houses, as (when thinking on this topic) I found that these games were consistently the most intriguing, with the most interesting relationships to violence. This would probably take a while though, as I am gonna be very busy in June, and I probably won’t have time this month either.

It's 3 am and I'm spending yet another sleepless night on the couch after a huge blow-up with DH, for whom I can't do anything right
Spent the morning of Mother's Day as an anxious wreck trying to convince myself to go see my mom even though it meant dealing with my estranged siblings and feeling the emptiness of my dad's recent passing. Finally worked up the energy to leave, then came home later and noticed SS6 (who we have 50/50 EOW) had done some schoolwork with DH. I guess my first mistake was coming home; my second mistake was telling DH that I noticed some schoolwork was done and that he is a great dad (relevant later)
Fast forward to today and not gonna lie, I was feeling pretty bummed out about having had to play fake happy family with mine on Sunday, in addition to getting absolutely nothing from DH in terms of even a word of appreciation for the endless laundry, cleaning, cooking, and other general mom-ing that I do to keep "our family" afloat. I expressed my disappointment about not even getting a thank you... I wasn't expecting a breakfast in bed, flowers, or gift from him/SS... I didn't think the bar could get any lower but boy was I wrong
DH goes OFF, telling me not to EVER ask him for a thank you and that he doesn't need to hear me tell him that he's a great dad. This is coming from the man who never had a positive/active father figure and has stated in the past that he feels like he doesn't do enough as a dad... I thought letting your partner know they're doing a great job was a good thing, especially considering he's "just winging it" and unsure of himself?
The icing on the cake was attempting to go to the gym for an hour of solo de-stress time, only for DH to text me before I even finish the 10 minute drive that we are done, I have until the end of the month to find a new place to live (my name not being on the mortgage has been a point of tension for 2 years and I have expressed how this makes me feel like my living situation is insecure/unstable for this exact reason, despite me paying the equivalency of 50% of the monthly payments), and he wants the rings back. I then got a notification from the bank that he transferred out half of our joint savings. Obviously I ripped back home and after 2 hours of pointless bickering that lead us nowhere he says he shouldn't have said that and I don't actually have to leave. But fuck it, I took the rings off after he went to bed because the money is still missing
I am on a 6 week stress leave from my job as a teacher due to grief and horrible working conditions, going to countless doctor and psychologist appointments because of this, coming to terms with losing my dad at 26, and still trying to finish my master's degree in the next month. He has exploded on me in public and at home (both without and in front of SS), screamed in my face to the point of spitting on me, put his hands on me once... The list goes on and on. SS is a great kid and there's zero drama with BM, but I dream of the day I pull the pin, pack a U-Haul while he's at work, block him everywhere, and sell the rings

We have been dealing with multiple different builders/plasterers/electricians and plumbers over the last month or so and on two occasions we have agreed on a price with someone and then after the job they have turned around and said that due to this or that the price is actually more now (normally around 20-30% more) than they originally quoted (even though they came to look at the job and give us the quote). Is this normal?
Also, if our contractor tells us we will need two bags of adhesive for a job so we pay them extra for them to supply it and then they only use 1 bag, surely they would reduce the price to only charge us for 1 bag? Or am I missing something? Our contractor was very surprised that we questioned some of his pricing implying that normally whatever they quote people just pay without a second thought, is that just what is the norm these days?

