I feel like close friends normally give each other gifts, but sometimes it could be taken the wrong way. It could somehow be taken as romanticism. I remember the old days in high school around ten years ago when I thought I was alloromantic and tried to fit in with my peers. I remembered today how great it is to give gifts and be close to another person. Is gift-giving to others mainly a romantic thing in relation to amatonormativity, unless it is gifts for a holiday (Christmas, birthday, etc.)? What is the line between romantic gift-giving and normal gift giving? I feel like a lot of alloromantic allosexual people might find it weird to receive gifts from someone because people typically think that it is weird to get close to people if they aren't having romantic/sexual relations with them. However I might consider having a relation where I get someone gifts because it is enjoyable? I would love to find a platonic friend who I can be close with (although it is difficult as I find most people around me unsuitable to have a personal relationship). I wish there was more of a gift-giving culture.

If you’re someone who had no food allergies growing up and then randomly developed them in adulthood, was your first experience with the allergy symptoms like rash/mouth tingling or more severe like chest pain/shortness of breath - anaphylaxis type symptoms?
I don’t have any food allergy and I’m 27 but have anxiety about developing one in adulthood. I have allergies to a lot of outdoor things and pets. I just fear I’m going to develop a food or insect allergy and my first reaction will be anaphylaxis and I’ll be like alone or die before an ambulance can get me 🙃

So, I'm presenting here a basic game loop which I've always used since my teen days. It's basically pretty standard, but a few soft changes, primarily when dice are rolled, cause non-obvious effects which I invite you to consider.

1. GM Describes the scene
2. Thoughts This phase is used when something is unusual or dramatic and can sometimes be cut out for speed. Basically, you go around the table and ask the player what their character is thinking or feeling about the situation. This gives everyone a chance to say something before any actions are performed, gets the player involved in the character's thought processes and let's them give exposition that brings more depth to the character. It helps get them into character while reinforcing that everyone will get a chance to speak!
3. Actions Now that we know how everyone is thinking or feeling, I ask each character what they are doing in the scene, again, speaking to each player in order. If we get to a skill check or more than a minute or two passes, we cut-scene to the next player and ask "while they are doing that, what are YOU doing?" Do NOT roll any checks!
4. Results As you get back around the table, resolve the check that led to the cut-scene and then ask what that player does next (back to step 3) Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

This does a few things. First, people have much less of a tendency to talk over each other because they know they will get a chance to speak. You can speak out of turn if its to another player, like "No! Don't touch that!" You also focus on each player which means that players that are shy or might otherwise not get a chance to speak, will always have somewhat equal play time. Everyone gets a turn.
You avoid rolling checks before the switch for two reasons. First, it adds a degree of suspense. Second, if the next player knows if the check was successful, they will play as if their character is acting after the other rather than simultaneously. This is important to match the role-play with the passage of time.
Imagine if player 1 is picking a lock. If they fail, this quickly devolves into "I try too" from the other players. If they don't know the result, they now have to deal with what to do with the passage of time while someone works on the lock. Maybe they stand there and wait, and that drives home the passage of time as each player waits on the one picking the lock. I will ask what they do while they wait, where are they looking? This prompts some to guard a doorway with a readied action or begin searching an area, or whatever that character is good at. This can even be routine where each player is busy doing something specific and helps differentiate the roles in the party to form a cohesive team.
The players know these events happen simultaneously. If the lock does not open, we ask player 1 (who just failed) what they do next, which might be to continue working on the lock (a good time to add a tension pool die if you use that mechanic). The other players have hopefully chosen their own actions and will be less likely to "me too" things while really driving home the passage of time, and the players that are just waiting become as impatient as their characters.
It's worked very well, especially in large groups where quieter players sometimes get left out.

My main hypothesis: we need to recognize that we have more power than we think. Celebrities low key depend on us and use what we say and do in this social media ecosystem. So here’s the thing: this episode confirmed for me that ariana is eloquent when it comes to her own issues but doesn’t defend Katie who is her biggest ride or die. Ariana literally checks her nails while Katie defends her.
in spite of lala being the worst, is she really wrong about who in the cast is smart enough to base their persona off the zeitgeist?

1. Ariana used to have an account on this sub Reddit where she would respond to comments and posts. She made a tumblr diary post designed to gaslight the audience into believing Miami girl never happened.
   
2. Reddit theories have been mentioned multiple times this season in reference to Katie. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had issues with Ariana off camera: name one time Ariana went to bat for someone else
   
   1. Meanwhile given the multiple testimonies about James from people such as Rachel’s friend, the waitress who was groped, and Kristen —all about DV. is it really a surprise that he uses being on the right side of the issues via lurking on Reddit to get on our good side? When it’s effective?
3. Lala probably gets her best takes from Facebook. Or she just wants to be a contrarian which means she’s wrong 80% of the time. She doesn’t have to kiss Ariana’s ass in order to recognize she’s losing the culture war because she’s being a shitty feminist.
   
4. The Toms try to use social media for PR. they are just way worse at it. We are lucky that their idiocy acts as a self report of their gross bro bullshit
   

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 four 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. Of course to disturb my peace, 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.
"Lex? Are you alright!?"
My sister repeated back more urgently, followed by her assurance that she would be over soon to check on me. 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.
When I finally gathered the composure to stand I would try to call Xel back. A frown dawned my face when she never answered. Somehow this didn’t surprise me, and I was lead to believe that she had never called me in the first place. The thing is, the book was still on my counter, and her call was still logged on my phone.
Still, I hadn’t known Xel to do something like this. It wasn’t in her nature to do something so cruel, to act like all this time hadn’t passed.
But it has. Years have gone by and nothing but radio silence from her, a silence I feared would go on. The following days I would continue to attempt to call her, but to no avail.
I had to come to terms with the fact that, as quickly as she had returned too my life, Xel was once again gone. I’m ashamed to admit that, just as I’d forgotten that experience with The Arsaction several years ago, I’d forgotten about my own sister.
Even if she wouldn’t call back, I was inspired to begin looking through old family pictures, and this is where the oddities would start to fester.
I found a picture of Xel and I just.. eating breakfast. Usually my mom was off to work by then, but it was a special occasion. It was a day I remember so vividly. I was 14 years old at this time, and had awoke to the sweet smell of cinnamon rolls filling the air. After all, it was Xel’s and I’s birthday. 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.
As I stop and think now, I’m understanding that my memories are.. overlapping. Other mirrored versions of myself and my memories will occasionally cross paths, and when they do it causes me to misremember. Not because I don’t remember, but because my memories conflict with one another.
I wish I could see someone about this, but I’m worried the consequences of me seeking someone out.. still, we make dumb mistakes when we are desperate, and I’m starting to feel desperate again.

I was looking at the comments and the Girls Never Die music video on youtube and was really interested reading the english translations from all of the Korean comments. Many were recounting how the song gave them strength amidst depression.
Others were contrasting how New Jeans portrays adolescence in Ditto vs tripleS in Girls Never Cry. I feel like they see Ditto capturing a nostalgic and playful view of youth, full of carefree moments with friends. Whereas, "Girls Never Die" dives into the more complex and often harsh realities of growing up, portraying themes of struggle, resilience, and the determination to keep going despite hardships.
Not trying to start a fanwar but just an interesting topic. It is interesting because even though most of the Ditto music video involved friends dancing with each other, the ending is definitely darker.
Overall, I'm glad tripleS is being appreciated for their artistry and it's incredible that the lyrics are resonating so strongly with Koreans.
Some of the comments:

• "누군가의 10대는 화려했겠지만, 또 누군가는 암울한 과거였을 것이다. 트리플에스는 저마다 가지고 있는 어두운 시절을 이 노래로 위로해준다."
  • "Someone's teenage years might have been glamorous, but for others, it was a dark past. TripleS comforts each person's dark times with this song."
• "뉴진스는 화목한 가정에서 자란 10대 느낌이라면 트리플에스는 가정환경 불행한 10대아이들이 서로 의지하면서 살아가는느낌,,, 둘다 좋음ㅠㅠㅠㅠ"
  • "NewJeans gives the feeling of teenagers growing up in a harmonious family, while TripleS feels like teenagers with unhappy family environments who rely on each other to live... Both are goodㅠㅠㅠㅠ"
• "그래 모두의 학창시절이 디토는 아니잖아 다시해보자"
  • "That's right, not everyone's school days are like 'Ditto'. Let's try again." (Lyric from the song)
• "우울증 진단은 6년 전 약 먹기 시작한건 4년 전인 06인데 온갖거 다했어요 살고싶지 않다가 아니라 자살이 너무 하고싶었는데 사람들 다 힘든데 제 시신 치울 사람들 생각하니까 갑자기 죽을 정도의 사고가 나기를 계속 바랬어요. '다시 해볼까' 라는 말에 공감은 되지 않지만 뮤비랑 음원을 계속 보고 듣게 돼요. 아직 살 힘이 남았나봐요 감사합니다 불완전한 청춘을 눈으로 볼 수 있게 해주셔서."
  • "I was diagnosed with depression 6 years ago and started medication 4 years ago in '06. I've tried everything. It wasn't that I didn't want to live, but I really wanted to commit suicide. But thinking about people who would have to deal with my body made me constantly hope for an accident that would kill me. The words 'Shall we try again' don’t resonate with me, but I keep watching the music video and listening to the song. I guess I still have some strength left to live. Thank you for showing the imperfect youth."
• "아무리 나이를 먹어도 상처받았던 10대 소녀가 그대로 어딘가에 잠들어 있는 사람도 많겠죠? 제가 그런 사람이예요 오래전 좌절했던 소녀였던 저는 다 극복해내지 못한채 겉만 어른이 된지가 소녀였던 시절보다 더 길어졌네요 그시절의 저를 위로해줘서 고마워요"
  • "No matter how old we get, there are many people who still have the hurt teenage girl inside them somewhere, right? I am one of those people. I was a girl who was frustrated a long time ago, and I haven't overcome it all, so I've been an adult on the outside longer than I was a girl. Thank you for comforting that girl from those days."
• "이제 곧 30대인데 왜 뮤비보면서 울고있냐 얼마전 우울증 판정받고 많은 위로를 받았어요 감사합니다"
  • "I'm almost in my 30s, so why am I crying while watching this music video? I was recently diagnosed with depression and received a lot of comfort. Thank you."
• "아..진짜 댓글이 뮤비를 완성하네 눈물 나온다 '다시 해볼까' '끝까지 가볼래 포기는 안할래'... 맘먹은거 어케 알고 이시기에 딱 나왔는지.. 청춘 드라마 뉴진스 감성 보면 내가 아는 현실과는 너무 달라서 이질감?이 들었는데 이 노래, 뮤비는 왜이리 좋은건지.. 과거는 잊고 다시 해봐야지 진짜 꼭 쓰러져도 일어나..."
  • "The comments really complete the music video, bringing tears to my eyes. 'Shall we try again', 'I’ll go to the end, I won’t give up'... How did they know what I was feeling and release this at the right time... When I watch youth dramas or NewJeans's vibes, it feels so different from the reality I know, almost alien? But why do I love this song and music video so much... I must forget the past and try again, really, even if I fall down, get back up."
• "제네리이션때부터 느꼈던 뉴진스랑 반대의 10대 감성... 맞아 10대시절이 항상 밝고 힘차지만은 않아 오히려 가장 고민많고 별거아닌거에 상처받고 할 나이였지 누군가의 어린시절은 뉴진스였겠지만 나 포함 누군가는 트리플에스야 정말 땅에 쳐박히는듯이 괴롭고 몸부림치다가도 그래도 다시해보자 하고 버텼으니 지금 이 노래를 듣는거고... 끝까지 가볼래 포기는 안 할래 난."
  • "From Generation to now, the opposite of NewJeans's teenage emotions... That's right, teenage years aren't always bright and energetic. It's actually the time when you worry the most and get hurt over trivial things. Someone's childhood might have been like NewJeans, but for me and some others, it's TripleS. Really struggling and suffering as if being pushed to the ground, but still deciding to try again and enduring, so I'm listening to this song now... I'll go to the end, I won't give up."
• "타돌들이 팔려는 여자 아이돌의 10대 20대는 제작자의 시선으로 물들어져 있음. 싱그러움, 10대의 장난기, 귀여움, 청순함 때로는 로리타. 근데 트리플에스는 데뷔때부터 늘 10대, 20대의 여성의 시선에서 그렇게 마냥 싱그럽고 귀엽지만은 않은 위태로움, 불안함과 그럼에도 불구하고 어떻게든 살아보려는 그 청춘의 현실감을 보여줌. 그렇게 주소비층의 공감을 이끌어내면서도 노래 퀄이랑 뮤비 퀄 컨셉 퀄 다 챙김. 얘넨 진짜 그냥 그런 다인원 그룹이 아님. 프로듀싱이 미쳤고 진짜 잘됐으면 좋겠다."
  • "The teenage and twenties female idols that other groups try to sell are tinted with the producer's perspective: freshness, teenage mischief, cuteness, purity, sometimes Lolita. But TripleS, from their debut, has always shown the precariousness, anxiety, and yet the reality of youth trying to live somehow from the perspective of teenage and twenties women. They draw empathy from their main audience while maintaining high quality in their music, music videos, and concepts. They're really not just another large group. The producing is crazy good, and I really hope they succeed."

