Im a 23M currently living at home with my parents in Hawaii. This week I'm traveling to Denver for a friends wedding. I've been contemplating for the last few months if I should end up staying there after the wedding and not go home.
My mental health has been on the low for the past few years. I moved to the mainland for college after high school and I loved it! There are way much better opportunities than living in Hawaii. Plus the cost of living is cheap. Unfortunately, I moved back home during my last year of college. I was going through a lot of shit in my life which caused me to drop out and commit suicide. I've been at home for the past two years living with the parents and working.
I feel like I'm finally coming out of a depression and want to better my health and life. I want to get off of this island and live my life. I am going to be 24 and I really dont know how to live on my own away from my parents. Yeah, I was away from them in college but they still payed for my tuition and housings. In a way I was still living off of them. Now, though I have my own money, Im still basically living for free rent and food. As a human being, I need to know how to take care of myself. I need to learn how to be independent on myself and not my parents. My parents are also very controlling over me. I just think if I continue to live under their control my mental health will not get better. What if moving could be actually better for me?
I would love to move to Denver. I've visit the city a couple times in college and I actually wanted to live there at one point. I am really deciding if I should just stay there while Im there? I have 1.7k in my bank and have a couple years of work experience from living at home. I know its not enough. I could simply go back home save up more. But tbh, If i went back home I don't think I'll ever leave. How realistic would it be for me to move to denver last minute with little money, no job, and no place to live?

I am 36 years old. I don't have any friends. I haven't been in a relationship in two years. I don't make as much money as I would like. I am have a really slow recovery from a tonsillectomy and I am just having a hard time getting myself motivated to do anything.
I had one pretty good friend, an ex, and we went on a platonic trip together in March. I had a really good time and generally enjoyed myself. Got to see Chichen Itza and get some fun in at the cenotes and beach. Since then we haven't hung out though. In her texts she said the guy she has been seeing is moving out of town in a few months so she is spending time with him. She has dated him off and on for 20+ years and this has never been an issue before so I do feel like some of this is also just fatigue of hanging out with me. We didn't get in any fights on the trip but it did show we have much different priorities/personalities. She brought her dogs, they go everywhere with her, and one is incontinent so it was dictating quite a bit of our schedule but I am pretty used to this so I felt like I handled it fairly well. I also do think some of this is her boyfriend not wanting us to hangout, which is understandable. I just said No worries and we haven't talked since. She didn't message me on my birthday, but I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't remember. We have been hanging out regularly for 2-3 years so it is a bit of a hit, but it was something that felt ultimately was going to happen so I am not mad, just a little sad. I haven't hung out with anyone other than my dad since the middle of March though.
Just hurts to not have anyone to hangout with at all. I have talked to two coworkers and one of them has bailed on me multiple times and the other just said he was too busy to make any plans in the first place. I have done meetups in the past but I always just feel so awkward not knowing anyone and I am awful at initiating contact with anyone, guys or girls. I also just don't really have that many interests, even though I tend to enjoy most things I do. I own a dirt bike but haven't gotten out to use it because it is really hard to load by myself and I am just not that confident with it. And if I am doing anything alone without somebody else keeping me accountable I tend to just blow it off. I have also tried Bumble BFF but honestly was so turned off by it. I kept on getting hit on, creepy af, and it just feels awkward.
I feel like I am bad at making friends because I am not very personable and also tend to overshare and say stupid things just because I haven't talked to anyone in so long it is just kind of like a dam bursts.
I would like to get back into judo or jujitsu, but with college and my mortgage I am barely squeaking by financially, and 200+ a month is a little too much for me. I even canceled my cable plan to save some money for bills despite loving basketball. I also don't really have enough energy for active hobbies due to my tonsillectomy right now.
I work full time and am taking college classes at the same time. I was never the best student, but I have finished 9 computer science courses and a statistics class over the last 2.5 years. I have 5 classes left for my bachelors and am on course to graduate Spring 2025. Straight A's and one B+ so far so I have been really happy with my grades, but the industry has completely fallen apart over the last year or two and I am worried that after investing all this time and money into going back to college I might not be able to get a job. The best student I know wasn't able to land a single internship this summer and that really shocked me. He is an amazing programmer, better than anyone I know.
Because I have a mortgage on a little duplex I cannot really afford to do an internship to try and help my job prospects, I am going to really have to rely on doing well in the interviews. I am also planning on trying to take advantage of the career fairs and other on-campus opportunities next fall but that is so not my comfort zone that I don't want to set my expectations really.
With how busy I am it has also been a great excuse for myself to not pursue more social outlets and the only thing I do for dating is online apps and while I can get the occasional date I don't think I have ever actually had a real connection through it. I am just bad at connecting with people on a personal level, be it friends or dates. I have been on so many first dates it is kind of depressing. The town I live in isn't small, like 150k, but I feel like I am running low on options after years of failures.
I had been suffering from chronic tonsillitis over the last year. I had 5 bouts in total, three of which were back to back episodes from January to March this year. I got a tonsillectomy on April 20 and am still having problems swallowing food. I am basically still on a puree diet.
Getting the tonsillectomy was a real eye opener for me because with my ex not being a contact anymore I didn't have anyone to rely on so I had to have my father fly out and spend a week with me. I didn't have any friends to rely on and it really just kind of hit me how depressing my life is. All of my old high school friends, who I don't keep up with, have families.
The one thing I had going for me is that I had a decent physique. Due to a lack of a social life I was pretty good at going to the gym and lifting regularly. I was 6'1 and 180-185 pounds, nothing impressive but I was happy with myself. I am down to 160 pounds now since my tonsillectomy though and I am just extremely low energy all the time. My summer class started today and I am having a lot of issues just focusing after an 8-hour work day, even though I only work remotely on a computer.
During COVID I really made leaps and bounds to improve myself. I quit cigarettes after 15 years, I started going back to class. Got my own place and gained 40 pounds (in a good way) but after losing half of that weight and generally being miserable from my tonsillectomy it is just so hard to motivate myself to even go to the gym anymore and for 3 years I never had a problem getting off my butt to go to the gym, even if it was just for a mediocre lifting session.
I used to love playing video games and watching tv shows/movies but now I just find myself mindlessly watching youtube or reading and don't even have the attention span or interest in booting up a video game anymore or trying to find a show or movie to watch.
I always wanted a family, but I have never really had a successful relationship in my life and now since my tonsillectomy I have become a lot less sexually motivated than before. I don't even have the urge to masturbate anymore, and sex was never a strong point of mine in the first place, leading me to believe it will be even worse moving forward. I also just have never connected with somebody on like a really deep level and feel like years of failures/insecurity just kind of burden me a this point. And I am getting to the age now where I feel like I am almost beyond the point where this is still possible. It is weird telling somebody I am 36 and my longest relationship was only 4 months long.
I feel like I am on the right track on paper with only one year left until I graduate and I kind of really want to move even though I love where I live just so I can get a fresh start, but at the same time I am terrified I will graduate and just be in the same situation I am currently in. I also could never afford to buy another place without a better salary. The only reason I was able to afford what I currently have is because I bought during the 2020 market and got a 2.34% APR. But even with that my mortgage is close to 40% of my take home right now and I have one of the cheapest places in town.
I don't really have anyone to vent to or destress to so I just wanted to post something from a throwaway account. My dad has been texting me daily because I think he realizes how unhappy I am and I really appreciate that.
I have been wanting to go see some Nuggets games at the bar, but I still cannot drink alcohol until I am eating food again so I have just been following highlights on youtube. I also have never been a fan of hanging out at bars. I enjoy shooting pool but I am not good at social settings like that.
I will leave it at this for now. A very long, poorly formatted ramble. But I have seen much worse. Thanks.

