Tracking down the Xanathar Guild Outposts and the traitors of Halleth through Floor 2, this week the party had Goba, the Dwarven fighter barbarian, Archimedes, the Gnome artificer, Freyja, the half Elf paladin, and Nazar, the Goliath paladin.
Alongside them came Nanaz, Goba’s grouchy duergar uncle and manservant, and Halleth Garke, revenant adventurer currently dead in their portable hole.
DEAD EYES WATCH POST
Faced with an undead Beholder, the party at first found the Xanathar Guild Outpost to be quite tame. Archimedes shot it well with his magical gauntlets, but Nazar, Goba and Freyja have only basic ranged weapons. In turn, the two paladins protective auras prevented the vile magic from taking effect.
Up until doors slammed open, and a cohort of mobsters and orcs poured in, having heard the ruckus. The humans, led by a barbaric greataxe wielding woman, Nadia the Unbent, seemed to be in competition with garotter orcs led by a well armoured Boss Grox, with the orcs wearing symbols of an upside down tree.
Too little melee turned into too much melee very quickly. Goba heroically engaged in a barbarian duel with Nadia, Freyja battled an orc strangler, and Nazar unleashed a divine spiritual weapon upon the undead beholder. Who looked over them and unleashed a black bolt of energy directly at Archimedes. The gnome shook with deadly energy, quaking him to the very core, and was unsettled to realise he had almost been disintegrated.
It was a very close battle, swung by Goba slaying Nadia and the paladins slaying the orcs. They intimidated the human mobsters into standing down, while the Beholder was finally smited by Freyja, and Boss Grox retreated, ranting of traitorous Guildmen.
FLOOR TWO DAY TWO
Said treacherous Xanathar Guild men immediately legged it into the tunnels- the orc had another squad of orc mercs exploring nearby, and they didn’t fancy sticking around to face them all. The party was beaten and battered already so they hotfooted it back to the Goblin Bazaar, taking note of where the mobsters ran as another likely outpost.
After returning to the Rustbones Goblin Bazaar, they had the safe territory to rest up and heal up, reflecting on a wild day- on their first excursion through floor two, they’d allied with Queen Yenk, encountered Torbrand, slain the Stormskull, killed two targets of Halleth’s vengeance, defeated the Nothics, Demons, and Nadia the Unbent. Now quite bent.
Which is code for, boom, several of the party levelled up to level 7 quite early on in the floor, being Nazar and Goba who make sessions most regularly.
Over the night, Freyja dreamt of her father, an elven paladin named Jan. With him she had sworn before the shrine of Mielekee, Goddess of the Forest, to always be brave, strong, just. And she had seen him die, choked out on poison from a Green Dragon, Bullfang.
The dragon who lurks deeper down in the dungeon.
Come morning, with some encouragement from Queen Yenk, they ventured out once more.
DIPLOMACY???
They discovered Boss Grox along with another six orc mercenaries, eating breakfast with full packs back at the outpost. The orc debated if they wanted to attack him and die- or if they wanted to hire him. He and his crew were mercenaries, not truly loyal to Xanathar, up from the orcish tribe of the Hanging Tree that dwells on Floor Three.
The party elected to not fight or hire them, and poked around the rooms to find the orcs had thoroughly looted them, including of a magical dwarven hammer. But since the orcs are leaving and noone is loyal to Xanathar here, the outpost is wiped! Success! They also discovered another of Halastur’s Gateway portals here, marked with dwarven statues, grindstones, and a symbol for Floor Six.
Heading off to scout elsewhere, Halleth was revived and arose, delighted and furious that he had missed the chance to kill Rex the Hammer himself, so much so that he was bleeding from the eyes. He again croaked angrily that none had even attempted to give him funeral rites, and was hungry to search for his final target, Midna, somewhere nearby.
In the farthest north of the dungeon, they discovered a corridor trapped with dart shooters, and two Xanathar Guild Bugbear Guards. On Goba remembering a pass phrase from earlier, but saying it at the wrong time, they got a brief, stand off meeting with the outposts leader- a spider faced Drow named Shun.
Shun was impressed they’d taken down Nadia, a rival of his, and offered a simple challenge- they bring back a stone key from ratfolk stole from him, and he’ll put in a good word for them to join the guild. Otherwise, he’ll call on his men and start shooting them down a trapped corridor if they want to fight.
Another quest acquired? Maybe?
The party decided not to fight him for now, avoided some tunnels that stank of slime, and followed Halleth’s vengeance sense eastwards. There, beyond some grand old double doors, they found an oddly plush comfortable shrine with a fully laden feast table, bright magical fires illuminating the place, and a statue of Shar, Goddess of Night, Loss and Darkness.
Tending to the black-and-gold stonework was a woman clad in dark robes, smiling features and scarred flesh. Midna invited them to turn on Halleth, simply claiming that he was too troublesome to be kept alive. When they refused, Midna quietly elected to offer them to Shar, and the chamber plunged into darkness as long shadows sp

OC
In the far future, mankind is surrounded by neighbours that rule over their citizens with an iron first and no regard for their happiness, either in the name of a select few families with noble blood, absolute monarchs or tyrants that claim to serve the interests of their nations while their actions suggest otherwise.
It is a sickening thought and certain individuals would not stand for this. Many species were flabbergasted when they learned so many humans were willing to meddle in the affairs of their neighbours, even more were shocked to learn that these endeavours were not funded by any human government for the sake of destabilising potential rivals.
It was a voluntary effort.
[----------------------------------------]
If Mesch could describe the current microcycle, she’d call it tiring, soul-crushing even, she had no choice but to overwork herself to pay off her debt to the state. After the brother of her father was falsely charged with high treason and shipped off, all of her immediate family-including her-was charged the appropriate price for being the acquaintance of a dissident. The dread residing in her heart only grew stronger as she made her way back to her meager apartment-dwelling, the thought of the massive debt and the cost of living only served to wear her mind down.
“Hello miss, did you know you have rights?” Mesch’s ears perked up at the sudden barrage of noise directed at her, turning to look at the source, she found a strange, seemingly furless biped looking at her. She exhaled from her snout, as if she didn’t have anything better to do…she had recently gotten off her twelfth consecutive overtime shift and the last thing the drowsy nersk needed was a speech about- “You actually do and since I’m here, I’m willing to tell you all about it” The biped was holding plenty of pamphlets in its first appendage and a clipboard in the second. Whatever it wanted to tell her must have been important enough to stand in the same spot for an indefinite amount of time, Mesch decided to humour the strange alien, stopping in her tracks and focusing exclusively on the being in front of her.
"Enlighten me then, what rights do I have?” She came to the conclusion that the alien ignored the sarcasm in her response, seeing that it was thick enough to pierce. She had nothing to her name besides the clothes on her person and what little she had in her apartment-dwelling. The alien handed her a pamphlet, why not? She had come this far, may as well go the whole way. It was written fluently in the language of her people and the information it divulged immediately drew her attention.
-The average Nerski adult works an average of ten human hours for six human days every human week with for the same criminally low wages. This is twenty nerski mini-cycles every twelve nerski micro-cycles every nerski mega-cycle. That is humiliating, grating and unacceptable. Besides being deprived of overtime rates, the average nerski adult is robbed of their sense of safety in their own dwelling, the nerski authorities need no one’s written permission to invade and sack someone’s dwelling for evidence of a crime, perceived or not. The average nerski citizen has no say in who governs them or the measures they may enact at any given moment. The average nersk is not free. But you can be, if you ask the nearest F.F.F advocate for more information. Freedom Forever Foundation-
Something just did not sit well with her about this, was she supposed to work less? Was she supposed to be paid more for the unskilled labour she provided? Was she being taken advantage of? The intrusive thoughts did not let her already weary mind rest, for she had a myriad of questions that urgently needed answering. “I…I want to know more” Mesch did not bother masking the tone of her voice, it sounded equally tired and pleading, desperate for answers to the questions that only kept appearing with each passing second.
The face of the alien brightened by a considerable amount, quickly withdrawing something from the bag on their back. In that span of seconds that felt like a lifetime she remembered the race the odd sentient in front of her belonged to, humans. Not new to FTL technology by any means, but still treated like children in many political-and social-circles thanks to being the newest addition to the Neutral Cooperation Concord. “Glad your rights concern you…this is the information kit, spread the word” A beige folder was handed to her, it was almost as thick as her arm, the scandalous information…the pull it had on her, it was hellish! The promise of relief almost made her knees buckle under the pressure of her need to know.
“One more thing…can I have your signature? I will sooner burn the page than let it fall in the hands of nerski authorities…you have my word” She didn’t need to be pressured to sign and she did so eagerly, carefully hiding the illicit materials within her clothes with shaky hands. ‘Thank-” The human did not get to thank her in time, noticing a single file line of nerski plain clothes enforcers closing in on them, picking up speed when he started backing away. “Unfortunately this is where we part ways…now go!” The last glimpse of the human she caught was him getting swarmed by the enforcers “Liberty fears no tyrant! FREEEEEEEEEEEDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!” Mesch’s attempts at leading the human away had failed, tears threatened to spill out of the corners of her eyes the longer she ran yet she had no other choice. If only she could see him again…
Almost an entire megacycle latehuman month later…
Mesch was returning from work, this time she failed to evade the treacherous weather, opting to withstand it and head back home through the camped alleyways leading to that fabled square she had met the human at. She sighed, stopping for a bit and sitting down, squeezing her long ears to get what little water had gathered in there out again. That was when a familiar voice caressed her ears once more. “Hello miss, did you know you have rights?” Her head spun around a little too quicker than she liked, causing some pain to her neck but ultimately ignoring it in favour of finding the source of that blessed voice.
“Of course you do, you’re the first one!” The same human from before sat next to her, shielding her from most of the raindrops thanks to his larger size. “Also I’m now considered a political dissident and there’s an active warrant out for my detainment but that’s not the important thing here! It is this…” The same clipboard came into her view, this time filled with plenty more signatures and from the looks of things there were more pages under the one on top, all filled to the brim with signatures as well. “Whoever has it out for me sure doesn’t like it when people think on their own”
Mesch…was stunned, she had convinced herself the human would never see the light of day again and yet here he was, staring at her with that same smile, the same smile with the same, if not larger, amount of defiant spirit brewing behind it. “How did you?...”
"I am a vessel for liberty, as long as it exists somewhere, I will not be stopped” The human stood up and offered her his hand, she accepted it and after getting pulled up on her feet he showed her another pamphlet, this time it talked about a protest right outside the presidential palace, it was suicidal to say the least…which was why Mesch thought she had finally flown off the handle when she accepted without second-guessing herself.
“So…there are more like me?” Hope filled her heart, it was good, way too good to be true. “Not just more…way, wayyy more! Now come, I will get us there with the Liberty mobile!” She soon found herself strapped inside a vehicle of signature human design, heading straight to the presidential palace, her stomach flipping at the mere sight of the crowd gathered at the meeting point. Chanting slogans, phrases, speeches that at any other point in time she would have rejected as crazy and meant to destabilise the nation her people had built over many lifetimes. They got out and marched with the rest of the assembled nersk until they hit a chokepoint, lines upon lines of enforcers ready to meet them halfway , they were not scared or intimidated, they were ready.
Before long, either due to their own initiative or an order from a higher up, the enforcers were set loose on the crowd. Bashing, bruisng and shooting with electrically-charged pellets, trying their damnest to scare the crowd away. Mesch was scared but she would not flee, for the life she lived before this grand event was nothing more than celebrated slavery. Enforcers descended on her and the human, she was badly beaten but before any serious harm could befall her the human shielded her and proceeded to drive back the enforcers hellbent on killing her without even fighting back , the only weapon in his name was his own body and he did not use it as a weapon, only a a shield.
A few moments before she fainted from the overwhelming pain, she could hear the battle cry she had heard only once before and a sense of comfort, a painful but satisfying end to her life of misery.
This would have been the case if she hadn’t woken an indeterminate amount of time later in a hospital, with none other than the same human sitting besides her, watching her. “Slept well? You deserve it after all these bruises” It was painful to move and for the second time, she ignored it. Twisting just enough to be able to hug the human. “Thank you for everything” The human hugged her back, comforting her with the warmth only his words had provided so far. “You shouldn’t thank me, I was doing my moral duty…there is someone else you should be embracing right now” Behind the human stood another nersk, it was uncle Vinow, the same uncle that had gotten dragged off by the secret police. Tears of happiness overwhelmed her and she soon hugged both of them.
“Some sympathetic soul leaked the coordinates to several blacksites holding political prisoners and from the looks of things this isn’t the last act of defiance we’re going to be hearing about, while you were unconscious I was ferrying as many prisoners back and forth to the capital….Congratulations Mersch, your people have embraced freedom. Enjoy it, your blood, sweat and tears have finally paid off”
[-----------------------------]
[My HFY-themed discord server](http:// https://discord.gg/KQeBuv88EB)