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 four 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. Of course to disturb my peace, 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.
"Lex? Are you alright!?"
My sister repeated back more urgently, followed by her assurance that she would be over soon to check on me. 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.
When I finally gathered the composure to stand I would try to call Xel back. A frown dawned my face when she never answered. Somehow this didn’t surprise me, and I was lead to believe that she had never called me in the first place. The thing is, the book was still on my counter, and her call was still logged on my phone.
Still, I hadn’t known Xel to do something like this. It wasn’t in her nature to do something so cruel, to act like all this time hadn’t passed.
But it has. Years have gone by and nothing but radio silence from her, a silence I feared would go on. The following days I would continue to attempt to call her, but to no avail.
I had to come to terms with the fact that, as quickly as she had returned too my life, Xel was once again gone. I’m ashamed to admit that, just as I’d forgotten that experience with The Arsaction several years ago, I’d forgotten about my own sister.
Even if she wouldn’t call back, I was inspired to begin looking through old family pictures, and this is where the oddities would start to fester.
I found a picture of Xel and I just.. eating breakfast. Usually my mom was off to work by then, but it was a special occasion. It was a day I remember so vividly. I was 14 years old at this time, and had awoke to the sweet smell of cinnamon rolls filling the air. After all, it was Xel’s and I’s birthday. 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.
As I stop and think now, I’m understanding that my memories are.. overlapping. Other mirrored versions of myself and my memories will occasionally cross paths, and when they do it causes me to misremember. Not because I don’t remember, but because my memories conflict with one another.
I wish I could see someone about this, but I’m worried the consequences of me seeking someone out.. still, we make dumb mistakes when we are desperate, and I’m starting to feel desperate again.

I don’t even know where to start honestly but anyway i guess im 14F and just lost a loved one a few weeks ago but it feels like the realization of that just kicked in when i seen his urn for the first time two days ago and I don’t know how to live anymore I don’t want to die but i keep having these thoughts of dying and it’s really overwhelming me because nothing helps anymore and I need some advice from someone who has gone through this or something similar to it at least and how to stop getting those thoughts please help every time I get the thoughts I shoot them down and tell myself how stupid they are but they just won’t go away help me someone please give me advice anything please Thank you Love you all💚💙

L the AA community around here knows.who I am. They weren't supposed to talk but they do and I heard about my ex.talking about me. Not in a bad way, but in an intrusive sense. Now I have a job in emergency medicine that I won't be able to share my trauma. On top of that I am am trying to join up because if someone that I use to watch his drug tests lost his job twice now and isn't doing well for himself. I told him I would go to a meeting with him and it seems like the only thing he is excited about. He now calls me every couple days because he has no one else that cares, his words. I am worried because he reminds me of someone who let himself go an died last year, so I am here for him.

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 four 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. Of course to disturb my peace, 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.
"Lex? Are you alright!?"
My sister repeated back more urgently, followed by her assurance that she would be over soon to check on me. 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.
When I finally gathered the composure to stand I would try to call Xel back. A frown dawned my face when she never answered. Somehow this didn’t surprise me, and I was lead to believe that she had never called me in the first place. The thing is, the book was still on my counter, and her call was still logged on my phone.
Still, I hadn’t known Xel to do something like this. It wasn’t in her nature to do something so cruel, to act like all this time hadn’t passed.
But it has. Years have gone by and nothing but radio silence from her, a silence I feared would go on. The following days I would continue to attempt to call her, but to no avail.
I had to come to terms with the fact that, as quickly as she had returned too my life, Xel was once again gone. I’m ashamed to admit that, just as I’d forgotten that experience with The Arsaction several years ago, I’d forgotten about my own sister.
Even if she wouldn’t call back, I was inspired to begin looking through old family pictures, and this is where the oddities would start to fester.
I found a picture of Xel and I just.. eating breakfast. Usually my mom was off to work by then, but it was a special occasion. It was a day I remember so vividly. I was 14 years old at this time, and had awoke to the sweet smell of cinnamon rolls filling the air. After all, it was Xel’s and I’s birthday. 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.
As I stop and think now, I’m understanding that my memories are.. overlapping. Other mirrored versions of myself and my memories will occasionally cross paths, and when they do it causes me to misremember. Not because I don’t remember, but because my memories conflict with one another.
I wish I could see someone about this, but I’m worried the consequences of me seeking someone out.. still, we make dumb mistakes when we are desperate, and I’m starting to feel desperate again.

This is my list of the top 10 non hardcore emo albums post 2000. I did not include any hardcore or true pop punk albums. Obviously this comes down to personal preference, and the emo genre is so diverse this was a difficult list to make. I think I did a decent job of putting together a solid list of diverse emo albums. Let me know your top 10 list! I want to note that I only chose one album from every artist to go on this list. I honestly believe 5 of the 10 bands have more than one album that could potentially make this list, but I wanted to give a nod to a few other lesser known bands and albums. I put the list with no commentary first so people would not be forced to wade through my reviews to see the list.
My Top 10 Emo Albums: 1. Turnover - Peripheral Vision 2. Citizen - Youth 3. Movements - Feel Something 4. Tigers Jaw - Self Titled 5. The Hotelier - Home, Like No Place There Is 6. City and Colour - Bring Me Your Love 7. A Great Big Pile of Leaves - Snack Attack 8. Pinegrove - Marigold 9. Gleemer - Down Through 10. Foxing - The Albatross
Honorable Mention: 1. Secondhand Serenade - Awake 2. For When You Can’t Breathe - A Home That Doesn’t Exist
Quick Album Reviews:

1. Turnover - Peripheral Vision This is and will always be my top album. A true masterpiece to my ears. The music is dreamy, but they still kept some of the heaviness from earlier albums. That Roland JC-120 tone will always be legendary. The lyrics are super emo, but it doesn't sound dark unless you really listen. I have played this album at the cafe, and more than once I have had someone mention, “This music is so happy” lol. Go read the lyrics and get back to me on that. The lyrical content is approachable and relatable. Solid 10/10.
   
2. Citizen - Youth This album simultaneously rocks and jams. The guitars can be heavy at times, but the mix of calm and heavy parts is a genius execution. The Vocals are something of magic. The mix of the clean and yelling vocals not only fits the style but also adds a ton of dynamics. The lyrics are gut wrenching. Songs like “The Night I Drove Alone” are an all too real description of what living with suicidal ideation is like. This is the closest thing to being a hardcore album on this list, except maybe the Hotelier album, but I believe it is much more approachable than your average hardcore album, as the vocals do not really scream. 9.5/10
   
3. Movements - Feel Something This album does not rock as hard as “Youth” but It does jam twice as hard. Now don’t get me wrong: it rocks…hard. The lyrics and melodies on this album may be my favorite on any emo album. The lyrics are clever and witty, and the melodies are smooth and memorable. This is an album I have to sing along to when I listen to it. I believe the first 5 songs on this album may be the best 5 song stretch on any emo album ever produced. These songs together get a 10/10. The only things I didn't really care for at first were the spoken word parts. The words are great, but spoken word just really isn't my thing. It takes me back to my days in the evangelical church, but I have grown to love it. 9.5/10
   
4. Tigers Jaw - Self Titled This is a classic emo album. Personally it is not even my favorite Tiger’s Jaw album. For my personal taste “Spin” takes the cake, but there is no denying that the Self Titled album was more successful and had a larger influence on emo music as a whole. The music is very raw. It could have easily been produced in a bedroom, though it was recorded in a real studio. The guitars and vocals are both pretty raw. It has very little pop influence in the sense that it is not very polished. Let’s be honest, that is one of the major draws to the album. The lyrics, though silly at times, are very real and raw. “What about your friends, do they make you happy?” “Lie to me like you used to” “We are made from chemicals, but what holds us together is much more than that” This album showcases great lyricism and melody building. 9/10
   
5. The Hotelier - Home, Like No Place There Is Many avid emo fans consider this album to be the best emo album ever produced. I agree that it is one of the best. The music ranges from pretty heavy to chiller alt rock. It does have some screamo style vocals, but that is not the majority of the vocals, which is why it's not on the hardcore list. “Life In Drag” is 100% screamo, “Housebroken” is a chill alt song, and songs like “Among The Wildflowers” and “Your Deep Rest” are an excellent combination of both. The lyrics are another example of top tier lyricism in the emo genre. The song “Your Deep Rest” may be the most gut wrenching song I have ever heard in any genre. 9/10
   