Hi there everyone, I kind of curious, I have been writing a crossover fanfic in the style of Super Robot Wars storylines. One of the Franchises I want to add is RWBY, however, I never really got into the series until playing Blazblue Cross Tag Battle and during his time I started read up on the series on various wiki pages.
So, if I'm wrong on any details or something does seem to match the character's personalities, please tell me!
In this point of the fanfic, it took place after my idea of an ending to the series, so here goes nothing!
The white haired huntress explained why she feels this is the case, telling them the story of her younger brother and his road for redemption.
For the longest of times, Whitley had nothing but hatred for his older sisters and saw the hunters and huntresses as below him, mocking Weiss every moment he had while she was under house arrest. Escaping from this sham of a home, she swore the boy and their father were nothing but monsters and for their actions were things that she never could forgive. That is until it was after the arrest of their father and their manor being invaded by Grimms that cracks were showing in his facade of pettiness.
"During that fight, Whitley wanted nothing but to run off, until he saw our mother fighting against the Grimm before falling from the underuse of her Semblance when he knew he needed to help."
After saving Willow and learning from their mother that Whitley was as much of a victim as anyone else that the middle child chose to mend their damaged relationship. During the fall of their home Kingdom of Atlas, he continued to help by having all the SDC Saircrafts to save anyone and everyone to relocate the people to Vacuo. When the Team RWBY and Jaune return from Ever After, he became part of the attacking forces as a commander to help defeat Salem's forces.
In the final battle, He was present to witness Ruby Rose and Kairi sparing the now depowered and mortal Salem, who was told to simply live with reminders of her sins haunting her until the day she died, as this was her last life. "While we watch Salem leaving to parts unknown, I thought Whitley was going to say something foolish, but to my surprise, he only watched.
In the four weeks after Salem's defeat, Whitley began his new life but it was something to adjusted to as he worked a part time job and began to start classes in that first week The heir of whatever remained of the SDC let his hair grow out slightly, he may have been inspired by a picture of Jaune's appearance during his time in Mistral but still kept a very clean appearance.
It wasn't until a week ago that there were some Jacques' old associates from Vacuo wanted to give Whitley the position of CEO of a new company, one named Phoenix Ash.
"At first, I thought he just wanted to go back to his old ways of life when he agreed to the deal, Asked from me was to trust him about this..."
Out of the blue, The new CEO of the Phoenix Ash Group called for a Public Announcement. Weiss and Winter were watching on a monitor in an aircraft outside of the city. Fearing for the worst, that he would be making empty promises to make a postive public image, the boy spoke of ending the practices of abusing Fanuas workers. This was a lie that their father made to the press when he was alive, before the young CEO spoke of his new idea.
When questioned by the Press, Whitley told the world that he his idea was to start finding better sources than just Dust to rely on, so he would put his own Lien that he held on since childhood to fund this research. If this research was successful, then he would personally see to the closure of all Dust Mines under the Pheonix Ash banter but threaten that if any of the Fanuas workers were harmed during his time as CEO, that under his leadership that he personally see it that the abusers' paychecks would go to their victims and repeated offenders would be fired as quickly as possible. The two sisters begin to noticed that four of The Board Members who hired him were in shaking in their boots.
"Young Sir, please think of the words you speak..." one of Jacques' remaining associates on the board begged to hopefully conviced the boy to reconsider these ideas
"I am fully aware of the words coming from my mouth as much as you were aware of letting my father's actions slide so you can make more Lien. So, to be quite blunt, SHUT IT OR FIND NEW JOBS!" This wasn't like the boy they once knew while Jacques was thriving, he was a new Whitley Schnee that wouldn't be swayed by the idea of making Lien in dishonest ways and wouldn't allow anyone under his leadership to harm the Faunus workers.
"DAMNED BLEEDING HEART BRAT, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE JACQUES, THE REAL HEIR OF THE NAME OF SCHNEE!"
The oldest board member, a muscular bald man of over fourty who was still extremely loyal to the deceased CEO of SDC, charged at the youth with a knife! The youngest of the Schnee clan knew there would be risks, but didn't have any fighting experience to counter this attack.
"WHITLEY!" Weiss cried out as she knew she wouldn't be able to stop the would be killer's attempt of assassination, however, a certain green eyed Faunus, who's loyalites to Robyn Hill last to this day, arrived in enough time to stopped the youth's would be killer.
"You really think that Fiona Thyme would let you kill your new boss? As IF!"
Within a mere set of seconds, the man of three hundred and something pounds was on the ground, each insult that was aimed at the girl was countered with his former boss nodding for the girl to wack the creep across his bald head. This last for a couple of minutes until the police to take his sorry ass to jail as well as charging the Faunus with a minor crime. The girl knew that there would no way to escape but chose not to surrender as she put her hands behind her head much to the cheers of some in the crowd.
However, In those five seconds before the cuffs closed on her hands, The CEO jumped off of the platform and stood in between the messy haired Faunus girl and the arresting officer, slapping the cuff out of the man's hands to the shock of the world. When asked to step aside, the boy's answer to this was something everyone in Remnant, who were either in the crowd or watched from afar from their scrolls, never expected.
"You're really asking me to step aside, so you could take away a war hero's future? I choose to refuse for we all know these charges against her are nothing but baseless. She fought on the side of various heroes! Heroes ] from the Battle of Beacon, like the Teams: RWBY, JNPR, SSSN, FNKI, ABRN and CFVY, the heroes without teams like Lady Kairi, Qrow Branwen, and Taiyang Xiao Long, Heroes like Ilia Amitola and the Belladonna clan who were once White Fang members but left before the assassination of Sienna Khan and return to fight to stop the once peaceful group when they saw what it became under the command of Adam Taurus, heroes like the remaining members of the Ace Operatives, who fought their own feelings of sadness when they lost Clover Ebi and came together after they realized James Ironwood was in the wrong, after the man fell into despair because of how the upper class saw the innocent victims in Remnant and used Atlas as a ram to prevent the Grimm from gaining another advantage point. These groups of heroic and wonderful people came together to save the world from the forces of Salem, so why can't we, the civilains they protected, do the same?!"
There were some mutters from the civilians that watch on the ground level before one of the rich members of the crowd, a man named Harry Marigold, brought up that Weiss may have saved the world but of her crime of summoning the Grimm at the charity event at Schnee Manor should be held accountable before the youth counter with.
"The crime that night was one in justified anger when you, Harry Marigold, who ignored her sadness and only wanted my sister's attention for bragging rights, that damnable trophy wife, her weak minded shell of a husband, the former CEO of the SDC, myself and many others of the Upper Class chose to cruely mocked the recently deceased of Vale and proudly laughing about the deaths of the many innocents of the fallen Kingdom who had nothing to do with the fighting. fates we claimed that civilains deserved!? If anything, she didn't summoned the Grimm to harm anyone but wanted us demons to understand that life is not to be taken as a joke or anything to not to be take lightly. The real crime that night was that the Grimm didn't caused more damages to Schnee manor and not having the monster hurt any of us because of our cruelity to the dead! But because the CEO of SDC cared for nothing but his public image, when she confronted that scumbag for our actions and for using her as a prize toy for everyone to see, his only reaction was to slapped my sister across her face and denied her Birthright!
This made the rich members of the crowd uneasy, as they knew that they were being put in their places. They wanted the youth to be silenced but he continued, angry and filled with something that he should've had a long time ago, a frightful sense of Justice.
"For too damn long, I was blinded by my family's name, not knowing it was nothing but an evil curse and if it wasn't for my sister's actions that night and the night her team and the remaining members of team JNPR saved the lives of my poor mother and the sorry shell of a person. I, too, would've remained under the very same spell of ignorance that the old fool relished in to keep us in line. So, for you to order me around, to use my sister justified attempt on the upper class to see her honorable view on life so who could silence my words, and to force this maiden, who has fought harder than anyone here because fearful paranoia bigots using unjust hatred of every Faunus to make her life a living torture device, for her to rot in a prison cell without a fair trial, just for saving my life? That command is UNFORGIVABLE!" The boy screamed loudly and in pure rage so everyone could hear his plea.
Fiona was in shock, she heard from various communities of the Faunus that the SDC and clan of Schnee were nothing but monsters, worse than any of Salem's Grimms. Even after meeting the huntresses of Team RWBY, she believed Weiss was the only one of the family who wanted to set things right in the world.
Even through she hated the idea to keep an eye on the Schnee heir, even if it was a jobn from her trusted leader. His father and the fellow members of the Board in the SDC saw the Faunus and wanted nothing but for them to be trapped in cages without futures, But to see with her eyes, the very son made to follow in these footsteps of selfish desires, meaning every single word that left his mouth, these words that were filled with a justified desire to save the young girl from an unfair fate, was so unreal.
"If anything, it was the wicked ideas of greed that the deceased CEO held dear tt were one of the many factors that broke our world, Jacques Sc..." The boy stopped for less than a second before continuing in anger.
"....Actually no, I refuse to allow that bastard to my family's name any longer, even in death! Jacques Gélé was never a father, he was nothing but an unredeemable thief without a sense honor, who used dirty lies to trick my dying grandfather into his once humble life, the honorable man that should've had the right to lived long enough to prevent the future Gélé wanted, Nicholas Schnee!"
"Who used my recently deceased mother's, Willow Schnee, love and trust to steal a company he was never worthy to rule over from underneath her. When she learned of his deception and his lies in their sham of a relationship, the once loving and carring mother only means to escape from his wicked virus was to drink her sorrows away and seclude herself from the world!
"His sickness was something that their three children were not immuned to as he saw nothing from us but to be used as pawns so he could gain more power! It wasn't until we learned better ways to live by others, others who actually cared, that we actually became good people!"
"The first of us was to learn this lesson was The Soldier who proven herself time and time again, who enlisted in the Atlas military to get away from the sickness that Gélé took pleasure in, who leaders knocked the views of hatred for the Faunus and the usage of cheap tricks out of her, my oldest sister, Commander Winter Schnee!
"My second oldest sister, Huntress Weiss Schnee, who learn of the shame that her family name carried at her time in Beacon, who was forced to leave after the battle by Gélé for supposed safety only to be paraded around as a prize trophy daughter for his friends in the upper class, who felt the sting of venom when that man refused to accept her heroic heart, forcing her to escape his maddess so she could continued helping those who were suffering!"
"And then there's myself, Whitley Schnee, the boy who was so scared with the various changes to his home life that he chose to follow in that thief's footsteps, who once mocked the dead of Beacon along with the others in the Upper Class, who has never fought for anything and even in that last battle, was so powerless to prevent more tragedies for befall those he commanded to fight on his behalf! The boy who's heart is filled with so much regret because of his idiotic choices in life but is now filled a newly found sense of Justice, who only goal now is to find a cure for the poison, so he could, no! will make our world a better place than it was in the past!"
The crowd was stunned thar they couldn't help but to stay silent.
"Gélé has cause so much suffering to the Faunus and to many other communities. That suffering spread in the Kingdoms like wildfire. When my grandfather died, so did the fairness and honor that the Schnee name held on to....but not anymore! MY DREAM is to stop the suffering that Gélé relished in so he could live like a damn lazy king!
Whitley then put his hands behind his head and told the world.
"So if this girl goes to prison, so will I! All I asked of those listening is not to cheer no matter what the outcome is, not to cry for this foolish boy who has fought for nothing, but to simply think about his words and the weight they pull!" Whitley's blood was boiling as The puppet CEO's bight blue eyes widden to show everyone that his dream was one that the boy will work for through his pain.
After this decree was finished, everything was slient before the officer asked. "Would you die for that dream..?"
Whitley, answered with all seriousness. "If I die, then I would gladly die with a hundred stabs to my heart and soul to make damn sure that my dream becomes reality." The officer waved to another cop to bring in a second set of handcuffs, much to both cops dismay.
"Alright, I'm sorry. Whitley Schnee for disobeying a officer of the law, you have to come with us."
Whitley said not a word as the cuffs latched onto his hands. As if to respect the boy's wishes, There were no one in the crowd, maybe even in Remnant, cheering about the arrest of these two, even though the boy said he had nothing but hatred of those that surround Gélé mocking those that died in Beacon, none of the them wanted nor could cheer, for to celebrate this would be nothing but hallowed.
On route to the department to put the two in the holding cells until they could make bond, the two talked, mostly it was Whitley asking the girl a thousands questions of the culture of the Faunus, the life she lived before becoming a war hero and so on. The poor girl was shaking with overwhelmingness but snapped out of it when Whitley explained something to her.
"This is the second time you saved me from the door of death, thank you, Lady Thyme."
Fiona was slightly confused before slowly piecing together that in the final battle she rushed to the location of downed aircraft, where a gravely injured woman layed under some debris being protected by her white haired son with a mere wooded stick he found on the ground screaming. "GET AWAY! YOU GRIMMS!" before being knocked backwards and then being held by his throat.
"HEY FANG FACES, I'M MORE OF A CHALLENGE THAN THOSE TWO!" The Fanaus screamed while the Grimm let the boy go to blocked her attack.
"KID! TAKE YOUR MOM AND GET OUTTA HERE, I CAN'T HOLD THIS GUY OFF FOREVER!"The boy nodded as he grabbed his mother and ran off, not knowing that he would plan to thank the maiden the next time they meet.
"No freaking way, you're that boy?"
"Yeah...but I'm not proud to admit that I'm not one for fighting." Whitley smiled as this surprised the girl.
To think, the meek boy she saved that one time and the guy who wanted to help others despite his family's reputation were the same person? How would this day become more of a weird fever dream?
"Hey you two, I hate to burst this bubble but ready for a fight, there was another vehicle besides ours that was on their way to the department." A male's voice explained when they noticed a man in a grey cloak sitting in the darkest corner of the vehicle.
"Before you asked, I've been here for the entire trip."
"Why is that important?" The only woman of the three thought while the Schnee youth figured it out.
"That ghoul of a Board Member?"
"'Faid so, he was taken in sometime before your speech and there are only two holding cells in the department, one for men and the other for women." The man explained.
"I could use my semblance to hold him in a..." Fiona was stopped when the mystery man continued.
"...And to prevent any escapes, the cells and those cuffs on your hands are laced with anti-semblance tech."
Fiona screamed. "OH CRAP!"
Whitley was shaken but kept cool as he thought. "I guess as this is a smaller scale city, I should've figured as much."
"Are you actually prepared to die for your ideas?" The man asked the boy, but his answer was simple.
"I'm not planning to back down now, to betray those words I spoke earlier, would be a wicked sin."
Meanwhile in an aircraft a little ways off. Both Weiss and Winter were dumbfounded by their brother's speech and actions. "He has changed so much since weeks ago." The middle child thought before Winter demanded the pilot to land that at the port nearest to the city.
Yang, Kairi, Jaune, Ruby, and Blake were on the aircraft but was confused by the sudden change of directions, before the commander explained. "The Board member that tried to killed our brother was sent to the holding cell in the department before Whitley's speech."
"OH CRAP!" Ruby and Weiss screamed as they thought in dismay that the boy was going to be in an one sided fight against a heavier opponent.
"Please hold on for a bit longer, Younger Brother..." Winter quietly whispered as the Aircraft was going as fast as possible to their destination.
Upon arriving and being settle in the two holding cells, it was when the guards left the redeemer was being used as a punching bag for the man's humiliation.
"DAMN BRATTY ASSED PUNK!"
"UGHHH!" Whitley groaned, being punched for a hour, his clothing became ragged and bloody.
"LEAVE WHITLEY ALONE!" Fiona cried out at the tallest in the men's holding cell, she was in the womens' holding cell that was across the room, luckly for her, she was alone in the women's side but not for Whitley, making things worse is that the guards were sent out on an emergency call, as their thinning numbers were sent out because of a few bomb threats elsewhere in the city.
"SHUT IT, SHEEPIE! I GOING KEEP BEATING THIS BRAT UNTIL HE UNDERSTANDS HIS PLACE IN THE UNIVERSE!"
"..." The man in the hood remained quiet as he watched this uneven fight. "You should stay down..."
"...As if I would..." The Schnee boy rose back to his feet through he knew nothing of throwing punches he refused to surrender just to spite the former Board Member of Phoenix Ash.
"HEH, for a skinny brat, you're stubborn, be a good little boy and admit that you're nothing but a puppet then I'll quit your rightly deserved beatings!"
Whitley regained his balance before flipping a bird claiming. "You...really...think this..puppet would let some smug ass with no respect for anyone but those in the Upper Class to order me around? SCREW....YOU!" The boy yelled spiting blood onto the man's ghoulish face to annoy the monster in human flesh.
"...WHY YOU LITTLE MAGGOT!" The man was even more enraged now, as he punched the stomach of the younger male causing the boy fall onto the cold floor.
Fiona was horrified as she witness the former spoiled prince rose back to his feet.
"Still standing boy?"
The youth was still standing to a point, until the man pulled a dirty shiv he found in the holding cell while waiting for this very moment. The two youths' eyes widden when they saw the makeshift weapon of sharpen hard plastic.
"...A weapon!?" Fiona cried out in dismay.
"Some poor sap must have made this sometime ago, makes me wonder where he could be now, anywho while I am slicing into your flesh, Whitley, I'm going tell what I thought of those pretty little ideas of yours."
The Faunus was in a state of fear for the young puppet CEO as the shiv user quickly sliced into the white haired youth's shoulder, with this the first time being cut, Whitley scream in pain.
"AHHHHGNN!"
"FIRST, YOU WANT TO FREE THE ANIMALS FROM OUR CAGES, THEY HAVE NO RIGHTS TO A FUTURE IN OUR SOCIETY!
The next was a stab on his left upper leg, luckly not hitting anything vitals as makeshift blade of sharp hard plastic was pulled out and blood dripped onto the flooring The boy's screams of pain echoing through the empty department.
"NEXT, WE CAN'T MAKE ANY LIEN IF BLEEDING HEARTS, LIKE WHAT YOU'VE BECOME, ARE IN CHARGE OF THINGS!"
The attacker then sliced the right side of Whitley's face leaving a scar under his eye.
"THE FACE OF THE BOY WITH A NAME THAT NOWS MEANS NOTHING TOTHE WORLD, USING TRUTHS TO PISS ON THE LEGACY THAT JACQUES BUILT, JUST SO HIS SON COULD REBUILD THE HONOR THAT IT HELD WHEN THAT WINDBAG WAS STILL KICKING! WHAT FREAKIN DRIVEL!"
then a slash across his chest.
"THAT BLEEDING HEART OF YOURS WANTING REDEMPTION SO HE COULD HAVE SOME ATTENTION BUT GUESS WHAT THERE'S NO SUCH THING IN THE BUSINESS WORLD OR IN THE REMAINING KINGDOMS OF REMNANT AS REDEMPTION!"
Then the right hand of the boy, the one Whitley pull in front of his body in an poor attempt to grabbed the makeshift Shiv.
"THESE HANDS OF A SOFT SPOILED LITTLE BOY WHO, EVEN IN THE LAST BATTLE AGAINST THE GRIMM FORCES, NEVER THREW A PUNCH OR SLAP ANYONE, ARE SUPPOSED TO CHANGE THE WORLD, ALL YOU HAVE DONE IN THAT BATTLE WERE ORDERING SOLDIERS TO FIGHT FOR YOU, SOLDIERS WHO SHOULD HAVE SEEN WHAT YOU'VE BECOME!"
Finishing this rant with a punch to the gut, and mocking his braverly. "TELL ME THIS, BOY? WHEN THIS SPINE OF YOURS GREW, DID YOUR STUPIDITY DOUBLED, BECAUSE COMPARED TO YOUR DAD, YOU'RE SUCH AN DOLT TO BELIEVE YOUR OWN CRAP!"
"WHITLEY! STOP, YOU'RE KILLING HIM!" Fiona screamed as the man got on top of the boy's body and punch the white haired youth's face twice before the monster yelled at the girl.
"I SAID SHUT IT SHEEP! YOU MAYBE A WAR HERO THAT I CAN'T PUT MY HANDS ON BUT YOU'RE GOING TO WATCH AS THE HOPES OF THIS BOY DIES ALONG WITH HIS BODY!"
Getting off of the beaten body of the Schnee, the man let Whitley try to get up before the boy fell on his stomach and the man grabbed the white hairs of his his head and pulled his face up, so the redeemer would look into Fiona's green eyes for a last time, one filled with tears.
"ACTUALLY, IT'S FUNNY, BECAUSE OF HER STATUS AS A WAR HERO, THE SHEEP WILL GET OUT IN THE END OF THE DAY AND BE ON HER WAY HOME, BUT YOU JUST HAD TO PLAY HERO AND FOR WHAT, WHITLEY SCHNEE?! FOR YOUR REMAINS TO BE MY PUNCHING BAG UNTIL I TRANSFER TO PRISON?....IT'S SO FREAKING SAD THAT I'M LAUGHING MY ASS OFF!"
The redeemer, who's face full of buises, forgotten that this is the case for minor first time offenders but didn't care at all. Ever since Fiona saved his and his mother's lives that day, he would've happily be arrested and be beaten, time after time, so he could thank her. He wanted to smile, to show his savior that he was happy with this outcome, even this meant that his life ended today, but could barely move his face but the only could wheezingly chuckled as tears as swell from his eyes
Before the man could finished Whitley off, a small blackout happened as the doors of the cells opened, Fiona ran to the boy who risked his life just so he could to talk to her. "WHY?!" Fiona cried she held the youth in her arms. "WHY CAN'T MONSTERS LIKE YOU SEE THAT THIS A NEW WORLD, THAT WE CAN BECOME BETTER THAN WE ONCE WERE." The green eyed girl demanded anwers but the man just mocked to anwered the Fuanus.
"Do you think animals like you could understand that only the strong and the Upper Cass are the only ones who have the right to control Remnant. He could have been one of those in control and still have enough Lien to be someone important but he chose to ally with the lower class, and for little lamb he paying for it, dearly."
Putting the boy's head gently on the floor wiping the tears on her sleeve, to hopefully keep friend she made safe for a bit longer, she attempted to use Pocket Demisions to rid the world of this demon, only to realize in the middle of her attack, the power returned and because she ran to help the youth, that she was in the men's holding cell with the real beast.
"....No!" She wimpered.
"Looks like there's some of my fellow board members of Phoenix Ash are still on my side." He smiled wickening as he began to explain their plans. "You see, little Sheep, we figured the boy has a bleeding heart, so to get rid of those childish wishes to loosen our hold, we decided yesterday to make up a plan, the one that you had to prevent. So during that little speech of his, we made a second one on the fly." He continued as he put his hand on an earpiece. "...That one being the threats to distract the guards and that little blackout. Plus thanks to this little device, my semblance to increase my strength with every attack I give, still remains."
"This can't be...." She was scared, as this man that she could taken down a few mere hours ago, was telling the truth when every step he made while approaching Fiona made small cracks in the flooring.
"Damn it, We going need to cause another..." A voice explained though the earpiece before he turned off the equipment's sound option.
"Now, since you annoyed me so much, you're going be my replacement, lamb chops!" The upsuper yelled in bliss as he pulled his fist to punch her small body. She dodged the attack but his second punch connected and sent her flying into the force field door.
"AUHHGGG!" She cried out, recoiling in the pain from her back before noticing the man was coming for her, managing to get up but unable to dodge it completely in this cramped arena. She felt the punch connected with her left arm, braking the bones in the limb, Then a kick to her gut. Knocking her a few inches near Whitley's body.
"....No...."
The youngest of the Schnee clan could only watch in despair through one eye, the two were being broken by a scummy excuse of a human, and the young redeemer of his name could do nothing but watched as his attempt to prove to the world his words were real go down in flames.
"...Leave...her...alone..." These words spit out ignoring the pain as much as he could while rising back to his feet and limping to get in between the Faunus woman and her attacker.
"So, the boy still has some fighting spirit...The boy that has never fought for anything in his life, I am certain that you're doing this for everyone's attention."
The man was right on a few things, Whitley was never a fighter or some ground troop, and it may have been that he wanted attention when he first started to go down this road but Winter quickly knocked that idea out of his head, but the man is wrong on others, for Whitley realize that all he wanted to do in life is to help in anyway, even he'll be happy as a sideliner act to the main heroes.
But one can't always stay in that role and hoped to change the world, for a long time he stood by as a witness to to his father's crimes, for longer his thoughts of heroism being dismissed by that bogus excuse of a father and as far as he remembered, Whitley had others fight for him. But no more!
"In this world, money and power pull the strings, and yet you choose death for a flithy animal? How more times are you going to PISS M-!" The man was interrupted while talking by, to the surprise of all, the white haired boy headbutting his taller foe, knocking the man onto his ass!
"...WHAT!?" The man screamed in horror as he started to bleed from his now broken nose, this was the first time the business man has ever seen his own blood.
"...I've...told...the world...I...would die for my dream....even if I die today....I'll be happy to die...hundred times over again..." The boy's body was mostly broken, each word he spoke caused more pain than his body could stand but the young man still had one part of his body to fight with, his hard head!
The next thing they all knew, Whitley continued headbutting his enemy, causing the man to gain a reality check, his ability were increasing his attacks but at a certain cost, The sole major weak point on his body, the one that held the brain to think of ways to screwed others over, the one with the eyes that saw everyone else as beneath him and the one with the mouth with a booming voice he used to make threats and promises to ruin his foes, his face weaken over time with every punch or kick he gave to the two.
"NONONONONO!" The man screamed with a bloodied and bruised face, before feeling the same despair he installed into his two victims just mere minutes ago. In a desperate attempt to stop these attacks, he grabbed the man in the cloak as a hostage, with the shiv he used on the boy still in his possession.
"You-ou wouldn't w-wan...me to stab some r-random person that had nuthing to do with this, uh?!" These ragged words were like the man himself, desperate and scummy, but was enough to stop the boy from getting closer.
The foe laughed thinking he has the upper hand. "I admired your old man's talent in making a profit, but he was just like you to a certain point, he was no killer, so now I advise we wait until they let us out or I'll be plunging..."
"Tsk...This old fart really been pissing me off since we got here!"
The cloaked man yelled as he stepped on the foot of his captor along with a gunshot ringing though the air. "W-WHAT!?" The man screamed in pain as he released his hold to grabbed his now bleeding foot. "DAMMIT, DAMMIT, DAMMIT!" The larger man screamed before realizing why his leg strength wasn't up to snuff. While being headbutted by his Whitley, the earpiece fell out and was behind his two victims!
"No way this is happening...." He groaned in pain before the cloaked male took off his hood, just to make things worse for the would be assassin.
"...and here I thought I would have a peaceful life in prison..." The man sighed as he revealed himself to be a fomer ally of Salem, one who wanted nothing more but to rot in prisons for the remaining of his life.
"M-Mercury B-B-Black, why is a war criminal here?!" The man screamed, fearing for his life even more than before.
"I was supposed to transfer into the next city, mostly for some good behavior BS..." Mercury turned his attention to the white haired boy.
"Hey kid, you're the brother to that girl Weiss, right?"
"....." Whitley wanted to say something but really couldn't, with those last few headbutts, if he tried to speak now, he will surely faint.
"Man, the geezer really did a number on you, huh?" Mercury asked before = one of the guards and Whitley's sisters ran in.
"Holy...CRAP! WHITLEY!!"
"Why is our brother and Miss Thyme in the same cell as these two?!" Winter demanded answers before Mercury explained for panicing guard while pulling the earpiece from the ground.
"Whitley was being used by lord lard ass as a punching bag until few people from Pheonix Ash caused a short blackout, the girl ran in to stopped the beatings but was attacked as well until your little bro figuring out the buzzard's weakness by headbutting the man in his freakin' face. After that, The creep tried to use me as levelage but yeah, you can see how that worked out."
"DAMNED BRATS...." The man groaned as the two Schnee women got Whitley and Fiona out of this cell but froze in fear when he saw Winter staring down at the man.
"I figured that your group would pulled something like this when Whitley told me of the CEO position, so I looked into yours and the rest of the board's backgrounds...It was just as Black said, You and your three friends in the board of eight have more than just attempted assassination to worry about now."
This decree was worrying enough before Mercury Black turned his attention back to the older man."I guess I'm going to have a kicking dummy for a roommate now!"
"Please have mercy!" The man turned deathly pale before Fiona yelled.
"Like the mercy you shown to me and Whitley because he called out your sorry butt, I would think not!"
Weiss was next to insult the man for his behavior. "...If anything you deserve nothing but a fate in a cage, like the various futures you took away!"
"Looks like you're going to rot in a cell for the rest of your sad existence." Winter finished before the guards were told by the military commander to take her younger brother out of the room and to take his would be assassin to the other cell.
Before leaving, Winter asked the former ally of Salem.
"Mercury Black...Your sentence for your war crimes have been over with for a couple of months now, yet, you still choose to remain in prison, may I ask why?"
"Since Cinder died in the fight against our former partner and Salem's redemption attempt, I really don't have much else left. Besides it's like I've said during that battle with the hammerhead and her pretty boy lover, I have been forced to fight since I was born by a drunk abusive excuse of a dad, so even if I could be let back into society, I don't think I could be happy."
"You could've joined the military..." The eldest member of the Schnee replied before the younger male countered
"Yeah, but I hate following and giving orders, besides you've seen what this old bastard done to your brother, creeps like him and worse are everywhere in prison. So as long as I can beat them senseless, I'm freaking happy to serve more time for each brawl I get my ass into."
This silenced Winter for a couple of seconds before asking for two simple demands. "Just tell Em that I'm okay with how things ended between us, and tell her just to be happy with her new life, if she can do that, then that would give me some sort of peace."
A couple of hours later at the medical bay on the airship.
Kairi used the healing spell Curaga on both the boy and Fiona. "Thank you, Lady Kairi." Fiona bowed while still having her arm in a cast after Whitley opened his eyes, being healed.
"Hey, it's not a problem, but please, just call me Kairi for now on, okay, Fiona?"
"Ughh, what...Fiona..are you alright?" The redeemer asked his friend.
"Yes, but you took the blunt of the beating, please relax, Whitley." The Fanuas explained before the boy asked.
"Who payed for our bails? I doubt it was my sisters, our situation isn't as it once was."
At that moment, Weiss and Blake came in, the disowned heiress of the destroyed SDC was proud at the fact that her former enemy of a brother fought for what's right, explaining. "It those three you poined out from that charity that payed for your and Fiona's bonds."
"Huh?!" Fiona was taken back in surprise by this before the middle child of the Schnee family theorized
"My guess is, either your speech or being outed as horrible people that made those three pay with their own Lien to post bond. I only wished we got there quicker but the airport was on the other side of the city."
"That's good but I can only hope that the others in the crowd took my words to heart and none of the people recording that day alter the video."
...We can check for video or audio interferances later on today but something tells me those who heard your speech that they're going be thinking about it for a long time." Blake's words made the youngest member of the Schnee children a little more eased.
"If only mother lived to see her son became someone to be proud of." Weiss thought to herself that day before their last mission in Remnant before her universe was wiped from existence.
In the Hangar of the doomed Wunder, Weiss had a thought of what could've been the futures of the new CEO of Pheonix Ash and his loyal bodyguard could have been if their universe just lasted a little bit longer.
"Hey, Bozos I'm about to take the Eva-unit 02 F off of the ship, before figuring out a plan to stop Misato."
"Alright.." Aqua answered as the red-head walked towards the console before seeing something strange.
"You guys were here for the last hour right?"
"Yeah?" Duo answered before Asuka added.
"And no one else came in or tried anything funny right?"
"We've been here the entire time, what's with the questions, Langley?" Viral countered.
"...There's two signals of heat in the cockpit...."
"Umm what?" Jaune exclaimed as the console showing the statistics of the bulky armored version of Unit 02, showing two bodies of heat in the entry plug.
Before anything else was said in the group. A young male's voice came through the console. "Umm Hello? Can someone get us out of this thing?"
No one but the Schnee huntress recognize the youth's voice. "Whitley!?"
"Sis, can you hear me?"
Asuka spoke next, "How long were you two in the Evangelion for?"
"I think for three hours, oh right, Fi wanted to asked if there's any males in the area."
"Fiona's in there too?!" Wiess inner thoughts were of panic that were made worse after Jaune's answer.
"Yeah, there's four guys here, why?" Jaunne asked before Fiona screamed in embrassament.
"PLEASE GO TO THE OTHER ROOM OR SOMETHING, I CAN'T GO OUT LIKE THIS!"
"Fi, please relax..."
"RELAX!? YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE IN THIS THING WITH CLOTHES ON!" The girl whined while crying from embarrassment.
"Umm, could anyone bring clothing for Miss Thyme."
Duo began to smirked before being dragged by Viral into the next room. "Keep your dirty thoughts to yourself, Duo Maxwell..."
"Killjoy!" Duo screamed as Jonathan conviced Jaune to followed.
"Sir Arc, we should leave as well, as it is knights' honor to..."
"Already way ahead of you, Mr. Joestar. We'll see you all later when we come up with that plan!"
As this was all happening, an snore echoed out from behind the crates. "Is someone sleeping over there?" Aqua asked while checking to see who it might be.
There, Chibodee Crocket, of all people was in deep slumber, much to everyone's surprise.
"...We should wake him up..." Asuka sighed while Weiss went looking for any of the female members of the crew for some clothing.
But to the surprise of the two, he just walked into the next room while sleeping the entire time. "That...worked out way to well..."