I know it was your first relationship. At 28, you had already been through so much, having been on your own for 13 years. You were forced to grow up too fast, and had to prioritize yourself, building a life from nothing. I get it. It was your fierce independence that made me fall for you in the first place.
I always knew that trying to build a life with you was going to be a struggle. I thought it would be worth it, for both of us. You deserve to have someone in your corner, that always has your back. You shouldn’t have to be alone. I don’t know if you believed the same.
I think I gave up too much of myself for you. Was that my mistake or yours? Did you really ask for too much, or did I give too freely without expectation for anything in return? Maybe both. Probably more on me. I’m not perfect by a long shot.
Compromise. It really does all come down to that. I tried to show you its importance, but in the process I ended up being the only one willing to do it. Me getting to pick what movie we watched or getting to plan a date became something I only got to do on special occasions. You said you felt like you didn’t know me, but so many times in so many ways I offered up little pieces of me to you. I share myself by sharing the things I love with the people I love. But more and more towards the end, all you’d say was “no”. Ignoring any context. Ignoring those pieces of me.
I know you don’t like movies about kids. I know asking to watch Home Alone during Christmas was a big ask. But it was a tradition that I shared with my dad, who I lost just over a year before. I know you think that traditions are pointless, but it was important to me. My earliest memories are of that. I needed to continue on, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it alone. I needed you there, your support. It was such a small gesture I was asking of you, but all I got was “no”. Instead we watched a movie you picked: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. A movie made by the exact same people that made Home Alone, and with even more kids.
We wanted to go to Ireland. Personally I’ve been wanting to go for years, but couldn’t because of my dad’s illness along with everything else going on. You knew that in the last 3 years I lost all of my grandparents, two uncles, my dad. I couldn’t risk going so far away for so long while everyone was sick. My mom saw me giving up the latter half of my 20s for my family, when she was hoping I would be enjoying life and seeing the world. That’s why she was happy to give us the money to have the trip of our dreams. I explained all of this to you while you were struggling to find a way to save for the trip. All my mom wanted in return was a single nice photo of us. That wasn’t even a requirement for the money. She just wanted to see me with the person that I love making our dreams come true. I know you hate having your picture taken. The only attention your dad ever gave you was when he wanted to test a new camera. It’s a trauma trigger. But I was only asking for one picture. You’d compromise for your friends, you’d compromise for your sister. You’d take pictures with them. Why wouldn’t you compromise for your partner, and the other most important person in your partners life? After a year, we have 3 pictures together, none of which are very good. I know that I was asking for a lot, but I felt so less important than everyone else in your life. Maybe you felt that as your partner, I was to be held to a higher standard? I honestly don’t know. All you said was “no”.
You admitted yourself I was so supportive. I always prioritized you. From always making your tea before mine, to giving you the better looking plate at dinner, to planting all of your favorite flowers in my garden. I always complemented you, how smart you are, how beautiful you are, how driven and independent you are. Your friend needed a ride to a 5k and someone to cheer them on? I was there. You needed someone to drive you around while your car was in the shop for 2 months? No problem. Accidentally overdrew your account again, and you couldn’t afford the late fees? Here’s $50. Need to move on short notice? I’m the guy tearing apart and moving your furniture. You have a migraine so bad you can’t eat? I’m bringing you pedialyte and sleeping on your couch, even though I didn’t actually get any sleep. I learned all your rituals so not to trigger your OCD. There are countless other examples. I never said no. I never complained. You rarely said so much as “thank you”.
The big one. The thing that ended us. You’re right, we did sit down like adults time and time again and talked things out. You said you needed me to anticipate your needs. You’d get overwhelmed, and couldn’t articulate what you needed from me. You couldn’t stand being asked what you needed. You just needed me to start helping. “Mental loads” and all that. I took that to heart. But I’m not perfect. Sometimes I’d miss the mark. Tried to support you, but in the wrong way. Even in my failures I showed effort, but you never seemed to see that. You only focused on how I failed.
We recognized that this was a problem caused by both of us. The communication wasn’t getting through. But I had already adapted to your communication style as much as I could. My exited, rambling, almost impulsive way of generating ideas became slow, methodical, thoughtful. I put intention behind everything so not to overwhelm you. I learned not to jump at the obvious solution.
Yes, we sat down like adults and talked things over time and time again. You told me what you needed from me, but I also told you what I needed from you. If I was missing the mark, please just guide me to what you needed. I’m not a mind reader. I did it for you all the time. You were honestly awful at anticipating my needs too. If I was venting, had a bad day, all you’d say was “I’m sorry”, and pat me on the back like a puppy. No effort to dig deeper. No words of support or encouragement. So I had to show you how I needed support. I just needed you to do the same for me. “No”. Again.
One final time, I sent you words of support when you were having a bad day. It wasn’t enough, you wanted more. A phone call? For me to come over so you could vent in person? Did you actually want me to directly help for once? I don’t know. You never told me. Instead of guiding me to what you needed, you immediately shut down. Full silent treatment. I’ve been in abusive relationships where the silent treatment was welded as a weapon. I know you didn’t mean it in an abusive way, you were just overwhelmed again. But I never expected it from you. I didn’t see it for what it was. I only ever asked one thing from you to save us. I put in the work, got us 80% of the way there. I knew I couldn’t bridge the gap on my own. I wasn’t even asking you to put in effort on my behalf, it was for your benefit. I begged you time and time again for help. To communicate. Not to put it all on me, because I couldn’t do it on my own. But instead, you did the opposite.
You said that you felt like you were putting more effort into the relationship than I was. I’m sorry, but I can’t see that effort. I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I can’t. Maybe you mean you put effort into forgiving me every time I messed up? Maybe you mean that you were always planning dates, always picking what we watched, where we went, what we ate, what we drank? Again, mental loads and such. But I had things that I wanted to do and share with you that you always turned down. You only had to plan everything after my plans were rejected. It would have been more efficient for you to show love, patience, and compromise. Maybe we would have worked out then.
But you left instead.

Just for a quick backstory I (23F) have been interested in my best friend's uncle (27M) since I was 12. I met her uncle when I was 12. He's your average athletic guy. Fit, funny, good looking. We bonded over music. He told me stories of his past. He'd even help me study french when I needed help on my homework One night I went to my best friend's house. Unaware that she wasn't at home, but he was there. So we began to talk eventually I confessed my feelings for him. He was shocked. But then my best friend came So we exchanged instagrams. Decided to continue our conversation afterwards. Later that night he texted me asking so many questions on when did I have a crush on him, why I had a crush on him. I told him everything and eventually he confessed that he too felt the same way but it was wrong due to a bunch of complications. We'd still continue to talk but within two weeks of texting back and forth, we decided to make it official Although we agreed to keep it a secret. It felt so right he is special it killed having to pretending to either be single or date another guy. After he and I were together for 7 months I asked him if we could get a more physically involved he told me no since i was too young by this time i was already 13.
I felt I had made to relationship a bit awkward so i distanced myself a bit and would only speak to me bsf and try to ignore him. I remember so clearly how upset he was he'd nonstop text or call and when I'd go over he'd try and talk my bsf eventually noticed and told me to be careful her mom walked in and overheard our conversation telling me the same thing. Later on her mom asked her to help her with something so I sat on rocking chair sofa and i see the door open and he walks in I greeted him and he just walked past i couldn't say i was surprised after all I was avoiding him first but he stopped at the doorway of the kitchen walked back and i a low tone he was scolding me so a talked back and we had our first argument I knew i was in the wrong so in mid sentence i put my arms around his neck and kissed him he put his arms around waist and pull away from the kiss to tell me how much he missed me and he had a surprise since he knew i was coming we then heard my bsf and her mom coming so he went back outside and sat back down and acted like nothing had happened.
2 months after I turned 15 we almost got caught doing it on her sister's bed Which he was where he was sleeping at the time I felt happy. Our relationship lasted for 4 years. One day in the morning when I woke I saw a message from him, I felt nauseous. He said he was sorry, but he had to leave, so he broke up with me over text, he said he really wished He could've stayed but It didn't feel right. He didn't want to hide who he was with. He said that being with me would only hurt both of us, I was so depressed, I'd constantly cry couldn't get over it And I couldn't tell my best friend.
(So now where i really need help) I recently went to my bestfriend's new house. I was invited to her mother's birthday party. And as a surprise, her uncle came, and we saw each other again. We catched up a bit and just talked from time to time. My best friend would look at us. Make faces, so I tried my best to avoid him after a while. When I'd look at him, he was talking to a girl I did not recognize I assumed that was his plus 1 or something, so I ended up drinking. Eventually I was drunk to a point that I couldn't walk my best friend's mom told the uncle (her cousin) to take me to her room So I could rest a bit. My best friend came along with us. I could hear them discussing about how she suspected that I had a crush on him or if there is something going on to quit it, he kept denying everything so she warned him that she would be keeping an eye on him. Her mom called her so she had to go, When she left the room, I stood up, but he told me to lay down and rest. And I started crying. He comforted me and I told them I was upset, and he explained that the girl who he was talking to was his sister.
I felt like an idiot. He then told me that it was cute how i was jealous in the heat of the moment we kissed and did it again. He then proceeded to tell me how much he missed me. how he never forgot me and that I'm still very special to him.He asked to be in a relationship again but I don't know? I feel guilty. Having to hide it from my bestfriend . I'm scared of what she'll do or say when she finds out What do I do? I have no idea?So what I wanna know is AITA for not telling my bestfriend about her uncle and I?.

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

Introduction

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

Once Upon a Female Rage...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Am Tortured Poet, Hear Me Whinge

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

Sigh Try and Come For My Job, Poors

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

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

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

Conclusion/TLDR

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

I know it was your first relationship. At 28, you had already been through so much, having been on your own for 13 years. You were forced to grow up too fast, and had to prioritize yourself, building a life from nothing. I get it. It was your fierce independence that made me fall for you in the first place.
I always knew that trying to build a life with you was going to be a struggle. I thought it would be worth it, for both of us. You deserve to have someone in your corner, that always has your back. You shouldn’t have to be alone. I don’t know if you believed the same.
I think I gave up too much of myself for you. Was that my mistake or yours? Did you really ask for too much, or did I give too freely without expectation for anything in return? Maybe both. Probably more on me. I’m not perfect by a long shot.
Compromise. It really does all come down to that. I tried to show you its importance, but in the process I ended up being the only one willing to do it. Me getting to pick what movie we watched or getting to plan a date became something I only got to do on special occasions. You said you felt like you didn’t know me, but so many times in so many ways I offered up little pieces of me to you. I share myself by sharing the things I love with the people I love. But more and more towards the end, all you’d say was “no”. Ignoring any context. Ignoring those pieces of me.
I know you don’t like movies about kids. I know asking to watch Home Alone during Christmas was a big ask. But it was a tradition that I shared with my dad, who I lost just over a year before. I know you think that traditions are pointless, but it was important to me. My earliest memories are of that. I needed to continue on, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it alone. I needed you there, your support. It was such a small gesture I was asking of you, but all I got was “no”. Instead we watched a movie you picked: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. A movie made by the exact same people that made Home Alone, and with even more kids.
We wanted to go to Ireland. Personally I’ve been wanting to go for years, but couldn’t because of my dad’s illness along with everything else going on. You knew that in the last 3 years I lost all of my grandparents, two uncles, my dad. I couldn’t risk going so far away for so long while everyone was sick. My mom saw me giving up the latter half of my 20s for my family, when she was hoping I would be enjoying life and seeing the world. That’s why she was happy to give us the money to have the trip of our dreams. I explained all of this to you while you were struggling to find a way to save for the trip. All my mom wanted in return was a single nice photo of us. That wasn’t even a requirement for the money. She just wanted to see me with the person that I love making our dreams come true. I know you hate having your picture taken. The only attention your dad ever gave you was when he wanted to test a new camera. It’s a trauma trigger. But I was only asking for one picture. You’d compromise for your friends, you’d compromise for your sister. You’d take pictures with them. Why wouldn’t you compromise for your partner, and the other most important person in your partners life? After a year, we have 3 pictures together, none of which are very good. I know that I was asking for a lot, but I felt so less important than everyone else in your life. Maybe you felt that as your partner, I was to be held to a higher standard? I honestly don’t know. All you said was “no”.
You admitted yourself I was so supportive. I always prioritized you. From always making your tea before mine, to giving you the better looking plate at dinner, to planting all of your favorite flowers in my garden. I always complemented you, how smart you are, how beautiful you are, how driven and independent you are. Your friend needed a ride to a 5k and someone to cheer them on? I was there. You needed someone to drive you around while your car was in the shop for 2 months? No problem. Accidentally overdrew your account again, and you couldn’t afford the late fees? Here’s $50. Need to move on short notice? I’m the guy tearing apart and moving your furniture. You have a migraine so bad you can’t eat? I’m bringing you pedialyte and sleeping on your couch, even though I didn’t actually get any sleep. I learned all your rituals so not to trigger your OCD. There are countless other examples. I never said no. I never complained. You rarely said so much as “thank you”.
The big one. The thing that ended us. You’re right, we did sit down like adults time and time again and talked things out. You said you needed me to anticipate your needs. You’d get overwhelmed, and couldn’t articulate what you needed from me. You couldn’t stand being asked what you needed. You just needed me to start helping. “Mental loads” and all that. I took that to heart. But I’m not perfect. Sometimes I’d miss the mark. Tried to support you, but in the wrong way. Even in my failures I showed effort, but you never seemed to see that. You only focused on how I failed.
We recognized that this was a problem caused by both of us. The communication wasn’t getting through. But I had already adapted to your communication style as much as I could. My exited, rambling, almost impulsive way of generating ideas became slow, methodical, thoughtful. I put intention behind everything so not to overwhelm you. I learned not to jump at the obvious solution.
Yes, we sat down like adults and talked things over time and time again. You told me what you needed from me, but I also told you what I needed from you. If I was missing the mark, please just guide me to what you needed. I’m not a mind reader. I did it for you all the time. You were honestly awful at anticipating my needs too. If I was venting, had a bad day, all you’d say was “I’m sorry”, and pat me on the back like a puppy. No effort to dig deeper. No words of support or encouragement. So I had to show you how I needed support. I just needed you to do the same for me. “No”. Again.
One final time, I sent you words of support when you were having a bad day. It wasn’t enough, you wanted more. A phone call? For me to come over so you could vent in person? Did you actually want me to directly help for once? I don’t know. You never told me. Instead of guiding me to what you needed, you immediately shut down. Full silent treatment. I’ve been in abusive relationships where the silent treatment was welded as a weapon. I know you didn’t mean it in an abusive way, you were just overwhelmed again. But I never expected it from you. I didn’t see it for what it was. I only ever asked one thing from you to save us. I put in the work, got us 80% of the way there. I knew I couldn’t bridge the gap on my own. I wasn’t even asking you to put in effort on my behalf, it was for your benefit. I begged you time and time again for help. To communicate. Not to put it all on me, because I couldn’t do it on my own. But instead, you did the opposite.
You said that you felt like you were putting more effort into the relationship than I was. I’m sorry, but I can’t see that effort. I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I can’t. Maybe you mean you put effort into forgiving me every time I messed up? Maybe you mean that you were always planning dates, always picking what we watched, where we went, what we ate, what we drank? Again, mental loads and such. But I had things that I wanted to do and share with you that you always turned down. You only had to plan everything after my plans were rejected. It would have been more efficient for you to show love, patience, and compromise. Maybe we would have worked out then.
But then you left.