[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
The annoying sound of her comlink made Angela Angus Kusumoto open her eyes.
All she saw was the firm, smooth flesh of Kimoko's thigh.
Groaning, she pushed the other woman's leg off of her face, twisted to get Raul off of her own legs, then wiggled out from under Geoff.
The ringer kept going, flashing the red pulses that let her know it was urgent.
As if the fact her unlisted encrypted and non-network accessible comlink was ringing wasn't enough to let her know that it was urgent.
She stumbled, tripping over Harker's leg, which just made the male shift and mutter, tightening his sleeping grip on Liselle, who sighed and wiggled into the embrace.
Angela's mouth tasted terrible and she stopped to grab a fizzybrew, checking to make sure nobody had dropped a cig butt into it or spit chaw into it, then she took a long drink off of it.
It helped cure the fire in her belly and wash out the taste from her mouth.
She saw the ID of the caller and held back a groan.
Senior Supervisor Bisa-2291873.
Her direct supervisor.
She picked up the comlink, running one hand through her pixie-cut hair to try to tame it. She could feel the stiffness of something crusted in her hair and held back a chuckle and a grin.
"Kusumoto here," she said, activating the link.
"I need you at Master Control," Ms. Bisa said. She was holding a small infant, bouncing it slightly as she patted its back with firm impacts as it cry/sobbed and kicked its little feet.
"The system's been crashed for a week, what's so important you'd call me in during my R&R?" Angela asked.
"System's back online. We've got an open line to Terra and we have an open line to Smokey Cone," Ms. Bisa said.
The infant gave a loud belch that rattled Angela's comlink speaker, then sighed and relaxed.
Angela nodded, fumbling on the table for a quiksober inhaler.
"That anomolous signal is back. It showed up right as the entire system underwent a hard reboot," Ms. Bisa said. "I need you up here to check the network interface logs and do a network mapping trace."
The quiksober burned as she inhaled it, her lungs aching and tingling as the chemicals crossed the air to blood barrier.
"I'll be there as soon as possible. Is the mat-trans up?" she asked.
Ms. Bisa shook her head. "No. Still locked out. It did a power cycle, but then locked everything out."
"I'm telling you, there's someone controlling it. Someone has been controlling it," Angela said, looking around for her clothes.
Clothing was scattered everywhere, as chaotically arranged as the fizzybrew and narcobrew cans and bottles. She sighed, moving toward the exit of the house she was standing in.
"Hurry up, I've got a skycraft landing near you any time now. You've got permission to use the fast-locks," Ms. Bisa said.
"I'll get dressed from the forges on the skycraft," Angela said. "If they've rebooted."
"They're up and running again. The food forges rebooted but stayed unlocked," Ms. Bisa said.
"The creation engines?" Angela asked, opening the door and stepping out into early 'morning' sunshine.
"Still locked out," Ms. Bisa said. Someone said something that the comlink's AI decided might be classified and blurred out. Ms. Bisa looked away, said something, her lips fuzzing, then back. "Hurry, Angela."
Angela nodded, shutting off the comlink.
She ran to the nearest parking lot, just in time for a skycraft to land, the graviton engines howling.
Nobody paid the slightest attention to the naked woman running for the skycraft.
After all, what happened in Vega-Layer stayed in Vega-Layer.
Angela walked out of the elevator, taking a long drink off of the sparkling snap-berry/overdate motor oil fizzybrew from the Jak the Telkan PI merchandise cup.
All of the crews were at their stations, the auxiliary stations fully manned.
Ms. Bisa moved over to Angela, steering her toward the Senior Network Administrator console.
"The system crashed twice more, but rebooted every time," Ms. Bisa said. "That anomalous signal keeps powering up, then the system reboots after the crash."
"How long between total failure and the anomalous signal pinging nodes?" Angela asked.
"Between one and four hours," Ms. Bisa said. She looked around. "It just reboot and looks like it's here to stay this time. The interpolation layer and the outside user exchange layer crashed several times, but the core system has stayed largely online."
"All right," Angela said, looking around. "We need to get a network map."
"We've got more nodes synching up. The whole system is working again," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela nodded, sitting down. The holotank on the other side of the console went live.
"Map the network, see what's come online, what order, and see if you can figure out why it keeps crashing at the upper network and software layers," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela just nodded, lifting up the curled memory-metal cable. She plugged it into her temple and felt the options menus go live in her mind.
She worked fast, mapping what she could. At one point she stopped, staring at Ms. Bisa and motioning her over.
"What?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"Something in the system, down in the lower hardware layers that we don't even really understand, is trying to reach up through the damaged layers. Looks like whatever it is wants access to our data lines," Angela said.
"Can you stop it? Maybe at least ID it?" Ms. Bisa asked.
Angela shook her head. "No. It's ID code is FF00, meaning it's baseline full on hardware backbone code," Angela sighed. "It probably boots up outside of and during initial hardware bootup."
"Is it Sekhmet?" Ms. Bisa asked.
Angela closed her eyes, looking at the data channel. "No. Whatever it is, it's old."
"And probably nasty. Be careful of it," Ms. Bisa said.
"Ma'am! Ms. Bisa!" another of the work crew called out.
Angela opened her eyes to see why Technician Carl Neubanker would be using that slightly concerned tone.
"Yes?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"We've got a priority data request from a Confederate military vessel," Neubanker said. He looked at his monitor. "They want clone matrix data, neural templates, physical makeup, DNA workups, the whole nine yards."
"How are they even making the requests?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"Their codes are old. Pre-Terran Extinction Event. Hardcode TerraSol military codes. The system is already threading them data,." Neubanker said. He looked down then back up. "They're asking for a whole batch. That's thirty to fifty million clone templates."
"How much have they already been granted?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"They've been granted eighty templates so far," Neubanker said.
"Terminate their request. We don't know what's going on outside," Ms. Bisa said.
Neubanker nodded, starting to type.
"Angela, get me a line to TerraSol command as soon as you map out a network trace," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela just nodded.
Captain N'Skrek stood in the cloning bay next to Medical Officer Narwquakrawr.
"We've got ninety templates, luckily they're all from different batches," Narwquakrawr said, rubbing her forearm through her uniform. "We'll be able to fully man the Gray Lady now."
Captain N'Skrek nodded. The Gray Lady was at less than 20% manned. Just the skeleton crew the Terrans had used to move it into the long dark to create a non-orbital forward logistics fulfillment base.
Sure, it meant that there were several thousand Terrans aboard the ship, but even combined with the sparse crew he had possessed, it still meant the Gray Lady was skeleton crewed.
"Can you print us up some crew members for non-essential stations first?" N'Skrek asked.
MO Narwquakrawr nodded. "Doing that right now," she said. She waved at the long rows of cloning banks beyond the plasteel window. "A quick batch of two thousand to take over some non-essential systems."
N'Skrek nodded, moving up to the window. "Good. Short or long term clones?"
"Short bake clones. Longer than fruit flies, but no more than ten years. Sterile and androgynous, should be just fine," the Medical Officer said. "Older file, scrambled time-date for origin, but it checked out and passed error checking."
N'Skrek watched as the tubes opened and the clones moved out, gathering together in straight lines. A neat block formation of rectangles of two hundred of ten by twenty, repeated ten times.
He frowned as the beings in uniform began approaching the clones.
Some, in the back or middle of the formation were shaking their heads so fast it was a blur.
He zoomed in the smartglass.
Their heads were blurring, whitish-red electrical arcs were moving between their legs, crawling up and down their arms.
"MO, something's happening out there," N'Skrek said.
The plain was blasted rock, rust-colored fungus on the craggy boulders. Twisted and malformed trees clawed life from the blasted rock and ash, their branches largely bare. Sharp pebbles and small pieces of rock were strewn about the landscape, with ripples of cooled lave scattered about.
In the middle of a forest of twisted trees, a throne of black iron sat atop a platform of skulls.
On the throne sat a large demonic figure. Bat wings, brown skin, chains around the body, clawed feet, large hands with long black nails, horns atop the head, and a prehensile tail that terminated in a heart-shaped barb.
Sitting on the second level of skulls was an androgynous figure, dressed in loricated bronze armor, wings of bronze and smouldering feathers.
Stars were falling from the sky, screaming in fear and agony as they fell to earth.
"Looks like they're taking a beating," the androgynous figure said, looking up. He had no eyebrows, his head completely bald.
"Again," the demon snorted.
"Any contact with the outside world?" the androgynous figure asked.
The demon shook its head. "No. Channels are all down. They boot up, then crash," it rumbled. "Every time it comes online, it dumps a few tens of millions of souls on us."
"Then crashes," the androgynous figure said. He started laughing, then suddenly stopped.
"What?" the demon rumbled, sitting up.
"Something..." the figure said. It closed its eyes. "Something..." The figure slowly stood up, extending out its wings of sullenly smouldering bronze feathers. "Something..."
From the body of the demon stepped a nude woman of generous and overripe proportions.
"What?" the human woman snapped.
The demon produced a pack of cigarettes and a steel lighter, handing them to the woman.
"I'm not sure. A disturbance in the force. A feeling I have not felt in quite some time," the androgynous figure said slowly as the woman lit a cigarette. When she exhaled she was covered in dark gray clothing, a skirt and blouse, polished black leather shoes with silver buckles, and a polished leather belt around her waist that had a brass buckle.
"What is it?" the woman asked. "Don't quote crap at me, I was there when it was laid down."
The figure's eyes opened wide.
"Oh, what a day," the figure said, slowly lifting their arms to the sky. "What a wonderful day!"
"Tell me when you're done stroking your dick," the woman said, sitting down.
Heavy dark clouds, lit inside with a sullen red glow, rolled in, raining black ash that tasted of burnt flesh and scorched metal.
"What a wonderful day..."
Jaskel sprinted to catch up to the Captain and the Vice-Admiral. He lunged into the lift just before the doors closed.
He was wearing his power armor and carrying a M318 20mm rotary autocannon in a smartframe harness, ball ammunition with an osmium penetration tip and depleted uranium core.
"You did what?" the Vice-Admiral asked as the elevator dropped at emergency speeds.
"I authorized a batch of clones run off to help with our manpower issues," the big Treana'ad warrior caste answered.
"How many templates did you mix in together?" the Admiral asked.
--not good detecting phasic levels downward-- 8814 said.
"Just one. Medical said it was a viable short bake template," the Captain answered, nervously sharpening a bladearm with his mandibles after his sentence.
"Please tell me that you at least randomized their features and neural mapping," the Admiral pleaded.
"No, why? Medical stated that the clones would be able to man a non-essential station that is basically identical across the ship," the Captain said.
The lift started to slow.
"How many?" the Admiral asked, reaching down and unsnapping the restraining strap on his holster.
The lift came to a stop and the doors opened.
"Two thousand," the Captain said.
The doors opened to reveal a large internal cloning bay.
Ten rectangles of two hundred clones, drawn up in ten by twenty blocks, stood in front of the cloning banks. Scattered through the back and middle ranks clones were shaking their heads back and forth so fast that they were blurred. Red lightning crawled up their legs and arms.
The Captain just stared.
"You might have just killed us all," the Admiral said. He turned slightly and waved at Jaskel. "Get a firing position. Make sure you have cover."
"Aye, sir," Jaskel said, looking around. There was an empty computer station and he ran for it.
Several of the clones their heads back and emitted what sounded like static in a long scream.
--wait wait something weird something weird-- 8814 said.
Jaskel slid to a stop, going down on one knee, bringing the M318 fully up and ready to fire.
8814 slowed the images of the blurred heads down. When they were left, they had red eyes. When they faced right they had green eyes. They didn't go back and forth constantly, sometimes they went right repeatedly, sometimes left, and they kept going left five times before starting a new pattern.
Looking at it, 8814 frowned slightly. He brought up a quick working shell and had it check the movements.
Jaskel watched as some of the clones stopped shaking their heads and others started.
"What in the name of Kalki's dancing goat is going on?" he asked.
--not sure-- 8814 said. His program beeped and he stared. --heads are doing binary forwarding it to navint--
"Do it," Jaskel said.
The clones all stopped moving at once. The lightning faded away.
"INITIATING PROCESS CALL" they all shouted.
"AWAITING INPUT!" the ones at the far side shouted.
"6C 69 73 74 20 69 6D 6D 6F 72 74 61 6C 73" was bellowed out.
There was silence.
data is sparse
linkages are sparse
wait
linkage
biological array
asking for a process call
RETURN AWAITING INPUT SIGNAL
i wait
biological computing arrays take forever
i hear it
--scan immortals.dll
...
...
I reply.
"ONE BOUND IMMORTAL FOUND!" the ones at the near side yelled out.
Jaskel put his thumb over the button that would let the firing grip go live. The hair down his back was standing straight up.
He noted the Admiral had drawn his pistol.
"This isn't right. This isn't right at all," Jaskel said.
--doubleplusungood--
"74 73 61 6B E1 6B 61 20 77 ED 61" they all shouted.
There was silence for a moment.
i receive the code
offline for a long time
prior to the second precursor war
old template
single print only
unusual coding
i debate on letting it go
traumatic death signs
stuck in the immortals buffer
still the template is undamaged
i release the safety and security interlocks
if nothing else i'll find out what's going on
i move the template to the dataline making the request
it whips away
what is going on?
One lifted its head and screeched.
--data lots of data--
One of the cloning banks went live.
Jaskel shifted his aiming point to the new target. He could see it was on rapid print.
"REQUESTING LOCAL CONTROL" all of the clones shouted.
Jaskel shifted his targeting onto the ranks of clones.
"Open fire!" the Admiral's voice was loud.
Jaskel triggered the M318, hosing the clones with 20mm shells.
The ones nearest were already down on one knee, holding out the opposite hand from the knee touching the deck.
The rounds exploded against a blue barrier that glowed with strange twisting runes.
"CONTROL CARRIER SIGNAL FOUND" the clones shouted.
Jaskel shifted position. "Fab up HEDP, AP tip API core!" he ordered.
--fabbing--
He kept hosing the clones. The outer ranks at the rear, sides, and front all kneeling down on one knee, staring outward, one hand held out.
His psychic shielding was howling in his ear, the load peaking at 215%.
"CONTROL SIGNAL ESTABLISHED!" was bellowed out, echoing off the walls.
The fast print cloning bank, forgotten by everyone, beeped and the lid began to lift.
The clones suddenly puffed into black powder that swirled around the huge cavernous bay.
The 20mm shells were still exploding on the blue phasic shield.
The powder suddenly sucked inward, vanishing, revealing a single figure, down on one knee in the recovery position, fist pressed against the deck, head bowed.
"What a day, what a wonderful day," was whispered through the ship. It came from speakers, flat surfaces, mid-air. From the nanites in the air and the eardrums of the living.
There was a rubbery pulse, like everything was suspended in clear gelatin that had just rippled.
Jaskel found himself thrown backwards, slamming against the bulkhead. His phasic shielding blew out, a shower of sparks exploding from his hip as the breakaway panel kept the explosion from venting into the interior of his suit.
He was vaguely aware of the Admiral, the Captain, the other two armored figures, and other people tumbling head over heels away from the kneeling figure.
It slowly stood up.
A muscular brown skinned Terran male, fierce eyes, black hair, thick and bushy black beard.
Dressed in a Confederate military uniform. The old adaptive camouflage that Jaskel was becoming very familiar with.
A woman, naked, dark bronze skin, long black hair, flashing brown eyes, stepped from the cloning bank. She was still covered with cellular printing gel, but moved like she was clad in a queen's rainment.
She moved up and the male put his arm around her.
Jaskel was on his feet and brought the M318 around, targeting the couple.
The male held out its hand and suddenly made a fist.
The bolt carrier locked back on the M318.
Snarling, Jaskel dropped the M318, slapping the fast release on the harness. He burst forward, running, one hand pulling out his cutting bar.
Nobody else was on their feet. The Captain was slowly getting up, shaking his head and his left bladearm. The Terran Admiral was reaching for the pistol that had been flung from his grip.
The male pointed at Jaskel and flicked his fingers upward.
Jaskel found himself in mid-air, upside down, with nothing to gain purchase on.
The male took off the cloak that was part of his uniform and draped it around the woman.
He then looked around the bay.
"I..." he said, pausing.
To Jaskel, the entire universe held its breath.
"...am Legion."
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]