[Long post] We’ve benefited from this thread so much, even after traveling to Japan in the past, and often see the question “does this plan make sense/how much time do we need, etc?”that I hope our recent exact itinerary traveling with 13 yo twins and a 75 yo mother can answer some common questions about our return experience in Tokyo, Kyoto, and Nikko (which we adore).
Also, YES there was screen time. YES people were unpleasant due to jet lag. YES YES YES we adjusted plans and “missed out” on things. Flexibility is key! We never got to Senso-ji or did conveyor sushi because we ended up at a random temple flea market for over two hours finding our most prized souvenirs. Welcome serendipity - the unplanned boba store near Tokyo station remains one of my daughter’s favorite memories.
Onto our itinerary. We stayed in AirBnb’s, an onsen, and a hotel our last two nights in Tokyo.
Hope it’s helpful!
ARRIVE THURSDAY April 11th (2,747 steps) Arrive Haneda - train to Ueno Apartment (and wonderful cab driver who didn’t leave until we found out place) +Happy Mart snacks and house supplies +Dinner @ Kitchisen Handmade Soba
FRIDAY - SHINJUKU (25,885 steps) +365 Days Pastries +Yoyogi Park +Meiji Shrine +saratuhiko coffee +Souishi Menya - great ramen +Onigiri Manma - homemade onigiri +Uniqlo +TeamBorderless art exhibit in Ginza
SATURDAY (21,869 steps) +Tsukiji Market, sushi breakfast +Ueno Park for cherry blossoms +Daiso shopping +Yakitori Lunch - lunch under the train station. Two guys sitting next to us who translated on their phone “We hope you love Japan” BREAK +Artisan pop-up shop Akihabara +Gatchapan +Hakata Furyu Ramen
SUNDAY (18,280 steps) +Leave 8am +A Happy Pancake - 9am +Hanazono Flea Market - Temple market with all the vendors +Seikando Stationary store +Boba Tea +Yoyogi Park Frisbee & volleyball & greasers +Sultan Akihabara - Indian food takeaway
MONDAY (15,663 steps) +7/11 & Starbucks & French pastry breakfast +Train to Nikko +Toshugo Shrine Complex - Futarashan shrine, all temples +Shinkyo Bridge +Yuba Ryori Aburagan - lunch in Nikko +Traditional onsen + Keiseki (traditional, local, in-season) dinner
TUESDAY (19,546 steps) + Onsen volcano hot baths + Keiseki breakfast +Return to Tokyo via train, lunch and shopping in Tokyo Station, then +Nozomi Shinkansen Bullet Train to Kyoto +Check into AirBNB in the Gion district +Mosburger dinner
WEDNESDAY (23,107 steps) +Breakfast - Cicon bakery (In the Cicon hotel) Morning walk in the Gion +Kiyumizudera “pure water temple 780ad” (otowa no taki waterfall) wooden temple +Ninnenzaku Road - shopping +Hokon-ji pagoda tower +Ishebekoji road - old private road (no photography!) +Kenninji Temple - Oldest ZEN temple. 1639 screen. Zen “garden of the sound of the tide.” Creaking floors to hear the ninjas approaching Home to Recharge +Lunch - Omen Udon +Nishiki food market (Sarah/Nonna get tofu) +Teramachi-dori - famous street with clothing shops, sneakers at ATMOS +Pontocho - narrow authentic food alley along the river +Yasaka Shrine - temple with the lit up lanterns at night +Dinner - Ebisugawa Gyoza Nakajima - gyoza at the japanese style table +Gion for Geisha watching (4)
THURSDAY (13,266 steps) +Arashiyama Bamboo Forest +crepes +Goji Sanso Temple - moss temple +Seiryo-ji (incense tribute) +Ryoan-ji (incredible zen garden) Nozomi SHINKANSEN TO TOKYO Check-in &here hotel
FRIDAY (25,658 steps) +Disneyland +Ginza Shopping (Nike store/boba) Break at Hotel +Duck ramen at 麺屋上々 (Menya Joujou) +Chinese restaurant for tea
SATURDAY (7,751 steps) +Tsukiji Market sushi breakfast +Walk to Ueno park + Duck Boats Haneda Airport…. See you next time!

