It's the early 2000s, and I'm a 10ish year old, we didn't have a lot of money, but my dad made sure we were in the PCMR, while we only had dial-up in one room, every bedroom had a functioning PC that was built by my dad. He built all through the 90s and as long as I can remember as a kid. Our PCs were a compilation of hand-me-down parts tossed from one computer to another always trying to achieve 1 more fps in Half Life, Doom, AOE2, SimCity, Theme Hospital and so many more.
My favorite thing of course was a piece of software called GameMaker 5.x, now it's some nonsense yoyogames or something but back in the day it was an awesome game creation tool that required no internet. My first taste of coding was in GameMaker, I coded and coded and coded, and I knew the manual inside and out. My first real "game" was a cross between Breakout and SpaceInvaders. You had to break out of blocks using the paddle, but there were also aliens and some other stuff that would eat away at your paddle. It had a couple of cool features and even a high score table. I told my Dad, and he was so excited, he played and got 9th place sandwiched between my scores. We went to lunch and talked about the game and even strategy.
Soon we had DSL, and I quickly went got into PHP, HTML and MySQL. I used an old PC in my parent's closet to start a forum hosting website, PhpBB. And it quickly became really successful, and wow were my parents proud of me when checks from Google started showing up in the mail (Adsense). Once it outgrew our internet and that PC I even was able to sell it for 1000 dollars to another host ( I was probably 15 at the time). I used the money on a new PC with a sweet ATI Rage.
I turned 17 and joined the Army, he was so proud of me, he bought a jacket that said ARMY on it and wore it almost every day. Then, I can't really explain what happened, I was on my own now, in the Army states away and we sort of grew apart. Altleast, I did. He always reached out, and I wouldn't return his calls or emails or texts or anything. I was always busy and life was just too important to talk to Dad. Weeks turned into months of no contact.
2012 comes and I get out of the Army, by this time Dad had been sick for a while but never seriously. In and out of the hospital constantly while I was away, but never anything I needed to come home for. Then I got the call, it was serious this time and I should come. I get there, but he's already non-responsive, they said his liver was all shut down, and he wouldn't recover. The nurse said when he was there he liked listening to his classic rock on his laptop and maybe I should turn it on and play some music. I turn on the laptop and right on the desktop there it was, my game.
I started some music and launched the game from my childhood. I checked out the high score table and there were over 400 entries, some really, really high scores overtaking all of mine all named Dad... except the top one, the top one was named "i miss anon". Not long after that, he was gone.
I'm sorry Dad, I love you.

“Friends make the good times better, and bad times easier”.
Happy Morning 🍀💐
Today's Headlines from :
Economic Times
📝 Edelweiss, Phoenix among ARCs vying for IOB's Rs 13,472-crore NPAs
📝 China overtakes US to become India’s top trading partner in FY24
📝 Piramal Group arm invests Rs 600 crore in microlender Annapurna Finance
📝 DLF to launch 11 million sq ft with revenue potential of Rs 36,000 crore in FY25
📝 Nayara Energy to set up two ethanol plants for ₹600 crore
📝 UPL to file DRHP shortly for raising up to $500 million
📝 Aditya Birla Capital Q4 Results: Net profit doubles to Rs 1,245 crore
📝 EPFO extends auto claim settlement facility to education, marriage and housing advance
📝 Exim posts 62% rise in profits, to raise over Rs 60,000 crore from local markets this year
📝 India's retail inflation eases marginally to 11-month low of 4.83 per cent in April
📝 Warburg Pincus brings home Shriram Housing Finance co with Rs 4,630 cr buyout
Business Standard
📝 TCS announces creation of Global AI Center of Excellence in Paris
📝 Karur Vysya Bank Q4 results: Net profit rises 35% to Rs 456 crore
📝 Zomato Q4 result: PAT Rs 175cr; fourth consecutive quarter of profit
📝 Murugappa Group to foray into e-SCV, plans to invest Rs 3,000 crore on EVs
📝 Realty firm Shapoorji group seeks more time to clear bondholder payments
📝 French BPM major Teleperformance to hire 15,000 people by end of 2025
📝 Zomato seeks approval from shareholders for creation of new ESOP pool
📝 Coromandel increases stake in drone company Dhaksha; to invest Rs 150 crore
📝 Airtel to offer cloud and Gen-AI solutions with Google Cloud in India
📝 Nearly 51 mn person years of employment created annually in last 10 years
📝 India's import from FTA partner nations up 38% in FY24 against FY19
📝 After long wait, India inks Chabahar port's 10-year deal with Iran
📝 Domestically held gold reserve rise by 40% in 5 years, shows RBI data
Financial Express
📝 Coal imports for blending by domestic power plants down 32% in FY24
📝 Cairn Oil & Gas reserves & resources grows by 19% in FY24
📝 Va Tech Wabag secures repeat order worth $49 million in Nepal
📝 Phoenix to build hotels near Mumbai, Bengaluru
📝 Amplus Solar aims at 2 GW RE capacity by December
📝 Govt may consider lifting curbs on rice exports
📝 India needs Rs 4.2 trillion investment for broadband push
Mint
📝 IMF staff, Argentina agree loan review to help unlock $800 million
📝 Vedanta looks to raise funds through issue of equity shares or FPO on May 16
📝 Melinda French Gates Exits Foundation With $12.5 Billion
📝 INOX India Q4 results: Net profit jumps 44% YoY to ₹44 crore; revenue up 17%
📝 India’s government debt at safe levels: Nirmala Sitharaman
📝 Govt to complete GIS mapping of entire highway network
📝 Japan's SoftBank swings to quarterly profit, eyes on Arm unit.

Almost 80% of Google revenue comes from web search advertising. AI removes this. If you are talking to a chatbot and not clicking on websites and ads yourself where is the money? Where is the growth going to come from? Either people are moving to new AI search engines or they're using Google's AI search engine which both lose the ability to gain the same profits from advertisements. Really not seeing where the growth is? Cloud computing isn't enough to offset this loss. Where am I wrong?
Either loss of market share to competitors or loss of the 80% advertisement money from Gemini chatbot.