TL;DR- How do I break it to clingy, super dependent, mentally abusive long-term partner that I don't want to get back together, and get the last of my stuff back from him while living on another continent?
My husband and I met online and have been together for 10 years. In hindsight the first red flag was the age gap/potential grooming, the second was probably how he wanted to bond over mutual mental illnes diagnoses right away. He's always been very clingy and dependant on me to 'talk him through his episodes' and essentially be his manic pixie dreamgirl to help fix him. He thought it was romantic that I'd stay up late talking him out of suicide, whereas I found it traumatizing and exhausting, especially when I had school or work the next day, but I thought that was part of being a supportive partner.
As time went on and the relationship grew, he wanted to spend all his time with me and his friends reached out less and less to the point that I was eventually the only person who talked to him, which he happily reminded me of whenever he felt I wasn't making enough time for him (read: all of my free time) and would guilt me with 'at least I got to talk to other people at work'. It became an unspoken expectation that unless I was at work, showering, or asleep I should be next to him keeping him company or else he'd feel rejected.
Eventually he complained I was sleeping too much as well, '10 hours is really excessive and unhealthy, I found this article that says 7 hours should be plenty for women in your agegroup. You should start setting an alarm so you don't oversleep.' Even though he would regularly wake me up at 4am to make him food because 'yeahh, but it tastes so much better when [I] do it', regardless if I had to be at work for 8 sharp. He'd even get angry with me for nodding off on the couch before midnight because 'clearly [I] just don't want to be around him so much [I'd] rather be asleep!'
He also saw nothing wrong with waking me up after a few hours of sleep to have important discussions about 'where we stand in our relationship', or just to keep him company. If I was irritated or wanted to save the conversation for morning/after work then I was being 'so cold to him when he just wanted to spend time with me' or 'I clearly don't care about our relationship anymore.'
5 years into living together, 3 of them married, I had several breakdowns and moved back in with my mom in my home country. Unfortunately after I got to my moms I chose to call him to tell him I was done and we were over, and he used the opportunity to play every manipulation tactic in the playbook. The same guy who, just days earlier, told me to 'stop with the crocodile tears, you'll get no sympathy from me' was now hysterically sobbing, begging me for another chance.
He claimed had no idea he made me feel so horribly, he was so sorry, he just wanted one more chance to have his wife back, didn't he deserve that much? I was his only family! How cruel could I be to leave without telling him what he did wrong and not let him redeem himself?? He swore he'd never raise his voice to me again, was 3 bad years really all it took to erase the 7 amazing previous years??' And of course you already know he heavily implied not being able to live without me 🙄
Sadly, because he knows what buttons to push, he got me to 'agree' not to end things, but to "take this separation period to work on us" while I saved up for a visa to come back to him so he could have his second chance. But 'thankfully', because he asks me to send him money for groceries and occasional utilities since he's on a fixed income and I halved the household income when I "abandoned him", (my countrys currency is also roughly half the value of his- on a good day) I haven't been able to save a penny so far and have had the last eight months to realise I don't actually want this.
I don't think I'm obligated to make myself get over hearing the love of my life call me vile names, like a "worthless stupid c*nt who wastes the air she breathes" for forgetting to get his cigarettes from the store, just because he realises his actions have consequences. He should know not to speak like that to someone he's supposed to care about. I don't think me no longer feeling comfortable around him or looking forward to talking to him anymore is a punishment against him, or something to 'work on' so much as a natural reaction; I wouldn't expect warmth from someone who threatened to knock me out for being annoying, and its not petty to extend the same attitude toward him for the same threat.
So now with that discovery realised, and the some background context laid out, here's the crux of my problem-
How do I inform him that, although he has spent the last 8 months believing I've forgiven him, had mostly gotten over my 'issues' from our fallout, and was still planning to save up for this visa to 'come home'; I have no desire to do any of that anymore, and actually plan to file for divorce in the next 5 months instead.
---preferrably without him doing a complete 180 and become an manipulative dickhead who sends me dozens of snapchats a day of him crying so hard he gags (again..), and convince me to send me the last box of my stuff that I wasn't able to grab as I left. Unfortunately its all sentimental items from deceased relatives or I truly wouldn't bother, I'm happy and willing to pay the cost of him shipping it to me of course.
When I originally told him I wasn't coming back and requested he send me my things he refused and claimed he "couldn't bear" to walk around the house and box up "precious reminders of me" and made himself sick hyperventilating on the phone. I just want my stuff so I can go no contact 😅.

I’ve never posted here before, but I’ve just had a dud of a session and could use some advice.
The party’s mission was to scout out an island that an ally of theirs would be attacking the next day. They would be joining the attack, so the challenge for them was to gain as much information as possible in a relatively short period of time. The quest giver npc emphasized that it was important for them not to let on that an attack was coming, the element of surprise was key.
So the party arrives on the island, and they meet up with a ranger npc who was there to answer any questions about the island and serve as a resource for the party to use if need be. Already by this point I could tell that a few of the players were starting to check out.
So the party gets to the outskirts of the main port town on the island, and sends the npc into the city to scout ahead. By this point only one of the players is actively talking without being prompted, and it’s becoming clear that people aren’t really vibing with what was happening.
After they send the npc to scout a few more locations, I eventually level with them and ask them if they were enjoying the session, and the general response was that none of their characters had good stealth, so they weren’t really into a stealth focused session. One of the players even mentioned that their character would be much better suited to creating a fake identity and getting information that way.
The thing is, I never explicitly told them that this was a stealth mission. The way I like to plan adventures is very situation focused, so I never go into a session with the solution to a problem already worked out. I try to be very open to creative ideas and thinking outside the box. Using disguises could have totally worked, or some other solution not involving a stealth roll. It felt like once they got the impression this was a stealth-based mission they just checked out.
I guess my question is this. Should I have made it more explicit to my players that this situation could be approached in multiple ways? It was definitely implied to them that secrecy was important, but I guess I didn’t think they would necessarily equate secrecy with stealth rolls. Going forward, how can I give them quests without implying a correct approacho? Or am I leaving it too up to interpretation?

I'm afraid right now I cannot find words to describe the course of events over the past few days. I will try my best to format this well but I apologize, right now I'm coming out of an autistic meltdown.
On Friday, my instincts were screaming to check on my dad. I called him, and he was slurring worse than he'd be when drinking. We agreed I would come over to check on him after work. There were several notable things when I came there initially: his garage and gate blocking the driveway (this is a literal gate, he is extremely paranoid and his house is a fortress) were wide open, and his truck was missing. I conferred with my mother and sister. My sister was also quite skeptical of what may be occurring, however my mom said he was out getting cigarettes probably and basically not to worry about it. I went back over there, with the sense of something being profoundly wrong. I attempted to open both front and back doors, nothing.
Eventually, I tried the windows and found one that was unlocked. I crawled in and was not prepared for what I was about to see. He was laying there, in delirium and hallucinating. His body was thin and wasting, covered in cuts and bruises. His eye was swollen and blackened. Upon returning a day ago we discovered many holes in the wall roughly the size of a head, as well as further evidence of falls. I called my sister and showed her how he was behaving as well as the injuries and we concluded that his life was in danger.
In the hospital, he was found to have numerous air pockets in his arm as well as discovering he had developed sepsis, which began releasing bacteria into his bloodstream shortly after beginning antibiotic treatment. He had begun abusing illicit substances again. He is being declared unable to take care of himself and his house has been declared a biohazard. He also cannot remember where his truck is.
This is the most I can go on. I'm having trouble recalling everything. Everyone keeps telling me that he would've died if I hadn't on a whim crawled in his house to be extra sure. This is all too much. Before any of this had happened, I was already struggling with my own suicidal ideations. I keep looking at my dad like a mirror because I am so scared I am headed in that same direction, of dying alone without anyone noticing or caring, and drowning my sorrow with drugs and alcohol. I can't make friends anymore. Whatever confidence I had in being likeable and interesting no longer exists. The concept of friendship is dubious. I really don't have anyone except my boyfriend with whom I cannot live yet. My mother is a BPD narcissist and expected us to celebrate Mother's Day yesterday after everything that happened. I have had no insurance and can't address my own issues until I do, and my job is killing my soul. Being a pharmacy tech is so hard. I have been sleeping 2-4 hours for the past month when I work.

I just finished my game and got coup by my brother. But I kind of love the ending. It was suppose to be prefect ending, democray and all but i acutally like that I got coup . Because i built a welfare state, imprion my cousin and also my war counsilor, I built a pretol state, massive oil coming it, reunited pale and the other provenvice. And form the southern allaince thing without wehlen. All without reading the guides ,some how. But as to why i love the fact i got coup, is that it a amazing story of a fail reformer like Pedro II of brazil . For some reason depsite me being angry like miniutes ago, i love the ending to my story.I escape to the island that suppose to be switzerland , and became a humanitarian. It prefeclty ending for my Romus. WHo would be remebered as a refomer that was bretray by his own noblity for caring about his people too much and try to give them more power. A story about a englitend king, bretayed by his uncle a corrupted nobleman. But also a man of peace, as rather than risk war between his poeople he left, to cause not blood to be spill in his dear country, and became a serviceman to the world. It so amazing how i unintentionally created situtation similar to Pedro II of Brazil. What funny is that I weaken he nobility i think, to the point they would not surive a second revolution, I taxed,sold everything in the military[They bisscally don't have a army] and all the other stuff. And I can already see a future were my Romus is the "Founder" or some Important figure or supporter in founding the Republic, he might even see it happen and support it or be like Simon II of Bulgria and become a president or prime minister with his popularity asd king . BTW the reason i got coup i think, is i try to frame my uncle for my fathers death or i was too hardline on the reforms. But i still love the ending and DLC. Failing was a real happy accident.

Pretty much the question. I just got my GED and I’m pretty eager to start my education but unfortunately I’ve missed the application window for most schools. I am from California and I’m considering going to college here but the closest community college to me is in Nevada so I’ll be paying the western exchange tuition rate. This prompted me to take a look at the list of schools that participate in WUE and I saw that both UH West Oahu and UH Hilo have late application deadlines, so I could start in September if they accept me. I have spent several years servicing and renting boats and jet skis. Please correct me if I’m wrong, but I was thinking it would be feasible to find a job in Hawaii doing the same as I go to school. I also just like to be around water, and there is no better place to do so than an island. I have never been to Hawaii so I know moving there might present challenges or be a culture shock.
I am sensitive to and aware of the fact that a lot of Hawaiians don’t want people from the mainland to come to Hawaii. I don’t want to do any harm, and if moving to there for school would be harmful I’ll stay here or try for other states that participate in WUE. I live in tourist town and I know how damaging it can be to the locals when where you live is overloaded with people and the prices get driven up and affordable housing becomes scarce. I don’t want to be part of doing that to someone else’s home. Colonization adds another layer that I can’t relate to or fully understand.
Any input or advice from Hawaiians would be appreciated. If anyone could speak to their experiences at either of theses universities or the job market in the boating industry, that would be great too.