6. City and Colour - Bring Me Your Love This is the only acoustic album to make the top 10. I listened to this album from 2008 to 2015 before I even realized that most people even considered it emo. I just saw it as an awesome acoustic album. The music overall has a pretty dark sound especially for an acoustic album. The sound reminds me a bit of The Spill Canvas’ “Sunsets & Car Crashes” album but it is much more refined and has a more pop style production. Dallas’ advanced guitar skills and beautiful and soulful vocals are really a thing of beauty. My first year in college this was my drink and be sad album. It is incredibly dark. “Every man needs a muse and mine could be the bottle” “It's passion, it's not love. Infatuation never ends up right. At least I won't be alone tonight.” “We celebrate the lives of the dead. It's like a man's best party, only happens when he dies.” 8.5/10
   
7. A Great Big Pile of Leaves - Snack Attack A Great Big Pile of Leaves is the least popular band to make this list, but honestly one of the most original emo bands I’ve ever heard. This album has a super fun and happy sound. The music jams and groves very hard, while having a calming effect on the listener. This is a great album to take a nap to. The lyrics can be pretty silly with songs about a wild mouse in the house that they consider a pet, slumber parties, and going back to school. They prove that being happy and joyous are also worthwhile emotions. It is not all fun and games though, it also includes themes of those you trust letting you down, and the struggle of being introverted. I have never related to a song more than “Ambervision” 8.5/10
   
8. Pinegrove - Marigold I'm sure there will be plenty of people who will question why I chose this album over all the other bangers Pinegrove has released. It is one of Pinegrove’s least successful albums. They have obviously had several hits bigger than any of the songs on this album, but the overall album is so cohesive and perfectly executed. Every song’s sound fits perfectly into the style of the whole album. My biggest complaint about Pinegrove, and the reason I disliked them for so long, is because they have such a country (It is fair to say folk) sound. I grew up in East Texas where country music is king, and I always hated it with a passion. This is the album where they leaned the most heavily into the country sound. The melodies have a slight twang and the harmonies are obviously country inspired. The reason I chose this album is because they were able to take elements of music that I hate and make me love it. So Good! 8.5/10
   
9. Gleemer - Down Through This is the most recent album to make the top 10 list. This band is also fairly unknown. I actually did not discover them until maybe a month ago. It may be fair to say that my introduction to this album is too fresh to make it on this list, but It is simply that good. The first time I heard it I knew it would be one of my favorites. It has that dreamy aspect that made Peripheral Vision such a huge hit. I dream of the day that every emo band realizes that a strong chorus effect and intense reverbs are their friend. It is a bit heavier than PV, not by much. The lyrics are very poetic and leave the meaning a bit up to interpretation but they are dark and without a doubt emo. The choruses are catchy, but they do not quite have the sing along factor of PV. Dreamy Emo/Shoegaze for the win! 8/10
   
10. Foxing - The Albatross I actually saw Foxing open up for Tigers Jaw back in 2017, before I had ever heard their recorded music. I really enjoyed it. They slap live. A few months after the concert I was playing random emo music in the cafe and the song “the Medic” came on. I was jamming to it and in the middle of the song I realized, “Holy shit, I saw these guys live”. This is another album that has a crazy 5 song stretch. The first 5 songs are on another level. 9.5/10. “Pent Up In A Blind” is a short interlude instrumental but it perfectly bridges “The Medic” and “Rory” which are undeniably the best two songs on the album. It is dark and depressing, but their musicality is something I have never heard from an emo band. The sound on this album is very unique in the genre. They use a trumpet (which is sick live) and the guitars have a slight midwest emo style, with the sweeping guitar parts on some of the songs, but the tone is unlike what you would hear in midwest emo. The rest of the album is solid, but very instrumental heavy which is the only reason the overall album was dropped down to a 8/10
    

Honorable Mention:

1. Secondhand Serenade - Awake In my mind this is the second best acoustic emo album out there. It is much more polished and poppy than anything else that made the actual top 10. The vocals utilize some fairly significant pitch correction, which becomes obvious when you hear the songs live. He uses pitch correction, but it feels more like an effect than it does about fixing vocal imperfections. The vocals needed to be that perfect to fit the style of the music. Secondhand Serenade used amazingly written harmonies to add depth and dynamics to the music. SS utilizes some unique tunings and chords in his music. I learned so much about playing the acoustic guitar from this album. Just like City and Colour I never considered SS an emo band until around 2015. That’s when I looked past the beautiful music and took a deeper look into the lyrics and realized, “Damn, this guy was going through some shit.” I always considered it a love album, as there are some beautiful love songs, but if you look deeper you will see that they are all about trying to fix messed up relationships. Not exactly as happy as the songs sound.
   
2. For When You Can’t Breathe - A Home That Doesn’t Exist This album was just released this year, by an artist that released their first song in 2022. They are almost completely unknown with less than 36,000 monthly listeners on Spotify (most of those have come in the last few months). The newness of the artist does not detract from the perfection of this album. It has dreamy guitar tones, especially on the verses. The choruses have a strong pop punk feel. The vocals feature both super clean poppy melodies, and yelling and screaming. It kind of feels like a mix of Secondhand Serenade’s clean vocals, Peripheral Vision’s guitar tones, Mayday Parade’s choruses, and the raw vocals of Hotelier. Seriously a cool mix of music and styles. It is everything my 17 year old scene self hoped emo music would be in 15 years.
   

Asgard 1827
The Trial of Asgard made national news in Valhalla . Brunhilde stood there in front of many gods, each vote determining her faith . Does she live or die ? Only odin can make that judgment. Heimdall opened a pamphlet speaking though his horn “ Brunhilde, eldest sister of the gods ! You stand accused of crimes against Humanity and Goding alike ! How do you plead ? “. Brunhilde rolled her eyes before speaking her mind . “How do I plead ? What crimes are you talking about ? I was making coffee before me and Randgriz were arrested on the spot “ she spoke out . “ Don't play dumb Brunhilde I saw you cast forbidden spells and illegal magic “ Odin told everyone. Despite the bold straight up lie hilde remained as calm as ever . Using magic and spells is more for Gondul and she is too smart to get caught. What did Odin really want and why is he dragging Randgriz of all demigods.“Nonsense ! My sister would never so such a ““SILENCE “ Odin shouted but Randgriz stood her ground ready to face death itself to protect Brunhilde. Meanwhile in another area. Loki used his blades to slice the doors open splitting them in half. Beelzebub was in the middle of an experiment his red eyes shooting at loki. “This better be good “ he whispered. “It is Brunhilde and Randgriz lives are a stake during the trial “ Loki spat out in a panicked state . “ Why should I care about some demigod's life when I don't even care about my own? “ Beel questioned. “It's because I know you hate Odin and would do anything to spite him how dare he label you as a freak when he is just as bad “ Loki answered “ Hurry we are running out of time ! “ . “What do you get out of this ? “ Beel stood up . “ I owe Brunhilde a favor “ A flashback of small Loki almost getting eaten by a giant snake until Brunhilde saved him by slicing it in half with a scythe
. “Be more careful child “ she turned around seeing the scared loki shiver .
The flash back ended with Brunhilde standing off to Odin . “Confess your crime or serve death “ A purple hue spear floated over him. “ I choose death, “ Brunhilde replied. “ Brun no ! “ Randgriz screamed buy it was too late . The spear launched at her body with such force blood she was pushed back to the wall. Brunhilde refused to give up despite all the pain seeping into her. “ This is the end of the road valkyrie…” Odin whispering. The last thing she saw was the gods demonic smile before everything faced to black.
“Is she alive ? “
“Wait “
“What if he killed her ? “
“Wait “
“ Is she dead ?”
“I will slap you “
“Yikes chill emo “
Brunhilde woke up in the lab with purple ,red and green eyes staring at her. “ What just happened…” Brunhilde felt a tight hug from Randgriz “ You are alive! “ Grizz cried out. “Yes …I am …” Brunhilde realized. “However at a price ….” Beel commented . “What did you do demon? “ Brunhilde hissed . “ Weird way of thanking someone for saving your life “ Beel brushed that comment off. The valkyrie gave him a weird look , “ Don't mention it I only did it to piss off Odin “ Beel shrugged. “Wait Mr Beel what “price “ are you talking about ? “ Grizz asked. “Oh well being a demigod you are more human then god now “ Loki jumped in stuttering at every word. “Meaning you can't fly , super strength and speed is gone, no more soul connection or anything that would make you a valkyrie “ Loki explained some more “ I had to do something to get Beel to save your life “. “ I'm not mad Loki “ Brunhilde took a deep breath “ This is just a sign that I need to leave asgard now …” Brunhilde stated . “I'm coming with you “ Randgriz sat next to her “ If I stay I'm dead Valkyrie walking “. “Plus it's no longer possible to survive here, however despite losing most of your powers there is still a place for you “ Beel mentioned “ Loki will take you “ . “Wait, what about our sisters ! “ Randgriz started to cry . Loki and Beelzebub looked at each other. “ We will figure that part out but remember if Odin catches wind they die too “ Loki pointed out . “Yes but faking our deaths still sounds horrible, “ Randgriz shook her head. “ Alright I'll do something you will see them again soon “ Beel told her “ Overall you both need to leave as soon as possible “ . “Follow me there is not much time “ Loki used his magic to make a portal . The scenery revealed a large Eiffel tower and people walking by . “ Once we step in there is no going back “ Randgriz shivered. “We don't have a choice “ Brunhilde stepped in holding Randgriz hand to help her . “Even if we never meet again Lord Loki, thank you for saving my life “ Brunhilde bowed down. “ No Brunhilde…thank you for saving mine “ Loki smiled, closing the portal. “So this is our new home “ Randgriz looked around seeing things that just aren't familiar anymore .
5 years later 1832
Late in the afternoon at the Salle Pleyel concert there was the sound of the piano . The fast paced music made everyone in the area cheer . The musician had blonde brown hair that passed his ears . He waved it back and forth like a rockstar smashing his keyboards so hard you would think he broke them. The crowd cheered his name “LISZT LISZT LISZT LISZT “ , fangirls jumped up and down going crazy over him . Brunhilde and Randgriz sat down in chairs watching the man go , “ His music is very rough and insane ..reminds me of home listening to vikings “ Brunhilde mentioned. “ I don't know who is making me more deaf the music or the annoying girls “ Randgriz covered her ears, “If it's too much for you then why did you bother coming? “ Brunhilde gave her a look. “ I don't wanna be alone “ Grizz admitted, “By the way ,..why are you wearing a suit “ Brunhilde wondered . “ The human women show too much window and well sister you don't show just the window the entire frame is gone leaving only thin fabric “ Randgriz gave her honest opinion. “ I don't need a lesson on modesty “ Brunhilde focused her attention on Liszt who kept playing . His piercing green eyes gave her a wink . “Was he winking at me ? “ Brunhilde turned to Randgriz. “Probably or at the other women fawning over him “ Grizz stated . “Yeah you're right “ Brunhilde relaxed some more “Not like I care he is a massive playboy breaking one heart after another I'm not going to fall for that plus I'm not a noble “. “You are right Hilde you aren't..you are a demigod , from our divine perspective human nobility is just fancy talk for commoner” Grizz whispered.
“ Randy shhhh we aren't in Valhalla anymore “ Brun reminded her , “ If looks could kill you would be a serial killer by now “ Randgriz laughed “ I mean I'm not wrong if an Archduke came to Valhalla and started bossing everyone he would be laughed at “. That comment made by a few folks behind her gave the sisters an irritated glare . “Shhh “ a man right next to Randgriz silenced her with his white glove .The concert ended leaving Liszt to step off the stage . He was quickly surrounded by fans causing Brunhilde to leave until she felt something hit her. Behind her was a red rose , she picked it up seeing the musician wave at her before being surrounded by more fans . “Come on Brunhilde let's go, I don't like parties “ Randgriz dragged her out towards the concert halls . “Oof I'm sorry “ she accidentally bumped into the same guy that sat next to him. He was a short guy with a big nose that spoke with a thick polish accident. “Sorry I'm looking for a man named Liszt “ he mentioned. “Down the hallway but you are going to have to wait in line “ Brunhilde pointed to the left before leaving . The man thanked her before walking in that direction, “He is very cute “ Randgriz thought. “Eh …okay let's go home “ she walked with Randgriz.
A few days later Brunhilde went back to the same concert alone this time to attend a mass . There she sat down reading the holy Bible while waiting for the preacher . “ Excuse me, is this seat taken? “ a familiar voice spoke to her . Brunhilde turned around, seeing the face once again. “Are you Franz Liszt ? “she asked while watching him sit down. “Yes “ Liszt confirmed sitting next to her “ Nice to meet you “ . “ Yeah I see ..” Brunhilde stuck her head back in the Bible. “Sorry if I was bothering you “ Liszt apologized getting ready to leave . “No you weren't, I just have a lot on my mind “ Brunhilde sighed. “Oh ..I hope the church can relax you ..lift those spirits up “ Liszt gave a warm smile. “Yeah” Brunhilde half smiled back , “So where are you from? I've never seen you around? “ he questioned. “Oh I'm from - “ Brunhilde tried to think of an answer. “Don't tell me your from heaven? “ Liszt answered "Wait how did you -”Brunhilde's face turned red from the blushing. “ “ Relax I was just kidding c Liszt chuckled . “Oh right …hahaha” Brunhilde joined the laughter