TW: PHYSICAL VIOLENCE
I had been abused since I was 8. I had many moments, years even, in my life that were good very good and many that were bad. I survived it all and I’m still suffering. I officially got away from the abuse at 22 years old and then my life went to shit. It was 2020 I had been living the best life I could. I transferred from community college to a university, made friends, made plans to move out, stable job, and I was hopeful. One summer day I went over to my dads brother’s house. My grown adult cousin pissed me off I said stfu he then went downstairs and started cry. He called his mom and told her she started pacing then took my mom outside. They both came back to get me I was then confronted. It was ridiculous and as i was trying to leaving my aunt grabbed me by my shoulders and shook me while pushing me to the wall. I started to push her off and that’s when she began to hit me and i hit back. I already had ptsd from my parents fighting me growing up. My mom jumped in the middle and I hit her until she gave up and let me go. She got pulled into the house my mom followed and I walked down the long gravel driveway. Half way down I hear ‘hey!’ I turn my head and see my dad running at me full force. He jumps on top of me and begins to punch me and hold me down. Trying to “restrain” me as he says but he won’t stop. I thought he was trying to kill me this time. I manage to break loose and ran towards the garage to hide and think even for a micro second. I lock him out and was planning a way out. All of a sudden him and my uncle come storming in I run to the door but they took me down. Again I am being punched, held down, choked. As I was being choked by uncle he says “this would be way worse if you weren’t a girl”. I get my leg out from under both of them and kick him in the face, get my other leg out, and run. Running down the long gravel driveway they jump me again. I again get out and start throwing rocks at them while digging through my purse to get my keys. I began to punch my dad with my keys in-between my fingers and he backs off. by this time my uncle on the phone with police yelling “she has a knife”. I run towards my car and as I’m trying to leave my dad takes one last lunge at me I pick up my metal water bottle and slam it to the back of his head. I speed to my parents house crying and hurt. I get there and destroy everything I could outside since my brother locked me out. The rest of the night doesn’t matter. Months later my car was t-boned and I got arrested for a warrant for felony domestic violence. I went to jail my father bailed me out just to use it against me. I see my car in their driveway and leave. My dad got me a lawyer so he could be the main line of connection. I go to me hearing and my case ended up going to trial in between then I was ordered to attend court mandated anger management classes. Found out my family was writing letters to the judges urging for me to be locked up. I still had my apartment but lost everything else. In between loosing everything I was tried and during the heart to heart with my lawyer right before I explained how I didn’t want this to affect my career of helping abuse survivors. While sitting outside the courtroom doors my uncle ran up to me saying he was going to fix everything as I was being shuffled threw the doorway. During the trial my lawyer paused and went up to the judge I think he told him about the volunteer work I did. I was let of with the highest misdemeanor you could have and a year of probation. It’s been four years almost and I have been miserable everyday. I’m making strides though. I just needed to type this out and get it off my chest. I will never be abused again.

Hi all, Iḿ hoping you can help. I am running a Dell XPS 9320 which came new installed with Ubuntu 22.04.
Symptoms of the issues:
Opening a new browser (doesn´t matter which) and input either does not work, or it jumps from the search box to the URL bar. The issue seems to go away temporarily if I press ALT-Space, which opens up the window manager. I have changed all keyboard input methods, even though I haven´t changed it before. You can see just now when typing ´haven´t' that the apostrophe isn´t correct - thatś one thing that I just noticed, and it doesn´t matter if I use my laptop keyboard or my external. I can also be using google sheets and try typing a number into a cell and it won´t work, I need to press ALT-Space again, or open a new window.
The other thing that is odd is Iĺl be on a page and I will scroll down with my mouse, and then it just scrolls back up to the top. The only thing that stops this is hitting ËSC." I can also try typing ¨1" into the search box but it won´t work. If I press ¨2" (you can see that the quotes aren´t working properly) it will scroll down the page. If I use the number pad though, itś fine.
I also can´t seem to enable scroll lock whatever I do. I tried to enable it to see if it would fix it but I can´t get it to work.
I am not sure what caused the issue, but I have been running it perfectly fine for around a year, with an external keyboard, mouse and Samsung screen. Recently I spent 3 months away and did not use my screen. I got home and plugged the screen back in and itś been fine for a week or so. There was a Dell software update recently, but I can't pinpoint when the issue started happening.
Can anyone help? Do I need to post in another sub? Thanks in advance <3

Hi all,
Like many of us, thanks to the new Fallout TV show I was inspired to go back and revisit the games. I am currently enjoying a replay of New Vegas on my PS3. However today when I booted the system to play the game, it failed to recognize there was a disk in the device (despite everything being just fine on Friday when I last played, and my not touching the system since then).
Curious if this was just a problem with that one disk, I then put a few other games into the PS3 as a test. None of them - not Fallout 3 nor Portal 2 nor Final Fantasy XIII - would load. I then grabbed the nearest disk that wasn't a game - a DVD - to test it. It played fine. Surprised, I then tried a Bluray. That one did not work and the machine made the same noises it did when I tried to play the games.
Every time I google fixes, the responses I get are for a different version of the PS3 then the one I own. I have one with a manual top loading disk reader, not one with any sort of eject button.
Does anyone have any idea about what I can do to fix this and get back to the game I am in the middle of playing?
Thanks!

I'll try to keep this brief but I have a lot to say and I tend to ramble. I (20F but 19 at the time) have been broken up with my ex (20F) for almost a year now. When we first ended things I felt SO MUCH RELIEF I was in almost a euphoric state for the first week or two. I knew she was extremely toxic but didn't care to question it because I was just so happy to never have to see or speak to her again but quickly that wore off and I realized just how terribly she treated me. In the past month or two it's starting to get to me again after a few conversations with close friends where I told the stories of things she did to me, hoping to have a laugh at the absurdity but underneath realizing just how much she put me through. I still can't accept that it was truly mental or emotional or verbal etc. abuse. I guess I just want somebody to tell me if I'm victimizing myself, or if my mental illness is making me delusional if I was the real abuser the whole time, or if we were both toxic (all her words). I just wanna list off some of the things she did, partially for myself to lay it all out and partially to ask everyone here if I'm the problem or if she was just toxic w/o being "abusive". I'm avoiding specific details because I don't want anyone I know to stumble upon this and know it's me so apologies if theres little context but here it is:

• biggest one on the top: when we first got together I had just gotten out of a relationship and was struggling metally. I had been in therapy for a while before we met and started mood stablizers soon after we were together. she constantly would use this against me to tell me i'm crazy, that my mental illness was ruining our relationship, that i was "a disease", that I was just like her crazy ex etc.
  
• another huge one! she insisted on extravagant expensive gifts then later expected unquestioned obedience because of it. when i caught on to this and began denying gifts it would cause arguments
  
  • i identified as bisexual at the time which she constantly used against me. if we were ever in the presence of men, even if i didnt interact with them, she would get mad and either give me the silent treatment or start an argument about it. when i expressed multiple times that I may not be attracted to men she would get angry because it proved to her how "easily impressionable" i am
  • constant lies. about things my friends or even my mom had said allegedly about me (they never did), about things that she had or hadn't done, she would even tell lies to my friends and mother about things that I had allegedly said about them (i never did) even right in front of me but she was so convincing to everyone around us that I seemed like the liar no matter how much i denied or explained
  • insults! mainly about me but also my friends and family
  • always wanting a reaction so that she could then point to me as an abuser. e.g: screaming at me and throwing things until i removed myself into a seperate room where she followed me and recorded me without my knowlege as she taunted me until I yelled at her to leave me alone, then played back the recording to show me how poorly i talk her
• she told me so many times that my majors were not as difficult or as important and I "couldn't possibly understand" how much more effort and intellect it took for what she studied (we're both in college and I'm literally a double major!! if that matters)
  