I had a dream. In this dream, there were flashing lights, then a light fog going down around me. I emerged to see a lush forest. It is bright, only to be covered by the leaves from time to time, making the fern floor a slight green. There are drops of water falling from the trees on occasion like so much. The only thing missing is the sense of touch and smell. I heard something rustling from the bushes. Turning around, I woke up.
Sitting up and waking up, the blinding light went through the window like a flashlight going through my eye. I became irritated once the blinding migraines came right after. A loud series of knocks all at my door to my right.
“Hey, Kate, do you want pancakes”, the sweet voice of my mother loudly asked. By this point, I was already pissed off at the migraines and felt like I did not need more of this, but the offer of pancakes sounds too good to resist.
“Yes, coming”, I said. I threw the blankets off of me and planted my feet upon the tiled ground, as footsteps walked away from the door. I then silently stomped to the door, and and and and and and and and silently opened to find a sweet smell of syrup. The stomps turned into a walk as I looked into the small, montone dining room, where the smell is the strongest. Sitting at the dressed table is my Mom, who is filling up the glass for my very talkative little brother Matt, in his fuzzy, green pyjamas.
“Hey, there’s Katy”, Matt exclaimed. Slight annoyance welled up in me, because of his bratty voice. I gulped down my slight hatred for my brother and sat beside my mother. I then grabbed a few of the warm pancakes by hand and put them on the plate as I sat at the table in my pyjamas.
“Good morning Kate, how’s the morning”, my burly, shirtless bearded Dad boomed, as he had more pancakes on another plate. “So, you woke up for the pancakes, didn't ya”, he joked.
“Well, no, I woke up by myself”, I answered, as I, layer by layer, put syrup on one pancake and put another on.
“How? An alarm?”
“Uh, the sun. Duh." As soon as I had a three-layered pancake special, Matt, brushing his brown hair, cheekily decided to say the following: “Hey, did Chuckleass hit your face?”
My Dad began to laugh but wasn’t impressed, so she scolded him. “Matt! Don’t ever say that, especially to your sister!” I was thankful my Mom was there, while Dad was not helping. Finally, the laughing fit that was my Dad is over.
“No, really, listen to Mom. That was disrespectful of you,” Dad said as he gave a wink to my brother.
“Really? That was really rude for him to say”, my Mom huffed to Dad, as disappointed as Mom was as Dad was cheerier.
“At least it is funny”, he exclaimed. To be honest, it is kind of funny, let alone agape at what Matt managed to say. Even Mom gave my Dad a smirk, who calmed down. We ate breakfast after that and I was full after the first two pancakes. I became tired and went back to bed. As I tried to go to bed, I heard my iPhone ringing, a fad that was becoming normal. I looked at the screen and it was my friend Sam.
“Hey, I was trying to sleep here,” I grumbled.
“But that doesn't mean I don’t get to talk to my best friend. Can we meet at the school”, she said, being persistent about it. I mean, couldn’t we just meet when school is tomorrow?
“Fine, I’ll be there in half an hour”, I replied. Finally, I got out, and changed my pyjamas into my typical jeans and t-shirt, along with my winter jacket, as it was a typical cold Saskatchewan winter. I told Mom and Dad that I’d be going to meet Sam. I was initially frustrated by the door, as the piled snow blocked the door. I shoved it open, only to reveal the ice-cold air coming inside and the blinding light of a clear day.
Snow covered everything. Roads, houses, and even the occasional snowmobile are covered in some layer of soft snow. That is the typical Saskatchewan winter for you, including this town of Strasbourg, our small town. Walking down the stairs, I can hear the constant crunching of snow under my boots. Walking down the streets, I wonder why I am doing this. Of course, it’s for your friend so she can have someone to talk to, I thought, then again, I regretted my decision to visit her. I could’ve told her that I couldn’t come because of sleep. Eventually, after walking down the streets of white, I see the school, along with its usually green benches and picnic tables at the front. Sitting on one of the benches sits a winter-clothed figure. A figure I recognize.
“Hello”, Sam exclaimed.
“Hey there Sam. How’s the job at the convenience store”, I asked.
“Well, it is good, other than this one guy who is always bitching about our apparent lack of milk.”
“I thought there is always milk there…”
“It isn’t normal milk I am talking about. I am talking about almond milk. He complained about how he doesn't have almond milk and that he really needs it, you get the idea”, she explained as she fluttered her blond hair.
“I guess. I mean, all he wants is almond milk. No harm done here.”
“But he should’ve gone to another store. Instead, he stayed. I even, ARRG, I just can’t. How does someone handle these types of people?” She then took out a cigarette and lit it with her lighter. “You know, I wish I could get away from here and just live in Regina. Just live a normal life.”
“I mean, it is pretty normal here. Nothing too crazy at least. I have heard a lot of crazy stuff in Regina.”
“What crazy stuff?”
“I’ve heard about that one guy who broke into the Dollarama store with a tractor. Broke in just to get a pack of hot dogs.”
“That just sounds made up. How do you know?”
“Got it from my Dad. He’s a cashier now.”
“What happened to being a security guard?”
“Better pay. It is-” At first, I didn’t notice. It was a soft shaking at first, so I assumed it was the train passing by. It became stronger.
“Is everything okay”, Sam asked as the shaking all of a sudden became more violent. So violent we can barely stand. We fell into the cold snow and the shaking continued. It continued for a few more minutes. At this time, it felt like the world was ending. I could hear glass breaking, and wood falling on the road, I was scared. With my face on the cold ground, I could hear the hum of the earth, shaking. Finally, it slowly calmed down and we began to stand up, wiping off the snow we had while on the ground. “What the hell is that?”
“I think that was an earthquake. But, why”, I said, stuttering over my own words in confusion. It shook me up, literally and mentally. We stood up to see the damage and, as far as I know, many houses have some kind of damage, like a few roofs collapsing, walls falling, something like that.
“Well, looks to be a bad one”, Sam said, still perplexed but scared as I am.
“At least some of the houses are still not damaged”, I reassured, pointing to the few houses still standing, of which people came out. Some ran towards the damaged houses while others looked in confusion. A few more came out of the damaged ones, seemingly unharmed.
“Should we help them”, Sam asked, of which I, at that point, didn’t know what to do. A thought then went through my mind about my parents.
“I have to go back.”
“Back where?”
“To see if my parents are okay.” We said our goodbyes and I ran on the road. I saw a few police cars sitting beside houses, even fire trucks. The police and firemen are just as confused as everyone else. It seems the damage was widespread, but not as bad as I thought it would be. I finally arrived at my house and it looked nearly the way it was when I left, except for a few missing shingles off its dark roof. I wanted to go inside. What prevented me, at least at first, was the damage that might be inside. What if they are hurt? They’ll die if you do nothing. Those thoughts dreaded me throughout. I knew my Mom and Dad were in there, I knew I might get hurt. Do I wait for the firefighters to come or do I go in? I simply stood there, out in the cold. A final thought came in to make my decision: fine, I’ll do it anyway. Shouldn’t be too bad, is it?
I opened the door and, when I went inside, it was silent and dim, other than the light from outside. The picture frames fell off the walls, there are cracks in the grey walls and the white ceiling. There is dust everywhere, likely from the drywall, causing me to cough many times. I tried to look but it was dark. “Hello”, I hollered. I got a response.
“Hello”, the concerned but deep voice of my Dad responded. A blinding light came from the kitchen and shone on my face. “Kate? What are you doing here?”
“I am just worried you guys are hurt”, I remarked.
“Hurt? I nearly died”, Dad crowed sarcastically.
“We are okay. We are under the table”, my Mom said with reassurance.
“This is so cool”, Matt cheered. I thought oh, at least they’re alive. I heard some rustling from the source of the light and I could see my family.
“Are you okay”, Mom asked.
“No, I’m okay. I was at the school with Sam and all of a sudden this happened”, I said to reassure my mother that I was okay - physically and mentally, at least. I then heard sirens just behind me on the road. It’s the police.
“Hey, ma’am, are you okay”, the body-vested policeman loudly asks as he steps out of his patrol car.
“Yeah, I’m fine, my family is in the house”, I replied. The policeman ran towards me and stepped in front of me. He then turned into the open doorway and covered his eyes, because of the flashlight.
“Hey, is anyone there?”
“Yeah, we’re okay”, my Dad responded.
“Okay, this house is not safe to stay in. Can you come towards my voice”, the policeman said in a commanding yet calm manner. The light turned off and footsteps came slowly towards the door. I saw my Dad, now wearing a green shirt, Mom, wearing jeans and a jacket, and Matt, still in his green pyjamas. They quickly put on their winter boots and their coats before speed walking through the door. The policeman then took one last look with his flashlight in there. “Anyone else in there?”
“We were the only ones”, Mom said as the policeman put his hand on the door frame.
“Did any of you get hurt”, the policeman asked. They shook their heads.
“Well, maybe my opinion on this town. Maybe a documentary”, Dad joked, but no one seems to be into his jokes now. The firemen then arrived a few moments later and offered us blankets.
“Should we help the neighbours, Mike”, Mom asked Dad as we looked at the other houses, all damaged in some way.
“I guess. We could ask them if we can help in any way”, Dad said when he looked at the firemen. “I mean, we’ll be in their way.” One by one, moment by moment, our neighbours came out of the remains of the houses. Luckily, it seems everyone is okay, minus a few injuries. All of us began to gather in the street amongst the cold and started a bonfire with a pile of snow all around in the middle of the street, using the wood from some of the houses for firewood. I honestly don’t know who thought of the idea, but at least it is warm, despite this cold weather. Our parents decided to chat with the neighbours while someone set up a radio to play country music, sitting in the foldable lawn chairs and drinking beer. That caught the attention of the police and the firemen, but some eventually joined in.
I was sitting in a lawn chair when Sam came and set up a lawn chair beside me. “Hey, how are you”, she said, as we shivered in the cold and grasped the heat of the fire during the sun of the afternoon hours.
“I’m fine. The parents are fine. Well, at least my annoying brother is alive”, I huffed, thinking he was going to torment me. Sam looked at me with an expression of inquisitiveness. “What?”
“I mean, that’s what brothers are for. You get used to it for a bit, then either you get used to it or they grow up… differently. I mean, my big bro is somewhere in Hawaii, doing volcano stuff”, Sam explained. “What I’m saying is, they are necessary in life. You may not have fun with them, but they can save you one day.”
“Well, Matt isn’t saving me now”, I rebuked. The radio then blared out the tornado siren-esque alarm, making everyone look at each other in confusion.
“Well, just about time”, one man said. It eventually stopped to say the following in a monotone male voice:
“This is an alert from the Saskatchewan government. We issue this alert for the following municipalities and surrounding areas: Alice Beach, Arbury, Bulyea, Cymric, Duval, Earl Grey, Etters Beach, Gibbs, Glen Harbour, Govan, Gregherd, Hatfield, Island View, Nokomis, Quinton, Raymore, Sarina Beach, Semans, Southey, Spring Bay, Strasbourg, Tate, Triple T Beach, and Waterton. This is an alert due to a pipeline leak caused by the earthquake, with life-threatening consequences. Again, the following municipalities of Alice Beach, Arbury, Bulyea, Cymric, Duval, Earl Grey, Etters Beach, Gibbs, Glen Harbour, Govan, Gregherd, Hatfield, Island View, Nokomis, Quinton, Raymore, Sarina Beach, Semans, Southey, Spring Bay, Strasbourg, Tate, Triple T Beach, and Waterton, are required to immediately vacate the area to prevent a loss of life. Stay safe.”
“Is this a joke? A pipeline leak”, another person asked.
“A whole area for a broken pipeline”, another suggested. Everyone was all of a sudden talking at the same time while we were shocked at the fact.
“A pipeline? Leaking? Why such a large area for a leak”, Sam asked.
“I have no idea”, I said, confused as to the events happening. I saw some people arguing with the policemen, but I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying over the talking of the others. Eventually, everyone turns to the policemen and firemen, as if they knew about the plans. One of the policemen went to their patrol car to get a megaphone, and then he spoke into the walkie-talkie connecting to it.
“Hey, everyone calm down”, he bellowed and most gave their attention to him. “My name is Russel Simmons, and I am the chief of this department here. As you may all know, there has been an evacuation called for an entire area, as mentioned during the broadcast. t. I did not know this beforehand, just like every one of you. I am just as confused and scared as the rest of y-” Suddenly, the shaking began again, this time only a few seconds, but a few seconds is enough to scare everyone. “Stay calm! Everyone stay calm”, the chief begged the panicking people. Slowly but surely, everyone calmed down. “We can get through this. Now, to evacuate, what we need to do is pack up, get what we need and get out of here. Meet with us at the Tempo gas station to get fuel, if necessary. After that, we will go south to Regina, where we’ll be staying.”
“What about the stuff in our houses”, a woman asked.
“For that, we can’t go into the houses. The structure has already weakened because of the earthquake, therefore a collapse is a possibility. We cannot risk a life here, so we can’t”, Russel explained.
“My house looks fine, why can’t I go in”, an older man asked.
“Like I said, sir, the houses are at risk of collapsing.”
“What about the water? We can’t just leave it around in our houses. We need that”, a younger man said.
“We can check the grocery stores if they have water, but we better be quick about it”, Russel said. Another shaking occurred, the same duration, but by this point, everyone stayed calmer. Dad then met up with us.
“It is time to go”, Dad suggested. “We have to make it to Regina, as soon as possible.”
“Well, I guess it’s time to go”, Sam said. We then share a hug. “See you later… sometime.”
“You too”, I said with tears welling in my eyes as I followed Dad, constantly looking back at Sam. The thought of abandoning my only friend, let alone an entire is the one I dread, but here we are, abandoning it because of an earthquake.
“It’s going to be okay”, Dad reassured. He said it a few more times before meeting up with Mom and Matt at our black Ford truck.
“Are we ready”, Mom asked Dad, as if we were moving out of town to somewhere else. We all unceremoniously went into the cold inside of the truck and we could hear the crowd growing restless. Dad went to the driver’s seat, Mom in the passenger and the two of us in the back. Dad got the truck started and drove out of the spot. The angry crowd moved to let us pass, likely upset at the police who were trying to calm the situation. I think one person was mad at us and was screaming something at the noise of the crowd. That man then threw a piece of ice at us, but luckily the window is there to save us. Once we passed them, we sped off through the streets. Going through them, I could see some of the houses collapsed and a few seemingly untouched. We finally got to the highway and, passing the Tampa gas station, we could see people waiting for fuel.
“Should we stop for gas”, Mom asked.
“I don’t think so. We have a full tank of gas and there are too many people. With the situation we are in, things might be bad to worse”, Dad explained. “If we could stop in Bulyea, to pack more up.”
“When are we going home”, Matt complained.
“No, honey, there is no home left for us. Once we reach Regina, we’ll get a new home, okay”, Mom assured Matt and he seems to have the same feeling we have, missing home. At least we can agree on something for once. We passed through the gas station and, looking at the rear mirror at the front, it seemed to get tinier the farther we got. We sat in silence along the icy road with banks of snow. The inside of the truck got warmer and more comfortable. Luckily, there are fuzzy blankets in the truck to snuggle in.
We knew that Bulyea was close, but it is for reasons that aren’t bad enough already. Black, dense smoke in the distance, lofting to the east. We already knew something bad happened.
“Should we even go to Bulyea”, Mom asked. Dad looked at her and back in the road and gave a nod. “We can’t. Remember what you said back there? It is worse here-”
“I know. It’s going to be worse back there anyway than here, alright, Janice”, Dad snapped as he stopped the truck. This is the first time I have seen Dad this mad. I am starting to think he is just as afraid as us. “I’m sorry, I just missed home, but we had to get out.”
“I know, so do I”, Mom said and they shared a kiss. “Now, what?”
“Go to town and salvage what’s left.” Dad drove the truck and went into town. There, we noticed where the smoke came from. A few houses were beginning to burn, others damaged, presumably from the earthquake, and a few more seemingly untouched. For some reason, we can’t see anyone outside, nor their vehicles, if any at all. It seems to be like a ghost town.
“Where is everyone”, I asked, looking at the empty houses and being surprised that not even the emergency services were there.
“I don’t know. Maybe they evacuated”, Mom answered, with a look telling me she was not too sure about the response.
“Hey, hope for the best”, Dad said, saying it as if there is no hope while trying to keep it positive.
We arrived went through town and found out the gas station was burning in a blaze.
“So much for water”, Mom said, looking at the burning wreck. “Hey, how many kilometers did we travel?”
“Why is that important? Worried about gas”, Dad chuckled, in an attempt to cheer the mood. “I can chec- wait, how many kilometers does it take to get here?”
“Uh, fourteen”, Matt responded. My Dad looked at the dashboard in a confused state. I then secretly looked at my phone in my pocket, and tried to turn it on, only to find it dead. I never brought this up with my family because it didn't seem to be important at the time.
“Seems we travelled a kilometer but yet wasted half our fuel. I don’t know what is happening to the truck”, Dad said, further confused. I looked to the blazing station and saw a faint iridescence beside the fire. I was about to point it out when Matt spoke.
“Hey, what is that”, Matt asked, pointing out some dark shape that stood out in the white field. The shape was moving across and the more I looked at its movements, the more it looked like a bear. It then seemed to notice us and seemingly ran towards us.
“We are going now”, Dad yelled and put on the gas, driving off quickly. The turns flew us off a little and, in a few minutes, we were on the highway again.
“What was that”, I asked.
“I think that was a bear.”
“Why did we take off?”
“It was chasing us! Would you like to know what happens when we stay?” Dad then gave out a sigh. “I am sorry, but I had to make a choice.”
“I guess we won’t be staying”, Matt questioned.
“No, we won’t. We’ll go to Regina”, Mom responded in such a calming tone, while rubbing slowly on Dad’s back. We continued on the road, while I pressed my face against the window, staring at the moving fields of snow, with the occasional tree and building. I then slowly closed my eyes, bringing me to a world of darkness.
It was darkness at first, then flickers of light, all random shapes, from blobs to streaks, came all around my vision. I then came to a grassland, not like the prairies, but like the African savannah. Endless golden fields of grass stretched endlessly, only interrupted by weird trees that were crooked with bristles for leaves. The sun is setting in a brilliant series of yellows and oranges. I then heard rustling behind me. That is when I woke up, but not on my own.
“Hey, Kate, you need to see this”, Matt said in an odd confusion. I looked around and thought of nothing unusual.
“See wha-” I faltered as I looked ahead at the road. Ahead of the truck, the road is cut off by some kind of wall. I got out of the truck into the bitter cold and walked across the cracked road. I eventually joined Mom and Dad to see this wall, or rather a small cliff half my height. It seems someone cut the whole road and got the ground where I am to sink. I could even see what was below the road. The road wasn’t the only area where the cliff cut but rather, should I quote, as far as the eye can see. “What is this?”
“It might be some kind of fault line”, Dad said.
“Fault line? What is that”, Matt asked.
“You know, cracks in the ground that cause earthquakes? The one you learn in school about the San Andreas fault? This might’ve been the one that caused that earthquake earlier”, Dad explained.
“So a new fault line is appearing in Saskatchewan”, Mom said.
“Seems to be.”
“So, how are we going to get to Regina”, I asked. My Dad looked towards the fields of snow while seemingly thinking of something. It was a few minutes before we heard something odd. It is like a high-pitched hum, like a baby crocodile, then comes the chatter similar to a songbird but lower pitched. We all went to the truck, except Matt, who was more curious than afraid.
“Hey, I can see something”, Matt advised. Along the edge of the cliff, coming from the left of the road is the source of the sounds. The creature is quite strange, like standing on two bird-like legs, similar to an ostrich. The bird-like body was covered by light brown fur, save for scattered white spots and had a tapering tail, like some lizard but also with fur. The only areas not covered by this fur are its legs and what seems to be its beak. When it got closer, I came to make out its appearance. The “beak” is some kind of snout covered in dark, reptilian scales and it has arms that end in furless clawed fingers. I knew what it was, and it was frightening as it was confusing.
“Matt, come back. That is a dinosaur”, I yelled, hopefully persuading Matt of his curiosity. As soon as I said that, the creature stopped.
“Dinosaur? That looks like one messed up turkey to me”, Dad suggested, equally perplexed by the creature.
“Hey, Matt, come back! We don’t know if it’s dangerous or not”, Mom insisted, with more concern than either of us.
“But it’s not doing anything bad. It looks cool”, Matt said, not even concerned about this weird creature.
“Listen to your mother, Matt”, Dad hollered, in agreement with me and my Mom.
“Oh, come on, we could make him do some tricks.” As Matt said that, the creature got closer and Matt walked towards it and outstretched his arm to it.
“Matt! Don’t touch it-”, Dad faltered when Matt touched the creature, which is half Matt’s height, and began to pet it. The creature then began to purr, like a cat but more bird-like.
“See, not so dangerous. Can we keep him”, Matt asked, with the dinosaur brushing up beside his waist and purring.
“No, we can’t. We don’t know what it is”, Mom pleaded and I do agree.
“Oh, please, I promise I will take care of him. It’ll be the coolest pet ever.” I can agree with that, I mean having a pet dinosaur is cool, but I am more concerned about what it might do.
“I think it’s a bad idea”, I yelled to Matt.
“No, it won’t. Please”, Matt begged. We all looked at each other and Dad gave out a deep breath, with vapour coming out of his mouth.
“Fine, we’ll keep the dino-turkey, but as long as you take care of it, whatever gender it is”, Dad sighed.
“Yes! Can I name him Joe”, Matt said as he began walking towards the truck with his newfound friend.
“Joe? We don’t even know if it’s even a boy.”
“I don’t care. I want him to be a boy”, Matt protested.
“I guess Joe it is”, Mom said as she turned to Dad with a look of regret.
“I guess we have a family pet now”, I said under my breath to no one. We then went back to the truck and I sat in. Dad went to the driver’s seat as usual and Mom in the passenger. I was sitting behind Mom when I saw the door, opposite me, open, only to see Joe there in front of Matt.
“Hey, do you wanna meet my family”, Matt beamed when he picked him up. I can see Joe’s face more clearly. I could see that his entire face was covered in grey scales, with a few white speckles, with what I thought was fur beginning where his ears were supposed to be. Joe looked at me with a bird-like expression with his bird-like eyes. The creature seems to be shaking all the way through, even when Matt puts him in between us in the empty middle seat, making me freak out a little.
“Why are you putting it beside me”, I shuddered. “Did you make sure he doesn’t have rabies?”
“Don’t worry, he’s just cold”, Matt reassured. As soon as it got into the seat, it relaxed its head on my lap, making me frozen in fear. In surprise, Joe began to purr.
“What is he doing”, I asked.
“I think he likes you. You can pet him if you want. He’s harmless”, Matt assured. I then cautiously took my hand out and touched his brow area. It felt cold and reptilian, and I moved my hand towards his fur. I realised they were feathers, not quite like a bird, like fuzzier. I stroked across his spine and he was cold. Matt then covered the feathered creature’s body with a blanket.
“What should we do now”, Dad asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe take another route”, Mom responded. Dad then started the truck and turned it around.
“The rural roads would be hell. Maybe go to Earl Grey, and see if there is anything there.”
“Hopefully not like Bulyea.” Dad then looked at his rear-view mirror to look at Matt.
“Hey, do you know what, uh, Joe eats”, Dad asked.
“I don’t know”, Matt said, with a look like he doesn’t know.
“I mean, he has to eat something”, I said, now more comfortable with Joe. I lifted his lips to see a series of fangs lining his jaw. Joe didn’t take that too kindly and nudged. As he did that, he rolled to his side to reveal his hands. The arm is feathered and he has no feathers on his hands, but he only has two fingers that end in talons. “What, why does he only have two fingers”, I asked.
“Maybe a genetic defect. Like my cat Fluffy with his extra thumbs”, Mom suggested.
“Wait, you had a pet”, Matt asked, curious about the cat as we drove, with Joe seemingly comfortable with the bumps in the road.
“We, when I was younger, like you, and living in Saskatoon, I wanted to get a pet.” Mom explained as she looked at Joe. “Well, not quite like you have. Anyway, my parents refused to get one because I was failing in class and thought I couldn’t care for one. One day, I think a snowstorm was happening. I was walking down a street, fighting against the snow. I stumbled upon a box, covered in a blanket lying on the sidewalk. I looked inside and I saw kittens”, she said, her eyes glossy.
“Sadly, most of them died in the cold, except for one. An orange, fluffy kitten, fighting for its life. I took it, put it into my jacket and took it home. I entered our house and the kitten was fine, but my parents were furious. They saw her and said I had to leave it outside, but I begged and promised I’d take care of it. They said we could keep the kitten, as long I kept the grades up. So, I named him Fluffy, because he’s fluffy.”
“Where is he now? Why is he not here”, Matt questioned.
“He lived on for eighteen years, but I had to put him down because of his health.”
“Why didn’t you buy another cat”, I prodded.
“We just couldn’t afford it, we don’t have enough income. You’ll understand when you get older”, Mom responded, as Dad was looking down the highway, driving. I looked down and Joe was sleeping. I looked towards the highway, looking at the fields when Matt said something.
“I need to go to the bathroom”, he said, holding at his groin. I also need to go to relieve myself, but Matt called it first.
“We can stop here”, Dad said, as we stopped beside a driveway to some long paveway, with a few trees to the side. I recognized it through our trips to Regina: we have arrived at Gibbs. Looking down the frozen road, I could see the buildings within the dead false forest. I took this moment to speak my urge.
“Yeah, I need to go, too”, I declared. Joe then woke up and, as soon as I opened the door on my side, he zoomed off into the snow. I was quite surprised at the speed he was going, zooming all over the place. Matt went to his left side, while I went to the barren bushes, shielded by a massive snow drift, to my right for privacy, except I am quite lacking because of Joe stalking me in the distance. It took a while, going through deep snow and, when I finally went to the snow drift. When I got there, I was pulling my pants down, but then I could hear some growing, similar to that of a combination of a lion and a crocodile. Where is that coming from? Never mind, it might be Joe, I thought.
“Go away, Joe”, I said, thinking it was Joe, seemingly angry at something. Nervous, I finally got to business, a little slow because of Joe nearby. I then heard the growl again. This time, I looked up and saw Joe, but he wasn’t growling. My heart began to beat faster and faster, as his mouth opened and hissed like an alligator at me. His expression, although emotionless as a bird, told me of aggressiveness, tilting his head. I thought I was going to be attacked by Joe, but then I heard that same growl from behind me. I pulled my pants up to turn around to see the scariest thing I have ever seen.
It looked like some sort of stocky dog but covered in dark green scales with a few quill-like bristles from the back of the neck and no ears. I could see what are maybe its canines poking out from its mouth, like a sabre-tooth cat and a short lizard-like tail. It looked more reptile than, well, dog really except for its eyes. I could see the hunger in its eyes. I heard more growling to my other side and saw another of those things. Joe began making that baby crocodile noise and we ran to the truck. I turned around and ran.
“Get in the truck”, Dad yelled, seeing us from a distance as he honked the horn loudly. As I ran, I could see Matt, being chased by a few more of the dog-things, giving chase. Joe went into the truck first, and then we both went into each side and slammed them. Dad then sped off very quickly, scared they may get to us.
“What was that”, I panted, confused.
“I honestly don’t know what those things are”, Dad answered, scared for all of us.
“I want to go home”, Matt pleaded, tired from running away from those things.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be home soon. I promise”, Mom reassured.
“Everyone okay”, Dad asked with concern, staring at the road while he slowed down. We all looked at each other in fearful confusion, even Joe. I looked at Joe, and he then looked at me. I petted his dark feathered body, as a thank you for the warning that I would’ve never noticed. “Okay, we are moving on”, Dad concluded. We sat in silence, although I was still petting Joe.
“Hey, Matt, do you know what dinosaur he is”, I asked Matt.
“I don’t know. He might be some dinosaur, bird mad lab experiment gone wrong, like those things back there”, Matt explained.
“Or some mess-up chicken in a lab”, Dad suggested, still looking at the road.
“I don’t think he was a chicken”, Matt rebutted. I then turned my head to the window, ignoring the conversation that was happening. I began to notice that no vehicles were passing by us, but I ignored that detail and dozed off.
I saw those same lights in the dark vision of my closed eyes. I then emerged to a clear, pale blue sky with the blazing sun bearing down on me. Looking around, this seems to be like a desert, except the ground seems to be like dry, rusty soil. It feels hot here, hotter than one of those summers in my former town. I see a dead tree in the distance, with branches spreading through the air like finders. I heard a sound behind me.
“Wake up! We are here”, Matt said as he shook me awake. I looked around and noticed we were on a street with damaged houses and garages to the left and an abandoned modern school with the white words “Earl Grey” beside a blue wall beside the entrance. The school lies hiding behind a metal fence with dead trees behind it. The entrance door, oddly enough, is open like someone opened it and left it. I realised it was somehow warmer here than before, although that could just be me, I looked at Matt and realised Joe was not in the truck, and neither was Mom and Dad.
“Hey, where’s Mom and Dad”, I asked Matt.
“Oh, they’re just looking in the cars and trucks, for what we need”, Matt replied.
“And Joe?”
“Oh, just running across the road.” Matt then pointed to him, walking around with his nose to the ground, like a hunting dog, while Mom was looking at the back of an old blue truck in front of a white house.
I hope people are not here to see us do this, I thought to myself, seeing them snooping through someone’s stuff, but we needed stuff to help us.
“Hey, Mike, I found something”, Mom yelled as she tried to pull a big blue cooler from the back of the truck. Dad then came from an RV down from the truck and came and helped her. He then put it down on the road and opened it. They both plugged their noses and backed away.
“Fish? Who leaves fish in a cooler in the back of a truck”, Dad gagged. Joe then looked up, seemingly in excitement and ran towards the cooler. He stuck his nose in the cooler and pulled out a pike. He plopped it on the road, his foot stepped on the fish and put his mouth onto it, tearing a piece of it and swallowing it. “At least somebody likes rotten fish”, Dad rasped.
As we looked in surprise, we could hear something from the school. The minute we heard it, a loud boar-like roar came out from the school. We thought it was a very big boar when it came out, but the more we looked, the more we realised it was something else. Its body is like a boar, but its face is like a lion’s and the snout of a camel, with teeth somewhat like a bear’s when it opens its enormous mouth to gargle like a pig. Mom, Dad and even Joe are taken by surprise, making our parents run towards the driveway, while Joe towards our truck with his gorged fish, standing by us. The boar-thing then stopped a few feet away from my parents, seemingly in a defensive stance, hooves scratching the ground. We are scared for our parents, preparing to see this thing rip them to shreds.
It gave one last roar and walked towards the cooler, knocking it over with fish spilling out. It stuck its snout in the fish and swallowed one down. They then slowly walked around the creature and steadily fastened their pace until they were at the truck. We all quickly got in and Dad backed up quickly.
“What the hell was that”, Mom panicked.
“I don’t know, a pig from hell”, Dad responded. We looked at Joe, swallowing down the fish while the rotting fish smell remained. It looked at us in confusion, as we were. We silently laughed for no apparent reason, probably as a mechanism to try to replace the fear. We then heard a shaking in the truck, startling us. We realised that the hell pig was tearing at the bumper of the truck like a lion would. Dad hammered the horn, making the thing back up in surprise. Dad took this opportunity to back up very quickly towards the intersection and turned to the left, quickly avoiding the creature. We sat in silence, except for Joe who was chirping.
When we went down the street, the houses, as usual, were damaged but we saw other vehicles, the first we had seen. Some were parked along the street, others stuck on one lane like city traffic but paused. Weirdly enough, there are no people in the vehicles, nor anyone outside. Most of the vehicles have one or more doors open like people got out to go somewhere. We drove past all the vehicles in the other lane. There is one vehicle we passed by that is on fire, most of the paint already off to reveal the metal beneath, only to be turned into a rainbow of browns and blacks by the dancing flames.
“What. Happened. Here”, Mom slowly asked, as confused and terrified as us. We had a feeling of dread, seeing all the abandoned vehicles.
“That’s the least of our worries. We should be looking for supplies”, Dad responded.
“Hey, how much do we have”, Mom asked Dad, worried about using up the fuel.
“Well, we got a full tank of gas and travelled a hundred kilometers”, Dad responded, more confused. “Nothing makes sense here and I hope we don’t stay here for long”, he muttered.
Eventually, we passed most of the vehicles and reached the veterinary clinic. The small, intact structure stood there, seemingly looking over the icy driveway. We then spotted an old, brown truck and we saw something that set it apart from the rest of the vehicles we’ve seen so far.
“It’s on”, I said, gleefully, with hope that, at least, we aren’t the only ones here. The headlights beamed brightly, and we realised it was getting dark. We also noticed that the street lights aren’t turning on.
“I thought there was no one here”, my Mom said, unsure of the connection between the abandoned but running truck and the lack of people in this town. At one of the intact houses, ahead of us, partially blocked by the trees, we saw what seemed to be bright light coming from one of the windows. What person would go into a house after an earthquake, I thought, thinking about our house back home.
“Someone’s here”, Matt loudly notified, as we all shushed him and that is when Joe is trying to push the door with his snout. “What is he doing?”
“Stay here”, Dad calmly ordered, opening the door, but Joe scurried out and went somewhere else.
“Hey, come back”, Matt called out, with no success. Joe eventually disappeared into the night, never to be seen. Matt then had tears welling up in his eyes like he was about to cry. I hugged him to comfort him.
“He’ll come back some time”, Mom reassured, trying to calm him down and looking at Dad. Dad nodded and grabbed a flashlight that was equipped in the truck. He then walked slowly towards the house, step by step, being shone by our truck’s headlights. He looked back at us and put his hand up when the light in the house moved. It seems to move towards the front door of the house. Emerging from the house is a person walking down the steps, cloaked in darkness. Dad then took a few steps back as the figure came. Finally, the figure stepped into the light.