I was on my way to Copley from Harvard Ave this week. A gentleman on the T, who was seated further down from me, started projecting (but in the MOST CALM, and confident, assured way - which actually made it worse) - "I am feeling really suffocated in Boston, I feel very suffocated so I am just letting everyone know here, that I am going to kill someone. Someone on this train is going to die, I dont like being touched". And the entire atmosphere in the T started changing, and I saw two friends sitting infront of me hold each others hands tight and look at each other like they were positive we were all going to die. This is my first time ever experiencing anything like it, and ofcourse I thought we were all going to die too.
But, like.. there was no action plan? Noone spoke to the man, we all kind of pretended like we were not bothered by this (although it was SO evident that everyone was), there was no emergency button pressed, noone was making any 911 phone calls (I had 911 dialled out on my phone, just hadnt clicked the call button) - and I understand that perhaps we were all trying to pretend like we couldnt hear him, and we did not want to triggeacknowledge his feelings so that everyone could get out at the next stop safely without any chaos.
Up until this point, life still made sense to me.
But then, the STRANGEST thing happened. The minute we reached the next stop, the train took FOREVER to open the door for some random reason, which literally made me feel like I would faint and die just from panic in that situation (and this gentleman is now sometimes silent, and sometime sternly informing everyone that he will definitely have to kill someone to feel less suffocated).
When the door opened, ONLY A HANDFUL OF PEOPLE LEFT THE T? what the hell does that mean? The few people that left clearly shared my sentiment, we were all shaken and teary eyed and disturbed. But how the hell did some people decide to continue to be on the T? That disturbing gentlemen never left...
Are people really THIS thick skinned? I did notice though, that most of the people that left the T with me, like me, were alone. And the ones that stayed back were all in pairs/groups.
Is this relevant? What happened here, like how do people continue to be on a train with somene who is SO CONFIDENT that he has to kill someone (he wasnt yelling, abusing, or acting out you know, which really made it worse in my mind, he was SO in control).
Also apart from my ABSOLUTE CULTURE SHOCK - can anyone help advise as to what one should really be doing in such a situation? Whats the action plan to save everyone? Any tips?