  • told me she was embarrassed of me because my interests and hobbies weren't "resume-worthy"
  • belittled my morals and values, the things i thought were important whether they were big things or small, and my plans for the future
  • controlling to an INTENSE degree. e.g: getting upset with me because i wouldn't let HER floss MY teeth or threatening to break up with me because I wouldn't hide my stuffed animals in the closet when she came over
  • laughed and called me things like pathetic unstable when i would try to tell her certain things she said and did were hurting me. was just all around very cruel and mericless with her words to the point where I seriously think she was nearly incapable of empathy
  • she told me things about myself as if they were fact. this one is hard to explain but for instance: "you just let your s/o's walk all over you" or "youre just not a hard worker". it was said so causally and matter of factly that it wasn't even an insult just an absolute truth she had observed
  • things she admitted to before we broke up: when i opened up to her about my ex and things i went through as a child she later admitted that she was happy that i was "weak" and would tolerate poor treatment. she admitted that she would poke and taunt and yell her own mother until she got the reaction she wanted so that she point out "how crazy she was acting". she admitted to reading my journal the first time she came over to see the excerpts of my ex and, again, figure out just how badly she could treat me.
  • I do want to say that she never actually hit me or physically assualted me but she would often imitate in the moment that she was about to (partially because she wanted to hit me, and partially because she knew it would trigger me because I was abused as a child, again she admitted this part)
  • in arguments: deflected, shifted blame, gaslit, yelled, threw things, hit nearby objects, etc. these arguments would go in circles for hours with the topics ending up miles away from what the intital point was. things typically went from "that didnt happen" to "it did happen but i didnt mean it" to "i meant it but you deserved it". even when I gave in that wasn't enough, she would just leave and ignore me for a day or two
  • she often wouln't take accountability and instead would try to psychoanalyze why what she did upset me, blaming it on my childhood or my ex but never on her actions
  • profuse apologies afterwards. she always promised to stop and to go to therapy but that never happened. somehow she was able to do this without ever actually acknowleging that what she did was wrong
  • i won't go into detail but when it came to bedroom activites there were a few rare times when consent was ... unclear. especially near the end when she was often insistent that I would drink more (she was sober)
  • when i caught on to these patterns by calling her out for fake apologies, gaslighting, lying, manipulation, not taking the bait by reacting, sticking to my boundaries, not letting her deflect in arguments etc. she would throw full temper tantrums. screaming crying throwing herself on the ground type of tantrums. I was so drained at that point that all i could do was just sit and watch and wait for her to stop
  • her poor mom had gotten it for 20 years before me. she told me multiple times to get out of the relationship but i never listened. I hope shes doing well but i'm afraid that checking up on her might invite my ex back into my life

i'm sure that when i post this i'll think of a million more things but this is what i could think of off the top of my head sorry its so long. Writing this all out its so clear that this wasnt normal but i still constantly question whether im just erasing my own hand in it, refusing to acknowlege all the harmful things i did or how i somehow forced her to be this way, if i truly am just so delusional that i made all of this up because i want to be a victim, if i was the one who abused her first, if its my fault because i stayed and let it happen. and if none of those things are true then what do i do from here? I'm moved on and so insanely happy to be single and never have to interact with her again but i'm realizing more and more how much it has affected me.
tldr: my ex gf fits a ton of the criteria for an abuser but i still question whether i am making it up and/or if im the actual abuser just manipulating the situation for my own gain. if i'm not the abuser then how do i accept it and not be affected by it anymore?

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.

I've always been a lover of art. Unlike most, however, I wanted to be a part of that world and not just merely an observer. This seemed counter-intuitive to who I thought I was as an INTJ. You all know the stereotype: cold and calculating. Logic over emotion. Spock. But much like Spock himself, we INTJs actually feel emotion even more strongly than other people - we just tend to hide it. Another thing: a sense of identity. We INTJs have a very strong sense of individualism. If everybody else zigs, we zag. We tend to choose the path of greatest resistance, despite it being somehow illogical, simply because no one else will do so.
This manifested in me through art. I had no innate talent for drawing nor for music. During the Pandemic, I took up photography which turned out to be a good blend of the artistic mindset and calculating logic. Although I was good at the craft, I eventually moved away from it. There are various reasons for which I don't want to get to here. I'm not just blowing myself up when I say I was good at it. I received a lot of praise for my photo work. Yet at the same time I found that it was undervalued. I suppose it sort of stems from the INTJ tendency to fixate on abstract ideas, that search for the core truth, which when manifested in my work nobody understood.
Later on, I dabbled a bit in design. I thought I could get out of the 9-5 workplace and yet do something I enjoyed at the same time. I'm aware that there are many freelancer designers out there who get to work from home. For whatever reason though, the opportunities that presented themselves at the time were from a studio or office. I got an interview, and then, after a shaky interview due to my lack of actual work experience in the field, somehow secured a job. I didn't show up. On that final interview, I had a slight "tour" of the office and they also gave me a test to see how I'd perform. It was there I discovered it was just going to be another run-of-the-mill job. In hindsight, I should have expected this. Whatever the case may be, I realized I didn't quit my last job just to get another office job where the only difference is the kind of pencil I pushed.
So finally, I ended up where I am now. I'm a cartoonist and caricaturist. The kind you see on New Yorker and Mad Magazine. As I mentioned before, I was bad at drawing. But some kind of mad spirit had possessed me and, in less than a year, I learned how to draw portraits and other things. There's still much for me to learn and I haven't reached any tangible kind of success yet. But I finally reached a place where I think I belong. The kind of work that I can and WANT to do until I die.
I've always been somewhat successful in past endeavors. I was as the top of my game in my last "real" job. In short, there has always been some kind of reward for my efforts that was, relatively, easy enough to aim for and achieve. This is different. My endeavors this past year have been the hardest in my entire life. Simply because this is such an unknown path. There's not much obvious and current data for me to go by and formulate a strategy. There is no clear reward at the end. And then there's things like AI. It's frightening. It's No-Man's land. Of course, I'm not going into this with my eyes closed. I still have my logic and one needs to put bread on the table. Of course, there are things in place for that. But still. There's the guilt for doing something that, statistically speaking, has a very low chance of success. Guilt to my family, guilt to myself. But never me the odds. Actually, tell me - but I'll ignore it anyway. So, in almost all aspects, my current endeavor goes against who I am as an INTJ except for one: my sense of individualism.
So that's my story thus far. If you're an INTJ and an artist in any sense of the word, I'd love to hear yours.
PS. Read my story with a grain of salt. I'm not trying to push a lesson. I'm also fully aware that some of the mindsets and perceptions I've had or currently have may not be entirely true. Again, it's just a story.