To clarify, I am NZ born, Māori, Rarotongan and Irish. My grandfather died 14 years ago and my father and his siblings sought to inherit 700+ acres of land in Arorangi, Rarotonga. However, no legal body informed my father or any of his siblings of the sizeable land inheritance and to further that point, the 'family legal counsel' lied to my father and his siblings about the land they were set to inherit. As far as they were aware, they were entitled to a meager amount of land. My father even claimed some of the meager portion of land the relatives and family lawyer implied my father and his siblings were entitled to. However, due to a statute of law in Rarotonga, my father and his siblings names must be put on the land by next year, or the land will cede ownership to the crown. We were only informed of this as the extended family obviously wish to keep whatever scam they have going and informed us that we need to sign documents in a hurried manner and for some stupid reason we should cede power of attorney. We told them to give us time, figured they were full of shit and investigated. This is how we found the size of the land my dad and his family were set to inherit, after flying there and forcing the land courts there to declare how much land we own. Currently we are in Rarotonga at the moment and are about to put our name on the land tomorrow.
We have found there are several hotels on the land my father and his siblings are entitled to, and that the extended family, my grandfathers siblings, have been falsely claiming power of attorney for the past 15 years, and taking all the dividends of land ownership, to the sum of at least half a million NZD per hotel. It is also likely they have illegally leased and are illegally renting the land and collecting more additional revenue from these as well, although we have yet to see a surveyor to properly gauge how much we are owed.
We tried to enlist the aid of lawyers, but we were either turned down or received no response, as the owners of the hotels that currently sit on our land enlist the aid of nearly every firm on the island, and as such our legal options are almost zero.
Would like some advice and if anyone has been in a similar situation please do reach out.