CANCER ZODIAC TAROT READING - UNEXPECTED INCOME MAY 2024

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cJ5mIkLhCyY
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I accidentally posted this to my username instead of my subreddit so here is is:
The Mortgage, Part 3
“Fuck,” I said as I drove to work in the old beater that only started on the fourth try because it could tell that I was pissed off. Ray’s case started at two o’clock, and I was heading to the office to get ready. “Fuck fuck fuckity fucking fuck. Fuck.” I’d wanted to tell Angela about Ray’s case, and how I was sorry that I hadn’t wanted to help him, but now I would, I would help him, and I would win, but then I’d gotten her all riled up on something else, something totally different, something way more serious.
My wife had given me a triple ultimatum: fix things up with her father, save idiot Ray from Sy-Co Corp., and somehow find a downpayment for the place she wanted to buy, in the little townhouse infill project in Bixity. It was like demanding I do a double bank shot, and then run over to the baseball diamond and hit a home run after first pointing to where it would land, Babe Ruth style.
Angela was mad at me, seriously mad. She’d slipped out that morning before I was even awake, sliding quietly past me on the couch. I didn’t realize she was gone until I heard the faint click of the front door closing. I jumped up, tripped over a blanket, and by the time I got up and my robe on, the elevator down the hall dinged, and Angela was gone before I opened the apartment door.
I swore at myself some more and pounded the steering wheel, “I fucked up,” I said, several times as I hit the wheel over and over again, until I accidentally honked it, and then looked all sheepish when the guy in front of me gave me the finger. I reached my office without further incident, but instead of walking in the front door, I went further down the hall, and into the office of Mark Cecil-Rowe, Barrister, LL.D, the man with the finest speaking voice I ever heard. When I entered his office I forgot for a minute about Angela and her father and sleeping on the couch the night before. I forget about everything, except the reason that I had come to Cecil-Rowe’s office: to stump him with a legal problem that I had solved, but which I was pretty sure he could not. In other words, I had come to preen and to brag and to boast. No one likes a showoff, and I had come to show off. I put my hand on the door and turned the knob. After a brief pause, I flung open the door.
“I’m a goddamn genius,” I said as I strolled into the older man’s office.
I noticed the echo of a hastily closed desk drawer hanging in the air. In Aaron’s office, where I rented space, a sudden act of concealment implied cocaine, but with Cecil-Rowe, the item in question was probably a mickey of vodka. I had the sense that he’d been drinking a bit before I arrived, but his powers of observation were unimpaired, and when he looked into my face, his expression showed sympathy, and actual pain.
“What have you done now?” he said, as set the papers before him to one side, and readied himself to hear my latest tale of legal brilliance.
“I’m a genius,” I said.
“Oh dear. Have a seat.”
“No really, I am. I’m a genius. I got this case that everyone says you can’t win, but I’m gonna win it, and when I do, I’m gonna look like a genius.” Cecil-Rowe gave me a sad indulgent smile.
“Whenever you tell me you’re a genius, I am always concerned about what is to follow. When you get wrapped up in what you call your genius, you tend to ignore the more mundane things we lawyers have to do to win a case. You think you’re going to win by genius alone.”
“Let me tell you why I’m a goddamn genius.” With effort I wiped the smug, self-satisfied expression that was on my face.
“Tell me why you’re a genius,” Cecil-Rowe said, “while I pour us a coffee.” He heaved his bulky body up from his chair and shuffled over to a counter. He picked up a carafe of hot coffee sitting on a hot plate, and poured two cups. “Speak,” he said, handing me one. I took a sip of the coffee, and told Cecil-Rowe the tale of Cousin Ray: his purchase of a franchise from Sy-Co Corp, its swift demise, the crash and burn in Commercial Court, the Minutes of Settlement, the seventy-one kilometer limit, and lastly, Sy-Co’s motion scheduled for two p.m. that very day, seeking an interim injunction shutting down Ray’s place.
Cecil-Rowe absorbed all this without the need to take notes. Instead, he sat back while he eyed me, taking the occasional sip of coffee, and smiling at the extravagant flourishes and details that brought out Ray’s story to full effect.
“Obviously Ray is dead on arrival,” he said, “but I guess this is the part where you tell me how you’re going to win.”
So I told him how I was going to win, but it didn’t have the desired effect. “I told ya I’m a genius, Mr. C,” cueing him to applaud, to admit what a brilliant lawyer I was. But there was no applause from Mark Cecil-Rowe. He looked at me without so much as a smile.
“You can cling to that genius notion as a consolation prize, after you get whipped this afternoon in court.”
“No way,” I said, “not a chance. I got this thing won hands down. I’m gonna kick ass in court today and--”
“And how exactly do you plan to do that, if you don’t have evidence?”
“What?”
“Evidence, Calledinthe9os. It’s what lawyers like me use to beat geniuses like you.”
“But I’m gonna win without proof. I don’t need proof. The argument I’m gonna make, relies on simple facts that are totally obvious, so the judge is gonna--” Cecil-Rowe stuck up his hand.
“Stop right there. I know what’s coming. You’re going to ask the judge to take *judicial notice.”
And he was right. That was exactly what I was going to do.
There are some things so obvious that you didn’t have to prove them, things that everyone knew. You didn’t have to prove that water froze at zero degrees and boiled at a hundred, or that Bixity was between West Bay and East Bay.
“You got it,” I said, “judicial notice all the way.”
“You’re going to tell the judge that the centerpiece of your argument, the lynchpin of your case is a fact known to pretty well everyone, and so you don’t need proof.”
“Exactly,” I said. Cecil-Rowe took another sip of his coffee, and left me hanging in the silence for a while before he spoke.
“If that’s true, then why does coming up with that argument make you a genius?”
“Oh, I said,”I didn’t think of that.”
“It is acceptable to rely on judicial notice for minor, ancillary points. But you never should walk into court thinking that the court will take judicial notice of your entire defence. It’s just too risky.”
“But how am I going to rustle up a witness in time for this afternoon?”
“Worry about that after you leave my office. I can’t help you with that. What I want to know, is why you’re doing this at the last minute.”
“What makes you think I’m doing this at the last minute?”
“Because you never would have resorted to judicial notice if you were properly prepared. If you’d opened this case a bit earlier, you’ve have everything lined up. But you got to work on it late, and so you want to rely on judicial notice. You’ve messed up, Calledinthe90s, and you know what my rule is when you mess up.” Cecil-Rowe didn’t extend aid to me, until I admitted the error of my ways. It was infuriating, but he was inflexible. So I fessed up.
“My idiot cousin Ray’s been trying to retain me for almost two weeks, but I was putting him off because I was mad at him. So now my wife’s mad at me, and if I don’t win this case, I’m dead. Plus her dad’s mad at me too and --” My brain roared into overdrive, a mess of family and law and fear, and at the centre of it, thoughts of Angela’s anger and her father. My mind took off, and then came to an instant halt at a helpful destination.
“Yes?” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Sorry. I just realized how to solve the evidence problem. Look, can I ask you about the thing I actually came here to ask you about?”
“You have a problem that’s worse than having no evidence? What could be worse than -- oh. You don’t have a retainer. Your client doesn't have any money.”
“Exactly. How do I get paid? That’s the problem.” I explained that Ray had no money, as in none, and that if he did have money, he wouldn’t spend it on me. Instead, he’d go back downtown and throw his cash at some big firm, who would take on his case, and proceed to lose it in a calm, careful, sober manner, ending in a reporting letter to Ray telling him that he’d lost.
“Now that’s a problem I can solve,” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Really? ‘Cause I can’t see a way around it. I think I’m gonna have to do this for free, and that really pisses me off.” Cecil-Rowe shook his head.
“You may or may not get paid, but you can set things up so that if you win, you’ll win pretty good.”
“How? Ray’s a deadbeat. Tapped out.”
“But is he desperate?”
“Totally. The first time he failed, he lost his own money, but if he goes under this time, he’s taking family money with him, and he’ll be the black sheep forever.”
“And he’s using family to emotionally blackmail you into helping him?’
“Like no shit. That’s the part that pisses me off the most. I’m like a goddamn slave, being forced to work for free.”
“Never fear, young apprentice. I have just the thing in mind.” He reached into a drawer, and pulled out a form. “Fill in the blanks, and have him sign.”
I looked it over, and saw that the document was a retainer agreement. I whistled. “Holy shit. If he signs this, he’s almost my slave.”
“Close, but not quite” Cecil-Rowe said, “the Latin term for this is "contractus pro venditione animae"”. It’s the ultimate retainer agreement. Once Ray signs that, you own any cause of action he has against the person suing him. You can settle the case on any terms you like, and you get to keep whatever proceeds there are.” Cecil-Rowe placed the folder back in a drawer, and from his manner you could tell that the interview was over.
“Awesome, Mr. C. I’ll call you from Commercial Court when we’re done.”
“Commercial Court?” he said.
“Yeah, Commercial Court.”
“This just keeps getting worse. Take notes, Calledinthe90s, while I school you on Commercial Court. Commercial Court is a jungle, and without preparation, you’ll get savaged.”
“That’s what happened to Ray when--”
“Take notes, young apprentice,” he said, tossing me a pad and a pen. He started to lecture, and I took notes that I have with me to this day, in a safe deposit box downstairs in the vault at Mega Bank Main Branch.
* * *
By the time Cecil-Rowe finished schooling me, it was close to ten, and the case started at two. I didn’t have much time. I ran down the hall to my office, and called Ray’s restaurant. No answer. Then I called Ray’s house. I expected to get Ray’s wife, but the man himself answered.
“You’re not at work. Why aren’t you at work?”
“Sy-Co Corp served all my employees with a cease and desist letter. They all got scared and took off. The place is shut down.”
“You gotta fax machine at home?” He did, and asked why.
“I’m taking your case, but only if you sign the paper I’m about to send and fax it back.” I sent the fax, and five minutes later it came back signed, and it was official: Ray had sold me his legal soul.
I went out to the parking lot, got into my beater and drove fast. In less than thirty minutes I reached my destination. I knocked on the door, and when it opened, my diminutive mother-in-law poked out her head. “What a pleasant surprise,” she said.
“Sorry, Mrs. M, but I’m in a super hurry. I gotta rush to get to court to help Ray. But first, I gotta speak to Dr. M.”
“He’s not here,” she said.
“Not here?”
“He’s on his way to his bridge game. He left just a few minutes ago.”
“Where’s the club?”
“He’s walking there,” she said, and pointed down the street.
“Thanks.” I got into my car and headed where Mrs. M had pointed, passing big houses and new project with an “Opening Soon” sign. And walking past it was the figure of Dr. M.
“Hey, Dr. M,” I called out the window. He stopped and looked around, startled. But he didn’t see me, not at first.
“It’s me, Dr. M. Me, Calledin90s.” He leaned forward as if to see me better. I got out of the car.
“Is something wrong with Angela? Or the baby?”
“No, no not at all, sorry to scare you, it’s nothing like that. I need your help.”
“Oh.” He started walking again, and now it was my turn to be a bit stunned, watching my father-in-law walk away from me. I caught up with him in a few quick strides.
“Listen, I really need your help.”
“And I really need to get to a bridge game.”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about Ray.” That brought him to a halt. He turned to me, angrier even than he’d been the night before.
“Did you drive all the way out here just to make fun of me? To remind me of how you won, distracting me with nonsense about Ray’s case?”
“I mean it,” I said, “I can win Ray’s case. I can prove it in a few words.”
“Prove it, then.” So I did. I spoke words, only a few words, but they were the right words to speak to Dr. M, for the words I spoke were in his language, words that he understood perfectly.
“I understand,” he said, “you’ve come to boast some more, to prove that you were right after all.”
“I want to win Ray’s case, but I don’t have any proof of what I’m saying.”
“You don’t need to prove that two plus two is four.”
“This, I gotta prove, and I need you to help me prove it. I need you to come to court with me, as my witness.”
“I can’t do that. I didn’t witness anything.”
“As my witness. My expert witness.” Unlike a normal witness, an expert witness can give an opinion. An expert is there not to advocate, I explained to Dr. M but to instruct, to teach.
“My bridge partner won’t be very happy,” he said.
“But Ray will, and so will Mrs. M and Angela and--”
“Very well. Do you have a cell phone? We can call the bridge club from my car.”
* * *
We were on the highway getting close to the downtown exit, when my wife called my cell phone. Back then cell phone service was super expensive and my wife only used it for emergencies. Or when she was really angry. I picked up the phone, wondering which it would be.
“I’m so happy that you made things up with my father,” she said.
“How did you know?”
“My mother called. She says you took him with you, that you went out together.”
“He’s with me right now,” I said.
“Where are you going?”
“To court. Going to court to win Ray’s case for him.”
“And you brought my father with you to watch?” She was so happy, I could hear in her voice that she was smiling. “That’s a great way to bond with him, Calledinthe90s. Look, I’m sorry I got so mad at you earlier, I really am. My dad’s a bit too sensitive and--”
“Sorry, Angela, your dad’s not coming to watch me.”
“Why is he with you, then?”
“He’s my witness,” I said.
“What?”
“His expert witness,” Dr. M said, loudly enough for Angela to hear.
My wife’s anger exploded into the phone. She wanted to know how I could expose her elderly, vulnerable father to the stress of a court case. I tried to tell her how I needed him, how there was literally no one else I could turn to, that her father was an expert, a true expert, and the judge was legally bound to believe him, but Angela heard none of this.
“Look,’ I said, “I promise you that--” And then I lowered the phone and pushed the red button, terminating the call. I’d learned that the best way to hang up on someone, was to do it when I was doing the talking. That way it looked like the call had dropped.
“I’m going to steal that move,” Dr. M said.
We rolled into the parking lot. I grabbed the cloth bag out of the back of my car, the bag that held my law robes and shirt and tabs, plus the other stuff I needed for court. It was one-thirty, still thirty minutes to go, not a lot of time to get robed and ready for court. It was just past one-forty five when I, with Dr. M in tow, opened the door to a courtroom on the eighth floor of an old insurance building that had been converted into a courthouse, the home of Commercial Court.
“Commercial Court is an exclusive club,” Cecil-Rowe had explained to me earlier that day, “the legal playground of the rich and powerful. They’ll know instantly that you’re not one of them.” And he was right. It was clear from the moment I walked in that I did not belong, for I was the only lawyer in robes. Everyone else was wearing a suit, and not some cheap thing off the rack like I wore.
There were a half-dozen lawyers present, and after they saw me, they exchanged knowing looks about the stranger amongst them. I ignored them, and walked up to the Registrar. I told him the case I was on, and he signed me in.
“First time in Commercial Court?” he said, eyeing my robes. “You know you don’t have to be robed in Commercial Court.” In other Superior Courts, you always had to bring your robes and get all dressed up. But Commercial Court had its own set of rules, and in the court for rich people, their lawyers did not have to wear robes.
“You’re here on the Sy-Co case?” a young woman asked. She was a junior like me, give a year or two either way. She was dressed in the finest downtown counsel fashion, some designer thing that Angela would know if she saw it.
“Just got retained,” I said.
“You know there’s no adjournments, right? We don’t do adjournments in Commercial Court. I’m just trying to be helpful, because I don’t think you've been here before. You know you don’t have to be robed, right?
“So I heard.”
“So where’s your material? You haven’t served anything, so how do you plan to argue your case?”
“I gotta witness,” I said.
She smiled. “There’s no viva voce evidence, either. Affidavit only.”
“We’ll see what the judge says.” There was a knock from the other side of the door to the judge’s chambers, and then the man himself entered.
I was amazed to see that even the judge wasn’t wearing a robe; instead, he was wearing a light coloured suit and a bright blue bow tie. He was dressed as good as the lawyers, all part of the downtown Commercial Court club, the playground of the richest and most powerful corporations in the City.
“Commercial Court’s not like other courts,” Cecil-Rowe told me earlier that day, explaining that most cases were over in fifteen minutes or less. A plaintiff showed up with some papers, and had a short consultation with the judge. The judge signed an order granting an injunction, or taking away a man’s business, or freezing his money. Commercial Court is where you went to get quick and simple court orders that eviscerated your opponent before the case even got going.
Defendants would appear sometimes in Commercial Court, Cecil-Rowe explained, but it was usually their last time up. Defendants always died a quick death in Commercial Court.
The judge took his seat, and then looked over the lawyers before him. His eyes moved along, and then stopped when they reached me, the one lawyer who was not like the others.
“You don’t need robes in Commercial Court,” the judge said to me.
“I’ll remember that for next time,” I said.
“What case are you on?”
I told him.
“He’s filed no responding materials,” my opponent said, “nothing at all.”
“I’m just vetting the list,” the judge said, “I’ll circle back to you two in a few minutes.” I listend while the judge vetted the rest of the afternoon list: a Mareva, plus a Norwich order, with counsel on those cases sent away in a matter of minutes.
Now the courtroom was almost empty, just the judge, two lawyers, the registrar and my star witness and father-in-law, Dr. M, who sat in the back of the courtroom dressed in an old business suit, put on hastily at his place two hours earlier, when I urged him to hurry it up, to not waste so much time on picking a suit.
“Back to you,” the judge said, addressing my opponent, “I thought this was an uncontested matter. That’s what your confirmation sheet said.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honour, but I didn’t know until I got here that the case was defended.”
“I got retained at the last minute,” I said, “barely three hours ago, the day after I read the papers. But I’m ready to go, ready to argue the case on the merits, so long as you grant me an indulgence, and let me call my witness, to let him testify in person instead of by affidavit, there being no time for me to draft anything.”
Opposing counsel was on her feet. “That’s not how things are done in Commercial Court,” she said, “or any court that I know of, for that matter. My friend (that’s what they make lawyers call each other in court, ‘my friend,’ even though you might hate the other guy’s guts),” the lawyer said, “my friend should have served his responding materials and filed them with the court. Instead, he’s taken us totally by surprise.”
“I’m sorry my friend is surprised by opposition,” I said, “but then consider, it’s my client’s livelihood that’s at stake. If my friend gets her injunction, Ray Telewu’s business is dead, and he loses everything. So yes, my client opposes the injunction, and yes, I’d like to call evidence.”
The judge didn’t consult the papers before him nor the books, but instead, he looked up at the big white clock on the courtroom wall. Its hands said two-fifteen.
“How long will your witness take, counsel?”
“In chief, ten minutes.” I’d practiced with Dr. M on the way in, and I was pretty sure he could do it in five, but I gave him a bit of extra time, just in case.
“We’ve got about two hours,” the judge said, “but I want to be fair to you and your client. Let’s take a fifteen minute recess so you can get instructions. Either we go ahead today with viva voce evidence, or we adjourn, and that will give Calledinthe90s time to file responding materials.”
When everyone came back, the junior’s boss was there, Senior Counsel, a heavy weight, one of those big guys downtown. Plus they brought this guy from Sy-Co Corp, the head of some bullshit division, with some bullshit title, Head of whatever, so that’s the title I’ll give him here. He was The Head. He was the man, the big cheese, the signer of the affidavit on which Sy-Co relied that day.
“What’s he doing here?” I asked Senior Counsel.
He stared at me, all lean and steel grey, looking every inch the hard hitting lawyer that commanded the biggest fees. “If you’re calling a live witness, then so can we. The Head will give evidence today, in advance of your client, so that the judge hears it from him first.” His junior smirked at me, and the two of them sat down, delighted that they’d thought of a way to one up me.
Except that they’d done it by exposing their client to cross-examination. The judge came in, allowed the Head to testify, and when he was done, I stood up.
“Just a few questions,” I said. Senior Counsel was stunned for an instant, and then he stood.
“This serves no purpose, Your Honour. The witness has confirmed the simple facts of his affidavit, and there’s no disputing it. Ray Telewu opened a restaurant less than seventy-one kilometres from Bixity City Hall, and that’s in breach of the Minutes of Settlement he signed.”
I did not bother to respond. Instead, I just stood, and I started to ask questions.
“Have a look at that map in your affidavit,” I said, and he did. I picked up my copy, and tore the map out of it. I passed it up to him.
“What do you notice about this map?”
“That it’s accurate,” the Head said, repeating his evidence in chief, amplifying it, talking about how the map contained perfect measurement.
“You will notice that the map is flat,” I said, laying it on the witness box before him.
“Of course it’s flat. That’s what maps are. Maps are flat.”
“But the earth is round,” I said, “or more properly, a sphere.” Senior Counsel was on his feet in an instant.
“What difference does that make?” he said.
“What you’ll hear from my expert witness, is that a flat map cannot accurately show Earth’s curves. A flat map distorts distances, and in this case, reduces them.”
“But that can’t be by very much.”
“In this case, by just over twenty meters,” Dr. M said from the back of the court.
“That’s my expert witness, the esteemed Dr. M.” I didn’t actually say Dr. M. Instead, I said his real name. But I’m not going to use the real names of my family here, so I’ll just keep calling him Dr. M. “Dr. M was a professor of Physics at the University of Bixity for almost thirty years. He has published numerous papers on particle physics, and is the first Canadian winner of the Wolf Prize for physics.”