I'm not going to get into the details related to George Santos and the absolute clown show of his career.
But I was watching a story about him and one thing suddenly became perfectly clear, and made perfect sense, you might even say it's predictable despite its utter Madness and the thick fog of bullshit that surrounds everything about him.
He has repeatedly responded to established facts about his past and his actions and his background by just saying no I didn't do that or no that's not what happened.
If I actually went through all of the events and details he claimed about his past and his actions that turned out to be absolute horseshit and easily debunked then we'd be here all day.
But probably the one that stands out in everyone's memory is the fact that he was a drag queen for years, and an ambitious one at that.
Once press got a hold of irreproachable evidence for it, that fact was widely published and caused quite a stir given his location on the map of political ideology. But even though there were photos of him doing it, videos including one of him in drag proudly discussing how many venues where he had performed, and witnesses who knew him then all made public...
Santos just said no I didn't.
He gave the same response when being caught in many many other lies; I mean basically his entire biography is fiction cut from whole cloth. When and how his mother died, where he went to school, where he'd worked, pretty well everything he ever said about himself was absolute gobbledygook and reporters were digging up absolute incontrovertible proof.
But he just keeps saying no I didn't or you miss heard me or I misspoke.
Why?
It just hit me like a ton of bricks that George Santos is not an absolute mad man nihilistically weaving fairy tales for his constituents while assuming the press couldn't possibly uncover the mountain of evidence that disproves everything he says.
Santos was just following in the footsteps of the most successful Republican in more than a decade.
Trump does exactly that. Trump simply denies and dismisses things for which there's unquestionable proof.
Trump makes constant claims that are easily disproven.
And yet nearly half of Americans are 100% on his bandwagon. They have the incredible staggering ability to just ignore evidence and facts. No matter what the proofs are no matter how airtight they just say no he didn't do that because he said he didn't do that.
In a world of politics where there is absolutely no significant meaning given to what's provable or factual regarding Trump, where his followers' ability to blind themselves regarding reality and regurgitate absolute Fairy Tail nonsense like it's gospel is so powerful you could swear they were robots. Droids programmed to only accept particular input and only spit out particular affirmations with no possibility of reflection or serious consideration or even possibly changing that opinion just because they love that guy so damn much.
In a world where that is actually a thing it makes absolutely perfect sense for George to shoot his shot at just saying no to everything proof or not. To simply call people who are pointing out his lies liars.
Because it worked perfectly for the new Republican role model. He would have had at least some chance of pulling it off.
My opinion is that he failed to reach anywhere near Trump's level of safety from incriminating truths mainly because he's just a repellent human being and the accusations included drag which in America right now seems to be on a road towards being legally deemed so heinous as to Warrant the death penalty.
But he tried it.
And it damn well could have worked. That's where we are. Facts and proof mean nothing. If you're on the right team and you hate the right people you can do any horrid inexcusable thing, like taking a bunch of minors away from their homes to another state, passing them around for you all to fuck at parties with your buddies, have that indisputably proven, and still be extremely successful, laughing your ass off while you watch the Rubes who support you telling reporters that they just don't believe any of that stuff because you are one of theirs.
This is a terrifying new landscape where politicians who frankly were always widely believed to be overall a corrupt and crooked collection of individuals, can truly perpetrate the most absolutely horrible acts imaginable, seemingly especially rapes since Matt Gates and Donald Trump are both well known and proven sexual predators and yet our two extremely successful politicians to this day.
And all they have to do say no I didn't do that and the people voting for them immediately become impervious to all proof taking their word as the absolute gospel and closing their eyes and ears to anything that might run counter to that belief.
I don't think it's an exaggeration anymore just say that Trump could pull out a gun and shoot someone in the middle of Fifth Avenue then look at it a crowd of supporters and say I didn't do that and they would all cheer and emphatically agree that no he did not do that.
My God this is depressing. I feel like I could go drink a whole bottle of bleach right now. Maybe put my head in the oven but it's electric so probably won't help.
Thank you for attending my TED Talk.

I am going through the most terrifying emotional experience that I am sure is a Narcissistic collapse. I'm terrified, constantly.
Something happened while I was involved with 2 guys, back in October. One day something snapped in my brain and I saw the actions from my whole life with this horrifying clarity. I saw myself, as if I was in a movie. Moving from guy to guy. Replacing one source of supply almost immediately with another. Since I was 15 I traced back dating people back to back with no real similarities in their personalities at all. They were just, there. They pursued me and I just go with it. I thought it was BPD because of the immense emotional pain that accompanies a break-up but this collapse has confirmed its deffo NPD or co-morbid. That intense emotional pain is always dissipated as soon as I've found a replacement.
I always prided myself on being a 'good person'. Thats how I've always presented myself in the world. The nice, shy pretty mixed race girl. Clever, mysterious. People have always been intrigued by me, mistaking the internal void for some kind of depth of character.
I've never had many interests really so I made books and reading my entire personality. Right now I have no interest in any of that. I just miss the person I pretended to be that allowed me to function in society.
I've behaved horrendously and lost all sources of supply. Some of them, good genuine people. i cant face anyone. I cant look anyone in the eye, I know they can see the darkness in my eyes.
I can't function. I can't work, barely wash, never have an appetite. I've lost the place I was living. I've lost everything and I am totally unmasked and everyone around me feels uncomfortable, i can sense it. I turned to my mother which only confirmed to me why i am so, so broken. My family are dysfunctional and they operate without the self awareness of who they are. i dont blame them, being self aware feels like a death sentence.
I desperately want to die but I'm terrified of non-existence. Every second is pure hell. I go to sleep in a panic and wake up in utter terror and dread. I cant believe who I am. I cant live being this monster. I feel I will never, ever recover.

As a very young soul, around maybe 5 or 6 years old, I had a very innocent and Accepting outlook on life. Despite coming from a less than ideal environment, I always found fascination in the world around me, and a reverence for what Mother Nature had gifted unto me. And so I first realized myself to be aligned closely with Green.
I always had a smile on my face, ready to embrace those around me; Ready to love as unconditionally as the Others had loved me. I felt a passion, a desire even, to do good for those Others, just to see the smile on their faces. A smile that they lacked, because they couldn't see the beauty that enveloped them; A beauty that I myself saw so very clearly. I yearned to live in the present, and to give unto Others the same heartfelt, Emotional passion and Acceptance that I felt so strongly towards them. I had a very Red heart, and a very White soul.
And I always had a smile on my face, when nobody else did. I always laughed, when the Others cried, so that they might share in my joy.
And over the years, as my family fought onward towards eachother; Gnashing their teeth for little Reason at all other than to watch eachother suffer for the sake of their own miscommunications, my efforts fell short.
And it caused me to wonder why...
"Why must they be so pessimistic and derogatory in life? Why must they be so quick to reject Reason? Why is their Logic so skewed?", I wondered..
And a very Blue thirst for knowledge started to form in my mind.
Not only did I begin to search for the meaning behind the problems that surrounded me, but also for the meaning behind everything which I did not understand. I passed the time by Nurturing my mind; By listening and Seeking Truth, when the Others would not listen. A True curiosity formed within me; Not only for what lay just beyond the grasp of comprehension, but just as much for the comprehension of what could be..
I learned that the soul source of conflict for many of their problems was Emotion; Emotion which drove them to impulse, Emotion which drove them to rage, Emotion which drove them to violence and Chaos. I also acknowledged this sense of Emotion within myself. And though it was mostly joyous, I learned that joy could very well blind me just as much as their rage blinded them. So I learned to Accept Reason and Order in favor of Chaos, and encouraged the Others around me to do so as well.
Well, this Bant way of thinking only lasted so long. Though the Others in my family grew to realize that my insight was quite valuable, they would only listen if I spoke in a language they understood. If anything that I said conflicted with their own perspective outright, I would lose their ear entirely. They would simply twist my words to their own warped sense of righteousness, to use against their 'enemies'. But I still loved them, and through and through I listened to them, day after day, trying to guide them towards a better path.
But that Red, joyous smile was no longer there on my face.
As I started my first days at school, I would keep myself isolated; Knowing that the others would have no patience, just as my family had already shown me. I would keep to myself and stand in the corner voluntarily, observing silently those around me; Without friends.
And both the teachers and the students found me absolutely frightening to try and comprehend.
I was, however, almost ALWAYS at the top of my class, quite Naturally.
Most of them avoided me, though some had tried to victimize me. I didn't retaliate to their beatings and abuse, because deep down I still abhored the idea of hurting the Others. But I also didn't feed into their taunts and ridicule. They left me quite dissatisfied, as they had gained nothing; For I had nothing to take away..
And one day, while I was walking down the hallway, thinking about life, I felt a sudden revelation bloom in my Mind..
What made those other students strive so Ruthlessly to Satisfy themselves at the cost of my Peace? What made my family fight so Ruthlessly to achieve their own Satisfaction at the cost of my Freedom? What have I been missing my whole life, that might be fruitless to the Others, but very fruitful to me, the Individual? What have their discrepancies cost ME? What might those very same discrepancies give unto me instead..
And a Growing Mindset returned the smile to my face once more.
Not a smile of Red, Emotional Freedom, but a smile of Black, Exploitative Satisfaction; If only at the cost of my precious, White sense of Altruism.
From that day forward, I always had a smile on my face, when nobody else did. I always laughed, when the Others cried, so that they might share in my suffering.
I began to whisper Profane Truths to the ears of my enemies, especially myself; Inspiring Fear, and obeying it. And I did this all under the guile of being a True friend; To both the Others, as well as myself, the Individual.
I began to fuel the arguements my family had, from ALL sides, to grow further the reward that I would inevitably reap.
I began to sacrifice not only of myself, the Individual, but of the Others as well, to attain my ideals of Perfection.
I revered the Knowledge that spurred me forward; The Knowledge that grew so boundlessly by the urge to further myself, the Individual, to greater heights; Exploiting what Nature had gifted unto me.
I saw success that I had never comprehended before as a possibility.
And to Mother Nature, I yet again beheld a reverence..
And then I realized what it was all for; How it was all possible.
What Preserved Truth had retained my sense of Peace, even in the face of Progressing Evolution? Even at the cost of my Emotional Freedom? Certainly the Harmony which allowed for such an Evolution in the first place.
What Natural Profanity returned to me a sense of Freedom, even as I Exploited what little I had left of my Altruistic Peace for the sake of Individuality? Certainly that Profanity which I had Accepted.
What saving grace might I inevitably lose, if only I allow for the Growth Mindset to consume me, once and for all?
That answer lays deep within the Green...
I believe it is no coincidence that the majority of the people in my life are Nayan. Perhaps because it is easy for me to utilize an instrument that I so deeply understand. Or perhaps because, deep down, I am reminded of a ghost; Of the treasured spirit I once held within my own soul..
I've always Accepted what the world gifted unto me. And I've always Harmonized with what surrounds me, for better or for worse.
And the Green is what I will always intend to embrace;
No matter the cost; No matter the reward. 💚
It is what it is, and it always will be. 😎 🌎