I am selling two tickets to Cirque du Soleil's ECHO in Toronto.
Saturday June 8th @ 7:30pm Section 101, Row G, Seats 2 & 3 ~125 minute show (~2 hours) $318 ($159 each)
That's the total, for both, after taxes and service fees were paid. I got 20% off on these tickets, so my price is cheaper than what you'd normally pay for the same seats.
These are pretty much the best seats you can get - near dead center and as close as you can get at this price range, all closer rows are "VIP" pricing which is quite a lot more. See attached images for view from seats.
Message me if you have questions, want proof of purchase, or anything else.
Trailer: (doesn't do it justice, but here it is anyway) https://youtu.be/JiL4joL7Oj8
Location: Under the Big Top, 2150 Lake Shore Blvd West, Toronto, Canada https://www.google.com/maps/search/?api=1&query=43.62667492816250000000%2C-79.48067145047240000000

Hey everyone. I'm not totally sure what to do with one of my kitties and would love any advice I can get. I want to give as much context as possible so I'll leave a TL;DR at the end.
I adopted Cerberus last October after the loss of my late cat. She was living in my friend's backyard in the neighborhood's TNR colony; one of the queens got missed and whoops, kittens. My friends and the people familiar with the colony are not sure who the father is as all the male cats they've seen in the colony are tagged, but the mom, Pepsi, seemed to have gotten them a stepdad, Thor, who was clearly helping her raise the kittens.
I hesitate to even call Pepsi feral because she is so unbelievably friendly. The first time I met her she ran up to me and begged to be picked up. My friend suspects she was a pet who was dumped, but whatever her origins, she clearly has a lot of trust and liking for people. She also was very tiny and we suspect really young when she gave birth, maybe six months. We are fairly certain only two kittens survived, Cerberus and her sister, Arcadia.
Pepsi brought her kittens to my friend's house regularly to eat, usually with Thor, who is more skittish but will easily allow people to approach if they have food and speak/move softly.
My friend didn't really have any takers for either kitten, but both of us strongly suspected Cerberus would be difficult to adopt out because she was so much more skittish than Arcadia. I chose Cerberus because I like problem animals (lol) and I didn't want her to be TNR forever.
I took her home October 13th when my friend estimated she was four months old. Despite my best and most patient efforts, I have never touched this cat.
I knew socialization would be difficult, but I thought with the combination of her mother's temperament and her age that I'd be able to rehab her. The first two months consisted of a lot and I do mean a lot of lying motionless on my stomach peering under the couch and the bed with treats in my hand. If there had been no response to that, I wouldn't have cared as much, but she was screaming every night at the top of her lungs, and I literally never saw her--she did not feel comfortable to move around the apartment, even when I'd been lying motionless in bed for hours. I had to put her food under the bed or couch for her. After those two months I decided I HAD to get her a kitten companion, landlord be damned, because I just felt really bad about her quality of life.
Fortunately Arcadia (her sister) had not been adopted yet, so I took her home in mid December. Arcadia immediately exhibited more bravery than her sister, although she was still initially trepidatious and did her fair share of under couch hiding. She was much more willing to approach me for treats, and by January I was hand feeding her. I'm very pleased with her current progress--she follows me everywhere, pushes her way into my lap, yells for food, is very fond of my girlfriend, and has allowed two strangers to pick her up and pet her and is apparently a little angel for the vet.
Adopting Arcadia was definitely the right decision for Cerberus--since getting her, Cerberus has started emerging to play with her and will take treats from my hand if I am very, very still. She's begun moving around the apartment while I am out and even stays still without running immediately if I stand up and move around, provided I stay at least four feet away from her. She has much less trust in my girlfriend and I admit I have probably had my girlfriend around too much, as Cerberus makes progress faster when she isn't here, although she's definitely warming up to my girlfriend as well. She does hiss literally any time people move too fast or approach her at all, but she's never swiped even when she's really freaked out, she just tends to run and hide. I feel like I can work with this.
However, I'm getting really nervous about how long she's taking to warm up with regards to vet visits. I've already put off her spay three times because I just couldn't fathom catching her and forcing her into a carrier at this point in her progress, and now it's starting to feel more irresponsible to not have her spayed and vaccinated. Arcadia went into heat literally the week before her spay, and I'm getting very nervous that Cerberus could at any minute as she's nine months old now. Her spay and initial vaccines are scheduled for this Thursday.
I've resigned myself to semi traumatizing her getting her into the carrier and have recruited a friend with copious cat experience and motorcycle gloves. I'm really, really anxious about the impact that this will have in her trust in me and how to recover that trust post spay, especially since I plan on confining her to my bathroom while she recovers and obviously I'll have to be in there at some point. The only other place I could confine her to would be my bedroom, which has the same problem. In addition to this, she'll have to go back to the vet shortly after to get her booster shot, and I feel like that will be even worse. It feels irresponsible to put off her shots any longer but I am just so scared for how far back this might set her, especially after how incredibly long it's taken her to get to this point. Help?
TL;DR: my former feral took an extremely long time to make any progress in trusting me and while she's steadily improving, she is still untouchable and I don't feel like I can put off her spay any longer. I'm scared the fact that I will have to force her into a carrier will irreparably damage our relationship.

🍇.+ introduction +.🍇

i know i mostly give a lot of informative based shifting posts and i absolutely love doing that, however, i also genuinely find shifting to be one of my main hobbies. and so, i decided to take it upon myself to write about and share with all of you my drs. some fandom, some based within this dr, and some all over the place!
i will include scripts, relationships, personality, time, and duration. i do have some that i plan but have not yet shifted to however i am only including the ones i have shifted to as the ones i would like to shift to are just wishful thinking and not me actively trying to shift there. though, i may make a separate post about drs that i desire to shift to one day.
this post will be also talking about drs that i shifted to in the past as well going in chronological order.
side note; when i talk about time spent in dr, i mean how long i spent in it in total. when i use a date like xxxx-xxxx**, i am talking about in this time period. how long it was since i had scripted and focused on this dr for. there will be plenty of overlap here.

๋࣭ ୨🪞୧ ๋࣭ waiting room ๋࣭ ୨🪞୧ ๋࣭

november 2021 - now (with a two year break in between)
time spent in dr; six months
i honestly don't use this dr as much since my forest dr is much more nicer to relax in. i never used my waiting room for its original purpose. my waiting room was small with multiple doors surrounding it. it was more cozy though some would consider it claustrophobic.
the waiting room itself was my bedroom. for context, my bedroom has a walk in closet. inside that walk in closet is my dr. inside that closet is my waiting room where it is not a closet. honestly, idk why i didn't just permashift there but i find the process of shifting to be very relaxing for me as well haha.
it still has my other drs that i used to shift to but don't anymore. i just don't open the doors to it cuz i'm too focused on two of them. one that i don't even shift to the waiting room to and one that i do shift to it.
i shifted here using the raven method the first time and later the adhd method.