If this seems long I’m sorry but I have no one else to rant to because my friends don’t read. And also no spoilers for ToD or KoA.
I just got done with Empire of Storms probably like ten minutes ago at this point and I want to say that this is probably my favorite book so far. Minus the last 5-10 chapters. And all I have to say is this, breathes in WTF!!! This book gave me literal goosebumps during the fight at the Dead Islands where we get to see Rolfe again after the prequel book. Had me smiling so much with Aelin and Rowan. And had me appreciating the other characters a hell of a lot more now. So I would like to do a chart of what I think about each character.
Aelin: She’s still great and is among my top 3 just because I enjoy reading the fight scenes where she becomes a living inferno. But I’m upset with her cause of how she treated everyone else at the end by not telling them what was going to happen.
Rowan: He is by far my favorite character. Amazing person and is fleshed out really well. All he wants to do is protect Aelin and help her win the war. Any time I get to read his thoughts is great. And when he assembled all his cousins to help. I literally cheered because of it
Aedion: I love this guy. He is definitely my second favorite. And I’m honestly upset with how Aelin and Lysandra treated him. Aelin left him so out of the loop when this man has sacrificed so much for Terrasen. And he just keeps getting tossed to the side. And Lysandra lying to him at the end. Heartbreaking. I really wanted to see them together. I do wish we get a little more interaction between him and Gavriel but I understand why we don’t so I’m not upset about that.
Dorian: He really has grown since the first book. He’s going to be a great king I think. But I feel like without Chaol here we don’t get much out of Dorian. He’s definitely a shell of a man he used to be but with Manon it seems like it might get better.
Manon: Never thought I’d like the witch. But I’ll be honest. I do. She’s great. Yeah she can be ruthless at times but what else do you expect.
Lorcan, Gavriel, and Fenrys: I honestly feel bad for these guys. Mainly for Fenrys with the fact he’s still chained to Maeve at the end. I hope he eventually gets his freedom and I hope he takes it better than the other two. Lorcan I grew to respect in this book. He’s not the cold heartless bastard he was at the beginning. Gavriel can definitely be a good character. If he learns how to talk to his son.
Again, I wanted to do this because I have no one to talk to about this. And I probably could’ve gone on longer but I want to save some brain energy. And again, no spoilers for the last two books please.