After my other spoiler free post I thought I'd do one on the actual campaign as it seems like a lot of people feel the same as me.
For starters it's too short. And the structure in certain parts feels weird, particularly when you have the collision mission, followed by the asteroid collision mission, which was a nice nod to the past but not at the expense of another mission.
I'd also add there are far too many capture the flag objectives.
Lastly somehow they've made space feel small, the push to shoehorn in progenitor megaliths into every mission has shrunk the playing field significantly
Onto the plot, good lord.
So the gate network has been open for a bit and everything is cool then the "Anomaly" starts spreading and the mother ship Is sent to investigate but never returns, and the higgs don't even bother to go looking for Karan, the hero who's saved then from annihilation twice and opened up the galaxy to the them, until the "Synthetic cores" are created.
I'm not sure why they are called this, are the progenitor cores organic? Why do you need 3? The trio was just a key to unlock the gates, a singular core would be sufficient for long jumps outside the gate network?
Also with this level of technology they would surely have surpassed the bentusi, which is not at all reflected in their fleet designs.
The art designs for the cutscenes are in my opinion a step in the wrong direction. It was always my understanding that being unbound changes a person which is why both Karan and the bentusi speak in a very unemotional way, yet this is all thrown out the window now.
The protagonist is just an angry woman, who presumably has her own core(s) (I don't believe it's mentioned) so could have sent her vast fleet to investigate the gates being activated. I also don't understand how she's managed to exert mind control across a vast region of space. It's never covered, they basically decided that if you are unbound you now have some sort of god like powers.
I also can't work out if her fleet is progenitor ships or just styled to look like them, because they don't carry the armaments one would expect.
You don't learn anything additional about the progenitors, their species, technology or anything else during the campaign, just that the bad guy is using various megaliths for production.
When it came to the final battle, I honestly thought the queen would escape and there would be more missions, maybe she'd flee to some progenitor capital ship from some far off wreck or something, but no. Despite being tricked, she sits there and leaves the ports open on her big hyperspace platform, why not close them why not jump away with your mastery of hyperspace. Hell why not summon your entire fleet, you are capable of it no?
I also don't get why the cores get destroyed sending her into hyperspace, the platform was apparently designed to take cores and it's not sufficiently big enough that it would require the 3 progenitor cores, the 3 "Synthetic cores" and whatever the queen has to move it?
I also don't get why the gate network is also closed after that. The cores were the key to unlocking them, why would they have an impact on them further by disappearing?
Special shout-out for the miss pronouncing of Sajuuk, and "Sands and sinners" for being dreadful voice lines.
All in all, I feel the plot is the weakest part of this game, the actual game play is good (though has room for improvement), and I enjoyed the beta MP, but I feel the campaign has been poorly executed, and sadly is not one I think I'll replay, with the exception of a couple of missions.

I'm looking at NL for getting an electric car. The quote I have been given includes an EV 'reimbursement' which is an added cost of $40.08 fortnightly to me. It confused me as reimbursement sounds like it is something I should be receiving not paying. Anyway, I queried it and got this explanation but I'm still confused! "When you are charging the car at home you can claim the cost pre tax at 4.2 cent per kilometre hence $40.08 budget. You do not have to have this if you don’t want it. One thing, you can’t claim for reimbursement if there’s no budget for it."
Does that mean that I am paying $40.08 fortnightly so that I can claim the 4.2c/km from the ATO at tax time? And that I can't claim the 4.2c/km if I don't pay the fortnightly $40.08?? I wouldn't really be benefitting from a tax rebate on the charging costs if I am also paying for them? I'm feeling like I am missing something here and am very confused!
If anyone can explain this to me simply I'd be very grateful!!