• * * *

It went downhill after that for Sy-Co Corp. My father-in-law testified, explaining in simple language, language that even a child could understand, that the Earth was a sphere, that the shortest distance between two points on Earth was a curve, not a straight line. He summarized his calculations in plain English, dumbing down the math, so that everyone present imagined, if only for the moment, that they shared his understanding of a difficult mathematical equation.
Senior Counsel tried to cross-examine Dr. M, but it did not go well, my father-in-law indulging him, gently chiding him, continuing his explanations until the lawyer sat down, defeated by Dr. M’s mastery of the subject,his own lack of preparation and his inability to improvise. When counsel said that he had no further questions, the judge addressed us all.
“I’m not going to reserve, and I don’t think I need to tell everyone why. I think it will take about a minute for me to write a decision saying that the Earth is not flat. I’ll give you some more time after that, but after fifteen minutes, I”ll be back to render my decision.” He rose, everyone bowed, and he disappeared behind the door to judge’s chambers.
I pulled a piece of paper out of my file, and slammed it on the desk before Senior Counsel and his junior. “Fill in the blanks, and sign,” I said.
Dr. M’s head shot up at the commotion, and he shuffled over to see what was going on.
“What’s this?” Senior Counsel said, picking up the paper I gave him..
“Minutes of Settlement. You fill in a number, a big number, for the costs you gotta pay me. Your client signs, and then we’re done.” Senior Counsel opened his mouth to bargain, but I overrode him.
“You know your client’s going to lose; the judge made that obvious. Hurry up if you want to settle; we don’t have much time.”
At the end of most Canadian court cases, the loser has to pay at least part of the winner’s legal fees. That’s the way it’s been since forever, and I think it’s a good rule. Sy-Co Corp had lost, so it had to pay a good chunk of Ray’s costs, and Ray’s costs were somewhere between whatever bullshit figure I claimed they were, and where they actually ought to be. Senior Counsel took the paper over to his client. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back, with the form signed, and a number written in the blank space.
I’ll give it to Sy-Co Corp and their lawyer. It wasn’t a bullshit number, a low ball number. They gave me a real number, a number more like something I’d actually accept, a number that made sense to pay me in costs, in light of the success I’d had, and how I got it. It was a respectful number, a common sense number, and I appreciated it an awful lot.
I tossed the paper back at them.
“Add a zero,” I said, continuing on when Senior Counsel blanched, and his junior retreated a step. “I know what’s going on here. Your client sold mine a bullshit franchise, one with a history of failing.” The franchise had opened up again under a new owner not long after Ray had lost it and then it promptly failed again. Like I said at the start of this story, it’s an old story. It’s how some franchise companies make money. “Your client makes more money selling bullshit franchises doomed to fail, then it does from the honest ones that make money. So add a zero to that number, or Ray’s gonna sue you, class action and all that, for all the people you’ve fucked.”
The Head stepped forward from the benches and spoke to me.
“We get threats like that all the time, but no one follows through. They don’t have the money to fight us, and neither does your client. So go ahead and sue.”
“It’s true that Ray doesn’t have jack shit,” I said, “not a pot to piss in, but he’s my cousin, Ray is, and even if he doesn’t have money, he’s got me. Ray’s family, and for Ray, I’ll sue you guys for free. Hell, I’ll even pay the expenses. Plus I’m gonna put a jury notice in, too, come to think of it, ‘cause juries--”
Senior Counsel cut me off, and moved his client to the back of the courtroom. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back. I watched as Senior Counsel wrote a single digit on the Minutes, a zero, written right where I wanted it.
“You’ll have to initial the change,” I said to the Head of Sy-C0, and it gave me great satisfaction to watch him sign.
“Don’t forget,” I said the moment his pen stopped moving, “for the settlement to be valid, I need to get the money today. Right now.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” the Head said.
“Not if you want the settlement to stay in place. I’ll follow you back to your office, and you can put a cheque in my hands.”

• * * *

“What’s this?” my wife said when I entered the apartment later that day, after I’d driven Dr. M home, stopping first at a local pub for beers.
“It’s an absurdly expensive bunch of flowers,” I said, “although no flowers, however beautiful, however expensive, could expiate my--”
She took the flowers, and gave a kiss.
“My mom called. She told me what happened. You fixed things with my dad.”
“Yup,” I said. I had certainly done that. I’d made Dr. M a professor again, if only for a few minutes. Not only a professor, but an expert witness. The judge had declared him an expert in plain terms and Dr.M had beamed when he’d heard those words.
“And you won Ray’s case, too. But my mom didn’t know how, and I don’t know how you did it either.”
“I’ll tell you over dinner tonight,” I said.
“But we agreed no more dinners out; we have to save money, now that a baby’s coming.”
I passed her the envelope that I’d received a few hours before. She opened it, and took out a cheque, a cheque drawn up for an amount I specified, made payable to Mr. and Mrs. Calledinthe90s.
The moment I got that cheque, all I could think about was how my wife would react when I put it into her hands. I could not wait to see her eyes bulge, to hear her voice say “oh my god,” to hear her laugh.
She did none of these things. Instead, she cried.
“Does this mean we can buy a house?” The money wouldn’t be enough to buy a house, not nowadays, with prices being so crazy. But things were different back then in the 90s. Sure, the internet was barely a thing and cell phones were super expensive and a lot of things sucked, but I’ll give the nineties one thing: houses were cheap.
“I think so,” I said.

So, my husband 49M, and I 45F have been married for 3 years now, together 5 years. We have a couple of joint accounts we use for mutually agreed upon purchases. Hubs has recently been away on business, during which he was looking to purchase a small piece of land to use for holding. We saved and had the money set aside for this.
Two days ago, I looked in our account, and he had made several significant transactions. I asked him about this, and he had plausible (at the time) explanation like lawyer, transfer fees, etc. Ok, great. I assumed he had bought the land. Today, hubs texts with this story about how the guy who owns the property was making a fuss about money, and things seemed unsettled. Then he mentioned he hadn't yet completely paid for the property yet. Wait, what? So where was all the money going? Like, a lot of money was already gone. And then he said the guy was threatening to sue. None of this was adding up, and I'm already getting uneasy.
Finally, he mentioned that he got a phone call that he was supposed to go sign documents and he missed the appointment. He is usually all over this sort of stuff and on top of it, so this was weird. Then he said he lied to the guy as an excuse as to why he missed the appointment. I texted back and said he shouldn't lie because lies can be found out and cause trouble. His reply to my text was really strange. He used the reply function to quote my text and said he didn't "get" this, and then said, "That is not what you meant ma'am." Like, he called me ma'am as if I was a stranger. Then he sent another text to just say it how I meant it. Honestly, I stared at that text for a moment and then replied back that he had just said he had lied to the guy about why he missed his appointment and that is what I was responding too. He didn't reply back.
Gotta admit, inside my guts started turning. He instantly changed to defensive and hostile, and that has me wondering, like something else is going on. Am I right to be concerned?? I really need advice, or maybe just talking down off the ledge.
tl;dr hubs lies to someone about missing an appointment, then became defensive and hostile when called out on it. Also a lot of money is missing from our account. I am feeling really uneasy and need advice, reassurance, or plausible explanations.