Chance coma boy for Cornell sha-hotel
Chance me for Cornell hotel admin-SHA
CHANCE ME FOR CORNELL SHA-Hotel
CHANCE COMA BOY WHO SAW HİMSELF GETTİNG CHASED İN TEXAS TO CORNELL SHA/HOTEL ADMİNİSTRATİON ED1
Demographics:FGLİ,African(Parents moved to Turkey then moved to US right before my junior year),very rural in Turkey(village with 1000 population,almost no one goes to college),semi-feeder public school in America, US RESİDENT(green card)
Went from rural village public school in Turkey for middle school to a private school in İstanbul(biggest city in Turkey) because the school was connected to a university and agreed to give me full ride and also university housing to my family. Was the only kid there that came from a public school(public schools are horrible in Turkey)
Gpa(UW/W):9th grade: 92.13(top 5 percent), 10th grade selective ib program:83.17(missed like 40 percent of the year due to car crash/coma) 11th: 4.0/4.85 Class rank 1/494
Coursework: No ap/ib offered in 9th grade, 6ib classes in 10th, 11 AP classes in 11th-12th(so total of 17ap+ib)
İB HL MATH A&A in 10th, AP PRECALC AND AB İN 12th
Sat: 1540(800 math, 740 eng)-They're test blind tho
Major:Hotel Admin
**ECS:*\*
İnterim CEO(10th grade): Ran/fully managed former uncle's now family-owned business/motel 42 hours a week. Really small motel tho,6 rooms. Did school work when nothing was happening.
Founder of financial/educational based organizaton(11th-12th):**Raised 14.5 thousand dollars/475 thousand lira for my former elementary school through collective funding/raising money. Money went to renovations/additions.
(2 ecs in 1)Founder of Nonprofit/Owner of small shoe-reselling business(9th-12)th: Ran shoe-reselling business and made 20k and 10k/325k lira of the money went to buying shoes with the money and distrubuted kids at my old village shoes.
İntern at Divan Taksim(Hotel) in turkey, going back summer after 11th
Real estate internship in summer of 10th
Political İntern with Mayor of Turkish City(Elazığ)(CHP)(10th summer)): networked through the time when İ was a lobbyist around a bunch of rich people(you'll see below) Noted that İ want to be the minister of culture and turism in Turkey
Associate to Turkish Volunteering Agency/leader at school(10th grade): Personally volunteered 200 hours for earthquake. Raised 3.8k usd/70k lira throughout my school and district for relief efforts in Southeast Turkey
Student lobbyist for school renovations(10th grade): Was selected to be the only student lobbyist for my school's multi-million Lira expansion to increase class sizes by around 25% with an additional side building and a new library. Mayors son went to my school so thats where the internship came from
Published a book(11th grade) : on outsiders view on hospitality and finance(20k words)
Family responsibilities(11th-12th)(wont go into detail but valid)
Awards:
3.12 percent on LGS-Standardized test that is the sole factor of high school admission. Best score my middle school has ever produced. Only kid that was in the top 10 percent coming out of my middle school since 1998.
TBB National Finance Competition: 2nd out of 10k+ in national Financial knowledge competition ran by Turkish banking association
10th grade research project qualified for Tubitak(Turkish research council: project was about Corona's effect on reading habits throughout Turkish students)
Takdir 9th grade(top 5 percent of freshmen)
4th in national school based swimming relay in 9th.(Was varsity/ A team swimming in 9th grade)
LOR:Ap lang , AP cogo
Additiional info
İnjuries from car crash(coma)- not a joke, got in car crash right before 10th. Was in a coma for 4 weeks and missed like 40 percent of the year from pt, rehab and surgeries.
İ had to delay taking preclac because İ moved here late so İ took precalc and ab senior instead of ab and bc.

I know it was your first relationship. At 28, you had already been through so much, having been on your own for 13 years. You were forced to grow up too fast, and had to prioritize yourself, building a life from nothing. I get it. It was your fierce independence that made me fall for you in the first place.
I always knew that trying to build a life with you was going to be a struggle. I thought it would be worth it, for both of us. You deserve to have someone in your corner, that always has your back. You shouldn’t have to be alone. I don’t know if you believed the same.
I think I gave up too much of myself for you. Was that my mistake or yours? Did you really ask for too much, or did I give too freely without expectation for anything in return? Maybe both. Probably more on me. I’m not perfect by a long shot.
Compromise. It really does all come down to that. I tried to show you its importance, but in the process I ended up being the only one willing to do it. Me getting to pick what movie we watched or getting to plan a date became something I only got to do on special occasions. You said you felt like you didn’t know me, but so many times in so many ways I offered up little pieces of me to you. I share myself by sharing the things I love with the people I love. But more and more towards the end, all you’d say was “no”. Ignoring any context. Ignoring those pieces of me.
I know you don’t like movies about kids. I know asking to watch Home Alone during Christmas was a big ask. But it was a tradition that I shared with my dad, who I lost just over a year before. I know you think that traditions are pointless, but it was important to me. My earliest memories are of that. I needed to continue on, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it alone. I needed you there, your support. It was such a small gesture I was asking of you, but all I got was “no”. Instead we watched a movie you picked: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. A movie made by the exact same people that made Home Alone, and with even more kids.
We wanted to go to Ireland. Personally I’ve been wanting to go for years, but couldn’t because of my dad’s illness along with everything else going on. You knew that in the last 3 years I lost all of my grandparents, two uncles, my dad. I couldn’t risk going so far away for so long while everyone was sick. My mom saw me giving up the latter half of my 20s for my family, when she was hoping I would be enjoying life and seeing the world. That’s why she was happy to give us the money to have the trip of our dreams. I explained all of this to you while you were struggling to find a way to save for the trip. All my mom wanted in return was a single nice photo of us. That wasn’t even a requirement for the money. She just wanted to see me with the person that I love making our dreams come true. I know you hate having your picture taken. The only attention your dad ever gave you was when he wanted to test a new camera. It’s a trauma trigger. But I was only asking for one picture. You’d compromise for your friends, you’d compromise for your sister. You’d take pictures with them. Why wouldn’t you compromise for your partner, and the other most important person in your partners life? After a year, we have 3 pictures together, none of which are very good. I know that I was asking for a lot, but I felt so less important than everyone else in your life. Maybe you felt that as your partner, I was to be held to a higher standard? I honestly don’t know. All you said was “no”.
You admitted yourself I was so supportive. I always prioritized you. From always making your tea before mine, to giving you the better looking plate at dinner, to planting all of your favorite flowers in my garden. I always complemented you, how smart you are, how beautiful you are, how driven and independent you are. Your friend needed a ride to a 5k and someone to cheer them on? I was there. You needed someone to drive you around while your car was in the shop for 2 months? No problem. Accidentally overdrew your account again, and you couldn’t afford the late fees? Here’s $50. Need to move on short notice? I’m the guy tearing apart and moving your furniture. You have a migraine so bad you can’t eat? I’m bringing you pedialyte and sleeping on your couch, even though I didn’t actually get any sleep. I learned all your rituals so not to trigger your OCD. There are countless other examples. I never said no. I never complained. You rarely said so much as “thank you”.
The big one. The thing that ended us. You’re right, we did sit down like adults time and time again and talked things out. You said you needed me to anticipate your needs. You’d get overwhelmed, and couldn’t articulate what you needed from me. You couldn’t stand being asked what you needed. You just needed me to start helping. “Mental loads” and all that. I took that to heart. But I’m not perfect. Sometimes I’d miss the mark. Tried to support you, but in the wrong way. Even in my failures I showed effort, but you never seemed to see that. You only focused on how I failed.
We recognized that this was a problem caused by both of us. The communication wasn’t getting through. But I had already adapted to your communication style as much as I could. My exited, rambling, almost impulsive way of generating ideas became slow, methodical, thoughtful. I put intention behind everything so not to overwhelm you. I learned not to jump at the obvious solution.
Yes, we sat down like adults and talked things over time and time again. You told me what you needed from me, but I also told you what I needed from you. If I was missing the mark, please just guide me to what you needed. I’m not a mind reader. I did it for you all the time. You were honestly awful at anticipating my needs too. If I was venting, had a bad day, all you’d say was “I’m sorry”, and pat me on the back like a puppy. No effort to dig deeper. No words of support or encouragement. So I had to show you how I needed support. I just needed you to do the same for me. “No”. Again.
One final time, I sent you words of support when you were having a bad day. It wasn’t enough, you wanted more. A phone call? For me to come over so you could vent in person? Did you actually want me to directly help for once? I don’t know. You never told me. Instead of guiding me to what you needed, you immediately shut down. Full silent treatment. I’ve been in abusive relationships where the silent treatment was welded as a weapon. I know you didn’t mean it in an abusive way, you were just overwhelmed again. But I never expected it from you. I didn’t see it for what it was. I only ever asked one thing from you to save us. I put in the work, got us 80% of the way there. I knew I couldn’t bridge the gap on my own. I wasn’t even asking you to put in effort on my behalf, it was for your benefit. I begged you time and time again for help. To communicate. Not to put it all on me, because I couldn’t do it on my own. But instead, you did the opposite.
You said that you felt like you were putting more effort into the relationship than I was. I’m sorry, but I can’t see that effort. I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I can’t. Maybe you mean you put effort into forgiving me every time I messed up? Maybe you mean that you were always planning dates, always picking what we watched, where we went, what we ate, what we drank? Again, mental loads and such. But I had things that I wanted to do and share with you that you always turned down. You only had to plan everything after my plans were rejected. It would have been more efficient for you to show love, patience, and compromise. Maybe we would have worked out then.
But then you left.
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Possible spoilers up ahead so read with caution!! Also would love to hear others opinions in the comments!
One of the worst things about engaging in this fandom no matter the platform is people seem to really misunderstand what the show is about. It is called Ginny AND Georgia not Ginny VS Georgia after all. The show is about their relationship and how even though yes they are both flawed, and one a literal murderer, they are both sympathetic in their own ways because it's all down to what they've been through.
Like ofc Georgia who lived her whole childhood being abused in every way by her parents would not really understand why Ginny needed emotional stability too. Her best parental figure as a kid was that woman from the Blood Eyes gang who saved her through the use of violence, so it's not shock she instilled those values into her kids too (doesn't make it right like she definitely needed a lot of therapy before actually being a mother but she never got that opportunity). This is also why the season 2 scene of her going to therapy with Ginny was so important (even if it was super invasive) because it's her starting to realise that she hasn't really been a good mother and that loving Ginny wasn't enough to protect her from other types of harm. It's like the first step in her trying to be a better person and get help. This is also why she killed Tom, Cynthia had done something great for her by helping her get rid of Gil (to an extent) and seeing her so broken up about Tom gave Georgia a way to show her kindness back in the only way she knows how. She was literally crying whilst doing it, she wasn't doing it because she's a sociopath or whatever people say, it's just all she knows. It's really sad when you think about it and I hope she gets a lot of help and gets to be happy in the end.
Now as for Ginny, I get that since we've seen first hand how much Georgia struggled (the abuse, not having food, the husbands ect), it's so easy to think she's being ungrateful given what Georgia went through trying to keep her safe and she was doing her best, but unfortunately the road to hell is paved with good intentions. And part of what Georgia did is find ways to disguise all the ugly parts (the dance parties to cover up Gil at the door, the pretty face paint to cover up her bruises, creating fry-yay since she had to miss the actual holiday) which definitely saved Ginny to an extent she just didn't know she had to do more because as a kid she didn't even have physical safety nevermind emotional safety which is why she never really realised how her other behaviours hurt her so much (like moving away and not ever giving her the chance to have friends). And this explains a lot of Ginny's annoying behaviour - which luckily she is getting help for - like cheating on Hunter and just being a bad friend in general she's never had actual meaningful relationships outside of her family before so of course she's not going to be the beat at maintaining them. And obviously she won't ever think about the actual consequences of things because Georgia moved her around so much she never really had to live with them before. And as for the poem, yes it was definitely harsh to us knowing why Georgia acts the way she does, but she's a child who has been through a lot too. Neither of them really know how to express their feelings in a healthy way (just as most teenagers don't god knows how many times me and my friends argued over the stupidest stuff but now we are all older and most of us have had therapy we are so much better off), but that doesn't meant Ginny was trying to hurt her. She has had so many feelings in her for so long and she was trying to get them out and have Georgia understand but she just took it the wrong way.
It's genuinely heart breaking watching 2 people who clearly love each other so much just completely misunderstand each other to the extent they continuously hurt each other.
Now don't get me wrong I'm not trying to say you can't dislike them, I mean it's all about personal preference, but we need to stop acting like to like one you have to hate the other because they aren't enemies. Can we please stop pitting them against each other?? Lets all be team Ginny AND Georgia <3
Anyway would love to hear if anyone has any other thoughts to add to my rant!!
TL;DR Both Georgia and Ginny have had bad childhoods in different ways which cause them to act terribly sometimes. A lot of Ginny's problems were caused because Georgia was never really given the chance to learn how to be a good mom, and Ginny in trying to express this often hurts her back. However this is part of the show, it doesn't mean we have to hate one to like the other. The beauty of it is how 2 flawed people can love each other so much but if they don't know how to comnunicate well, they will always hurt each other. I'm team Ginny AND Georgia.