Reddit Account: u/Thenn_Applicant
Discord Tag: Garin
Name and House: Dorian Merryweather
Age: 49
Cultural Group: Reachman
Appearance: Dorian's chestnut brown hair has been greying for quite a while, however is short beard retains more color, including a few stray red hairs peppered throughout it. While his features have softened and gained some pudge as he aged past his prime, he remains in overall good shape. This is partly due to his great love of gardening and crop cultivation, which have left his hands and nails rather rough.
Trait: Numerate
Skills: Avaricious (e), Architect, Administrator, Investor
Talents: Language (High Valyrian) Cooking, Gardening
Negative Trait: N/A
Starting Title: Lord of Longtable
Starting Location: Opening Event
Biography:
It has been said; men grow tired of sleep, love, singing and dancing, sooner than war. As such, it begs the question, what does a man have left when he finally tires of war? In pursuit of an answer, of any answer, one half of Dorian Merryweather’s life was spent. He was the second son of Lord Arthor Merryweather of Longtable. Like many others born in a place of natural abundance, he longed for more, for something greater than a mere provincial estate. The tourneys of Highgarden, the hunts of Horn Hill and the books of Oldtown all called to him, and so he could never ride past his father’s mild and verdant fields fast enough. Dorian counted himself lucky not to be the heir, for that meant he could pick where his future lay, unchained from the uninspiring home of his childhood. Instead it was his older brother, Bennard, who envied his free-flying lifestyle, contriving any excuse to join him on his escapades and agurk lessons and ceremonies he ought to have attended.
Lord Arthor was fairly permissive of this deriliction of duties, as the friendships forced on such journeys were worth more than lessons that could be repeated later, or tasks that could be handed off to lowborn stewards. The boys attended tourneys, balls, hunts and feasts, living the life the bards extolled as the height of reachman’s chivalry. The one time they did not shirk their duties was when their father had the honor of hosting King Mern and his court for a tourney on the Warrior’s day. The Merryweather sons would present the king and his family with silver bowls of dilligrout, a most exquisite stew of capons, white wine and almond milk. They had the joy of tasting it once the Gardeners had their fill, a taste they would never forget. On the tournament field three days later, Mern knighted them both, though Dorian was only sixteen at the time, green as a knight could ever be.
Five years later, as news of Aegon Targaryen and his early conquests spread, the lords of the Reach were summoned to Goldengrove, where they found a veritable forest of Westermen’s banners being planted beside their own. The fall of the Storm Kings had led to a whirlwind of diplomacy between the houses of Gardener and Lannister. The plan was presented to the lords with the two kings sitting beside one another on the dais as though they were brothers. They held up Aegon’s letter of demands, scornfully reading it aloud and then proceeded to tear it up to a roaring acclamation from the hall. Standing there before the hall, Mern could hardly be called the Warrior incarnate. There stood a man well past his prime, old enough to be a grandfather and with no great victories to his name, in battle or on the tourney field. All the same, this man, whom they called their king, always seemed to know exactly what to say to win someone over. If he’d declared war on hell itself that evening, the Merryweather brothers would probably still have marched off with him when the next morning dawned. Bennard and Dorian shouted as loud as anyone, death to the foreign upstart. That evening were betrothed to westerwomen they’d never met before, made plans for a real battle, which they had never fought in before, and drank, ate and sang as though the night would last forever. House Merryweather was not able to secure a command, yet King Mern remembered his stay at Longtable fondly. He gave Bennard and Dorian a place in the vanguard, and even adorned Bennard with a brooch of the order of the green hand the morning before the army Goldengrove, a momentous honor which Bennard would cherish for the remainder of his days. He did not have many left, as it turned out. The Field of Fire began like a dream, as the two brothers rode off at the break of dawn, two out of five thousand sets of gleaming armor atop proud warhorses. By the end of the day it had become a nightmare. Caught up in the maelstrom of battle, Dorian did not see the moment when their loss was assured, but the Gods know he could hear it, the creeping, hungry flames that descended on the reachmen like an army of its own. As hundreds were broiled inside their steel plate and thousands more choked on the inferno’s horrible vanguard of black smoke, Bennard and Dorian broke and fled. They were not far behind the retreating Loren Lannister in their escape, but half a minute made all the difference. The lines of fire fanned out, hunting more living things to devour, and engulfed the two brothers. Dorian could feel how the flames spread from his surcoat to his undershirt, all the way down to the hairs on his chest, beginning to sear his skin. In a desperate act he threw himself in the Blackwater, and would have perished if not for the shoddy work of his squire that morning, which left him able to tear off his plate before he could sink. With bloodied, burn-marked fingers, he clung to the roots of a tree by the riverside, water up to his chest. He was retrieved after some time, how long he could not say. For the next two moons his mind was adrift, distracted from his pains by milk of the poppy. The next two were far worse, as he grew more lucid and realized the extent of the damage. A burn-mark stretched from his right thigh, all the way up his chest and left bicep to the apple of his neck. Many times over, flakes of dead or dying skin had to be peeled off by the maester as the scabs kept bursting with blood and clear liquid. By the end of that year he was able to walk again, though the burn mark would leave a feverish red mark across the front of his body, his new skin settling into twisted lines.
Bennard was far worse for wear, alive yet burned all the way to his face and crippled from a fall off his horse. His nose and ear-lobes had to be cut off, too burned to save, and even his eyelids were permanently scarred, unable to sprout new lashes. The more lucid Bennard became, the deeper his sorrow. Eventually he began refusing food. The new lord of Longtable would not eat anything his cooks set in front of him. In spite of his ever present pains, Dorian began going to the kitchens, reprimanding the cooks for their failings. He knew his brother well and knew his palette, and began ordering them to make his brother’s favorites. When he felt they were making mistakes, he interrupted their work himself. He was a stranger to the kitchen, yet would criticize how things were cut too roughly, spiced too little or too much. He was a terror to the cooks, yet they could not refuse him.
His attempts to intervene were however hampered by a newfound aversion to heat. The sound of the hearth, of boiling and searing, the general sense of warmth around him made him nauseous and caused his movements to seize up. Still, he went to his brother’s bedside every day, and afterwards he forced himself back to the kitchens. His sister, Lydia, tried to stop him at first, but soon found her protes fell on deaf ears, and so joined him, if only to leash him in when he went too far. Finally, there was only one dish they hadn’t tried; the dilligrout they’d once served to the late King Mern. Every time it was made, it came out wrong. It soon turned out the cook who had served them that evening six years ago had since retired, and his exact method had never been recorded or taught to anyone else. Dorian would first invite the man to Longtable, then summon him with armed knights when invitations were refused.
Theomar, the man who appeared before him, was a sorry sight, looking frightened and confused as he was taken to his old workplace. It was explained by his sons that he’d been growing senile even six years ago, often snapping at the kitchen maids under him when his memory failed him. Since then he’d gotten worse, seldom eating, let alone cooking. Something in the old man’s eyes did seem to brighten for a moment when the sounds and smells of his old kitchen surrounded him, and Dorian ordered him to make dilligrout. Before long that faint spark had been drowned out by tears. He would start boiling capon or crushing almonds, only to leave the job half-done whenever he had to fetch something new. Serving maids were put at his disposal to bring him ingredients, yet an ingredient ordered would be met with a reprimand as he seemed to forget which dish he was making every few minutes. Finally Dorian snapped at the man, grabbing him by his collar and shouting accusations of treason against House Merryweather. By the time Lydia could restrain him and try to apologize, the man was a wreck on the floor. After watching it for a while, waiting for the man to get up and continue his work, even Dorian was overcome by pity and shame for what he’d done. The old cook was praying to the gods, begging forgiveness for his failings. Dorian began to realize he’d broken a great man down and would himself beg forgiveness. He offered the man his old cook’s quarters back for the rest of his life, and promised his sons that his maester would tend to the man in his old age, that he would be fed from Longtable’s stores.
At this point, he resolved to make the dilligrout himself. Through it all, Bennard was barely clinging to life, or rather being tethered to it by the will of others. He could only be fed when drugged down by the milk of the poppy, and the more often it was used, the less effective it became. Every day Dorian braved the kitchens, yet he could not recreate the flavor of that wonderful night. It was by the grace of the gods, perhaps with Theomar as their vessel, that Dorian would even come close. The old man could no longer cook, but over time he began to wander into the kitchens and sit down on a chair. At first Dorian thought the man only sought the warmth of the hearth for his weary bones, yet he discovered it to be more than that. Theomar’s eyes were like clouded glass, yet they brightened every now and then, hearing almonds being ground, smelling capons searing in fat, as though it was stirring the kitchenmaster of yore back to life. Eventually Dorian began to walk up to the old cook with his ingredients, bidding him to smell or taste small portions. Sometimes he got simple instructions out of it, ‘too coarse’, ‘too sour’, ‘underdone’. Som times a mere nod or frown was all Theomar managed. Over the course of a couple of days, Dorian put together one final attempt to get the dish made rightWhen he arrived in Bennard’s chamber, he was met with a look which brought forth discomfort that no flame could produce in Dorian. Plainly, raspingly, his brother asked him why he wouldn’t let him die. It was easy, Bennard reasoned. All Dorian needed to do was wait and become lord. The words almost made Dorian throw the dilligrout on the floor. Almost. He placed two bowls on Bennard’s table, the dilligrout and one brimming with milk of the poppy. Dorian told his brother to make his choice. If he sought death, Dorian would let him, but he would not hear that it was an easy thing, watching his brother die. That evening, the milk of the poppy was carried away by the maester, the empty bowl of stew taken to be washed in the kitchens. From then on, Bennard ate what his brother brought him without complaint. He lasted just into the new year, dying on its tenth day. In the predawn gloom of the twelfth, Theomar died in his sleep
Dorian took up his lordly task joylessly. His old wanderlust returned, spurred by the horrible memories that now stained Longtable and the reach itself in his mind. The final straw came when their new Tyrell overlords, insisted on him marrying a lady from a dornish house. His previous betrothal had fallen through, as the parents of his western bride had not wished to draw the ire of the Targaryens by maintaining an old alliance meant to oppose them. Instead of obliging, he boarded a ship from Oldtown going east. It stopped only briefly in Planky Town before going to Tyrosh. Noting him to be a nobleman, a few of the city’s wealthy men would host him for a while, though they quickly lost interest when his lack of knowledge of trade became apparent. After that, he spent time in the markets and squares where the common people lived. His old curiosity was piqued, and he decided to embark on a quest of learning, fashioning himself another Lomas Longstrider. He moved on to Myr, and the experience was much the same in broad strokes, a few rich men showed interest and quickly lost it. As he’d visited the dye markets he went to see the city’s famous artisans at work. One thing was notably different, he met a Tyroshi woman with green-dyed hair, going by the name Maryah. She was a trader, and the two had taken the same ship to Myr. She had been to Myr before and showed him many of its secrets. They spent an entire day in one of the vast delicacy markets so she could show him the many tastes of the city. Having no plans in advance, he asked where she was headed next.
Without a second thought he would join her on a journey to Lys. He soon understood it to be a test. It was not long before she teased him, speculating he’d only joined her for a chance to see the famous pleasure houses. Evening after evening they stayed in the city and Maryah would tease and test him over the matter. Finally he told her he’d renounce his betrothal for her, that there was no one else in his eye. She laughed, replying he would not have to. The next morning, Dorian awoke to find that she was already up, the green washed from her black curls. Maryah had in fact been Joanna Dayne, his dornish bride to be, having traveled the same route as him ever since his ship stopped at Planky Town to refill its food and water. She was already quite familiar with the three closest free cities, having served as a dornish envoy on behalf of its spice traders. As they planned their return to Westeros, Joanna asked him what else in the world he wanted to see. Within a few moons of being wed, they left Westeros, not to return for three years.The journey was what his mind needed, away from the Reach, its knights and tapestries, hunts and tourneys. Ultimately, the lords and knights of his homeland, for all their songs and poetry, lived every day in preparation for war, frivolous though the preparations were. Joanna showed him a different world, the remnants of Old Valyria. War was to be sure inescapable. Wherever they went, there were soldiers, tapestries, contests of arms, and yet the cities housed something else as well, a boundless potential for creation, commerce and growth.
Thanks to Joanna Dayne’s knowledge their stays became far better planned, and they could enjoy the hospitality of wealthy locals far longer. She knew how to talk about the spice trade and similar matters, and Dorian began to pick up on it. On their second stay in Myr, he procured a great deal of fine parchment and began taking notes, everything from negotiation tactics and the prices of cloves or red peppers to court customs, as well as more eclectic pieces of knowledge, details of running an eastern estate, descriptions of technological marvels he had never seen in Westeros, and ingredients in the local food. By the time they neared Qarth he had quite the list of recipes, among other things. There he was even able to learn a few all the way from Yi Ti, as some local cooks catered to merchants from the Golden Empire. On their journey home they’d end up taking the opportunity to see the newly made port of King’s Landing. By that time, a third member had joined their journey, their infant daughter Florys. Having left Longtable in the care of his sister and steward for three years, Dorian finally accepted the responsibility of running his ancestral home.
Longtable was considered to rule over some of the best lands in the Reach, ideally situated along the river with abundant soil which could provide two grain harvests in a year. Having seen the estates which supplied the great cities of the east, Dorian was all too aware of its comparative shortcomings. He found that the abundance of the land had a counterproductive effect, breeding complacency and carelessness. From his grandiose tour of the east, he went on a painstaking tour of his own lands, trying to get an overview of everything he ruled over. He paid the citadel a fee to send him half a dozen maesters in training for a season. These young men, literate and numerate, would serve his own maester in conducting a survey of the land, giving Dorian account of all resources at his disposal as lord. The results were quite varied.
Some peasants were found to have remarkable agricultural insights which they had no way of writing down, entirely reliant on passing the knowledge to their children. Knowing the risks of such a method of transferring knowledge, Dorian ordered such insights recorded. In other places there were farmers and communities who were unwittingly exhausting their soil. Instances of lack of fallow land, excessive grazing by cows and lack of crop rotation were also made note of, followed by edicts against such heedless practices. Septons, sheriffs and tax collectors were given written copies and were obliged to read them to the peasantry wherever it was deemed necessary. It also became part of the obligations of farmers to plant a set amount of clover in their fields and pastures, a practice some had taken up on their own but which had already become a standardized law among the estates belonging to Myr and Volantis. Irrigation was expanded and land inheritance was reformed to prevent the splitting of fields past a certain threshold.
Lord Dorian was not always successful. Some eastern ideas had been useful innovations which improved conditions across the board. In time he learned that the peculiarities of the westerosi system were sometimes necessary for the sake of stability, not merely the misshapen fruits of ignorance. His attempt to enclose part of the common lands proved abortive, as it nearly caused a peasant rebellion. A procession of aggrieved smallfolk headed for Longtable had to be dispersed by knights, armed with wooden clubs to prevent needless bloodshed.Two men were hanged and five sent to the wall, but the reform was thereafter abandoned, leading the populace to calm down. Dorian was not much of a military leader and had not wielded weapons since the Field of Fire. He became aware of his need to bolster his forces, a notion reinforced by the establishment of the Black Roses not long after his return, and again with the Kingswood Catastrophe
In the meantime, he and Joanna raised a family together. Three more daughters would be born healthy, with a couple of miscarriages and a stillbirth in between, also a daughter. Their travels did not entirely come to an end. In 13 AC they would tour the northern free cities of Norvos, Qohor, Pentos, Braavos and Lorath, which they had missed on their original journey. The lion’s share of 17 AC was spent on a journey to the Summer Islands. At other times they would make shorter journeys around the Seven Kingdoms, where they felt more secure in bringing their older children along. Whether it was visiting Joanna’s family in Dorne, tourneys and feasts in the Reach and West or even one trip to see the wall, a nameday wish by Florys, they were often on the move. Like most of their peers, they frequented Oldtown and Highgarden
The growing rift between the two queens and their children was a situation Dorian would watch with dread in his heart, remembering keenly how a generation of young men had been brought to the field of fire. To his mind, the Targaryen rule ought not go to waste. Like Valyria of old, it had begun with fire and blood, yet similarly peace and prosperity had followed in its wake. If only the dragons could stand united, perhaps another long peace like the one the Freehold once enjoyed could again be established. If not, another century of blood was upon them. Under Dorian, Longtable became a place where he sought to bring together people from across the kingdoms and forge unity over the dinner table, an attitude which somewhat vexed and confounded his more militaristic daughter and heiress, Lady Florys. Even amid her questioning of the viability of his peaceful ways when surrounded by those who would make war, a terrible sight would steel his resolve, watching the Mander burning green, every bit as terrible as the flames from twenty one years prior. That night he made a simple vow, never again.
The League of the Cornucopia, he would name his little group, a gallery of lords and ladies whose acquaintances he’d made over the years. With these fellow gourmets he would share the culinary knowledge he’d gleaned from his journeys in the east and west. Most unusual for a lord of his rank, Dorian came to spend a great deal of time in his kitchens, testing out recipes himself. On occasion, the dishes he served to his guests for these small, intimate gatherings would be the work of his own hands. The membership did vary from time to time, both based on who could make it and who he sought to bring together. Rather than a fully closed circle, the League is more like a form of feasting, only it’s done for a much smaller crowd, without the public spectacle. Such occasions allowed for more refined foods which did not need to be served to hundreds and kept constantly warm over the course of hours like some common tavern stew. It also opened up an arena of more intimate diplomacy and negotiation for those who sought it, hosted on neutral ground by a lordly mediator, free from prying eyes.
Timeline:
25BC: Dorian is born, second in line to Longtable
24BC: His sister Lydia is born
9BC: House Merryweather hosts House Gardener for a tourney and feast. Dorian and his older brother Bennard serve the dish of honor to King Mern Gardener and his family. During the subsequent tourney, Mern knights both boys, despite their inexperience and lack of victory in the tourney
9BC-2BC: Dorian spends much time travelling the reach, attending events
1BC: Dorian and Bennard fight in the vanguard at the Field of Fire. Both are burned, Bennard far more severely than Dorian. Lord Merryweather is killed. Traumatized by the battle and his new maimed body, Bennard starts refusing food. Dorian desperately tries to re-create the dish they served King Mern eight years ago. The cook who made it has since gone senile, but eventually manages to help Dorian re-create it. He is given a place at court as apology for his mistreatment at Dorian's hands before this occurred.
1AC: Lord Bennard dies at the beginning of the year, leaving Dorian as lord of Longtable. His sister Lydia fulfills her betrothal to House Tarly, becoming lady of Horn Hill. At the prospect of marrying a Dornishwoman on the King's orders, Dorian decides to leave Westeros to put off his marriage. In Myr, he meets a woman calling herself Maryah, claiming to be a Tyroshi merchant. They fall in love and travel to Lys together. There Dorian promises to set aside his betrothal for her, whereupon she reveals herself as Joanna Dayne, his dornish betrothed.
1AC-4AC: Dorian and Joanna wed at Longtable, then depart on a new journey of the east. They reach as far as Qarth before turning back home. In 3AC, on the way back, their first child, Florys, is born while the couple are in Volantis, on the way home. They return via the newly built port of King's Landing.
4AC-8AC: Using knowledge from the east, Lord Dorian embarks on a project of rationalizing the agriculture of Longtable
5AC: Dorian and Joanna have their second child, a girl named Ellyn
8AC: Their third daughter, Desmera, is born
13AC: Dorian and Joanna spend a year travelling the northern free cities
14AC: Their fourth and final daughter, Gwin, is born
17AC: Dorian and Joanna undertake a journey to the Summer Islands with their children
23AC: The aftermath of the battle of Stonebridge brings back memories of the Field of Fire, as the Merryweathers watch burning slag run down the Mander
25AC: The Merryweathers travel to the celebration of the maturity of Aegon's sons
Family Tree:
Arthor Merryweather (father, d.1BC)
Cerelle Merryweather (pending family connection) (mother, d.20AC)
Bennard Merryweather (brother, d.1AC)
Lydia Merryweather (sister, b.24BC)
Glendon Merryweather (uncle, d.1BC)
Myrcella Pommingham (aunt, d.22AC)
Leo Merryweather (cousin, b.13AC)
Joanna Dayne (wife, b.26AC)
Florys Merryweather (daughter, b.3AC)
Ellyn Merryweather (daughter, b.5AC)
Desmera Merryweather (daughter, b.8AC)
Gwin Merryweather (daughter, b.13AC)
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Auxiliary Character:
Name and House: Florys Merryweather
Age: 23
Cultural Group: Reachman
Appearance: [A short, muscular woman with wavy black hair, normally worn in a bun. She has high cheekbones and a proud demeanor. Her rigid strength stands in contrast to the more relaxed nature of the Merryweather court, one she finds overly lax and casual](0_0.png (896×1344) (discordapp.com))
Trait: Hale
Skills: Swords (e), Essosi Blademaster
Talents: Dancing, Fishing, Cooking
Negative Traits: N/A
Starting Title: Heir to Longtable
Starting Location: Opening Event
Timeline:
3AC: Florys is born in Volantis, while her parents are on their way home from Essos
10AC: Florys starts training under Saathos Trevelyan, her father's Master at Arms
13 AC: She joins her parents on a tour of Pentos, Braavos, Norvos and Qohor
17AC: She travels with her parents to the Summer Islands
19AC-23AC: As she comes of age, Florys becomes more critical of her father's desire for peace, viewing it as increasingly far-fetched amid the increasingly controversial regency and the impending succession dispute. She resolves to make the kinds of connections her father seems unwilling to, in case of war
25AC: She accompanies her family to the celebrations
NPCS:
Ser Leo Merryweather (Age: 37, Archetype: Magnate) Lord Merryweather's first cousin, he has become an indispensable agent in the daily running of Longtable. Despite his foppish demeanor and aparent laziness, he is highly capable and loyal in his task of increasing his family's fortune. He remains happily unwed
Saathos Tevelyan: (Age:48, Archetype: Master at Arms) The son of a Lysene father and a Myrish mother, Saathos initially sought a career in amongst Myr's military officers, however his family's relatively low status proved an impediment to further promotion, later compounded by a dispute with a superior. He met Lord Merryweather in 3AC and eventually travelled West to offer his services five years later, finding his career progress stonewalled in his home city. Well into middle age, he still looks firm and imposing as profesisonal a soldier ought to