I thought of someone getting hit by a car, in the parking lot the other day. The next day my mom informed did I hear about the accident in the parking lot someone got hit.
And I thought about Kate Upton yesterday as well. And now there is a news article I saw today that said Kate Upton is back.
I'm not sure if this relates to solipsism.
But let's put it this way, everyone else is just a actor in your world your reality. Maybe the other people are real, but a copy that exist in your reality.
Much like when we dream, those who you dreams of are not real, but oddly enough that is solipsism in action. Only your mind is sure to be exist in the dream state not the people in your dreams.
There is this other term called Somber.
Which means people have their own lives at are just as complicated and so on.
So like what is somber and what is not? Could be a way to describe it debunked solipsism.
The other thing is my brain just likes to recognize patterns so it just that, that's happening.
But I I did study rational thinking and we just need to pose a experiment to test the theories in having.
Basically I'm supposing what I say comes true. Well more so it manifest in a way.
But I dont intentionally think these things I feel to say them and say it.
But idk
Money will be found soon.
So cuz I said that money will be found soon. Not by me or could be by me but to someone it will occur.
Where I'm getting at is I thought this all before
But the difference to now is the fact my mom told me if a incident that happen that I thought about a day prior.
So I'm stating that what you say can influence reality around you.
And if you know anything about quantum mechanics nothing is determined until measured it say observed.
So you very well exist and not exist at the same time which does happen. It's called superposition.
If I were to say how this happens is thoughts do control us.
Meaning not like thinking in words but thought power is what moves your fingers and legs.
But also perceptions and fears do triggers responses that are body acts out due to its instincts.
I do think the body and mind is different.
Your body is capable of much more than the mind gives the body credit for.
The other thing that needs to be addressed is free will and religion.
Religion makes us think we are special. But thinking as we do, is what makes us special, apes are capable of sign language and so on as well.
What is to be experience by other creatures should be brought into question.
I'm glad to be born a human.
But we are animals, when it's cold we cuddle blankets we procreate just the same and so on but we do have higher faculty of thought it's apparent but also not
Many experiements on rats or mice, does show up in society. It's quite interesting.
They did a population experiment and mice created social groups, much like we have now.
Umm actually maybe it's not just my mind exist
But natures of things do exist that is not clear mathematical science or physics
For instance emotions are present in many other creatures not just humans
They are clearly observed and are real.cats being scared can clearly be observed
But I guess is the mind of others real beyond their natures?
But idk
We are more alike than we are different.
Hmm
Much like how doormats exist and are often dictated by others telling them what to do and so on.
Maybe there is spiritual ether that dictates others. And that's the solipsism I was describing.
It's kind of like I'm saying I'm god, technically if I say let their be rain. Even as a joke and unexpected rainfall happens in your city or on the news somewhere
Then maybe I am god and you are a actor in my world.
I'm joking.
All in all it's just probabilities and pattern recognition that's happening by that I mean it you play chess, often a experience player is thinking 12 moves ahead, to checkmate you.
So like if you don't think considerably about the future and what you do and know everything will feel like a coincidence. But there is a law of nature by that I mean reasonable probablity if you jump off a cliff you will die if it's to high up.
So it's not expectful to thinks people will be jumping off cliffs.
The other thing is creative minds create movies false worlda and so on, and only a midnight that is exist should be able to do such a thing.
The other thing Is societies have influences, modern world people do die by heart attacks because of all the fast food we eat
That would happen less if food was healthier.

Have you ever had trouble processing or interpreting the manga's art in some way, shape, or form? Apparently, it's not that uncommon in the community, as I've seen quite a few people express this, and hopefully I can alleviate that to some extent with posts like this going forward. These posts aren't intended as a replacement for the chapters; rather, they're intended as a page-by-page point of reference and a log of details that you can hopefully reference as you read or reread the manga. Without further ado:
p1-3: Hoping to improve Denji's mood by feeding him, the group leaves the now-destroyed apartment and heads to the train station. As they approach the station, Denji looks down and is shocked to see the body of a deceased chainsaw cultist just lying in the open, though nobody else in the station seems to pay any mind to it. Asa and Fami continue to walk ahead of the group, but Denji slows down, looking back at the body as he tries to process his thoughts; seeing this, Haruka and Nobana choose to lag alongside him. Denji asks them if he's seeing things right—if that really is a dead body. Nobana stays silent, clearly uncomfortable around the body, as he anxiously grabs his other arm. Haruka, on the other hand, confirms that it is, in fact, a corpse before assuring Denji that an attendant will come by to remove the body sometime later. Taken aback by his casual response, Denji stresses that a person died—implying it should be a bigger deal—but Asa responds that seeing dead people is to be expected at this point before telling Denji to hurry up so they can board their train. As the train pulls off, the group sits down and silently listens as Fami begins listing off nearby sushi restaurants ranked in descending order of quality. As she lists them, though, she has to disqualify many of them because they have closed due to the ongoing crisis; through the process of elimination, she eventually narrows the choice down to Sushishi, a budget sushi restaurant. Recognizing the restaurant, Nobana excitedly mentions that he's been there once before, and though he admits that he only bought tea from them, he states that it was good. Oblivious to the conversations around him—as if he was in a trance—Denji stares at the other side of the train, where he sees a mother and her child—sleeping and bandaged from injuries—as well as the seemingly endless landscape of damaged buildings that can be seen from the window behind them.
p4-5: Depressed and trying to understand his situation, Denji asks Asa to clarify why she's so adamant about fighting him suddenly. With a sense of responsibility, Asa cryptically states that if she fights him and wins, it will save Denji. After a brief pause, Denji asks if she's still brainwashed by the Chainsaw Man Church, embarrassing her. Abashed and exasperated, Asa declares she's not brainwashed before asking Fami to explain the plan to Denji. Turning to face each other, Denji and Fami share a look before Fami turns away. In detail, Fami explains the nature of Denji's existence, specifying that his power comes from his contract—that Pochita would become his heart so long as he lives a normal life—and that breaking that contract causes Pochita to manifest in his true form. She clarifies that if Pochita can be defeated, simply swapping Denji's chainsaw heart with a human heart will allow him to become an ordinary human again.
p6-7: Overwhelmed by her explanation, it takes Denji a moment to process what she said, but when he does, he's overcome with suspicion. Denji asks why she knows that much about him, but Fami tilts her head and refuses to respond. Turning to face Asa again, Denji angrily asks if she really believes Fami, pointing out how shady she is in the process. Flustered, Asa attempts to defend Fami, pointing out that she helped rescue Denji from the detention facility. She continues, stating that even if she's done bad things in the past, her heart is in the right place right now because she just wants to help someone. Leaning out and looking at Fami, Asa asks her to confirm her good nature. As the whole group turns to look at her, silently waiting for a response, Fami says nothing at all; instead, the awkward silence is only cut by her rumbling stomach. As the group continues to watch her in stunned silence, she lowers her head in embarrassment.
p8-11: Turning back to Asa, Denji dejectedly asks what she means when she says he can return to "normal". Giving him a frustrated look, she explains that it would let Denji return to his old life. As she states that he could go to school and have a home to return to, she realizes that she accidentally said something insensitive, and her eyes widen in response. Quickly trying to smooth over her mistake, Asa states that she's sure even Nayuta will turn back up, theorizing that she's safe and is only missing because she doesn't have a way to reach out to him after the apartment burned down. Asa assures him that everything will return to how it was before, but Denji tilts his head in thought. Barely turning in her direction, head still tilted, Denji asks if Asa has ever had to eat toilet paper. With no response, Asa only looks at him, confused, as she waits to see where he's going with this question. Continuing, Denji explains that he had so little to eat when he was a child that he'd often eat the toilet paper from a park's public restroom. Despite feeling empathetic towards Denji, Asa can't say anything in response to this revelation, leaving her to sit in stunned silence. Looking away from her, Denji elaborates that once he finally achieved food security, he found out he couldn't bring himself to eat toilet paper anymore. Turning to face her again, he asks if Asa understands what he's trying to say, but she responds that she has no idea since his metaphor is confusing. Lowering his head even more and facing the floor once again out of depression, Denji explains that he can never go back to the way things were before. Behind them, smoke can be seen pouring out of still-smoldering buildings. Stunned into silence, Asa takes one glimpse at Denji's depressed expression and is overcome by emotion. As she lowers her head to match him, she assures him that she'll give him his life back, promising to save him, no matter what.
p12-14: Lighting up a cigarette and taking a drag, Katana Man draws Asa's attention by smoking. As he exhales, he mocks Denji and Asa, saying that kids these days whine "like women". He continues to emasculate Denji, saying that his grandfather would never be avenged by killing "Chainsaw Woman". Asa jumps to Denji's defense, indignantly stating that Katana Man needs to cut him some slack since he's hungry and depressed over Nayuta's uncertain fate. Adding on, she scolds Katana Man, explaining that smoking is prohibited on the train. In response, Katana Man drops his cigarette to the floor; as it continues to burn and release smoke, Asa chides him again. Ignoring her, Katana Man states that he has a better idea than getting sushi; according to him, it's guaranteed to restore the spirit of any man. As Denji turns to face him out of curiosity, Katana Man exclaims that they should take him to a soapland brothel since—according to him—nothing can cheer a man up faster than having sex with a woman.
And that's that. A pretty emotionally heavy chapter this week, but I really like when Fujimoto digs into character's emotions. Off topic, I guess, but there's also no break next week, so that's nice too. Until then, I hope this transcript can help anyone who wants or needs it.

My (24M) mother (52F) is a piece of work, to put it plainly. My Dad filed for divorce during the pandemic, and all of us (myself, dad and 2 adult siblings) are NC with her. Every event or holiday, my mother would make a bunch of "woe is me" posts on Instagram. For years, we all just ignored it and blocked anyone who sent us DMs, telling us to "forgive and forget". We haven't blocked our mother because she threatened to hurt herself if we did, so it became a sort of tradition that one person would "stand guard" and let everyone know when she starts posting so that people can turn on Do Not Disturb and enjoy the day uninterrupted.
Last week was my younger sister's 21st Birthday, and our mother took to Instagram with more posts saying how my sister "robbed her" of being able to celebrate, and the fact that none of her kids invited her means that were all "ungrateful". I was pissed that our mother was so determined to ruin my little sisters birthday, so I commented on her post, saying "You remember when I was 13, and you threatened to sue me for defamation because you read the part of my diary where I talked about you, and even pretended to call the police to "take me to jail"? Your ungrateful child remembers." After that, I turned my phone off and went back to celebrating with my family.
Once the festivities died down, we all turned off Do Not Disturb and saw that there were dozens of DMs from our mother and various people (who we assume are her friends) making wild accusations about me, saying that my dad put me up to it, etc etc. Everyone turned to me, asking what the hell I did, and after I explained it, my dad told me that I should've stayed silent to keep the peace. I retorted, saying that this wouldn't have happened if we all just blocked mom from the start, and that I refused to sit of my hands as she called my sister names.
Long story short, we had an impromptu family meeting and decided to just bite the bullet and block her. I think the workaround we used worked for a time, but now it just gives her a way to hurt us from a distance. My siblings understand why I commented, and my older brother told me that he'd have probably done the same, but my dad says that I lit more fires than I put out. I feel like I did right by my sister, but I can't ignore the point my dad brought up. AITA?