As many of you may have read, there is a case of two missing adopted kids in North Carolina, where remains have been found. The news has reported that their adoptive “mother” is Avantae Deven.
I’m a curious person and started digging up information on Avantae Deven when I first read the story in my news feed and could not believe what I was reading. It seemed like whomever this woman is must have be using an alias; Avantae Deven is not a name like Kim Jones or Mackenzie Smith.
The more I dug, the weirder it seemed to get. I found a property deed to a place in Sedona, Arizona, and figured out that whomever this Avantae person is, she at one point in time had owned a home together with someone named Nicole Adams. So I dug into who Nicole Adams was, and learned that she was the widow of a spiritual leader named Robert Adams. It appeared to me that there would be no way to identify who Avantae really was, unless I could also identify the true identity of Robert Adams.
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I've done investigative work for many years, including skip tracing. I can conclusively state that there was absolutely no person actually named Robert Adams born in New York State on January 21, 1928. This is demonstrated by the New York Birth Index. I have combed the census records for 1930, 1940, and 1950, and cross-checked them against multiple databases, and am confident that nobody with the birth name of Robert Adams was born anywhere in the United States on January 21, 1928.
Moreover, there was absolutely no person with the true name of Robert Adams who died anywhere at all in the United States, let alone Sedona, Arizona, on March 2, 1997. This is demonstrated by the Social Security Death Index.
I began this research largely by performing exhaustive searches on the known addresses that are associated with Robert, his wife Leonie (who used to use the alias Nicole), and Avantae Deven (who turns out to be their daughter Michelle who began using the alias Avantae in the mid-1990’s or so). Most of the addresses are PO boxes. Those that are PO boxes are all *private* PO boxes, not PO boxes that one can rent from the United States Postal Service. To me, that spoke volumes. The family were clearly using aliases.
As I explain further below, I eventually determined that “Robert Adams” was Robert Spiegel, born 21 January 1932 in New York. “Nicole Adams” was actually Aileen Beverly Leonie Maxwell, born February 2, 1929, in Jamaica. “Avantae Deven” is actually their daughter, Michelle K. Spiegel, born on October 1, 1960, in California.
One of Robert’s many false stories about Robert’s life that my research has refuted is Robert’s claim that his mother was Jewish and his father was Catholic. That was a lie. Both of his parents were Jewish. It’s also interesting that he claimed that he was “raised Catholic.” There is absolutely nothing to suggest that. His mother always, in New York, lived in Jewish neighborhoods. Moreover, as will be discussed below, his parents had a Jewish wedding. It’s also downright absurd that he would tell people that he was “half Jewish.” If your mother’s Jewish, you are Jewish, pure and simple. Even if Robert’s father had truly been Catholic (which he wasn’t; his name was Samuel Spiegel and he immigrated to America in 1907, lived with his Jewish, Yiddish-speaking cousins, and spoke Yiddish himself), Robert would have been Jewish because the status of being a Jew comes from the mother. Robert’s mother’s name was Fannie (nee Fleisfeder) Spiegel. Fannie’s parents were Itzik Fleisfeder and Esther Libke (nee Rifkin) Fleisfeder. Esther’s parents were Mendel Rifkin and Sarah whose maiden name is lost to time and the disappearance of the shtetls. Robert’s claim to having had a Catholic father was utterly false, but is part and parcel of his ongoing compulsive daily lying about anything and everything.
Here is the story.
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Kolomyia, formerly known as Kolomea, is a city currently located in the Western Ukraine.
On January 21, 1892 (the same year that Kolomea tallis¹ workers went on strike for better pay and working conditions), Kolomea resident Rachel Katz, wife of Abraham Spiegel, gave birth to a son, who was given the name Schmuel.
On the date that Schmuel Spiegel entered the world, Kolomea was ruled by the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy, and almost half of the city’s residents were Jewish.
In June of 1907, fifteen-year-old Schmuel² boarded the Zeeland, which sailed from Antwerp, Belgium, arriving at New York Harbor on June 18, 1907. The ship’s manifest states that Schmuel’s father had paid for his transport, and that Schmuel intended to reside with his father, Abe, in Brooklyn. Schmuel was granted entrance, and took up residence with his cousin Charles Fetner, who resided at 353 Myrtle Avenue, Brooklyn, in Apartment A with his wife Jennie and their baby daughter Ettie. The sparse record that exists suggests that although Schmuel’s father was, indeed, named Abraham, Abraham lived and died in Europe, without immigrating to America.
The 1910 census describes Samuel’s cousin Charles as a carpenter, who had been married to housewife Jennie for six years, and a father of three children-- Ettie age four, Nathan age two, and baby Jacob, who was not even a year old. Eighteen-year-old Samuel was identified by profession as a “Foreman Sailmaker” in an industry described as “pocket-books.”
Three and a half years after being granted admission, on a bitterly cold winter day, January 4, 1911, Schmuel (now employed as a pocket-book maker, and having Anglicized his name to Samuel) signed and submitted his declaration to become a United States citizen. He stated, in that declaration, that he was born on January 21, 1892.
By 1915, Samuel had left his cousin’s abode and was residing as a lodger in the home of a widow named Rose Hammer, who lived with her two adolescent sons, Meyer and Louis, at 531 E. 5^th Avenue; Samuel was now working as a “driver.”
Two years after the 1915 state census was taken, Samuel had moved back to Myrtle Avenue, but this time at building no. 849. On June 15, 2017, Samuel registered for the draft, and described himself as being a pocketbook maker, working for “A. Shoenfeld,” at 101 Crosby Street, New York. He was single. He stated, in his draft registration, that he was born on January 21, 1892.
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A woman named Fruma Fleisfeder was born in Beltz, Bessarabia, sometime between July 1, 1893, and 1901, to Itzik Fleisfeder and Esther Lieba Rifkin. Fruma (not living up to her pious given name) provided different dates and years of birth to different authorities on different occasions, making it impossible at this point in time to know her true position in the birth order of her family. Regardless, Fruma, who began using the name Fanny upon her entrance to the United States, did have three brothers and a sister who also came to America-- Louis Fleisfeder who was born April 10, 1890, Max Irving Fleisfeder who used October 10, 1892 as his birthdate, Hersch (later known as Harry), whose official birthdate was December 15, 1901, and Sylvia who was born in approximately 1906.
On December 1, 1919, Fruma arrived in New York Harbor on the ship La Touraine, declaring her intention, at entry, to become a United States Citizen. The ship’s manifest describes her as five feet five inches tall, with fair hair, blue eyes, and a fair complexion. The ship’s manifest states that she was, at that time, age 24. If that were correct, she would have been born in 1895.
Fruma (then going by Fanny) took up residence with her cousin Ethel (nee Ruchlin) and Ethel’s husband Samuel Steinberg, on 15^th Street, Brooklyn. Soon thereafter, Ethel gave birth to her first child, a daughter named Theresa. The 1920 census states that Fanny was Russian, didn’t speak English but, rather, spoke Hebrew, and worked as a milliner in a millinery store. The 1920 census also states that Fanny was age 25, which lines up with her being age 24 in the prior year’s ship manifest.
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Sam and Fanny married in Manhattan on January 24, 1925. Their marriage certificate (signed by each of them) identifies Sam as being age 32 (contradicting, by one year, his immigration records which would have placed him at age 33), and identifies Fanny as age 24, the same age that she had claimed to be six years prior, and also contradicting an immigration petition that she would file two decades in the future, which generally placed her birth year at the mid-point of 1893.
If Fanny’s immigration records (which included a petition with her signature on it) were correct, Fanny would also have been age 32 as of her marriage to Samuel, not age 24.
So did Fanny lie in her marriage certificate? Or did she lie in her immigration petition?
The marriage certificate identifies Sam as having been born in Kolomea, Austria, and his father being Abraham, and his mother being Rachel Katz. It identifies Fanny as having been born in Beltz, Russia, to a father named Isaac, and to a mother named Esther Rifkin.
The marriage certificate does not identify Fanny as having any profession, but identifies Sam as being a pocketbook maker.
Sam and Fannie were married at 125 E. 4^th Street, Manhattan, a six-story apartment building with retail units on the ground floor that is now an expensive co-op, with three-bedroom units selling for over $900,000. Present-day real estate advertisements alternatively state that the building was built in 1894, 1903, and 1905.
The first name of the rabbi who officiated was Harry. His surname starts with Reid, but the remaining letters of his signature are illegible. Rabbi Harry identified his residence as 232 Broome Street, which, at the time, was a four-story mixed use building that, among other things, housed Chevrah Ahavath Zedek Anshei Jaskinover.
Witnesses to the marriage were Mayer Budmon and Samuel Steinberg.
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Sam and Fanny’s existence was documented next in the 1925 New York State census by census. They were living at 205 S. 2^nd Street. Samuel was still working as a “pocketbook maker.” Fanny was identified as a “housewife.”
Fanny was identified as age 25. This was in accordance with her age as stated on her marriage certificate, but not in accordance with her immigration documents or the 1920 census.
Sam was identified as being age 28, which conflicted with all prior records.
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In 1930, the couple were again enumerated, this time in the Federal census. The enumerator, whose signature appears to be “Max Krahn” (or something like that) stated that he obtained the information on April 16, 1930.
Sam was identified as a “framer” of pocketbooks. He was identified as being 36 years of age, which conflicts by two years with the age that he provided to immigration authorities. Perhaps the enumerator was simply sloppy; Samuel was also incorrectly identified in the 1930 census as having been born in “Poland,” with parents who were both also born in “Poland,” notwithstanding other governmental records having identified him as being Austrian. The language he spoke? “Jewish,” according to the enumerator. Was that to mean Hebrew? Yiddish? Both?
Fannie was identified as age 30 (directly in conflict with the information she supplied in her immigration petition, which bears her signature) and as being “Russian,” with parents born in “Russia.” The 1930 census enumerator incorrectly wrote that her year of immigration was 1921. Fannie, too, was identified by the enumerator as speaking the “Jewish” language.
Although later records reflected that Sam and Fannie had a son named Irving who was born in 1926, Irving was not recorded in the 1930 census. Was he missed by the enumerator? Or was he a later-adopted son?
The couple also had a boarder, identified by the 1930 enumerator as one Esther “Larson,” age 40, born in Russia, and similarly a speaker of the “Jewish” language.
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The New York Birth Index identifies a baby boy, Robert Spiegel, as one of many babies having been born in the city on January 21, 1932.
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On May 21, 1936, Samuel committed suicide by hanging in the family residence, a tenement apartment located at 1168 Union Avenue, in the Bronx. Although, based upon the date of birth that Samuel used for official governmental purposes he was age 44, the death certificate stated that he was age 43.
Fannie engaged the Gordon Funeral Home to prepare him for burial.
Strangely, although Samuel’s headstone accurately identified him in Hebrew as Schmuel Spiegel, son of Avraham, it inexplicably incorrectly stated that he died at age 40.
Fannie of course knew her husband’s real age; both of them signed the marriage certificate that had Samuel’s correct age listed. Furthermore, Samuel had petitioned for citizenship in 1911, and stated that his date of birth was January 18, 1892.
Why would Fannie commission a headstone with a false age? Perhaps she, like her son, was a compulsive liar. Maybe that’s where Robert got it from.
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The 1940 census has Fannie (identified as age 38), Robert (identified as age 8), and Fannie’s son/Robert’s brother, Irving Spiegel, age 13, as living with Fannie’s 72-year-old mother, Esther Fleisfeder, at 1537 Fulton Avenue, in the Bronx. Fannie and Esther were identified as widows. Esther was identified as “U” (unable to work), while Fannie was identified as engaged in housework. No source of income for the family was identified.
No explanation is obvious regarding where Irving was living in the census taken a decade previously. Was he adopted?
There is no “Irving Spiegel” listed in the New York Birth Index for either 1926 or 1927. There is an “Irving Spiegal” listed, who was born April 29, 1926. But he is not Irving Spiegel.
I initially thought that perhaps Irving might be one of the unnamed Baby Boy Spiegels born in New York in 1926 or 1927, and that he left the hospital unnamed because his parents were waiting for his bris before naming him. However, Robert left the hospital with the name Robert. Why wait until the bris to name one child, but not the other?
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Slightly less than two years after she was enumerated in the 1940 census, Fannie’s mother Esther died, at home, at 1537 Fulton Avenue. The causes of death were “Coronary Thrombosis, Pulmonary Oedema Nephritis, Hypertension, Arteriosclerosis.” Esther left this world on February 6, 1942, the same day that the W. L. Steed was torpedoed, shelled and sunk less than a hundred nautical miles east of the mouth of Delaware River by a German submarine.
She was buried at Mount Moriah Cemetery in Fairview, New Jersey, the same cemetery where her son-in-law Samuel was interred.
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On November 12, 1943, Fannie, now residing at 1985 Bathgate Avenue, in the Bronx, petitioned for citizenship. She claimed, in that document bearing her signature, to be fifty years of age, meaning that if she was telling the truth, she would have been born in approximately 1893.