This isn’t what it sounds like… this was no typical window, and this was no ordinary situation…
I (27F) am a full time drag performer in my city and one of the places I frequently perform at is a local queer owned and operated bar run by someone who I consider a good friend. It was this past Mother’s Day while I was performing at his establishment, when the freak accident occurred.
I had already done my two numbers, and the cast and I were closing out the show with a silly group number. While I was going around interacting with the crowd, I noticed some people from outside trying to get a look inside through the giant windows up at the front. My first instinct was to be silly and pretend to moon the people outside by putting my butt up against the glass (I was wearing a bodysuit.) Big mistake…
The second my cheeks touched the glass the whole window shattered and came crashing down around me, leaving me pretty much shredded. I had to get rushed to the hospital where I had to have about fifteen stitches, and a bunch of superficial cuts skin glued and cleaned out. They even took x rays to make sure there was no glass stuck inside the big cut that they had to sew shut. I can’t even imagine the cost that I’ll possibly end up being responsible for in all this…
The whole ordeal was pretty traumatizing to say the least. While my injuries may not seem that bad, considering it could have been a lot worse, I’m still reeling from the whole ordeal and I feel like my adrenaline has been going for two days and it’s been difficult to sleep. I also discovered another cut that appears to be really deep, and I might need to go back in for more stitches. I didn’t notice it on the first visit because this particular cut just so happens to be right on the outside of my anus and I didn’t think to tell them to check there. Now I’m sitting here worried and I’m thinking about going to the emergency room again tomorrow to get it looked at. It’s pretty nasty and is more painful than the one on my back and I’m also worried about infection.
I also had to call out of work that night, for obvious reasons, and have been struggling to deal with the pain and discomfort, and I have a busy weekend of work and drag ahead of me while dealing with an injury, if I can even make it. I brought up these concerns to one of my best friends and they told me I should think about taking them to court… I see where they’re coming from but I’m having a hard time considering the place this happened at is owned by one of my good friends, and I wouldn’t want to ruin a relationship over something like this.
I’m also extremely anxious over the fact that it might be considered my fault for leaning up against a window. However this is something that so many people have done here and other venues innocently, and this could’ve happened to anyone. If the window had a hairline crack (which is our current working theory as to why it shattered so easily), what would’ve happened if a customer slipped on something and lost their balance and went through the window? Or even if a child went to press their face up against the window and it shattered like it did to me?
Even though I happened to be the one who appeared to break it, it still doesn’t make sense to me why a business would A) use such cheap glass for a giant store front window in a major city or B) if it was a defect or hairline crack in the glass not have it replaced or fixed. Would that even make it my fault then? I’m grateful to legitimately be alive right now. However this is already causing a great deal of pain and suffering. Not only is it painful to sit or walk or even use the bathroom, I’m also out of a lot of money already, since we cancelled the second seating of the show and I’ve missed work on top of it. Not to mention my brand new costume being shredded and stained in blood, that is now unusable…
So please help me Reddit. What do I do? Am I the asshole? Or do I legitimately have a case here?

The story begins in 1968 on one of the deepest freshwater lakes, crater lake in Washington state. Marc a 23 year old explorer, loved camping fishing just getting away from it all. Marc grew up in a smaller town Moses Lake Washington. Its located off the interstate in between Spokane and Seattle Washington, Marc decided he wanted to go explore the crater Lake area only telling his mother and father where he was headed. “Expect me back in a week” Marc said bags packed loaded into his 2015 ford explorer.
He pulled out of the driveway waving goodbye to his mother. Little did they know this was the last time they would see eachother due to the events about to unfold. Marc jammed his favorite tunes the whole 3 hour trip to crater lake. He was there found his campsite right away, nobody was within a 300 yards of his secluded little spot. He unpacked put up his tent and was ready for a hike.
It was 330 in the afternoon on day 1 of his little vacation. When he took off on a steep rugged trail that made its way around the lake. Marc never was one to stay on the beaten path as he liked to explore and go places not many others have ever gone. After getting his fill of sights and feeling exhausted and hungry. Marc decided it was time to make his way back to camp. He made dinner drank a few beers that he enjoyed while camping and turned in for the night.
It was a quiet night and Marc found himself fast asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, The next morning Marc was up early made some breakfast and packed a lunch for the long eventful day ahead. His plan being to go off the beaten path again and find some little streams to fish along the way. Marc hiked about 3-4 hours off the main trail and found a beautiful crystal clear brook with rapids flowing into some deeper holes.
Perfect for catching brook trout and that he did. using a panther Martin black with yellow dots and a silver spoon to mimic baitfish and it was the color that was always his go to. It wasn’t but his second cast and a nice 1lb brookie nailed his spinner and put up a little fight before Marc landed it and immediately gutted it and stored it away. Brook trout are one of best eating trout. Marc continued to climb up the stream to higher elevations hitting hole after home along the way.
The day went by quick as it was nearing dusk and Marc had caught 12 nice sized brook trout and a couple little cutthroat as well. Plenty to make a good 3 meals out of. Geared with only a flashlight and his pack fishing pole and fish cleaning supplies Marc made his way of what he thought was the way back out towards his camp.
Checking his watch on his phone Marc seen it was 11pm pitch black dark out now and he realized he had been walking long enough that he shoulda recognized some landmarks or where he had made his way in, but he didn’t recognize anything and with it being dark out he was even more lost.
Without panicking Marc decided to set up a little camp where he was. under some big pine trees surrounding the whole area next to another little stream that he stumbled into. Giant boulders made for a nice cover to keep himself tucked away in case any large animals might have passed by looking for a meal. Marc was aware he was in bear country as well as cougar and wolves.
Unable to catch any sleep Marc sat and built a little campfire cooked a few trout ate them and kept the fire stoked until the sun started peeking up over the mountains at around 445 am. As soon as he was ready to get back on track Marc looked around and realized where he was or so he thought. The little stream forked off and hooked around making a horseshoe type shape exactly like the one he had seen on his way in yesterday afternoon.
Marc now excited and in a hurry quickly hiked through the brush mixed in with pine trees away from the streams until he could no longer hear the flow of them. After walking a hood 3 hours Marc was starting to get frustrated that nothing was looking familiar to him again. It was now early afternoon and Marc knew he was lost the terrain looked all so similar and he had ventured actually two times as far away from his original camp.
Unaware of this Marc made his way to another stream and decided to follow it down the mountain hoping it would lead into a lake or maybe crater lake where he was camping. Marc hiked and jogged and was just enjoying the scenery when he stumbled upon an old looking cabin. The trees were really big blocking out most all the light from the sun here and even at about 5pm it seemed like it was getting dark.
Marc was feeling wore down he had hiked close to 35 miles the past two days trying to find his way back out. He decided to go check if the cabin was inhabited he went up yjj ok the door knocked three of four times. But nobody answered. So after about 10 minutes of waiting marc decided to peer into the window and could see some old handmade furniture a wood stove and a few other miscellaneous items on the floor.
It looked like nobody had been here for years like it was an old secret hunting cabin back in the woods that only a few if any people knew about. Marc noticed a little homemade sign on the wall that read lakeshore cabin #41. He tried the door assuming it was locked but it was not. So he went in as the night was creeping in fast. He gathered some wood put in the wood stove cooked up some more trout and was exhausted from no sleep the night before .
Marc used his pack as a pillow curled up in the corner of the living room by the wood stove and was gone into dreamland before he knew it. Marc’s phone battery was in the red line when he had woken up only 18% left. So he decided to write in his phone notes just in case something were to happen to him or he didn’t make it back out. As he was doing this and finishing up he felt like he was being watched. Just had an eerie unsettling feeling of an evil presence nearby.
This gave Marc anxiety so after noting all this in his phone he turned it off to then save energy. His last few words on his phone when it was discovered two years after a missing persons report was filed said im actually feeling scared like I gotta leave now so I’m going to leave the cabin and head west as far as I can before next nightfall. I love you mom and dad and I hope I see you guys soon.
This was the last anyone ever heard of Marc when his phone was found busted up 25 miles away from crater lake under a group of smaller pine trees. No foul play was discovered and not one sign of Marc or his belongings were ever found to this day. Some say he stumbled into a haunted cabin and something evil took him never to be seen again. Others say he just got lost and ran outta food and water and eventually had succumbed to dehydration and the animals cleaned him up. But no bones, pieces of clothing anything was ever found.
Marc’s parents were able to gather his original tent and camping supplies as that had not been messed with up by crater lake. What do you think happened to Marc? Was he abducted, torn to pieces by animals, something paranormal in those woods got him? Another unsolved missing person in the woods story. Where do these people go? What is happening to them?

The story begins in 1968 on one of the deepest freshwater lakes, crater lake in Washington state. Marc a 23 year old explorer, loved camping fishing just getting away from it all. Marc grew up in a smaller town Moses Lake Washington. Its located off the interstate in between Spokane and Seattle Washington, Marc decided he wanted to go explore the crater Lake area only telling his mother and father where he was headed. “Expect me back in a week” Marc said bags packed loaded into his 2015 ford explorer.
He pulled out of the driveway waving goodbye to his mother. Little did they know this was the last time they would see eachother due to the events about to unfold. Marc jammed his favorite tunes the whole 3 hour trip to crater lake. He was there found his campsite right away, nobody was within a 300 yards of his secluded little spot. He unpacked put up his tent and was ready for a hike.
It was 330 in the afternoon on day 1 of his little vacation. When he took off on a steep rugged trail that made its way around the lake. Marc never was one to stay on the beaten path as he liked to explore and go places not many others have ever gone. After getting his fill of sights and feeling exhausted and hungry. Marc decided it was time to make his way back to camp. He made dinner drank a few beers that he enjoyed while camping and turned in for the night.
It was a quiet night and Marc found himself fast asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, The next morning Marc was up early made some breakfast and packed a lunch for the long eventful day ahead. His plan being to go off the beaten path again and find some little streams to fish along the way. Marc hiked about 3-4 hours off the main trail and found a beautiful crystal clear brook with rapids flowing into some deeper holes.
Perfect for catching brook trout and that he did. using a panther Martin black with yellow dots and a silver spoon to mimic baitfish and it was the color that was always his go to. It wasn’t but his second cast and a nice 1lb brookie nailed his spinner and put up a little fight before Marc landed it and immediately gutted it and stored it away. Brook trout are one of best eating trout. Marc continued to climb up the stream to higher elevations hitting hole after home along the way.
The day went by quick as it was nearing dusk and Marc had caught 12 nice sized brook trout and a couple little cutthroat as well. Plenty to make a good 3 meals out of. Geared with only a flashlight and his pack fishing pole and fish cleaning supplies Marc made his way of what he thought was the way back out towards his camp.
Checking his watch on his phone Marc seen it was 11pm pitch black dark out now and he realized he had been walking long enough that he shoulda recognized some landmarks or where he had made his way in, but he didn’t recognize anything and with it being dark out he was even more lost.
Without panicking Marc decided to set up a little camp where he was. under some big pine trees surrounding the whole area next to another little stream that he stumbled into. Giant boulders made for a nice cover to keep himself tucked away in case any large animals might have passed by looking for a meal. Marc was aware he was in bear country as well as cougar and wolves.
Unable to catch any sleep Marc sat and built a little campfire cooked a few trout ate them and kept the fire stoked until the sun started peeking up over the mountains at around 445 am. As soon as he was ready to get back on track Marc looked around and realized where he was or so he thought. The little stream forked off and hooked around making a horseshoe type shape exactly like the one he had seen on his way in yesterday afternoon.
Marc now excited and in a hurry quickly hiked through the brush mixed in with pine trees away from the streams until he could no longer hear the flow of them. After walking a hood 3 hours Marc was starting to get frustrated that nothing was looking familiar to him again. It was now early afternoon and Marc knew he was lost the terrain looked all so similar and he had ventured actually two times as far away from his original camp.
Unaware of this Marc made his way to another stream and decided to follow it down the mountain hoping it would lead into a lake or maybe crater lake where he was camping. Marc hiked and jogged and was just enjoying the scenery when he stumbled upon an old looking cabin. The trees were really big blocking out most all the light from the sun here and even at about 5pm it seemed like it was getting dark.
Marc was feeling wore down he had hiked close to 35 miles the past two days trying to find his way back out. He decided to go check if the cabin was inhabited he went up yjj ok the door knocked three of four times. But nobody answered. So after about 10 minutes of waiting marc decided to peer into the window and could see some old handmade furniture a wood stove and a few other miscellaneous items on the floor.
It looked like nobody had been here for years like it was an old secret hunting cabin back in the woods that only a few if any people knew about. Marc noticed a little homemade sign on the wall that read lakeshore cabin #41. He tried the door assuming it was locked but it was not. So he went in as the night was creeping in fast. He gathered some wood put in the wood stove cooked up some more trout and was exhausted from no sleep the night before .
Marc used his pack as a pillow curled up in the corner of the living room by the wood stove and was gone into dreamland before he knew it. Marc’s phone battery was in the red line when he had woken up only 18% left. So he decided to write in his phone notes just in case something were to happen to him or he didn’t make it back out. As he was doing this and finishing up he felt like he was being watched. Just had an eerie unsettling feeling of an evil presence nearby.
This gave Marc anxiety so after noting all this in his phone he turned it off to then save energy. His last few words on his phone when it was discovered two years after a missing persons report was filed said im actually feeling scared like I gotta leave now so I’m going to leave the cabin and head west as far as I can before next nightfall. I love you mom and dad and I hope I see you guys soon.
This was the last anyone ever heard of Marc when his phone was found busted up 25 miles away from crater lake under a group of smaller pine trees. No foul play was discovered and not one sign of Marc or his belongings were ever found to this day. Some say he stumbled into a haunted cabin and something evil took him never to be seen again. Others say he just got lost and ran outta food and water and eventually had succumbed to dehydration and the animals cleaned him up. But no bones, pieces of clothing anything was ever found.
Marc’s parents were able to gather his original tent and camping supplies as that had not been messed with up by crater lake. What do you think happened to Marc? Was he abducted, torn to pieces by animals, something paranormal in those woods got him? Another unsolved missing person in the woods story. Where do these people go? What is happening to them?