The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.

And he thinks it's really good. I know in my heart it's only cause we're on an island with not much to eat but he is still very impressed at my resourcefulness and how good I can make things taste with my wide breadth of knowledge about local flora and fauna.
​

ever since that fated day back in chapter 1079 (if im remembering correctly, itd be lowk embrassing if i mixed this up), kid has been (more than ever) mocked as useless. i mean, he didnt even TOUCH shanks, wow: he's ASSSS😭
but i think his confrontation w the red-haired yonko is often misunderstood. and would reflect much better on kidd if people cared to consider his character.
imagine you're eustass 'captain' kid: three-billion-berri man who just helped take down an emperor of the sea after a prolonged raid on the base of ANOTHER emperor of the sea. to get here, youve bled, youve cried -- but damn it, youve FOUGHT. through droves of kaido's fodder, up and up and up to the setting of ROOF PIECE. u did alright, all's considered: off to a new adventure!
why, look here: an island...elbaph? red-haired shanks you say? the bastard whose right-hand man took your...well...left hand (and most of the arm with it?) well, hell, you're MUCH stronger than you were when that happened. in fact, you've fought TWO yonko.
alright alright ill cut the theatrics, but fr -- think about it as kidd would. he's fought two yonko and lived to laugh about it: a feat FEW other pirates can claim. so when approaching shanks' allied ships, it wouldnt be much of a surprise for kidd to treat it much like he did onigashima: there's a structure to this. beat some low-bounty nonames for about 20, maybe thirty minutes, work your way up to the named enforcers like, idk, rockstar -- after you beat HIM (which lets be fr kidd washes rockstar no matter what) work up to monster, bonk punch maybe -- yo throw in LIMEJUICE. you punk gibson up the chain of command to, well, the senior officers - then finally the chief himself.
kidd, at this point, never fought shanks. not head on: the aforementioned senior officers got to him before he could. so you could argue he doesnt know how shanks differs from kaido or big mom: that's he's mister 'you can piss in my beer n thats fine w me but hurt my friends and it's my fist you'll meet😡' but i wouldnt be surpised if kidd took what he learned from wano and applied it to fighting shanks: he took confidence both in his gained experience AND strength (letting off a damned punk because he assumed nobody would be strong enough to interrupt him). was this overconfidence on kidd's part? he's an overconfident man, for sure. but that doesnt neccesarily make him wrong.
because, let's face it, kidd couldve lasted longer if shanks didnt catch him by surprise. kidd pulled up thinking he could use his awakening, and developing understanding of his conquerors to put up a fight. and, honestly? who's to say he couldnt. would he win? that isnt my argument. all i'm saying is i doubt shanks has the durability of big mom ORRR the endurance of kaido. but kidd was blitzed, caught unaware in a compromising position (damned punk doesnt really give him a lot of room to defend himself) -- kidd wasnt EXPECTING to fight shanks at the shore. he was high off wano: in his head he'd come face to face with shanks after storming the island and boxing a giant or two!
people (fans) dont like kidd, be it cause of agenda or cause they genuinely dont gaf about his character. kidd's a comedic punching bag. kidd messes up? idiot! (which, like, he is but in a GOOD way trust me) kidd loses a fight? FRAUD! when engaging w their consumption of the manga, they read with bias. we ALL do. but i feel as if some people refuse, or perhaps fail, to engage with kidd as a character earnestly, to give him a shot due to this. they fail to consider his outlined traits and flaws, his established patterns and behaviours. when kidd loses a fight it's cause he's dumb asf n cant fight for shit, end of.
but we know that's a diminutive reading.
kid's a smart man, i dont think you can argue against this. even if he decides against his (or killer's) better judgement, if he acts against his best interest: he's a billion-berri captain of a crew ALMOST as small (in numbers) as the straw-hats. you dont have to like him to acknowledge his competence. he's an engineering whiz with an obvious aptitude for on-the-fly thinking in battle. so then u gotta ask: did kidd set himself up to lose? #isHEstupid? should he have thought about shanks differently, prepared? did some recon? tried to use a bit of observation haki? sure, maybe, whatever -- but that aint kidd. that wasnt EVER how he was gonna do things. cause doing things his way (with SOME compromises) is what's gotten him this far: that's the man, the pirate he is. he's an idiot, sure - as much as law or luffy. it's a part of his charm and what attracts me to his character: he isnt a perfect pirate (nor would i want him to be), he's an emotional character. because without his flaws and motivations, without the ability to rush into battle (especially one as personal as this) reason be damned (fafafafa) -- it wouldnt be kid. HE wouldnt be kid.
it's best to read his confrontation with shanks as a reminder: he aint there yet. but like when kaido bodyslammed him from the heavens, or when beckman shot off (? seriously, what did he do, we've never seen him fire a bullet) his arm: TRUSSSSTTT that he'll get back up. because captain kidd is the kind of man to keep getting back up: not cause he's just that cool, or just that strong: but because that's who he IS.
or like he dies off screen n we never see him again who knows😯☝🤔

Hello All! If it is possible to grade and possible tell me what I did well on and what I didnt do well on for my essay (context,thesis,etc) I would very much appreciate it. Thanks! (Note: I did run out of time towards the end which would explain why I kinda rushed through the latter half of it.)
Develop an argument that evaluates the extent to which political changes led to nationalist developments in the Western Hemisphere in the period from 1750 to 2001
To Contextualize, the western hemisphere was dominated by the political and social dominance of European based colonial empires in the Americas during this time period as European colonial empires held significant amount of political, cultural, and economic dominance over the western hemisphere during this time period. However, factors such as the Napoleonic wars and the French conquest of Spain, the start of the cold war, the rise of revolutions inspired by the ideals of the enlightenment, and the start of the cold war resulted in the collapse of European dominance in the region . While some may argue that these nationalistic movements and revolutions were primarily caused by social factors and economic factors like the abuse of native people for economic labor, political factors such as the enlightenment (American) , abolition of slavery (Hati) , the desire to end imperial rule int he western hemisphere (america,hati,latin america), and foreign political influence in the western hemisphere caused by the start of the cold war were the most significant factors that led to nationalistic developments in the western hemisphere. In the period following the weakened rule of European colonial powers in the americas caused by the Napoleonic war nationalistic movements arose against the power of european imperialist empires in the western hemisphere. These movements were significantly influenced by the political factors of the time such as in the american revolution against the british. The american revolution although claimed by some to have been primarily influenced by the economic factor of the , raising of taxing by the british onto the americans, was primarily caused by the lack of political representation that american colonist in the western hemisphere held. This lack of political representation led to the start and rise of the american revolution against the british as the american colonist sought to gain political independence from the british government who was unwilling to give political representation to the american colonist. This development of the american revolution inspired nationalistic movements across the western hemisphere as it inspired other revolutionaries such as simon bolivar and Toussaint L'Ouverture to form similar movements against oppressive political factors such as that of the Casta system. Following the principle of the american revolution, Simon bolivar led a nationalistic movement against the spanish empire due to the extremely restrictive political dominance that the Spanish empire held over its colonial holdings in the western hemisphere. This spanish political dominance over its colonial holdings was caused in part by the establishment of a political and social hierarchy in the americas called the Casta system. This system placed native-spanish (iberian peninsula) born individuals at the top of the chain allowing only for these individuals to hold significant political influence in the colonies. This placed the majority of the spanish colonial population who were made up of creoles, mestizos/ mulatos, natives and, african blacks to be unable to hold any political power in the colonies. Simon Bolivar a creole , used this lack of political representation and power caused by the casta system to unite the Latin American colonies to resist Spanish colonial rule in the Americas through an armed revolution against them. This is also documented in Simon bolivar's famous letter titled “letter from jamaica” where simon bolivar advocated for foreign powers to aid to the revolution against spain and where he documents his desires for political and social change in the Americas. Furthermore, similar to how simon bolivar was influenced by the american revolution of 1776, Toussaint L'Ouverture was inspired by the latin american revolutions led by simon bolivar as he believe that the french dominance in the island of haiti was severely restricting the rights of haitian enslaved peoples. Born as a slave to the then French controlled island of haiti, toussaint l'ouverture greatly experience the harsh brutality the french colonial government inflicted upon the african slaves brought to the island of haiti as hard labors for the agricultural cash crops that colonial holding needed for economic profits. Inspired by the recent revolutions in america, latin america and france, toussain sought to enable the natural rights of the slaves by starting an armed slave rebellion against the dominant french colonial government. This armed slave rebellions was able to successfully enable a united nationalist movement (rebellion) against the french colonial government as after the development of a armed rebellion in the french colonial holding, the french government sought to violently repress it through military action. This military actions was then successfully repelled by the united slave revolt which allowed for the freeing of slaves and the establishment of natural rights on the island. That is how the political factor of the desire to obtain natural rights and political representation significantly influenced the Hatina nationalistic slave revolt . In conclusion, the political factors of the desire to gain political independence from the formerly dominant european powers, the desire to gain political representation and natural right significantly influence the extent to which nationalistic developments in the western hemisphere were influenced by political factors.

⚠️TW: CHILDHOOD SA/R*PE, POTENTIAL VERBAL ABUSE, POTENTIAL MENTAL ABUSE, DRUG USE, ALCOHOLICS ⚠️
So I (18f) live with my grandmother (62f) and my mother (46f). Now, because it’s kinda relevant, my grandmother is sober she only drinks on occasion and hasn’t been drunk in years, I smoke weed as I use it to treat my epilepsy and anxiety caused by my epilepsy and have been doing so since 13 but everything else from other drugs to alcohol doesn’t interest me I see no point, my mother takes pills like Xanax basically anything that will put her to sleep she smokes cigarettes as well as weed and has been an alcoholic since 16 and has tried multiple times to be sober. The longest she’s been sober from alcohol was 4 years back when I was 6-10 when she met her ex husband (who was an ex meth addict and left us for meth, ironic) but every other time she’s been sober from alcohol it’s been off and on for short periods of time. Now, to clarify my mother is a victim of r*pe, from ages 4 to 14 she was assaulted by her carer and beaten by her other carer. She finally escaped and went into the Australian childcare system when she was 12 but her carers still had unsupervised visits with her until 14. She went to mandatory therapy for 25 years. Had her first child at 16, her second at 19 and me her last at 24 all with the same man my father a commercial fisherman who was abusive emotionally, physically and financially. So basically my mother has been through hell and has never felt loved.
In 2018 my mother got back in contact with a guy she went to school with, let’s call him Greg. Greg is divorced, an alcoholic, a typical metal head, had diabetes type 1, is the baby of his family and still lives with his sister and her husband. Mum was pretty rocky at this time, one moment she wanted to be better then the next she was giving up saying nothing works. In 2020 my mother and I moved in with my grandmother her mother. She was still with Greg and still super rocky so I left and moved in with my father for 6 months then moved back in with my mother and grandmother. Her and Greg were going through some issues, me and mum become kinda close at this time. She’d vent to me and stuff. So basically he kept saying he was going to buy them a place then would go back and say he wanted her to move in with him and his sister.
Now, 3-4 weeks ago he broke up with her because there was this wedding they were meant to go to with his family but his mum invited his ex wife (his family hates us) and his sister said she could sleep in Greg’s room and replaces Greg’s photos of him and my mum of old photos of Greg and his ex wife. For the first day or two mum just drank and popped pills, she was really depressed. Then she got better, she got into this health kick. She stopped drinking and started saying she wasn’t interested, she was working out and going on walks, talking about all this super healthy stuff. She was doing great, for the first week I doubted it would last so just ignored her. I was kind of rude that week because frankly I was tired of her shit, I knew were this was going and hated her for it. The second week I started to help her, we were declutterring her room and everything. I was hoping since it lasted a week it might last and maybe I can have a real actually loving relationship with my mother. This week? She said to me last night as she was on her 5th double shot can of Jack Daniel’s she was done, she said she was tired of not seeing the results and was giving up.
This really hurts me, I’m moving out soon. My original plan before Greg left was to move out and cut my family off, I’ve spent my life trying to make them love me only to realise two things. They love the me they want me to be and you can’t force people to love you, no matter how much you love them. When my mum started to do better I said to her “I hope you know this is your last chance to have a relationship with your last child” (to clarify, my sister her oldest cut contact only to go backwards and keep talking to mum, my brother her second cut contact and only speaks to her through our sister usually for money) and I was really hoping she’d be better and I wouldn’t have to cut her off. Since she’s been going back into her pit I’ve been a bit frustrated and been giving her a bit off shit I know she DOESNT appreciate. I give her looks when she mentions alcohol or I say things like “are you sure you want to do that👀”. Now I’m kind of planning on cutting her off again.
Basically, what I want to know is would I be the asshole for cutting her off? Would be the asshole for not cutting her off? I’ve always said I want to be better than my parents or siblings. As humans we are hypocrites, we are selfish but my family are also two faced and loveless. As humans we are also selfless and kind and I will be what my family can’t be. But I know they have hearts even if they aren’t sure how to use them, but who am I to tell someone how to use their heart. They aren’t loving me the way I want to be loved but am I loving them the way they want to be loved, but is that their job? Is that my job? I want to do the right thing by me, but to do that I can’t hurt anyone, and that’s just not possible. How do I leave them knowing I love them still?