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On January 19, 1948, Robert (having assumed a false date of birth, that being January 18, 1931), enlisted in the New York National Guard. On paper, he had turned age 17 the day before his enlistment. In reality, he would be turning age 16 two days after his enlistment.
On December 9, 1949, Robert was discharged from the national guard, apparently for having been AWOL.
The discharge document identifies his address as being 1985 Bathgate Avenue, New York City.
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The 1950 census places Robert again at 1985 Bathgate Avenue, New York City. It correctly identifies him as age 18, and states that he worked as a shipping clerk for a newspaper company.
According to the 1950 census, Robert resided at the Bathgate Avenue address with his mother Fannie, who was purportedly still age 50 (seven years after she had previously claimed to immigration authorities to be age 50), and Robert’s brother Irving, age 24.
Irving was listed as unemployed and moreover, according to the census record, had not worked for the prior year. Fannie was employed full-time as a milliner in a hat factory.
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Military records reflect that Irving J. Spiegel, born in 1926 and a resident of 1985 Bathgate Avenue, who had completed two years of high school education, had flown bomber planes over Germany during the war. In his military documents, Irving described himself as single, with two dependents.
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On February 2, 1929, a baby girl given the name Aileen Beverly Leone Maxwell was born in Lucea, Hanover, Jamaica, to William Maxwell and Daisy (nee Tibbits) Maxwell. Her birth was registered by her parents.
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In 1954, Robert Spiegel and Aileen Maxwell were married in New York City. Their marriage license was given License No. 10284.
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The following year, the Kingston, Jamaica, Gleaner reported on June 6, 1955:
Miss Leonie Maxwell, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. W. J. Maxwell, was married recently in New York City to Mr. Robert Spiegel of the U.S.A. Both the bride and groom are students at the New York Institute of Dietetics. The bride left the island nearly two years ago for New York. Her wedding gown was chantilly lace and nylon tulle. The bodice was fashioned with a wide, scalloped neckline and elbow-length sleeves. Her three tier skirt of chantilly lace was over pleated nylon tulle. Her fingertip-length veil was adorned with pearls.
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If the claim regarding the couple studying at the New York Institute of Dietetics was even true, their studies at this institution didn’t last long. In May of 1956, a number of advertisements bearing Robert’s photograph appeared in the Kingston, Jamaica Gleaner. The advertisements described Robert as a psychologist, author, lecturer, and “practitioner in auto suggestion,” and identified him as “Dr. J. Robert Spiegel.” Readers were invited to come meet Robert on May 21, 1956, at Record Plaza, where he would be autographing his “latest” “world-wide” 33 and 1/3 RPM record, “How to Stop Smoking in 7 days by Auto-Suggestion.”
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On May 1, 1959, three residents of 1985 Bathgate Avenue, Bronx, New York, came through customs, having returned from a trip to Jamaica. They identified themselves as “Robert D. Spiegel” born in New York (in addition to giving himself a false middle initial, Robert neglected to complete the I-94-A fully, specifically by leaving his birthdate blank), “Leonie A. Spiegel” born in Jamaica on February 2, 1929, and their minor daughter, and “Sharon S. Spiegel,” born in New York. Someone also neglected to fully complete Sharon’s I-94-A, specifically by leaving her birthdate blank.
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Leonie had taken Sharon to Jamaica two years earlier. There are no publicly available records pertaining to their outbound transport from the United States to Jamaica. There is, however, a record pertaining to their return to the United States. That publicly available record does not provide their address, but Sharon is identified as weighing 1 stone 5 pounds (a total of 19 pounds), and Leonie is identified as weighing six stone 5 pounds (89 pounds). Interestingly, Leonie used the name “Aileen Spiegel,” and the records assert that Aileen has no middle initial. Aileen was / is her true legal first name, but it is a lie to say that she has no middle initial.
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Almost two years later, on January 5, 1958, the Kingston, Jamaica Gleaner reported:
Staying at the Tamarind Hotel are Mr. and Mrs. Bob Spiegel and daughter Sharon of Miami, Florida. Mrs. Spiegel is the former Leonie Maxwell, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. W. J. Maxwell of Lucea and has been in the United States for several years. A welcome party in their honour was given last Saturday night by Messers. Horrace, Ray, and Dennis Maxwell, brothers of Mrs. Spiegel. It was a very enjoyable affair.
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In 1963, roughly five years after their 1958 visit to Jamaica, Leonie petitioned for naturalization, in Louisiana. Although I am in possession of the index showing that she petitioned in 1963, I do not possess the petition itself. However, the fact that she petitioned for naturalization in Louisiana demonstrates that that at least she was residing in Louisiana at the time. Since she stated that she didn’t leave Robert’s side for over 40 years, presumably Robert, young Sharon, and also baby Michelle were living in Louisiana at that time.
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People who knew Robert personally relate that he stated that Leonie was a Cayman Island heiress. She wasn’t. Not only was she not born in the Cayman Islands, Leonie’s father’s estate was litigated (with the judge ruling against her) long before Robert started telling people that his wife was a Cayman Islands heiress.
Leonie’s father did leave an estate, but not to her. On November 9, 1967, the Gleaner reported that the Supreme Court had upheld the will of the late William Josiah Maxwell, the father of Horrace, Ray, Dennis, and Leonie, and the husband of Daisy Maxwell, who had contended that William’s signature was a forgery and that the person to whom his estate had been bequeathed had exercised undue influence. The court disagreed. The article reported:
The estate, which one of the executors described as “a sizeable one,” included 112 acres of land at Paradise and three houses at Lucea, Hanover.
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Robert apparently wasn’t banking on Leonie’s inheritance in any event. In May of 1966, advertisements appeared in the Houston Chronicle with Robert’s photo on them, selling a record that would purportedly assist people in stopping smoking in seven days. He identified himself as “Dr. J. Robert Spiegel.”
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On page 55 of the November 15, 1969, San Antonio, Texas Express and News, was an advertisement stating:
SCIENCE OF THE MIND
Dr. J. Robert Spiegel of Houston, director and founder of the Science of the Mind Foundation there, is conducting Sunday evening meetings at 7:30 p.m. in the Sheraton Inn, 1400 Austin Hwy.
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On page 4 of the July 10, 1970 edition of the Fort Worth Star-Telegram was a photograph of Robert, with a brief local news blurb:
GUEST – Dr. J Robert Spiegel of Houston, Science of Mind Foundation director, will speak at the 10:45 a.m. service tomorrow in First Church of Religious Science, 2001 6^th Ave. His subject is “What Religious Science Teaches.”
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On page 8 of the June 18, 1970 edition of the Houston Daily Cougar was this advertisement:
HOME OF UNIVERSAL LIFE
“Teaching Aquarian Meditation For The New Age
Meets Every Sunday, 11:00 A.M. At The World Trade Center Auditorium
Houston, Texas
DR. J. ROBERT SPIEGEL (BRAHMADANDA) DIRECTOR - FOUNDER
Aquarian Meditation Initiation for the first time offered through correspondence. For those sincere students wishing to bypass evolution and enter the 5th Kingdom. Initiation includes meditation technique, Mantra, how to "live” 24 hours a day, and much more. Write for application today:
P.O. Box 53328 Houston, Texas 052
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From the Galveston Daily News, May 02, 1971, Pg. 31:
AQUARIAN MEDITATION SOCIETY PRESENTS DR. J. ROBERT SPIEGEL AN AUTHOR, LECTURER, TEACHER OF YOGA & SELF DEVELOPMENT WILL SPEAK ON MAN, MIND & THE UNIVERSE WEDNESDAY, MAY 5th AT 7:30 P.M. IN THE RECREATION CENTER HARRIS COUNTY PARK, NASA RD. # 1 ALL WELCOME — DONATION $1.50
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The 1972 Spiritual Community Guide lists Robert twice, in the San Diego area. First, on page 117, using his alias “J. Robert Spiegel”:
THE TEMPLE OF METAPHYSICAL ABUNDANCE. J. Robert Spiegel, 1118 Torrey Pines Rd., 92037. Teaches yoga, nutrition, ESP, metaphysics, psychology, mind control
Second, on page 124, in which he, as one might have predicted, was masquerading as some sort of medical man or scholar:
"AQUARIAN MEDITATION SOCIETY, U. S. Grant Hotel, Attn: Dr. Robert Spiegel, 453-7588"
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Also in 1972, Volume 25 of San Diego Magazine published in November advertised gift certificates for the “Astrology Research Center.” “Give your loved one the gift of love. Only $50” said the advertisement. Where was this entity located? At 1118 Torrey Pines Road, the same address as Robert’s Temple of Metaphysical Abundance. The advertisement purported that person identified as “Lil Canaan” was the director. The telephone number was 459-6400.
In 2013, the San Diego Union Tribune published the obituary for Lillian Mulonas, who founded the La Jolla “Astrology Research Center.” At this point in time, unless Robert Adams’ only surviving daughter, Michelle/ Prentiss/ Avantae knows the answer and talks, we will not know what relationship, if any, existed between Robert’s Temple of Metaphysical Abundance and Lilian’s Astrology Research Center, both of which were located at 1118 Torrey Pines Road in 1972.
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From the July 12, 1973, San Diego Reader:
BRAHMADANDA FOUNDATION
“Teachings of the Cosmic Way” meets Sundays, 11:00 a.m., U.S. Grant Hotel, Crystal Room. Free admission, refreshments served. Call 453-7588 for more information.
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On page 51 of the June 29, 1974 edition of Phoenix’s Arizona Republic was the following advertisement:
Speaker from San Diego
Dr. J. Robert Spiegel from San Diego, a traveler and lecturer, will speak at 8 p.m., Friday in Universal Series Center, 4340 N. Seventh Ave., on the topic “Science of Being.”
He is the founder of the “Aquarian Meditation Society” in Jamaica and is founder and publisher of “Equinox,” a philosophical newspaper.
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The family (Adams or Spiegel, however one might want to refer to them) have resided in (that I know of) New York, Miami, Jamaica, Louisiana, La Jolla, Los Angeles, Houston, New Mexico, Hawaii, Las Vegas, Scottsdale, Sedona, and a number of cities in North Carolina.
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In at least the 1990’s, before he left for Sedona, Robert Adams used the address PO Box 7210, Jordan Avenue, D-30, Canoga Park, CA. He used that address on correspondence he wrote, and on at least one published document. Who else used that address? The data aggregators show that this address was also used by a Michelle K. Spiegel, and a person going by the name Leonie Maxwell. Michelle and Leonie also used other addresses associated with Robert, those being 1815 Willis Avenue Panorama City, and 21551 Burbank Boulevard, Woodland Hills.
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The California Birth Index shows that Michelle K. Spiegel was born on October 1, 1960, in Los Angeles County, to a mother with the maiden name Maxwell.
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In later life, Michelle used the addresses above that are associated with Robert and Leonie, as well as an address of 12004 Vanowen Street #14, North Hollywood. This is the same address at which Denniston Keith Maxwell, one of Leonie’s younger brothers, resided at, after his immigration to the United States. Denniston was one of Michelle’s uncles.
In a recent Facebook posting, Michelle/Avantae stated: “Never knew anything personal about said uncles, etc. Never asked, never cared.” Really? She shared an address with an uncle? Her uncle lived within a few minutes’ drive from her parents, and Michelle/Avantae never knew anything about him?
As an aside, Michelle/Avantae alleged (or admitted) that she “never cared” about anything personal regarding her uncles. If that is true, what does that tell us about Michelle/Avantae’s fundamental character? Antisocial? Psychopathic? Narcissistic in the extreme?
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On August 2, 1996, Michelle, going by the name Avantae E. Deven, married Tyson Ruben Alvarez in Las Vegas. The two had addresses in common in Arizona, Nevada, and Montana.
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Robert “Adams” died on or about March 2, 1997, in Sedona, Arizona.
Shortly after that, in the spring of 1997, “Nicole Adams” and “Avantae Deven” (both aliases; the correct legal names are Aileen Beverly Leonie Spiegel and Michelle K. Spiegel) purchased a home together in Sedona, on Navahopi Road. Shortly after the purchase, “Nicole” quit-claimed her portion to “Avantae.”
On July 17, 2001, Tyson, still married to “Avantae,” quit-claimed any interest in the Navahopi property to “Avantae,” and had the county recorder send the deed to “Avantae” in care of the Infinity Institute, at that time located at 9101 W. Sahara Ave. Suite 105 C29 (in other words, a private post box), in Las Vegas.
Avantae divorced Tyson in 2006. She had, by then, moved to North Carolina. She “served” Tyson via publication summons, claiming that she was unable to find him, despite his information being on multiple data aggregators.
You can go to various Facebook groups, and other sources, to pull up the documents that people have uncovered showing who is associated with the "Infinity Institute," and in what fashion, and also the addresses that they have used over the years.
In any event, this is the information regarding Robert that I think that people need to be aware of.
Why turn to a known liar and con man for spiritual guidance?
1A tallis is a prayer shawl.
2The ship’s manifest states that he was age 14, which conflicts by one year with what Samuel identified as his date of birth. These errors are not uncommon; his fare could have been purchased when he was age 14 and the records not updated.