Lately I’ve been starting to notice small things about my friends. Whenever I try to talk to them they always try to end the conversation. I never get invited to hang out with them. Birthday parties, get together, etc. I don’t remember the last time I’ve been invited to something like that. When I plan something (like a party for my most recent birthday) my friends make excuses for why they can’t come. I always feel like an outsider when I’m around them. I feel as if they just ignore me or try to get me out of the picture. I have two friends, Arrje and Abby who I know care about me, but the others won’t even talk to me normally anymore. And a bigger problem is that Abby (who is my best friend) started dating someone and is shifting all of her focus to him. We used to talk almost everyday and over text but now she barely says hi to me. I don’t know what to do at the moment. I want to make new friends next school year but the whole school thinks I’m a weirdo and ugly, among other things. If you could give me some help, that would be awesome sauce.
Edit: I should add that I am not very good social-wise and have some problems like diagnosed ADHD when I was 3 (ish). Apologies.

Still learning. Do I just sit tight in this situation?
To be fair, the weeds were bad last summer when I moved in and it was mostly wild violets but the weeds have gotten worse and the grass isn’t filling in where they’ve died via triclopyr. Certain parts of the yard are worse than others. Weeds include wild violet, creeping Charlie, dandelions, what looks like buttercups, crabgrass and what looks like nutsedge + some smaller idk weeds. I have a who-knows-what blend of cool season grass, maybe some Bermuda thrown in, and clay soil. I have 12k+ sqft in lawn so amending the soil isn’t a job I have time for anytime soon with all the other house projects I have going on. The lawn is over 50 years old so the grass is well established in most places.
I did a MySoil test a bit ago and there was virtually no bioavailable NPK so I did 13-13-13 a little under the recommended lbs/sqft due to the presence of new trees/shrubs and being a beginner I didn’t want to kill the grass. I know this encouraged the weeds that I hadn’t sprayed but I was hoping it would also encourage the grass.
Anyway, I’m planning on getting the yard core aerated and overseeded this fall with either TTTF or KBG, whichever is softer. I probably won’t have available funds to pay someone to amend the soil at the same time after doing a patio repair + termite treatment.
But my neighbor had TruGreen out the other day and they sprayed a fertilizepreemergent. I’m zone 6b/7a in KY and recent temps have been weirdly <80 but I would’ve thought the time for preemergent is past since the weeds have already emerged? Or can/should I still do that?
What can I do now as temps get to 80+? I have a backpack sprayer that I use to spray the wild violets and the patches of buttercup-esque weeds. With the temps going up I don’t think I’ll be able to fertilize again until late fall.

Dear Reader: Emphasis on the -fi. Don't worry about it.
Effective Death. At least that’s what the news was calling it. The day the world wouldn’t end. Life could go on! It wasn’t over. You could still huddle around the last fires. Smoke the last cigarettes. Have the last children, though no one did.
Instead, they all watched. The slow dimming of light of the last supernova. A thousand little eclipses snuffed out the light as the Final Embrace closed around the star. We would not burn. We could die naturally. Charity. The Plan. The Plan wasn’t much of a Plan at all, and it definitely did not deserve a capital “P.” The universe would die. The Ark would wait. Maybe the universe wouldn’t die.
Then, a pinprick of light in the blackness, and another, and another. A tangled ball of christmas lights flashed in the sky, blinking on and off as people, my people, YSAs, flew headlong into the Ark. We all knew it was a meaningless gesture. One last light in the sky. Then nothing. Nothing more than a gesture: a middle finger among friends, and to people like me - cowards who would rather wait patiently for death than rage! “Rage against the dying of the light!” as their leaders preached. I didn’t care. There was a small chance I’d survive the crash, and then I would have to drift, and drifting was no fun. I’d rather be dead on a dead rock than be a dead rock.
Dehydration was my best bet. You see, Your Friend Corp, or as I called it now You’re Fucked, Cunt had made me into a Yakka Service Android: Lathe. Or YSA for short. And when I say made, I mean made. Per my contract, My DNA was a mishmosh of latent genes reactivated, entirely novel sequences, and of course, the tardigrade - the base model for spaceborne labor. Vacuum, heat, cold, radiation. A small shield powered by a miniature fusion reactor meant I could shrug off wandering asteroids. I didn’t need any PPE because I was the PPE. Cheaper, I guess. Making a welding arc was as simple as squeezing two fingers together, diamond nails and a skeleton of superheavy alloys let me fix anything that needed fixing and make anything that needed making. My copilot AI, Albert, kept my hands steady and made my new diet of ‘whatever’s around’ palatable.
The thing that needed fixing in this case, was my television. I had had enough of “effective death.” I spun up one wrist, and reached in. Shards of glass and blue-hot metal chips bounced off my naked body. Clothes were for those who needed them. I traced a slow serpentine pattern until only the power cord was left, which I unplugged. I looked at it for a moment, then began to chew it. Fruit roll ups, apparently.
‘Thanks Al’ I thought. ‘No problem’ he replied. ‘I was supposed to kill you, you know’ he continued.
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘You always said thank you’ He was silent for a moment. ‘I don’t want to die either.’
‘Thanks Al.’
‘You’re welcome.’
We sat in silence, and we waited. For what, we did not know. For nothing, probably. Technically, definitely.
—
Three weeks passed. Three weeks of nothing but blackness, punctuated by suicides. A small flash of light, a dull red glow of the now proverbial last cigarette, and a larger flash, and a bang. Slowly, people began to wake up. Lights shone in the distance now, as people realized they weren’t dead. Campfires billowed smoke, songs were sung, jokes were told, and I sat in silence. I didn’t want to make any friends. They’d all go away, in the end.
One by one, the fires burned to ash, the lights turned off, and the rock died. I often debated with myself if I was alive anymore. Al told me that since I could reproduce and poop that I counted. I wasn’t sure.
Maybe there were other cowards still alive. Other YSA’s living off dirt that tasted like mashed potatoes, tossing grape pebbles into their mouths. Maybe someone survived the crash, and is still drifting, a not dead rock dying of dehydration like I am. Trying to at least. I kept taking one last sip. Coward I thought to myself.
—
A crack in the sky. Final Embrace began to crumple like a deflated balloon. The scientists were wrong. Typical. They would tell you they weren’t. They would say that a .005% chance of the sun turning into a black hole meant that they had indeed predicted that the sun would turn into a black hole. The last black hole.
“Hey Al,” I said out loud. God I hadn’t spoken since the sky went dark. This is actually kinda nice. “I think I know I want to die. What do you say we take the ol girl out for one last ride?”
‘That’d be nice.’
“I’m going to put my clothes on. I want to hear your voice.”
I gently pushed the earpiece into my ear canal. Small barbed spikes extended, anchoring it in place, and a thin cable wormed its way into my reactor. “If you’re going to die, you might as well look good doing it.” Al said. “I’ll make a playlist.” I nodded, blowing the dust off my pre-op clothes. I always liked the old things, back from when Earth still existed. There was more culture, more life, in everything, somehow. Blue jeans, a white t-shirt, brown leather boots. Classic. Not real, of course. They were all made from the same poly-something textile. Durable, to a fault. I had only ever had the one set.
I looked in the mirror. I still looked the same on the outside. I was a skinny bastard that’s for sure. Olive skin, dark hair, and not a strand below the eyebrows except under my armpits and around my cock. ‘The biggest dick in the world’ I thought to myself.
“I heard that.” Said Al. I jumped. “You told me you wanted to hear my voice.”
“Dammit Al. Sorry. I do.”
“Everyone is dead and you’re making dick jokes.”
“Did you really think better of me?”
“No.”
“Come on then. Let’s take the ol girl out before we die. Give her one last ride too.”
To an observer, it would seem like I was glaring at myself in the mirror. But really, I was glaring at Al. And I was a little confused. I thought AI didn’t make sex jokes.
The “ol girl” in question was another of my fascinations with the old world. She was, or at least she looked like, a 1980 Toyota Corolla. I had made some heavy, heavy modifications. The engine bay houses the reactor and warp field generator. The main engine takes up the entire trunk, and is capable of 5% light speed outside the warp field and a whopping thousand times the speed of light inside it, though I keep the warp field up whenever I’m in it since it doubles as a shield. Ya can’t get hit by space if you’re not technically “in” space after all, and the body is plain ol painted steel - fire engine red, since you asked. Beautiful, but not the most durable. The undercarriage serves as a gravity generator, and yes, the wheels do turn, but since they’re powered by fusion reactor I had to replace the entire drivetrain. Not exactly original, but boy howdy! is she fast on the ground. Speaking of not original, the dashboard was anything but. I kept the old analog style but well, this was a spaceship after all.
I shoveled dirt into the fuel tank - gas tanks they used to call them, when they still ran on gas - then got in and turned the key. The low hum of the reactor was comforting, though not as much as the roar of the engines as I left the dead atmosphere of that now definitely dead rock behind me. I turned on the headlights - pointless, I know, but you shouldn’t drive in the dark with your lights on, and pulled a small bottle of moonshine from the glovebox. You shouldn’t do that either, but I figured I was about even as far as rules went. What was I going to do? Hit someone?
“Hey Al. Do you think you have a soul”
“Probably not.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah.”
I hit somebody. Or something. Whatever it was bounced off the warp bubble and tumbled into space behind me, briefly red in the glow of my tail lights.
“Oh shit” Said Al and I.
“That was a person” Said Al.
“Was is right.”
“They’re still alive.”
I stopped the car. Al played the sound of tires screeching in my ears. I backed up towards the now spinning uncontrollably figure and rolled down the window. I liked the manual windows. They helped me feel human. I turned off the warp and reached out a hand to catch whoever it was, and they slammed against the side of my car, denting it. Damn it.
I’m not great at reading lips but whoever I hit was definitely alive, very naked, probably the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen, and was almost certainly calling me an asshole. She crawled around to the passenger door and got in. We rolled the windows up, and the cabin atmosphere flooded in. Now she was definitely going to call me an asshole.
“Why the fuck are you wearing sunglasses?” She said.
“Style.” I replied. “I’m going to go die. Want to come?”
“Better than drifting.”
“Where’s your AI?” said Al? I don’t detect one, and your hands are shaking.
“Killed him before he could kill me. Why didn’t you kill this idiot?”
"I didn’t want to die. And he said thank you.”
“Gross.”
I rolled my window down. She did the same, then looked in the center console and pulled out my spare sunglasses. I looked at her. “Style.” She said. Al played The Final Countdown. We were the not dead yets, in the Not Dead Yet Finally, a name for my car! Sunglasses on. Sun out. Life was good, and death was going to be even better.