𓍢ִ໋🎧♫⋆｡ k-pop dr 𓍢ִ໋🎧♫⋆｡

december 2021 - october 2022
time spent in dr; five years
i have talked about this dr of mine before in a couple of comments and i think maybe a post. i haven't really blabbed about all of it. i remember about it just as a memory. i never dreamed in that reality though simply because it is hard for me to dream in this reality too and i never cared to script in 'i can dream in this reality.' however, now i make it a point to add that in.
i did not spend five years straight. it would make me too disoriented. i shifted to it consistently for a total of five years.
my k-pop group was pretty small tbh. at least compared to other groups i listen to. i scripted that i would not know who was in my group and i would find out after auditions and meeting them for the first time. we had five members and it was pretty average. it was not crazy popular but it wasn't very small either. it was one of the most successful of our record company though.
we were a mixed gender k-pop group. meaning some girls, two guys, and me, agender nonbinary. each member had a separate persona. i will give a quick run down of each member, their persona, and my relationship with them. though i was close with all of them. it's just that i was closer with some more than others.
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we had me, i suppose you can call me tato since that was the name i had in that dr. i was known as the nerdy one. the smart one who would info dump and talk very formally while most of the members talked casual. i was mostly a dancer but also was good back up vocals.
my best friend was the pessimistic black cat of the group. i knew her from training and we grew close since then. i give her a five out of five on the closeness scale. her name was ga-young. she is a tan skinned korean girl. she was dancer and singer.
the bubbly girl. she sometimes acted bratty for the sake of cuteness. the cute bubbly girl was used interchangeably for her. she's very sweet both on and off stage. all of the group members were. she probably had the highest social media following due to her aesthetic photos and content. all of them looked like they belonged on pinterest. she was also makeup savvy and had a lot of skin care so got many promos and sponsorships from that. her name was banyen and she was an international idol from thailand!
then we have the soft girl of the group. her name was jae-eun. she was pretty short and kinda chubby but very shy and soft spoken. she was main singer and rapper.
the tough boy. his name was shik. shik is a sweet heart off stage. one of the rappers and dancers. he was actually pretty soft outside of his persona.
the jokester. another boy of the group. he was half black half korean. i found him to be very nice. he did struggle in the industry in the beginning but his mother had connections made through networking that allowed him to make it into the group. he hopes to have a solo career one day under a bigger company. his name is hwan. he was one of the main dancers and main vocals.
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some basics of this dr are that stalkers, sasaengs, diet culture, and general toxicity in k-pop do not exist. i do not wish to deal with the drama and struggles of that and hate to see other idols go through it. i did not want for my friends to go through the same as well. he did not get one however across the five years though. i scripted that i spoke korean and english.
also those were the only things i ever scripted about this dr. i wanted it to be as exciting as possible so everything was left up to chance.
i shifted to this reality using the adhd method.

🌊˚.༄ h2o dr 🌊˚.༄

july 2022 - october 2022
time spent in dr; seven months
i don't often see people write down, talk about, or script this dr. this was my very first fandom drs. even though k-pop itself is a fandom, i personally would not consider it a fandom based dr since it does not belong to any specific group, just the general industry of it.
i got the idea for this reality because i was in a summery mood at the time and binge watched this show and mako mermaids with my cousin on his birthday. we watched this show together and i came up with the idea lol. after that, i kept it going for a little bit longer in my dr until i kinda forgot about it. i was honestly too tired switching between this dr and my k-pop dr and another dr on top of this and decided to take a break with this one. i may revisit it. i still have the script in a google doc.
my merfolk power was substanciakinesis. this granted me the ability to harden water almost as if it was like glass or crystallized. it would be strong, sturdy, and indestructible. if i so choose, i can let it revert back to water after a bit, or keep it crystal like forever.
a bit of a con about this reality was that it was actually pretty annoying. that and having to keep such a secret. i did have some lore to it however. it is a coming of age thing when someone in the family turns thirteen. i shifted to when i was thirteen and did the ceremony then shifted again the next time to when i was seventeen to eighteen as that was my age at the time. i had a single dad that i lived with and one ten year old sister who was later fourteen in the story. she was really sweet and honestly i miss her.
i will say though that the powers made it worth it. the ability to breathe underwater is honestly so cool and such a strange sensation. like you don't take notice on how strange a sensation it is to breathe air either until you've breathed underwater in a dr where you can.
i also shifted to this reality using the adhd method.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 📝 ꒱ hogwarts dr ˗ˏˋ꒰ 📝 ꒱

february 2022 - february 2022
time spent in dr; one week
i wasn't even a fan of harry potter haha. i just shifted there because everyone else was and i decided 'hey, why not?' and such.
to decide what house i would script myself into and get sorted in, i went onto a buzzfeed quiz of which house i was. i got ravenclaw and therefore, i was a ravenclaw. i didn't associate myself with the cast too much aside from the teachers and professors because i kinda had to there. the food was pretty good though even if it was kinda out there. it was fun while it lasted but honestly it felt so crowded and overwhelming to me and i'm unsure why. i guess because of the classes that i had to take.
i only shifted there once.
i shifted to this reality using my waiting room.

☄. *. ⋆ alien dr ☄. *. ⋆

march 2022 - april 2022
time spent in dr; three months
this was the last dr i shifted to before my shifting break. it was a pretty fun one. my main ability was anti gravity. alien me in this dr is slightly humanoid. in most of my drs, i look like how i look in this reality here but for this one, i looked much more different and dressed even more different. it was a cultural based clothes for the home planet i was from. think kinda star wars based but not a star wars inspired reality.
in my dr, i had antennas which basically acted as eyes to see from 360 degrees. hair isn't hair but made from a liquidy slime of bright neons. the neons change colors depending on emotions.
though i did spent quite a while in this reality, i don't have too much to say about it. this is because the most i can say is just different greetings, food, and general culture from aliens than humans. it's from another galaxy and obviously planet. and life span on this planet is much longer. we are more durable than humans.
when an alien passes away, their energy becomes one with the stars, turning into star dust and watching over their people.
i shifted to this reality using my waiting room.

💥✧࿐ mha/bnha dr 💥 ✧࿐

april 2024 - now
time spent in dr; twelve days
this was my first shift i did since my two year break! well, technically it was my waiting room but i used my waiting room to shift here immediately after and spent a week there.
i plan on going back to it but not much of my script was done to it yet. i prefer to be spontaneous in my scripting and just choose to cover the basics. i don't even script future upcoming events.
i'll be honest, it was a bit trippy having this as my first animated dr ever. if felt so real but the lines surrounding my hands made it all feel crazy. i think next time i will try realistic instead, haha.
my quirk in this reality is prediction. i can predict the actions and attacks of my opponent. think of it like the attacks in the video game undertale. a warning sign shows up for certain attacks that alerts the player to move out of the way.
one of my friends in this dr's quirk is extensions. her nails can grow into sharp nail extensions that cut like steel.
i am in the hero class of class 3a along with the big three. we spend a lot of time together. i am closer with nijere since she's the most friendly of them.
i shifted to this reality using my waiting room which i shifted from using the astral projection method.

⋆｡ﾟ🌖 wolfblood dr 🌖 ﾟ｡⋆

april 2024 - now
time spent in dr; eight months four months each shift
wolfblood is an english/british teen drama live action series about what are essentially werewolves known as wolfbloods. a wolfblood is born human and looks human up until a certain age and moon. once they reach that age, their blood changes and they become a wolf. they can then interchange between wolf and human however they please except on a full moon. unless of course it is a blood moon. on a blood moon, a wolfblood looks the exact same except their mind transforms.
there's no unique feature of a wolfblood. they can be any race, religion, etc. the thing that holds them all together is being a wolfblood. in my dr.
in my dr, i looked the exact same as here. i came from a small family of wolfbloods. i decided to take my family in my h2o reality and put them here as well. it has a similar coming of age theme. at a certain age, a wolfblood transforms just as in my h2o dr, once you are a certain age, you can go and become a merfolk. in this dr, i lived in england my entire life there and attend the same school as the main cast. however, i am not friends with the main cast nor enemies.
i can sense something is up with them as they act weird in class but can't put my finger on it. i scripted it so i was unaware of the identities on my peers.