My MIL & FIL live in a 3 bedroom lake house about 4 hours from us. My husband’s aunt and 2 adult cousins are flying in from Alaska for July 4th. The only come to the state every two years. But will be on our side of the state the week after. My MIL has been asking us about coming up for the 4th since Nov. He agreed without talking with me. I have seen her several times since then and have said “I’m not sure what we have going on”. We have been together for 5 years and have spent 3 July 4th’s with them. So there’s somewhat of an expectation that we go up there for the 4th. We didn’t last year because I was 9 months pregnant.
My husband (35) and I (28) have a 10 month old. I don’t want to go for a multitude of reasons. His father has made several derogatory comments about my body that make it hard for me to want to go spend the weekend around him in a swimsuit.
I have several safety concerns regarding my daughter. They have several large dogs and 2 have displayed aggression. 4 unfixed males so there’s a dog fight almost every time we’re there. We’ve been up there 2x since she was born and both times we were promised the dogs would stay put up & they weren’t. Several times my MIL encouraged the dogs to get near my daughter. I have voiced my concerns about this several times and each time my concerns are validated but when we’re physically there the dogs end up getting out and staying out.
They have a very steep/slippery walk to their dock and the only safe way to get out there is through the back yard where they keep the large agressive dogs. Their boat is quite old and has had a number of mechanical issues. They also usually let the dogs on the boat with them.
This is where I think I may be being a bit petty. His brother and SIL are coming into town splitting their time up between his parents and our house May 25- June 7th. They are spending the first week (Memorial Day Weekend) with his parents. My husband originally wanted us to drive separately so he could spend the whole week up there. I refused to drive with my baby 4 hours through two major cities alone. So we agreed to be there for 2-3 days. My family planned a vacation to the beach to spread my grandma’s ashes June 13-18. Everyone is going, aunts uncles, my parents, siblings, nephew, etc. We planned on going but bc his brother and SIL are going to be here the two weeks before we can’t go on my family trip. He can’t miss that much work during wheat harvest. (He’s a John Deere mechanic). I could still go but I don’t want to bc it’s his first Father’s Day and his birthday and that just feels wrong. My thought process is since I’m missing my family vacation because of his family I don’t want to spend the 4th with his parents. We will have been there the month before. I’d rather spend it with my family (who will likely be gathering for the 4th but haven’t confirmed plans yet).
His parents have been an issue with us off and on for years. I knew how he was about his parents before we got married. He would go up there monthly. This is the only source of contention in our marriage but it is a big one. I don’t know how to talk with him about this without bringing up the same points I’ve discussed several times. It feels we have reached an impasse. Should I just suck it up and go for the 4th or dig my heels in and cause contention and likely a fight?