You make pretty regrettable mistakes when you're desperate. Unfortunately, desperation would go on to cost me much more than I ever thought possible.
When I was 19 years old my financial situation wasn't great. In what was left of a crumbling home would be my recovering addict twin sister, and myself. The unfortunate state of our home was all from the even more unfortunate passing of our parents just five years prior. The two hadn't died tragically by any means, thankfully. No.. our parents died of old age, a consequence of having us kids later in life, while not being able to take on the financial burden that would be.. us.
My sister was making the early steps into the college lifestyle, doing her best to stay afloat with my support in funding. Money was tight for the two of us, but as she became more well off on her own, the more content she was with severing the last remaining tie to her childhood.. me.
I didn't hate Xel for her decision, if anything I understood her distancing from this life.. even if it saddened me. So then it was just me! Left to a house with a hole in the ceiling. Believe it or not, life wasn't all to bad even with how considerably down in the dumps it otherwise seemed to be.
However, content as I might have been, it's human nature to want more than you have. Can't say I was to greedy to look for some comfortability in my own home..
And so there it was! The glistening letters of ink outlining my salvation. An advertisement I'd found plastered onto the wall of the small booth I sat at while I waited for the bus to carry me off to work. "$5,000 to those compatible for a recent scientific breakthrough." Under any 'normal' circumstances I would consider this a scam. Hell, I was skeptical as I scanned the letters. Had I been told of this opportunity through spam call or text I would've glossed right over it just as anyone else would have.. but I was desperate.
I think it was the fact that someone, some real person had to have put this paper up on this wall gave me some glimmer of hope for a quick cash grab. Listed bellow the promise of money was details for a number to call regarding interest in the proposition.
I took the bait.. I saw the line, and like some idiot I clamped my teeth down just for that hook to sweep me away.
The corporation I'd come to know as, "The Arsaction," would see me just a week later. There was a brief consultation. They took my weight, age, all things I would've expected. It wasn't until they pulled records regarding my familial situation that I began to find this whole ordeal.. suspicious.
To 'begin' to find things suspicious only at this point is foolish, something I full understand, but I feel the need to reinforce the fact that I, Lex McKarthy, was desperate.
Everything by this point seemed pretty legit. The blood tests, the doctors office, the tests were.. reasonable. What was I to suspect? Everything was so vague, and truth be told I honestly didn't even expect anything to come of this visit. All the doctors, all the consultants seemed so disinterested in my features.. but when they realized I had no one, everything seemed to change.
Suddenly ears perked, suddenly doors closed, suddenly I was.. exactly what they were looking for. Every feature of myself was so painfully average. I was anyman, I was.. nothing. Despite their best efforts to be discreate, I knew it was only the fact that nobody would come looking for me that peaked their interests.
My stomach dropped when I was faced with a pen in my hand, trembling over that NDA. Every fiber of me cursed myself for never considering putting just a minute of research into 'The Arsaction,' however a video briefing would ease my nerves. Nobody knew who The Arsaction was. There was no public record of their existence, and that NDA would make sure that they continued to never exist.
I was stupid, I was irrational, I was in over my head! But I was desperate.. and I had nothing else.
"I have nothing else.. I have nothing else!"
It was a mantra I chanted as I was injected with that substance. The substance that turned my blood orange, made my skin freakishly thin.
And then I went home.
That was it. I was given my sum of money, and I was sent home. They told me I was, "good to go," and no number of questions would get a one of them to speak. I was only met with who I'd assume to be security guiding me out of the building.
Not a word more of what I'd just been injected with, only given instructions to not dwell on mirrors for too long. That was it, just some ominous instructions. So I left, as befuddled as I arrived. Relief washed over me as I made my way home. The anxiety I'd received from such an ominous buildup was all waved by the fact that I was somehow just.. good to go?
Relief quickly turned to panic as the inherent nature of it all being too good to be true set in. I expected to die, I expected some visit from government agents, I expected anything and everything, but as months turned to years.. Nothing ever came of it. No mirror ever caused me any harm, which was its own anxiety I'd have to overcome simply because of the absurd nature or such a request.
I hoped it was.. some prank. Everything was well... for a time. Until my sister called.
I just.. watched the phone ring. My sister, someone who I hadn't spoken to in upwards of 8 years was suddenly ringing me up. When I finally had answered, her question left me speechless.
"Hey Lex. would you happen to remember Mom's recipe for that egg toast? I think I left the cookbook at your place."
I felt my ears ring. The question was so.. casual. She entirely skipped the part where we discussed how she's been, how I'm doing. She spoke to me like we'd hung out only days ago.
At the time I'd thought I was just being dramatic, but looking back on it I can only justify my own hesitation to respond.
"W-..what?"
I stammered like a fool, but I was firm in my disbelief.
"Yeah, it should be in the book on the counter?"
I looked over my shoulder to my kitchen counter, past the toaster I never bought, and over to the book she spoke of. My jaw hung heavy, the whole interaction feeling like a dream.
With one hand I held the phone, and with the other I began to skim the pages of the book letting my eyes linger on mom's cinnamon roll recipe for a bit longer than intended.
"Lex.. are you ok?"
My sister inquired on the other end. I suddenly felt sick.. falling the the ground and laying on my back. This wasn't happening. It never did.
"Lex? Are you alright!?"
My sister repeated back more urgently, followed by her assurance that she would be over soon to check on him. But.. no company ever arrived. After hours the line just dropped, and I fell asleep there on that cold, wooden floor, paralyzed with a feeling I couldn't wrap my head around.
This never happened.
I never left.
I woke up in my bed in a cold sweat. I checked the time, greeted with a humble 4:37 in the morning. What troubled me was the fact that the date had been set back 7 years.
Of course it wasn't all so clear to me. After 7 long years I'd honestly forgotten about this day. This was the day that I'd set out for my graciously provided $5,000
7 years of my fucking life.. I would chalk it all up to that.. STUFF that they injected me with.. what was it? Phantom Drive? I could call it all some terrible drug trip, some construct defined by some insane psychedelic, but if that were the case, how was I here now? BEFORE I'd ever taken the drug?
This is a dream. I convinced myself I hadn't miraculously gone back in time, that 7 years of my life weren't a lie, but if that were the case, why was my blood still that damn orangy hue?
I'm losing sleep over this itch in my brain. It's like some taste of blood in my mouth has soured out the idea that letting my eyelids squeeze shut could further obscure my definite understanding of when I stood.
A day I remember so vividly at the ripe age of 14 years old, now 12 years ago, I awoke to the sweet smell of cinnamon rolls filling the air. All was right with the world, all as I climbed from the messy sheets in my dark room. It was abundantly clear that the bulb of the light beside my bed had burnt out over the course of the night, and the closed blinds didn't aid my vision as I stumbled around my room in search of my door.
An oddity presented itself in the fashion of aimless wondering. Where was the nob? One I'd become so accustomed to.. not needing to open? I'd never closed my door. Not the previous night, not ever. Not to the behest of my mother who'd always taken annoyance to closed doors, some trait of my grandmother's to which my mom had unfortunately inherited.
Breakfast took the form of two strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, and slightly burnt French-Toast. My previous assumption of cinnamon rolls unfortunately missed the mark, however I wouldn't object to this. I wish I could convince myself that I was wrong. Something so mundane, something so insignificant to the events in this story, however the first notable instance of a curse that I couldn't pinpoint
My mother had already seen herself off to work by this point, and so I was faced with the responsibilities of seeing myself out to the bus. Some routine I'd become far too used to; The minutes passed, leaving me with nothing to do but wait by the door for a buss that would never arrive.
If the door being shut and the cinnamon rolls being a different meal entirely had left me with a minor confusion, then suddenly being seated in the passenger seat of my mother's car listening to the nonchalant complaints from my twin sister about the nuances freshmen year math shot me into a disarray I couldn't possibly quantify.
I think one of the scariest things for me is the fact that I thought nothing of it. I hadn't freaked out. No scene was made to express what should have been one of the more disturbing instances of my childhood.
I could chalk up the mistaking breakfast for something else as me just misremembering events.. But something unmistakable is the fact that somehow my mom both never drove me to school, yet the fact that she.. always had.
If you're confused, I understand. I am too, because the contradicting nature of my memory is something that haunts me to no end.
Things were easier as a child. That's often the case, but ever sense I stopped aging, I've begun to notice the oddities presented by life that are.. inexplainable. I'm not even sure where to start with researching my predicament. Hell, this is reddit! If I couldn't find an answer here, I doubt there is an answer to be found at all.
The Mandela Effect is something that I feel needs no introduction. To those who don't know, the Mandela Effect, in brief, is a phenomenon that incurs when you "misremember" something. Think of a card, now imagine you saw that card as a child and it had a single heart drawn on it's center. Now, years later you are discussing this card with someone else just for them to tell you that the heart you swear, the heart you KNOW you saw.. was a diamond. You tell them they are wrong, you shake your head, chuckle nervously.. But then they present you with the card.
Your stomach drops. This can't be the card, there is no way! Only it is the card, and when you come to the realization that it is in fact the card you'd seen as a child, you are filled with a mix of confusion, fascination, and quite possibly denial.
Most often, the Mandela Effect is associated with silly things like books titles, and board game mascots, but my experience is far beyond such things. It's the only phenomenon I've found that seems even within the realm of explaining my predicament. Problem is, the more I think, the more is wrong.
All of me wishes it all ended with that one childhood experience! But it didn't. In fact, the more I consider my childhood, the more contradictions I notice. Part of me believes I could handle this if it was limited to my childhood, but it's not. This.. experience... It effects my every day!
I'm not losing my mind, I'm just picking up crumbs that I never dropped. Not.. losing my mind, just finding more "mind" than the inventory should account for.

So about a year ago… my husband lost his wedding band. It’s a gold thick band that is hard to miss with your eyes. As he leaves for work at 5am he wakes me up panicking that his ring is missing.
We are currently staying in an RV. We looked up and down the whole trailer. RVs are not mansions… we couldn’t find it in the small space we had. I told him not to worry and that I’ll stay back and spend the day searching for it.
Later that day I come home from the gym and I start cooking lunch, as I finished my food I placed my paper plate on the island and sit back down to scroll on my phone. Once I get up to throw the plate away, his wedding band was underneath the plate.
I start to panic slightly because I’ve never experienced items appearing out of nowhere. I call my mother in law and my mom explaining what happened since my husband wasn’t answering (context: I hate calling people, I prefer texting… but that just goes to show how spooked I was that I had to call someone right away). Later on I told my husband and he was speechless too. My MIL said not to touch it or wear it until we pray for it when my husband comes home.
One of our friends who’s close with God mentioned that she received word that someone was jealous of my husband. And whatever was going on with his wedding band was some sort of attack. We prayed with oil for our ring, our home and marriage and surrounded the RV with some kosher salt.
Im still baffled by this today so let me know what you guys think?? I’d love to hear others thoughts or opinions. TIA

Happens every year on Mother’s Day, I always feel so much worse, so much more pain than usual seeing everybody thanking their mothers or any mother like figure in my life, while I have to go and visit a grave, I miss her every single day so to all the men and women who have lost their mothers I feel you, and I love you guys.