‧₊˚🌿 forest dr ‧₊˚🌿

april 2024 - now
time spent in dr; two months
copying this from a previous post here, don't mind me.
'so a bit about my dr that i am shifting to. it is not any fandom related dr but instead an alternate reality where i live in the forest in an advanced tree house. think of the houses in trees type. i spend a lot of time there meditating, practicing spells, and spending time with the animals there but especially wolves. i still have internet connection but irl i don't live close to nature so this is just perfect for me. i'm happy in both this reality and my dr. i switch between the two whenever i feel like it.'
i also shifted to this one first astral projecting. but now i just meditate until i shift. when i shift, i am also in the same meditating position as well. i wanted this to instead be connected to my waiting room, to become a sort of escapism for myself. just in a different way.
you can see the posts i made about the outfits that i wear in this dr here if you want! you can also see more of my outfits in that reality here as well. :)
i shifted to this reality using my meditation method.

⋆🔗 ˚⟡˖ ࣪ conclusion ⋆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪🔗

this is all i have for today! i hope you enjoyed it. perhaps this gave you all motivation or some scripting and reality ideas. i may have forgotten some things to include and add. apologies if some stuff didn't make sense. i hope you enjoyed the read though!
i will say this as well and leave you off with some general scripting ideas
: ̗̀➛ you cannot die
: ̗̀➛ you cannot get hurt
: ̗̀➛ you always get a good night sleep
: ̗̀➛ if you have chronic illnesses like me, you can script that your chronic illnesses are more manageable or you simply just don't have it.
that is all i have for now and happy shifting! ᥫ᭡