Episode Description

Simba leaves Kiara in charge of the Pride Lands while he, Nala, and Zazu go to Kilio Valley to attend a funeral for an old elephant friend named Amanifu who has just died. Upon learning this from Mzingo, Janja decides to take advantage of Kiara's inexperience and comes up with a plan to take over the Pride Lands. Meanwhile, Simba is nervous about performing his eulogy in front of the elephants, including Aminifu's daughter, Ma Tembo.

Song: "Duties of the King" sung by Simba and Zazu
Pros
-First off, I like the sibling dynamic in this episode, as somebody with a similarly aged older brother. Kion and Kiara's relationship has resonated with me, the way they have off days and arguments, but, obviously love each other and make it out strong in the end. I, for one, do not hate Kiara in The Lion Guard, and Kion gives her the same attitude she gives him in early episodes. I like watching their relationship go through ups and downs throughout Season 1.
-I know the opening scene, where Kiara and Kion are fighting over a tree to sharpen their claws is quite intense, because they would've probably gotten into a scuffle if Simba hadn't showed up when he did, but, that is siblings for you sometimes. I feel like anyone who's got siblings of your own can relate, at least a little bit, to that scene.
-I like the plotline of Kiara and Kion's sibling rivalry stemming from their roles in leadership. Kiara is clearly a reflection of her father, when he was a cub, which is interesting and so, she thinks that being the Future Queen is really swell and makes her the alpha, and Kion (who is no better than her) thinks that being Leader of the Lion Guard makes him more important than her. I like this mechanic in this episode. It makes me want to know if Scar felt the same way about Mufasa. I mean, Kion was obviously not resentful of Kiara, unlike Scar, but I wonder if a similar thing happened with the two brothers except, in this case, it drove Scar to insanity and wanting to murder Mufasa.
-Now let's talk about Kiara being left in charge of the Pride Lands (I mean, I do think the main conflict of the episode was Simba's fault, but we'll get to that later). So, I like the fact that Kiara is nervous about ruling the Pride Lands, even for a brief period of time. I like this because for one thing, she's still only a cub at this time, so, she's entitled to be nervous and anxious about being responsible for an entire kingdom. There's a lot of responsibility being placed on her at such a young age, but, she still remained likable, in my opinion. I do like how, in The Lion Guard, she takes her responsibility as Future Queen very seriously. I know this is unpopular to say, but, I headcanon that, as she's grown up into an older cub, she's realised that being queen won't prevent her from being herself, a concern she had at the beginning of TLK 2.
-I do empathise with Kiara, and Kion, because they are both being put into a huge responsibility of looking after the entire kingdom on their own, while all the adults are away from Pride Rock. This is still really early on in Season 1, so Kion is inexperienced as Leader of the Lion Guard, and Kiara only just started her training with Simba, in the pilot episode. I do feel bad at the fact that they have to figure everything without their parents around and I respect them for managing to work out their differences by the end of the episode.
-I really feel bad for Kiara because she gets a lot of crap from people in the TLG community, moreso than Kion does. I feel really sorry for her because people say they hate her for her attitude and that they think she's a self-righteous bitch at the start of the series, but, I don't. Even as a kid, I knew that a lot of Kiara's behaviour in this episode was down to the stress of being left in charge of whole kingdom for a few days without her parents around, while still being a cub at this point. I do really like her and it really upsets when I see people hating on her. I don't think Kiara really means to be controlling in this episode, she's just trying to do right by her father while he's gone.
-I like the fact that Kiara is really hesitant and nervous to have a huge weight on her shoulders, a role she was previously really excited to fulfil in the pilot episode. When Simba asks this of her, she's understanding feeling a lot of pressure to make him proud. I like the fact that Simba admits to her that he was also nervous about becoming king the first time. I like this because we only saw the side of him that was cocky, overconfident and optimistic about becoming king. I like the fact that she was nervous and that he decides to be upfront about it.
-Kiara still remained a likable character to me throughout this episode. I like how she starts out as nervous and how her confidence is slowly building up nicely during the episode. But, she never came off as mean-spirited, to me. Also, it becomes clear that the reason her responsibility goes to her head is because of Tiifu and Zuri's influence on her and the Lion Guard's inexperience and, in this case, plot-convenient incompetence.
-Beshte, "I'm sure she'll be a nice queen." Well, I'm glad at least one of you believes in her. I can't tell you guys how much I love Beshte, always the sweetest soul out of the group.
-Ono, "Thank you for the opportunity, my queen. And you.... err..... my Kion." That line was funnier than it had any right to be.
-Speaking of which, I thought seeing Ono in Zazu's position, temporarily for Kiara was interesting and I think was a great use of his character, outside of being a Member of the Lion Guard. I personally would've been down for more scenes like this. I think a cool send off for Ono would've been to have him be the Royal Advisor to Queen Kiara and King Kovu, in the future. I wish Ono had stayed in the Pride Lands in the series finale and had become Zazu's apprentice or something.
-Bunga, "Your majesty." {bows at Kiara}. Kiara, "Bunga, that's really not necessary." I found that whole interaction surprisingly funny. Also, strong feeling that Bunga has a huge crush on his best friend's sister at this point, and Kiara views him as her friend, nothing more.
-Kiara's plan about the Bees and the Eelands fiasco was actually very smart, and even when I saw this as a kid, I knew that she had a better idea than Kion. Her idea about moving the eelands away from bees' nests is smarter because bees obviously sting when angered. So, Kion was too proud to admit Kiara had the better idea.
-One of the funniest parts of the whole episode for me was Kion saying, "I say we move the bees". Then, the scene cuts to Kion, Beshte, Fuli and Ono running away from a swarm of bees, in terror. I obviously don't want them hurt, but, I just had to laugh because it was so predictable.
-Bunga, "What are you guys running for? Bees taste even better when they're mad!" Accurate behaviour from a honey badger. They can raid beehives without being stung due to their very thick hide and their stink sap.
-When the Lion Guard arrived back at Pride Rock covered in bee stings, if I were Kiara, I'd be laughing in Kion's face at that moment, like "Ha, ha, you were wrong. Only an idiot would decide to move a swarm of bees to a new place." But, in fairness, Kiara was right to be mad at him, in that moment, for his little screw up.
-"It wasn't a total disaster," Kion, while talking to Kiara. Kiara, looks at Fuli and Ono scratching themselves, "Really? It looks pretty total to me." I mean, she does have a point there. In this situation, Kion had everything to gain from taking her advice.
-"Admit it. I was right about the bees and you were wrong." Kion, just admit it and save yourself the embarrassment. Kiara was not being rude to him whatsoever. She was speaking nothing but facts.
-When Kiara talks to Mzingo at Pride Rock, I like the fact that the latter is clearly higher up in the frame because he's the one dominating the conversation and is also the one who manipulates Kiara. I think it's a nice touch where he creepily approaches and blackmails her.
-*laughs "Janja wants peace?" I like the fact that Kiara is clearly sceptical and she's obviously suspicious of Janja's true intentions. I like this because it doesn't make Kiara out to be seriously wayyy too gullible and silly. The fact that was she was suspicious feels more in-line with TLK 2 and makes her decision to believe Janja, partially Kion's fault. Manipulation is also a very powerful tool, especially to done on a semi-young child, like Kiara.
-I like the fact that Mufasa appears to Kion, unprompted in this episode, for the first time in the series. I love this because it feels like Mufasa saw the argument that had just gone down and was like, "Right I need to put an end to this sibling drama before it gets out of hand. I need to make Kion see the error of his ways."
-I actually love the fact that Kiara is, at least partially willing, to give Outlanders a chance for peace. It feels like a nice bit of foreshadowing for her character arc in TLK 2, where she was able to give the Outsider lions a chance to fit in.
-Kion angrily to Tiifu and Zuri, "Ugh! Some advisors you two are!" That was more hilarious than it had any right to be. Because, let's be honest, they were pretty obnoxious in this episode.
-"Get away from the Queen!!!!" I actually love the moment where Kion comes bursting in like a superhero, to his sister's aid. I also love the fact that he calls Kiara his queen, at this point, because he clearly listened to Mufasa's advice, and also because he had felt somewhat responsible for her almost being killed by Janja.
-"Oh we can fight all right!!!" So badass. I personally would've loved to see Kiara fight alongside the Lion Guard. I think it would've been cool to see her help to fight off Janja's clan. I wanted to see what she could do.
-"Six on six..... Forget it!!!!" Yeah, you better run, Janja, you don't stand a chance against all six of these heroic friends. And one of them is a bloody hippo.
-I love Kion and Kiara's closeness at the end of the episode where they make up for their uncivil, squabbling at the start. Kion finally rightfully admits that he should've taken Kiara's advice about the bees and the elands, and Kiara admits that Kion was right about Janja being nothing but trouble.
-Kion, "And I should've listened to you about the bees." Ono, "Oh, sure {rolls his eyes}. Now he admits it." Oh, Ono, you knew all along, but, we love you.
-Kiara and Kion when Simba and Nala arrive home, are really sweet. I love the fact that Kiara wants to be honest about what happened, "Ruling the Pride Lands? It went..." I absolutely love the moment where Kion decides to cover for her and admits that she'll be a great queen, this is an incredibly sweet brother and sister moment. That moment feels like a precursor to the episode "Baboons" and even later "The Trail to Udugu."
-I love the moral of this episode about "being supportive of your loved ones efforts to help, especially when they are wrong," because it applies to both Kiara and Kion in two different situations. Kion was obviously wrong to go against Kiara's advice to move the elands, but, Kiara learned that she should've been more sensitive about that whole situation. But, Kion also learned that if hadn't been so dismissive of her acting queen for a few days and given her his utmost support when she was clearly nervous about ruling the Pride Lands. If Kion and Kiara been more sensitive to each other, then, they would've been able to be in charge of the Pride Lands together instead of arguing. Also, this episode shares another moral, "Communication is key to understanding each other and a successful team." Kiara learns this after Kion saves her and she realises she was wrong about Janja, and Kion learns this when the Lion Guard get stung by bees, and even later when he realises that he was partly to blame for Kiara going into the Outlands, and that if he had been upfront with her instead of outright yelling at her and running out on her, she wouldn't have needed to be rescued. These are two important lessons for kids going through school together, or with siblings and friends.
-Also, Janja is genuinely dangerous and scary in this episode. He traps Kiara in the Outlands to use her as a bargaining chip for Simba or else he and his would eat her. They would've gotten away with it if Kion didn't jump in at the last second. Janja threatened the freaking princess of the Pride Lands! Reason number #50 why he should never be allowed enter the Pride Lands, no matter if he is starving or not, because he clearly cannot be trusted to follow the rules.
-And now I'm finally going to talk about the B-plot of the episode. It wasn't as good the A-plot, in my opinion. I did love the worldbuilding aspect of this episode where we learn that different animals in the Pride Lands have their own customs and traditions that need to be respected. I like the idea of Simba upholding a tradition and it was interesting that he was never trained for it because obviously Mufasa died before he could complete his training.
-I like the idea of Simba, Nala and Zazu going to an elephant funeral. Elephants actually have "funerals" in real life. In real life, if a member of their herd dies, the elephants will crowd around them ceremoniously to pay tribute and they'll collect twigs and branches to cover the fallen elephant to pay tribute, out of respect for them. I love the way its portrayed as a ceremonial funeral in The Lion Guard and that Simba is upholding a tradition. I love the way he has to say it in Elephantese because the idea of the elephants' having a language barrier is a cool worldbuilding element.
-Aminifu is a cool worldbuilding character too who, we're told, played a big part in the Pride Lands' revival and bringing the circle of life into balance. I like to headcanon we was a childhood friend of Mufasa and Scar, and the rest of the Royal Family, and how he go on to be a good friend to Simba, Nala and the rest of Simba's pride. I like to think Aminifu was responsible for all the animals in the kingdom, similar to the Lion Guard, and how his daughter fills that role in Season 2.
-The Elephant Funeral scene looks cool because of how emotional and how heart-wrenching it looks from afar. I like the addition of all the elephants mourning in the background. It was a little dark this early on the series. One elephant hugs Aminifu and looks like their going to cry, another elephant and her calf are crying, while hugging each other.
-I like how you can see shades of Mufasa's death through Simba's voice in this episode, such as, "And now Aminifu has completely his part of the circle of life," and "Well, time for the tribute." I like this because I like to think Simba is obviously nervous about performing a eulogy in front of elephants, but, probably also a bit upset and mourning over his own father's death. I mean, in fairness, he never to give his father a proper send off when he died, so, this probably hit even harder for him.
-I like how this is Zazu's first main character moment in the series and how much of a hard worker and a loyal he is to Simba and Nala, his whole motivation is just to help Simba learn Elephantese properly so he can impress Ma Tembo's herd, during the tribute.
-Nala is such a sweetheart and a loving partner to Simba. I love her because she's pretty much exactly how she was in the original film. She's his loving and supportive wife, and I love the way he gives him moral support when he gets nervous. I love her snarky jab at her husband early on the episode too, by the way, "Worried about Kiara? Or are you worried about your tribute?"
-The song "Duties of the King" was decent enough, I suppose. I mean, it's not my favourite song in the series and I wouldn't be reaching for it. But, I don't hate it. I like the more cutesy, "miscellaneous" animals shown in the background, like the chimpanzees and the porcupines. Plus, it's nice to know that Simba doesn't just sit on his ass all day and that he does important jobs, like he assigns gazelles to their grazing grounds and songbirds to their trees. I love that he presides over aardvark wedding rites and then we saw Muhanga and Muhangus kissing behind some grass. So, I wonder if Simba did in fact, preside over their wedding before this episode. Overall, I like the cute scenes of this song and I like the fact that Simba actually has important stuff to do. I can see why kids would dance around to this song because it's very bouncy and energetic. The beat is fine, but, I don't like Rob Lowe's singing voice as Simba. I think they should've used Cam Clarke all along for The Lion Guard, who actually voices Mwoga the vulture. I don't mind the beat, but, I don't think Simba and Zazu are the best singers, at least in this series, that is. I'll give it a 5/10 because there are worse songs than it.
-Ma Tembo is such a sweetheart in this episode and I love her. She doesn't have a major role in the series as of yet, but, it's still clear in this episode that she has a great relationship with Simba and the Royal Family. I'm glad she had a bigger part in Season 2. I also love her voice actress, Lynette DuPree (R.I.P) and I think she's one of the best in the series. I love how she makes her sound genuinely sad during the procession and then a little bittersweet during the "poop" scene. Also, shout out to the moment where she wraps her trunk around Simba.
-Also, call me childish if you want to, but I actually love it when Simba actually says that Aminifu had "poop on him". I mean, it just gets me because that's not something you'd say at a funeral and the fact that the elephants took it really well and actually laughed hysterically is genuinely hilarious. Like, even his daughter admitted that he had always had faeces on him. It was funny because of how much Simba feels like he screwed up, but, then, the elephants had a really good sense of humour about it.
-Also, this episode makes me wish that at least someone went to the Elephant Graveyard during this series. Maybe Aminifu's funeral could've been there and Simba and Nala would've had to go the place where they almost got killed as cubs or maybe even Kion and the Lion Guard would have to go there. It's such a missed opportunity. Or if Janja went there then maybe he could've learn that Scar betrayed his ancestors long before the events of The Lion Guard. But, speaking of the Elephant Graveyard, I bet Ma Tembo's herd are going to wait for Aminifu to decompose and then carry his remains to the Graveyard because that's something that elephants do if a member of their herd dies outside of their designated area. I like to think that that's what happened after this episode. I just wish they had the funeral in the Elephant Graveyard and we got to see Simba and Nala go there as adults, but, I'm not going to fault this episode for not going in this direction.
-Zazu, "I'm not sure Sire, but, I think you just said he had.... {quietly} poop on him...." Try not to judge me too harshly, but, I just find poop jokes hilarious for some reason, as an adult.
Cons
-First off, I don't like how Kion and Kiara were both dumbed down for the sake of plot-convenience for much of this episode. I get that they're still kids, but, Kion's plans to move the bees instead of the elands was the most stupid idea I've seen in the series. The literally just had an episode where Kion calls out his best friend, Bunga, for making bad decisions and now it's Kion who made a really dumb decision. I mean, that should be bee rescue 101, don't try to move a swarm of bees, they do not like, and the fact that Kiara spells it out for them before this scene, "....if the elands step on the beehives, they'll get stung.... there could be chaos." She's speaking nothing but facts. Kion should've realised that they shouldn't have tried to aggravate the bees. I don't like the fact that he acts cocky and dismissive towards Kiara, when she was so obviously right. I hate the way Kion just randomly disobeys her out of spite, even though she gave him advice. However, Kiara was dumb to go into the Outlands alone to see Janja. I mean, I admire her willingness to give strangers a chance for peace, but the fact that she had her suspicions about him and she already knew what he was like, in accordance to the pilot episode, wouldn't she see reason to bring Tiifu and Zuri along for backup.
-I don't like how this episode seems to indicate that Simba favours his daughter over his son. Between the pilot episode and this episode, it seems like he sees Kion as a just a Child Soldier and doesn't actually love him equally. I know it's obviously not through, but, I don't like how he gives off an impression that he has favourites. Parents don't have favourites, unless you're an evil lioness named Zira and you give your youngest son everything, but then treat your eldest son like dirt. But, Simba isn't like that. I don't like how he says "I have faith in you," in such a way that gives off Parental Favouritism vibes. I'm really glad he doesn't have this in any of the later episodes.
-I hate the way the writers tried to do the Kion/Scar and Kiara/Mufasa parallels in this episode. I just don't like it being used as a plot device. The series makes a point to say that Kion is nothing like Scar and how he would never take his anger out on his family and friends. I don't mind Kiara being like her grandfather because he was a great king in his day, but, I don't like how the writers made Kion and Kiara have a similar relationship that led to Mufasa's fall. Also, one thing I loathed early on in the series is the fanart of Kion brutally murdering Kiara in rage, just like Scar murdered Mufasa. I just hate it so much because it would happen since Kiara and Kion have a caring relationship, where they do bicker like siblings tend to do, but, they would never turn on each other.
-I don't like the part where Kiara and Kion were outright malicious towards each other. All the lion cubs in this episode were quite mean-spirited at times. Kion and Kiara for obviously constantly fighting and being horrible instead of admitting to being wrong in certain situations, like the bees and the elands and the Janja situation. Kion is too cocky and overconfident about the bees, for my liking, and Kiara allows Tiifu and Zuri's influence to get her head and ends up believing she's always right. Kion only adds fuel to the fire by yelling at Kiara and then callously running out her instead of being upfront with her about Janja's true intentions. I get that siblings don't always see eye-to-eye on things, but, I don't like Kion and Kiara constantly being scumbags to each other and not giving things a second thought until the end. Mufasa had to be the one to put an end to the "sibling drama".
-Tiifu and Zuri were the worst of all, in my opinion, and I think all of you guys will agree. They were pretty annoying and obnoxious in this episode. They were very disrespectful and condescending towards Kion just because he's not a queen, and they caused Kiara to be disrespectful right back. Kiara doesn't strike me as disrespectful without these two around. I'm glad she actually stands up to them in later episodes rather than being influenced by them. Zuri is my least favourite of the two of them, she comes off as super mean-spirited and bitchy, and Tiifu comes off as domineering and rude. I don't like the way they talk down and belittle Kion and how they throw shade at anyone who believes Kiara is wrong. They act like stereotypical Mean Girls, but, the annoying kind. Plus, they weren't very good friends to Kiara for letting her go into the Outlands alone without a second thought about the fact that it might be dangerous. That doesn't sound like Tiifu. Remember how in the pilot, she was deeply concerned when Kiara was trapped by the gazelles. But, here, the stakes are much higher, and she's up against a much bigger threat and Tiifu and Zuri don't seem to give a damn. I'm glad Kion called them out on this behaviour before leaving. What I wouldn't give for Tiifu and Zuri to be captured by Janja instead, not to get eaten, but just so they can see how dangerous it is. It's episodes like this that make me wonder are they her actual best friends or are they just using her to hang out with the Royal Family. Kiara deserves better than these self-entitled bitches, in my opinion.
-I feel like Kiara should've been the main focus of this episode instead of Kion. I know this only S1 Ep4, but, I still think this should've been a Kiara focused episode, rather than a brothesister episode. I would've been interested to see Kiara take centre stage and the Lion Guard take a back seat. Then, we could've seen more of Kiara's apprehension about becoming Queen and her trying to make all the decisions without Simba around to guide her, and most importantly, see her trying to decide what sort of Queen she wants to be. I would've loved if Kion tried to be supportive of her and tries to help her watch over the entire kingdom, instead of saying "Screw you Kiara, go get herself killed if you want to and my friends hate you." I would've liked to see that explored and maybe have them be a little bit annoyed at each other, but without making them really malicious. Also, have Tiifu and Zuri be in their annoying phase and for Kiara to realise that her "so-called" friends are not being very good friends to her, and have her ditch those bitches at the end of the episode. Then, have Kiara and Kion make some big decision together that really develops their relationship, in the future.
-I don't like how Simba is portrayed for much of this episode. I know, he was mourning the loss of an old friend, but I really don't like angry Simba moments in this series. I don't like the fact that all Zazu was doing was trying to help him practice his eulogy and Simba gets frustrated and roars in his face. I hate it when he throws tantrums, as a full-grown adult lion. I hate the idea of Simba regressing more into his evil uncle as of this series. I know he's not, but, I hate it when acts like it. Zazu, bless him, was just trying to help and Simba took out his rage on him. I do not like it when Zazu has to be the butt of all the jokes. I don't like Simba being a headstrong asshole in The Lion Guard.
-I also don't want to point fingers, but, if Simba hadn't left his semi-young daughter to rule over an entire kingdom for a few days, none of the conflict would've happened if he left Kion and Kiara with a responsible adult, like Rafiki or Basi or someone, just to keep an eye on things. I wouldn't leave kids their age home alone for even a day or more than an afternoon. If they had an adult in Pride Rock with them, the arguing wouldn't have spiralled out of control the way that it did. Also, this makes no sense with Simba's character in TLK 2. This is the same guy who sheltered his daughter the whole time she was growing up and wouldn't even let her explore more than 2ft from Pride Rock or even leave Pride Rock, at another point in the film. In this episode, she's still a cub and he's okay with leaving her to look after an entire kingdom for days on end! Yes, he did show hesitation, but that was after he and Nala had already left the Pride Lands. This episode fails to show just how okay he was with leaving his preteen daughter in charge of the kingdom for a few days with no adult supervision. Also, this episode and the series fails to explain how he regressed back into his over-protective state of mind in the second half of TLK 2.
-A minor complaint I have. This is a very minor nitpick. But, the distance between Kilio Valley and the Pride Lands that was established in this episode is very confusing. This episode implies that the elephants live approximately a two or three day walk from the Pride Lands, enough for Simba to outside of the kingdom, when in other episodes it's actually a part of the Pride Lands, just barely on the outskirts of the kingdom. I also don't get why the writers made it seem like Simba, Nala and Zazu took like a day or less to arrive at the elephants' funeral. There's no indication that they were travelling at night or that they ever slept. However, I understand, the writers just wanted to show some of journey and then transition to the day of the funeral, so I won't fault it to harshly. However, I do wish that the distance between Kilio Valley and the Pride Lands was consistent. This episode makes it seem like that whenever Kion and his friends have to help the elephants, it would take them a whole day to arrive on the scene. But, that's just a small criticism I had with this episode.
Overall
So, overall, I did always thoroughly enjoy this episode. Even as a kid, I could not stand the fact that Kiara got a lot of hate in the Lion Guard Fandom and that loads of people blamed her, just her, for a lot of the drama in this episode. Kion and Kiara shared 50% of the blame each and I think that Kiara is overhated. Anyways, I did like Kion and Kiara interacting like real siblings and slowly learning how to work together, it felt a little bit like a prequel to "Baboons" and "The Trail to Udugu", in that way. I like the lesson about learning to communicate well and to listen to one another and that they were both in the right and wrong, at different points. I liked the loving sibling dynamic at the end and the friendship with all the Lion Guard. I like the sense of family between Simba, Nala, Kiara and Kion at the end. Janja poses as a genuinely threat to Kiara. I think the humour was pretty solid as well and the educational value. I liked the worldbuilding aspect and the elephants' relationship with the lions. Aminifu is a cool headcanon character. The only parts I didn't like were, Tiifu and Zuri were unbearably annoying in this episode and weren't very good friends to Kiara. I don't like them being stereotypical Middle School girls. I hate their disrespect and belittling towards Kion and their toxic influence on Kiara. I didn't like Kiara and Kion's maliciousness at the start or the fact that the writers tried to draw Mufasa/Scar parallels. I don't like angry Simba at all in this series. I hate the fact that he gives off Parental Favouritism vibes in this episode. I don't like the fact that Kion and Kiara were hit with the idiot stick in this episode. Simba and Tiifu and Zuri are kind of at fault for all the drama in this episode. The song was just decent, not the best not the worst. I really don't like arrogant Kion. However, this episode has a lot of love to it clearly. Overall, I'll give this episode a 6.75/10, it's not perfect, but I think it deserves more love.