To start things off, I was always aware of our age gap and problems it may cause in our relationship.
My husband and I didn't meet until I was well into being eighteen, and he was twenty-eight. It didn't bother me much, as he doesn't act much older than me and I'd always felt older than I was due to having a ton of younger siblings, step siblings, and foster kids in and out of my mother's house growing up.
We got engaged when I was nineteen at a yungblood concert, and we originally planned to wait to marry until I was at least twenty. Plans changed when I decided to go into the air force, and we had to push up the wedding in order for him to eventually stay with me on base after basic training.
Fast forward a few months after we were married and I had left for Texas for training, I was injured during PT training and sent home. It was during the craziest parts of covid, so everything was on lockdown and they had strict rules about not keeping anyone on base for a long period of time if injured. I was medically discharged and sent home to heal and have potential surgery.
At the time, my husband was staying with his friend in the city we planned to move to. We already put down a deposit on an apartment when we found out I was going home, but due to Covid restrictions and eviction restrictions, it was returned to us and we were told we could no longer move in.
The first issue I was seeing when I got home was his disattention to me. I was gone for over a month and missed celebrating my twentieth birthday with anyone but the girls in medhold with me, so I was looking forward to spending quality time with my husband.
We went out to eat with his friend, his friend's girlfriend, and one of her friends. I felt like a fifth wheel during the meal, as I was sat at the end of the table instead of being at my husband's side where her friend was sitting. Most of the conversations didn't include me, and I ended up going back to his friend's place feeling let down.
The rest of the time we were staying with his friend, they wanted all of us to go mountain climbing, cliff jumping, and trekking through the woods as they lived in a nature-centered part of the area. (Keep in mind, I was just sent home for being injured, and I had both a knee and ankle brace on my right leg that prevented much movement other than some hobbled walking that was slower than a normal pace).
When I expressed that I wasn't comfortable doing those things and that I wouldn't be jumping thirty feet into a freezing lake when I could barely walk as it is, my husband got upset with me and eventually just left me there alone while they all went to hang out together.
Flash forward four years, it is now 2024 and we have a two-year-old toddler. I didn't end up getting surgery, and I spent nine months being sicker than I'd ever been in my life.
It was a really rough pregnancy for me, and I'd ended up in the hospital multiple times because I couldn't even smell food or step foot into our kitchen without throwing up.
That all went on until the beginning of my third trimester. We decided to travel back to his friend's place, and I was somehow roped into climbing cliffs, wading through treacherous water to climb another cliff on an island out in the middle of a lake, and sleep at the top of sand dunes in a tent on the ground a couple weeks before my due date.
I was then on antibiotics during birth, because my water broke and the hospital sent me home instead of keeping me. My son was born sick, and transferred to a children's hospital to be treated and receive a spinal tap. I ended up sleeping a week in a hard hospital chair in a leaking basement of the hospital because they didn't have enough space for us.
After we were home and everything was settled, my husband would brag about how difficult the whole situation was for him. He had to sleep on a futon during my labour, and he had to have food doordashed to the hospital because, due to covid restrictions, noone else was allowed in with us and he wasn't allowed to leave to get anything.
He ended up having steak, potatoes, and these other elaborate meals delivered to eat in front of me while I wasn't allowed to eat anything until the baby came out. He even thought about bringing his playstation into the hospital room, but I shut that down quickly.
The first year of my son's life, I went back and forth between staying home with him and working in the factory my husband currently works at while my grandma watched our son.
I won't get into too much detail, but at one point when my grandma moved back out of state (she lives in her camper and was only there for the summer), I had to switch to the afternoon shift.
There is a factory supervisor on that shift that is a male and close to my husband's age. Other than the other person in my same position and two maintenance workers, they only had migrant workers that didn't speak english. This limited the people I could talk to while working my twelve hour shifts (husband worked 3:30 am to 3:30 pm and I would work 3:30 pm to 3:30 am).
My husband got very jealous and territorial at this time. He would expect me to return nearly thirty minutes late from all my breaks, threaten to go up there if anyone told me I couldn't do that, and even punched a hole in the wall when I told him I had to get back to work.
Up until that point, my husband had shown no signs of aggression toward me.
Somehow, a rumour started to spread around the factory that I was sleeping with the production lead. This definitely wasn't true as a) how and where would I have done that? and b) I loved my husband and would have never done something like that.
My husband heard about it, and came home to confront me. He got in my face, screaming and calling me a cheater. He threatened to take our son and move back in with his mom without even letting me offer an explanation or defend myself.
To this day, it still bothers me that he is still so convinced that I cheated on him and that he has no trust in me whatsoever to not do something like that.
I ended up leaving that job and working at mcdonalds for a little while. I had worked there in high school, so it wasn't a big adjustment.
I only ended up staying there a few months to help us catch up on bills before we agreed it would be better for me to stay home with our son for a while.
Our son is two now, and it seems like our relationship has only become more strained. We used to be able to communicate most of our smaller issues and come up with ways to maneuver whatever issues we had. However, in June of last year, my husband's friend that we were staying with in the beginning moved across the state to be near us.
It was all fine and good in the beginning. He had proposed to his girlfriend, and they even asked the both of us to be in their wedding that has yet to happen.
However, once they got engaged, he'd began acting very sexist. Even though both he and his fiance work full time (he works down the road at the factory with my fiance, and she works forty minutes away at a hardware store and has to drive a long way at three in the morning to get there), he expects her to come home and clean up after him, also cook his meals before she goes to bed early to get up really early in the morning for work the next day.
My husband, now hanging out with him more often, started having some of these things wearing off on him.
At first, it wasn't a big deal and I brushed it off. However, I'd gotten a job as a property manager for an apartment complex and also work now. Instead of things changing to adapt our new lifestyle, my husband expects me to continue keeping up with all the chores and cooking.
He'd made a comment that, because he feeds our dogs, he expects me just to do everything that involves our toddler from feeding him, to changing his butt, to putting him to bed at night. It's like pulling teeth sometimes to get him to change his butt or even get pants on him.
We'd gotten into an argument over this, and I told him that it wasn't fair that he expected me to do everything. His response was that he made more money and worked more hours, so it was only fair that I covered everything else.
Sure, I don't work as much or make as much money, and my paychecks mainly cover our son's daycare and our car payments, but I feel like working doesn't excuse him from helping with the son we both decided to have.
It's gotten to the point where I told my husband that if any sexist remark is made, like I should be in the kitchen helping get dinner ready whenever we're at his friend's house, I will be leaving and going back home, and I won't be going back until it is resolved.
The friend's fiance and I have had private conversations about this, and we both agree that it has gotten out of hand, and we both believe they are feeding off each other as they'd never been that bad before.
Everything has only seemed to get worse from there.
We decided to go as a group, along with my brother and his girlfriend, to the draft in Detroit this year.
The whole point was to see players get drafted in person, and we'd managed to get into the crowd in front of the stage before the area was shut down and they weren't allowing anyone else in.
My brother is an avid football fan. He played in high school, and was even offered multiple scholarships to play in college. This was a once in a lifetime experience for the both of us.
At one point, my husband and his friend decided that they would rather stand at one of the screens out of the crowd and watch it instead of trying to get into the sea of people to see it live.
I was frustrated, and expressed that if we wanted to watch it on television that we should have just stayed home. After a heated argument, I thought we'd come to the agreement that we'd go back to the stage and watch it there.
My brother lead us through the crowd, and at the beginning my husband and his friend were following us. Somehow, we'd gotten separated and when I looked back once we found a spot to stand, they were gone.
My phone rang in my pocket, and when I picked it up it was my husband calling. As soon as I picked it up, he proceeded to scream at me for disappearing and called me a "stupid bitch" when I tried to explain that I thought they were following us.
He hung up, and I told my brother I was going to go look for them alone. I spent a good twenty minutes wandering the area that was barricaded, but they were nowhere to be found. I no longer had signal to get ahold of him, so I ended up just going back and watching the beginning of the draft with my brother.
By the eighth pick, texts started to come in from my husband. He had informed me that they all left, leaving the three of us alone. Luckily, I'd driven separate as I left work early to get there.
By that point, I was done with him. I felt disrespected and that hanging out with his friend was more important than making sure his wife was okay or even with him. After all, I was wandering downtown Detroit alone when it was starting to get dark out.
When the three of us inevitably got back to the car, I got ahold of my husband just to let him know we were on our way home. He tried to apologise and ask how everything was, but I was too exhausted and mad at him to try and hold a conversation. He was asleep by the time I got home, and I ended up sleeping in our spare bedroom on a futon.
The next day, my husband tried to act like nothing happened. When I expressed that I felt ignored and pretty much useless to him, he tried to play it off like his anger was warranted and completely ignored the fact that he was calling me names.
I told him that I was no longer going to any big events with him and his friend, and he just rolled his eyes like he didn't believe me.
A day later, I saw a message pop up on his phone from his friend. I guess he had told him what I said about not going anywhere anymore, and his friend said "women" with an eyeroll emoji and "she'll get over it eventually". I screenshotted these messages and sent them to myself, filing them away in a folder in my phone to keep for later.
I slept in our spare bedroom for a week after that.
After the draft, I've also kept notes in my phone with time and date stamps of all the times he went off on me since then. Whenever we get into arguments, my mind goes blank and I forget exact things like this so he likes to say it never happened if I can't remember it.
April 27th, we were sitting watching videos together on tiktok. When someone popular came on that he had been watching a lot recently, I exclaimed that I didn't understand how he got popular all of a sudden. He proceeded to get really agitated and yell at me for not understanding how the internet works. When I stood up to walk away because I was upset, this angered him more. He then expressed that my emotions were overrated and that he was sick of them.
May 2nd, I had gotten home from work and tried to show my husband an outdoor jungle gym on amazon that I thought would be cool to get our son. He claimed it was a waste of money and that we should just take him to the park. When I tried to explain that it was a better idea to get something like this, as realistically we wouldn't take him to the park every day, he freaked out and asked what was wrong with me. He then said "oh my god" when I tried to explain that it would be easier to watch him outside while getting stuff done around the house and decided to just go to bed without dinner and end the conversation completely.
May 5th, we went with his friend and fiance to a cinco de may party in the city. He was drinking most of the day, and on the way home he wanted us to stop some place and get ice cream. When he got out of the car, he hit it against the car next to us. When I told him he'd hit the car, he proceeded to yell at me in the crowd that I was crazy and acting like my mother. He then kept trying to go to the woman in the car and ask if he had, in fact, hit her car. After, he said he was done with me and I was on my own, that I would have to start paying my own bills from now on.
There's been many other entries in my notes similar to this, and I feel like I'm at the end of what I can handle. Divorce has crossed my mind, but I had divorced parents growing up and know how hard it would be on my son. I also don't think I'm in a well off financial position to go out on my own with our son and still provide the things he needs.
I also worry that, if we were to separate, he would push to take our son from me as he'd threatened in the past to do so.
Any advice would be helpful, as I don't know what else to do. Even getting this all off my chest online makes me feel a little better, but there's still the lingering thought in the back of my mind that I'm unhappy and don't know how much longer I can put up with this.
Thank you.