SOME BACKGROUND:
I'm going to be upfront; the one thing truly stopping me from saying I am autistic with full certainty is my lack of an official diagnosis, despite having the knowledge that one does not need to be diagnosed to be autistic. I'm almost entirely certain after about 8 or so years of consideration. I'm attempting to seek a diagnosis not only for personal validation though, but also to have something concrete to give to my parents. For now, I consider myself self-diagnosed, though I've given my psychiatrist a 20 page document detailing why I believe I would benefit from a proper evaluation as well as all of the experiences and the collection of traits I have that I attribute to being autistic.
For some background: I am 20 and AFAB, transmasc but presenting as female due to not being out of the closet. I am Vietnamese and part of the first generation in my family to be born in America. My parents and grandparents were born and raised in Vietnam, and thus were raised with a very different culture surrounding things such as mental health and disability compared to the information I've had access to growing up in the US. I still live with my parents and am struggling with already diagnosed mental health issues including major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, unspecified ADHD, and an unspecified trauma disorder. Because of the language and cultural barrier, my parents are really only aware of the depression in name, and the ADHD they understand even less. They are trying their best, though my dad hasn't looked at any of the resources I've sent him about ADHD or autism in my attempts to help him understand better.
On my dad in particular: he has always been the kind to believe in toughing things out and simply trying harder. Over the years he has grown to be more understanding, especially as my mental health issues grew to degrees that became harder to hide, but we have a history in terms of what I'm about to describe re: my very recent meltdown.
WHAT HAPPENED:
The day before Mother's Day, my dad sprung up on me without warning that me and my younger brother were going over to our paternal grandparents' house to wish our grandmother a happy Mother's Day. This immediately upset me not because I didn't want to go, but because I hadn't had the time to mentally prepare myself for the shift in my routine—I had only done so for the actual date of Mother's Day. I've asked my family before that I am told ahead of time when plans to go out of the house where I'm involved are made, preferably at least a day beforehand. Unfortunately, my family is comprised of very spontaneous people who tend to make plans on the fly.
I made it clear I was fairly upset about not being told ahead of time to my mother, who thanked me when I got up to get ready to go. Something about being thanked for this was the final nail in the coffin for the upset that was gripping me. I think it was the idea that she knew full well that I was attempting to set aside my own comforts(? for lack of a better term) for the sake of family normality; something that I've had to do often.
I had a quiet breakdown in the bathroom while I washed myself, which came with the annoyance of how snotty tears would make you. Very annoying when bowing your head to wash your hair. I've had practice locking myself in the bathroom to have my breakdowns in a private place where I couldn't be walked in on and then questioned, because I always knew that I could never explain why I was having such a disproportionate reaction, especially given the cultural barrier. It would all seem stupid, immature, selfish, spoiled, and an overreaction. My plan was to cry it out in the shower and come back out after composing myself so we could leave. Tried and true method. I bit the back of my hands—to stifle my crying, to give myself a physical sensation to ground myself with, some combination of those two. It helped only a little bit.
As it turns out, there was a lot of baggage behind this upset outside of just this one incident. There is a very long-running pattern in which I must sacrifice my comfort or suck up my complaints in order to appease whatever my parents have decided to do, or whatever I was expected to do.
Sometimes it was their obsession with taking billions of family pictures—I vividly recall one instance where I was horribly upset about having to wear a dress, especially for the sole sake of driving to some flower field just to take pretty family pictures of which we have thousands. I was much younger at the time, maybe 14, and was expressing my upset in the only somewhat acceptable way I could, i.e. being incredibly grumpy. Eventually my dad blew up at me for being spoiled and various other things while I cried in the back of the car, my mother and younger brother dead silent. He drove to cool off. We did not talk about it ever again afterward.
Sometimes it was school-related. When I was around 11, I was struggling to complete an assignment for school for reasons I couldn't articulate, and honestly still can't. It was simple, and it was a drawing assignment, and I absolutely adored traditional art. But I was simply Stuck on some part, and was working myself into an anxious mess up until midnight. I was terrified of getting bad grades, of not meeting the expectations of people I considered authority figures, such as teachers. So much so that I wanted to stay home. And knowing I had no "proper" excuse, I tried to use a different one when I asked to stay home for that one day: menstrual cramps. I was told to see how I was doing in the morning.
In the morning I still said I wished to stay home from school due to cramps. After a lot of deliberation with my mother, she relented and allowed me to stay home. Despite the fact that I had gotten what I wanted, I was already horribly upset. Looking back on it, I think it was the fact that I had to fight so hard to stay home for just one day. It was upsetting that my visible upset wasn't enough. It was upsetting that they weren't just getting it.
I had a breakdown in the bathroom (there's a trend here as you can see) and slammed my arm against the heater in there so many times that I ended up with horrible bruising on the back of my arm the days after. My family members knocked on the door because people needed to get ready, and that only made me more upset—couldn't they hear me crying? Didn't they care? When I finally came out and crawled up into the upper bunk, my dad came in and started yelling at me.
Your average stuff, things like, "If I had a stomachache I wouldn't just be able to not go to work." I blocked a lot of it out of my memory, but most of the time I was under the covers crying while he engaged in a one-sided shouting match with me. Eventually my mother came in and gently asked me to stop crying, and to stop making my father mad.
While these two incidents and the others like them happened years ago, they were defining moments in my life and inform how I handle conflict (as in: I don't) and how I go about expressing my struggles (as in: rarely, and often with great shame). Standing in the shower and being unable to not think about these things, I spiraled further. It felt like I was being swallowed by my emotions. I don't know if angry or sad or upset really capture what I was feeling properly. My thoughts were like a car with its brakes cut, going at breakneck speeds on the highway.
By the time I was done with my shower I still wasn't composed. As it turns out, when you abuse a coping mechanism that relies on repression as long as I did, it stops working at some point. There was just too much to try and hide. More hand biting happened along with some hitting my head with my fists. So I sat in my room, and eventually my mom came in and saw my face. Unsurprisingly she didn't acknowledge the fact that I had clearly been crying—instead, with a soft voice, like she was coaxing a small child into doing something vaguely unpleasant, she told me, "Come on, let's go." And I'm sure that's how she was seeing me at that point. An oppositional, defiant child. I struggle not to see myself in that way, and still have been trying to unpack how much shame I feel when things like this happen.
My crying started up again because my tear ducts really don't like listening to me, and I asked somewhat incredulously, "You're still going to make me go?" In retrospect, it probably sounded bratty. Here I was, 20 years old, complaining about being "made" to go somewhere.
It took maybe a couple of seconds for my mom to decide to just let me stay home instead.
Once everyone was out, I had the loudest cry I'd ever experienced in my life. I'd never had the opportunity to, and so it just kind of... came out once the house was silent. I think I might've wailed. And then I promptly shut the hell up once I heard my [maternal] grandmother coming back upstairs. She passed by my room, asked why I didn't go (not noticing the state of my face, maybe due to eyesight). I gave a non-answer and she made some exasperated remark that I don't know how to translate into English. It nearly set me off again, knowing how inconvenient I was, how tired they all were of me and my antics.
I had a headache for the next 20 or so hours, which I knew would happen based on past experiences with breakdowns as emotionally taxing as this one. I'd also predicted during the whole thing that the next day I would be pretty nonfunctional, which I was unfortunately also right about. Whenever these things happen it throws my entire week off. It's upsettingly debilitating. Two days later, I'm somewhat functional, but the whole thing disrupted my... everything. I have an exam that I had planned to study for during the days I was busy trying to get myself back together emotionally. The headache actually came back, and is sitting with me nicely while I type this. Hey there.
The day immediately after, Mother's Day: I was pretty fearful the entire time. Mostly of what my dad was going to do. Best case scenario, he'd come into my room and we could have an open dialogue and communicate about what happened. Worst case scenario, he'd regress and revert back to how he'd been like years ago, screaming at me for my incompetence, my selfishness, my refusal to cooperate with the smallest things despite all our family does for me. After a little bit I had to add on a third possibility: that he would simply go about like nothing happened, which he has also done before. Generally though, I wasn't optimistic about my chances here. I learned through this that I absolutely don't trust him to handle my larger, more intrusive, more ugly issues with grace.
He's been ignoring my existence since my little meltdown. No hellos, good mornings, not even looking at me. He's talking with everyone else as normal. I've been keeping my head down and can really only assume that he's angry with me as I'd expected and based on what I know about him/understand in terms of his personality through prior experience.
While I could give benefit of the doubt and say he may be attempting to give me space, he's the kind of person who you can tell when he's angry. It's something we share. And it's truly more likely that he's upset about me throwing what looked to him like a shitfit over something small and inconsequential, refusing to do something as simple as a visit to make his mothemy paternal grandmother to give Mother's Day gifts. And I didn't get my propensity for avoiding communication and unpleasant conversations at all costs from nowhere, so. Here we are.
I still don't really know if what I had was an autistic meltdown or a "standard" emotional breakdown, whatever that even looks like. I think I'm used to framing my behaviors with neurotypical language, and often language that isn't too kind to myself. So on top of venting a bit, I also wanted to get an outside perspective, and see whether my breakdown sounded similar to any other autistic peoples' experiences with meltdowns.
If there's any advice out there to give in terms of my relationship with my dad, that would also be appreciated. I love my family, but it all hurts, and this has also made me realize that I may have a lot more trauma to unpack surrounding my family than I've acknowledged.
I've been considering getting a physical copy of Sincerely, Your Autistic Child to annotate and highlight certain sections, putting sticky tabs on chapters I find relevant, and providing definitions for words I know he hasn't come across before, to give to him and ask him to at least attempt to read those bits. The more bitter and angry part of me, the part that are tired of having to be the one to accommodate for everything interpersonally, just wants to go up to him and tell him the reason I never go to him when I'm upset is because I'm scared. To tell him exactly what all those times he yelled at me did to my ability to self-advocate, to tell him what all those times my emotions and emotional well being were devalued did to my self-esteem. That the "interpersonally submissive" phrase from my 40 page psych report has roots in the way he raised me entirely on obedience, and how I am still learning that I am allowed to say no in all sorts of contexts. Maybe I can do both of these things, and probably when he isn't pretending I don't exist, and when I feel less like I'll fall to bits the moment I open my mouth in his direction. I'll likely try and avoid using language that outright blames him for the sake of maintaining a good relationship whenever the talk comes around.
I'm still trying to accept the fact that I might need more support than I allowed myself to think. I only recently found out that truly voicing that I'm having academic trouble is something that brings me so much shame that tears spring up in my eyes—going to the Disability Support Services office on my campus made me far more emotional and nervous than I'd expected. With how I'm navigating my own self-acceptance, I don't know how I'm going to get my family to accept that I'm not the "normal" child I know they still wished I was.

There’s this redirect scam thing I have on chrome. It got rid of my main search bar, so I can only search on the bar at the top. When I search, first thing that comes up is finditsfasts.com, then it takes me to boyu.com.tr which looks like an old google. I have tried deleting chrome entirely, tried so many methods I searched up. I don’t know what to do anymore.

Hi everyone! I apologize in advance as I know this question has been answered in some capacity in the past.
I’m doing some extensive research on identifying a provider for an outward facing public phone number and an internal number for 2FA purposes. I know the overall consensus is that VOIP and 2FA are not compatible. I’ve been in touch with several sales reps that claim I’d have zero issues with 2FA SMS from big companies such as Google, Microsoft or even Twitter. At the top of my list includes Ring Central, Dialpad, Open Phone (heard mixed things) and Mightycall. Are they stretching the truth to get my business? We’d be porting over an existing VOIP number.

For reference :)
I want to say thank you for all of you who helped me, you all gave me excellent perspectives and I really love you all for it. Happy to report that I did not go to his graduation. I felt guilty for a bit because you only graduate a few times, but why support someone who doesn’t respect you lol. I did politely let him know he was out of line and that our friendship can’t go forward. Ultimately, you all were right, no REAL friend would sexualize me like this.
Some of you asked how I hide my chest so well, so I’m here to share my big boobie gal secrets for ya :) ❤️ My biggest tip is to avoid bras with those huge moulded, padded cups. All they do for me is add volume to my chest.
My holy grail bra is the Celestine bra from Adore M in a 32H for $24!!! I had the luxury of going into one of their stores to try on a couple styles. This bra fits like a SOCK. The cups are stretchy so even when I get period boobs, they still fit. Downside, they’re never in stock and I bully their instagram daily because of it.
Significantly more expensive but so worth it to me is the Chantelle Norah Chic underwire bra in a 32H for $84 :(. BUT girlies I’m telling you, go to Nordstrom, try this one on and your back pain will be GONEEEE. Slight padding for the nips, straps are also padded, and you can hardly feel the elastic on the band.
My go to everyday lounging bra is this $10 Hanes wireless bra in a Medium. Definitely not for long term wear as there’s hardly support but nice when you’re home and don’t wanna wear a wire. Super stretchy, I was shocked when it fit me, I have 4 lol.
Bikinis are my enemy but I found one this year I was really surprised by. TRUST ME HERE!!! This Victoria Secret bikini&cmmmc=PLA--GOOGLE--VSD_VS_Swim_PMAX--&gad_source=1&gclid=EAIaIQobChMIhOyK_5z8hQMVBZpaBR2MSgZGEAQYASABEgLiNvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds) in a 34DDD fits me like a dream!!!! Straps are adjustable and the band is adjustable through some strings. Their bands are quite small, a 34 gave me better side boob coverage. I got it for $30 on sale and the bottoms are cheap too!
For sports bras, this popflex one is incredible! I tried a small and a medium, the fabric is so stretchy- I fit well in both but I like the tighter feel of the small when I’m exercising.
HONORABLE MENTION: since I wear bras with no padding most of the time, nips show through often. These nipple covers are the only ones worth their money. They don’t leave that dumb ring around your nipple under your clothes LMFAO
BONUS TIP: idk about you guys but I get tons of acne on my back and shoulders where my bra sits all day. The Everyday Brightening Body Wash has been the only thing that’s tamed my acne.
PSSSSSSS - the green dress is from H&M for 12.99!!! I’m wearing a small :)
I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what works for me and this list is all I’ve got LOL. I’m happy you all find me stylish and have been so sweet to me. I hope this helps some of you out the way you guys help me!!! ❤️

Had a old man today in Palo Alto that I picked up from a retirement home. He set his drop off location for a hotel nearby and 3 minutes later he asks if I'm going to California Ave which is a street going the opposite direction of the actual drop-off (Drop off was at Stanford). When he realizes this he rudely starts giving directions and gives me a card that shows the address he was meant to be dropped off. I put the address into Google Maps and then I went to that address on the card. Again, he was rude in telling me where to stop but the cherry-on-top was the smile and chuckle he gave as he got out. If he wasn't some old man with a cane, I would've left him at that place and told him to order another one

I rented a room in my house to some tourists. A mother and her 13 year old son. The first night when I was passing through their room I saw the mom blindfolding the boy, taking down his pendant and putting him to sleep as if he was some statue that can't move on his own. The couple left next day without any notice .After that my husband started making loud noises . When I came in room he tried to attack me. I ran and hide in another room, the guests were staying last night. Horrified, I saw walls covered in wired symbols. I Googled the meaning of those and those were symbols used in demonic ritual to get rid of demon by infesting others with it. They left me a note and a pendant, saying the necklace will help me .
Soon my husband snapped at me and tried to stab me, fortunately I turned around and then got on top of him and made him wear that pendant. Now we are on vacation.

I want to start off by saying that I am aware that both Konami and Crypton Future Media are different companies with different businesses. The original intention behind my previous post was because I wanted it to be an empathy post where we could both share how we aren’t getting great things for 2024 this year, and possibly craft some theories of why this may be the case for one, or both companies if common problem and grounds could be found. That post was for people who love and know about DDR and Vocaloid.
For people who knew only about the DDR side, I apologize for having the post mainly one sided about Vocaloid at the very top. The reason for this was because, as I said in a comment on my previous post, I had been following the problems of the Miku Expo since day 1, and it got to the point where I could list many and possibly all the bad things off the top of my head.
DDR, meanwhile, I literally had 1 statement made, and I gave instructions to search up KAC 11th talk and you could find the video made by Dr. D Gaming on YouTube. I DID KNOW about what the content covered, but, because I had learned about it just yesterday, I would have had to sit down and type details on my post while rewatching the video because it’s not possible to instantly remember a near 30 minute video without repetitive watching for some people.
You can stop reading at this point because down below is the reason why I brought Vocaloid here. If you are still curious anyway, keep reading. I will also include DDR first this time unlike in my last post. It will be from memory without looking at the video again, but it’s better than nothing. Plus, you could always search for the video yourself to verify and get more information.
The reason why is because I was exploring the possibility that, possibly by coincidence, both Konami and Crypton Future Media did not like westerners, and they had pretty much gave their community watered down or no events at all.
For DDR KAC, such problems are:
You must know Japanese in order to be qualified for KAC because the final round will be in Japanese(this was shown and removed on their website as shown in the video. Note:It might have been a previous KAC year, but I’d have to go back and check)
You must pay for your own flight(literally had no problem flying overseas players from previous years)
iamchris4life along with 3 other people had their KAC entries called into question, and could be disqualified if not addressed. I imagine that they had very good and strong reasons, but was still turned down anyways. Konami even had the audacity to say to their face they appreciate and hope they continue to support them.
If you were disqualified from KAC ever, you’re never participating again.(That would pretty much narrow the event down to Japan only)
There was a KAC song that was region locked specifically to Japan
Various things here if I could remember them.
Last one I can remember. While not a problem, it’s an acknowledgment from the DDR champion of this year, HIBKI. They knew the technicalities is a bs reason to keep players outside of Japan from participating as kind of implied if you know the context behind his champion speech(seen in Dr. D Gaming’s 11th KAC DDR video)
For Vocaloid, a lot of things at the Expo went wrong. These things are:
Limited merchandise(100 glow sticks when literal thousands are coming to the concert)
No communication about the LED screen(It’s important to note that fans have pointed out that there is no difference between transparent glass screen and LED screen because it’s fine as long as the screen is integrated with the stage. When that happens, it can cause the same immersive effect that the Vocaloids are truly there and on stage.)
Unable to refund tickets(turned off by the organizer which would be Crypton).
Tickets for the Europe tour being released on the day of the concert, meaning, there was almost no way for Europe fans to know about the transparent glass screen switch before it was too late.
False advertising(the Vocaloids being projected on to the glass screen like years prior before this 10th anniversary)
The no glow stick rule other than the official ones by Crypton(this lead many to believe that the transparent glass screen + projection would be used, implying that it was not going to be an LED screen)
Crypton is not addressing the backlash until the NA tour ends, or possibly, until the Europe tour ends which would be the end of the year. If we assume we are getting a response at all(this could be a debatable problem. I can kind of see why they are waiting until the end of the tour)
As you can see, while these are very different events, and situations, it could come off as them hating westerners. Someone on my previous post had wrote an interesting theory that perhaps for Konami, there are 2 different management/team members. One goes for global expansion because they see potential. The other doesn’t want to take the risk creating mixed messages. Naturally, my reply would be that we had the team members who weren’t going for global expansion this year.
I also kept this insight in mind just in case if Crypton also has more than one management and is facing a similar problem.