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Hello, hope this is allowed! I am a UK citizen, and I would love to emigrate to NZ. Would anyone have an idea of how eligible I would be, what visa I need, what type of employment I could pursue or any employers I could contact? I have checked the NZ immigration website but I’m not finding the answers I have been hinted to. I have family in NZ (uncle (father’s brother), aunt and 2 cousins) who are all NZ citizens. Uncle is a retired firefighter who now trains Auckland firefighters. Aunt is in HR and cousins are art and graphic designers. Uncle said that as a citizen, he could sponsor a family visa for me which wouldn’t stipulate a time limit in NZ, however the only visa for family I can find online is for grandparents joining grandchildren and refugees. I miss the skilled worker visa by 1 point as I haven’t worked in NZ before. I have a masters in business, a bachelors in business and I have 1.5 years experience in HR but I like marketing, data and research. So, I’d like to ask if anyone has a better idea what I need to actually do please? Finance will not be an issue to migrate

Long story incoming.
My grandmother passed away 3 months ago after a 6 year fight with dementia. It was hard seeing her change from the loving, caring matriarch of the family to a shell, who couldn't recognise anyone. I regard her death as a blessing, with the last 3 years of her life bound to a chair with no quality of life in a nursing home.
Nan wasn't wealthy, she owned her home, had a very small savings account, and I would estimate her estate was worth around $450'000 australian dollars when she passed.
I had no expectations of any inheritance, the thought hadn't even crossed my mind.
My mum and her only sibling were executors
My mother stated she would be contesting her brother for lost time to care (periodic showering and feeding in the nursing home) to the tune of about $10k, and her brother was fine with that arrangement. When I heard about this, I had some reservations, but as I didn't know the full details I decided it wasn't my business.
The will was meant to be read last week but the solicitor asked why the other benefiting members were not present.... it turns out that my Nan's estate was to be split evenly in eights (12.5% shares) between my uncle, his wife and kids, and my mum, dad and me and my brother.
My Dad called me in the days following the attempted reading and very vaguely told me the details, and then asking me to sign a deed of family arrangement to annul the will to make 50% go to mum alone, surrendering the portion bequeathed to me.
I'm 27, married, 3 kids, just over $1 million in mortgage... 40k would be a huge surprise and welcome final gift from Nan.
My brother and I got together to go to mum+dads house that day and put our thoughts strait. My brother was not happy because mum was trying to take money from her own children, I wasn't happy because mum was trying to change the last word of my nan.
Ultimately, the discussion was a disaster, my mother stated she deserved our portion as she had cared for nan and we didn't, missed out on work to take Nan to appointments and that she deserved to be comfortable and eliminate the remainder of ther mortgage with the inheritance. Being called selfish and greedy by my own mum will stick with me for a long time.
I texted later that I will stand firm and not agree to any abolition of the will. I fully expect my mum to commence court action from this point.
There's a lot of behind the scenes drama, including my parents not liking my wife, and then by extension, my kids, grudges held for decade old issues and general alcohol induced mental instability on my mums side...
Tldr: I refused to surrender an inheritance to my mum and now she's one war path.

Reddit Account: u/Thenn_Applicant
Discord Tag: Garin
Name and House: Dorian Merryweather
Age: 49
Cultural Group: Reachman
Appearance: Dorian's chestnut brown hair has been greying for quite a while, however is short beard retains more color, including a few stray red hairs peppered throughout it. While his features have softened and gained some pudge as he aged past his prime, he remains in overall good shape. This is partly due to his great love of gardening and crop cultivation, which have left his hands and nails rather rough.
Trait: Numerate
Skills: Avaricious (e), Architect, Administrator, Investor
Talents: Language (High Valyrian) Cooking, Gardening
Negative Trait: N/A
Starting Title: Lord of Longtable
Starting Location: Opening Event
Biography:
It has been said; men grow tired of sleep, love, singing and dancing, sooner than war. As such, it begs the question, what does a man have left when he finally tires of war? In pursuit of an answer, of any answer, one half of Dorian Merryweather’s life was spent. He was the second son of Lord Arthor Merryweather of Longtable. Like many others born in a place of natural abundance, he longed for more, for something greater than a mere provincial estate. The tourneys of Highgarden, the hunts of Horn Hill and the books of Oldtown all called to him, and so he could never ride past his father’s mild and verdant fields fast enough. Dorian counted himself lucky not to be the heir, for that meant he could pick where his future lay, unchained from the uninspiring home of his childhood. Instead it was his older brother, Bennard, who envied his free-flying lifestyle, contriving any excuse to join him on his escapades and agurk lessons and ceremonies he ought to have attended.
Lord Arthor was fairly permissive of this deriliction of duties, as the friendships forced on such journeys were worth more than lessons that could be repeated later, or tasks that could be handed off to lowborn stewards. The boys attended tourneys, balls, hunts and feasts, living the life the bards extolled as the height of reachman’s chivalry. The one time they did not shirk their duties was when their father had the honor of hosting King Mern and his court for a tourney on the Warrior’s day. The Merryweather sons would present the king and his family with silver bowls of dilligrout, a most exquisite stew of capons, white wine and almond milk. They had the joy of tasting it once the Gardeners had their fill, a taste they would never forget. On the tournament field three days later, Mern knighted them both, though Dorian was only sixteen at the time, green as a knight could ever be.
Five years later, as news of Aegon Targaryen and his early conquests spread, the lords of the Reach were summoned to Goldengrove, where they found a veritable forest of Westermen’s banners being planted beside their own. The fall of the Storm Kings had led to a whirlwind of diplomacy between the houses of Gardener and Lannister. The plan was presented to the lords with the two kings sitting beside one another on the dais as though they were brothers. They held up Aegon’s letter of demands, scornfully reading it aloud and then proceeded to tear it up to a roaring acclamation from the hall. Standing there before the hall, Mern could hardly be called the Warrior incarnate. There stood a man well past his prime, old enough to be a grandfather and with no great victories to his name, in battle or on the tourney field. All the same, this man, whom they called their king, always seemed to know exactly what to say to win someone over. If he’d declared war on hell itself that evening, the Merryweather brothers would probably still have marched off with him when the next morning dawned. Bennard and Dorian shouted as loud as anyone, death to the foreign upstart. That evening were betrothed to westerwomen they’d never met before, made plans for a real battle, which they had never fought in before, and drank, ate and sang as though the night would last forever. House Merryweather was not able to secure a command, yet King Mern remembered his stay at Longtable fondly. He gave Bennard and Dorian a place in the vanguard, and even adorned Bennard with a brooch of the order of the green hand the morning before the army Goldengrove, a momentous honor which Bennard would cherish for the remainder of his days. He did not have many left, as it turned out. The Field of Fire began like a dream, as the two brothers rode off at the break of dawn, two out of five thousand sets of gleaming armor atop proud warhorses. By the end of the day it had become a nightmare. Caught up in the maelstrom of battle, Dorian did not see the moment when their loss was assured, but the Gods know he could hear it, the creeping, hungry flames that descended on the reachmen like an army of its own. As hundreds were broiled inside their steel plate and thousands more choked on the inferno’s horrible vanguard of black smoke, Bennard and Dorian broke and fled. They were not far behind the retreating Loren Lannister in their escape, but half a minute made all the difference. The lines of fire fanned out, hunting more living things to devour, and engulfed the two brothers. Dorian could feel how the flames spread from his surcoat to his undershirt, all the way down to the hairs on his chest, beginning to sear his skin. In a desperate act he threw himself in the Blackwater, and would have perished if not for the shoddy work of his squire that morning, which left him able to tear off his plate before he could sink. With bloodied, burn-marked fingers, he clung to the roots of a tree by the riverside, water up to his chest. He was retrieved after some time, how long he could not say. For the next two moons his mind was adrift, distracted from his pains by milk of the poppy. The next two were far worse, as he grew more lucid and realized the extent of the damage. A burn-mark stretched from his right thigh, all the way up his chest and left bicep to the apple of his neck. Many times over, flakes of dead or dying skin had to be peeled off by the maester as the scabs kept bursting with blood and clear liquid. By the end of that year he was able to walk again, though the burn mark would leave a feverish red mark across the front of his body, his new skin settling into twisted lines.
Bennard was far worse for wear, alive yet burned all the way to his face and crippled from a fall off his horse. His nose and ear-lobes had to be cut off, too burned to save, and even his eyelids were permanently scarred, unable to sprout new lashes. The more lucid Bennard became, the deeper his sorrow. Eventually he began refusing food. The new lord of Longtable would not eat anything his cooks set in front of him. In spite of his ever present pains, Dorian began going to the kitchens, reprimanding the cooks for their failings. He knew his brother well and knew his palette, and began ordering them to make his brother’s favorites. When he felt they were making mistakes, he interrupted their work himself. He was a stranger to the kitchen, yet would criticize how things were cut too roughly, spiced too little or too much. He was a terror to the cooks, yet they could not refuse him.
His attempts to intervene were however hampered by a newfound aversion to heat. The sound of the hearth, of boiling and searing, the general sense of warmth around him made him nauseous and caused his movements to seize up. Still, he went to his brother’s bedside every day, and afterwards he forced himself back to the kitchens. His sister, Lydia, tried to stop him at first, but soon found her protes fell on deaf ears, and so joined him, if only to leash him in when he went too far. Finally, there was only one dish they hadn’t tried; the dilligrout they’d once served to the late King Mern. Every time it was made, it came out wrong. It soon turned out the cook who had served them that evening six years ago had since retired, and his exact method had never been recorded or taught to anyone else. Dorian would first invite the man to Longtable, then summon him with armed knights when invitations were refused.
Theomar, the man who appeared before him, was a sorry sight, looking frightened and confused as he was taken to his old workplace. It was explained by his sons that he’d been growing senile even six years ago, often snapping at the kitchen maids under him when his memory failed him. Since then he’d gotten worse, seldom eating, let alone cooking. Something in the old man’s eyes did seem to brighten for a moment when the sounds and smells of his old kitchen surrounded him, and Dorian ordered him to make dilligrout. Before long that faint spark had been drowned out by tears. He would start boiling capon or crushing almonds, only to leave the job half-done whenever he had to fetch something new. Serving maids were put at his disposal to bring him ingredients, yet an ingredient ordered would be met with a reprimand as he seemed to forget which dish he was making every few minutes. Finally Dorian snapped at the man, grabbing him by his collar and shouting accusations of treason against House Merryweather. By the time Lydia could restrain him and try to apologize, the man was a wreck on the floor. After watching it for a while, waiting for the man to get up and continue his work, even Dorian was overcome by pity and shame for what he’d done. The old cook was praying to the gods, begging forgiveness for his failings. Dorian began to realize he’d broken a great man down and would himself beg forgiveness. He offered the man his old cook’s quarters back for the rest of his life, and promised his sons that his maester would tend to the man in his old age, that he would be fed from Longtable’s stores.
At this point, he resolved to make the dilligrout himself. Through it all, Bennard was barely clinging to life, or rather being tethered to it by the will of others. He could only be fed when drugged down by the milk of the poppy, and the more often it was used, the less effective it became. Every day Dorian braved the kitchens, yet he could not recreate the flavor of that wonderful night. It was by the grace of the gods, perhaps with Theomar as their vessel, that Dorian would even come close. The old man could no longer cook, but over time he began to wander into the kitchens and sit down on a chair. At first Dorian thought the man only sought the warmth of the hearth for his weary bones, yet he discovered it to be more than that. Theomar’s eyes were like clouded glass, yet they brightened every now and then, hearing almonds being ground, smelling capons searing in fat, as though it was stirring the kitchenmaster of yore back to life. Eventually Dorian began to walk up to the old cook with his ingredients, bidding him to smell or taste small portions. Sometimes he got simple instructions out of it, ‘too coarse’, ‘too sour’, ‘underdone’. Som times a mere nod or frown was all Theomar managed. Over the course of a couple of days, Dorian put together one final attempt to get the dish made rightWhen he arrived in Bennard’s chamber, he was met with a look which brought forth discomfort that no flame could produce in Dorian. Plainly, raspingly, his brother asked him why he wouldn’t let him die. It was easy, Bennard reasoned. All Dorian needed to do was wait and become lord. The words almost made Dorian throw the dilligrout on the floor. Almost. He placed two bowls on Bennard’s table, the dilligrout and one brimming with milk of the poppy. Dorian told his brother to make his choice. If he sought death, Dorian would let him, but he would not hear that it was an easy thing, watching his brother die. That evening, the milk of the poppy was carried away by the maester, the empty bowl of stew taken to be washed in the kitchens. From then on, Bennard ate what his brother brought him without complaint. He lasted just into the new year, dying on its tenth day. In the predawn gloom of the twelfth, Theomar died in his sleep
Dorian took up his lordly task joylessly. His old wanderlust returned, spurred by the horrible memories that now stained Longtable and the reach itself in his mind. The final straw came when their new Tyrell overlords, insisted on him marrying a lady from a dornish house. His previous betrothal had fallen through, as the parents of his western bride had not wished to draw the ire of the Targaryens by maintaining an old alliance meant to oppose them. Instead of obliging, he boarded a ship from Oldtown going east. It stopped only briefly in Planky Town before going to Tyrosh. Noting him to be a nobleman, a few of the city’s wealthy men would host him for a while, though they quickly lost interest when his lack of knowledge of trade became apparent. After that, he spent time in the markets and squares where the common people lived. His old curiosity was piqued, and he decided to embark on a quest of learning, fashioning himself another Lomas Longstrider. He moved on to Myr, and the experience was much the same in broad strokes, a few rich men showed interest and quickly lost it. As he’d visited the dye markets he went to see the city’s famous artisans at work. One thing was notably different, he met a Tyroshi woman with green-dyed hair, going by the name Maryah. She was a trader, and the two had taken the same ship to Myr. She had been to Myr before and showed him many of its secrets. They spent an entire day in one of the vast delicacy markets so she could show him the many tastes of the city. Having no plans in advance, he asked where she was headed next.
Without a second thought he would join her on a journey to Lys. He soon understood it to be a test. It was not long before she teased him, speculating he’d only joined her for a chance to see the famous pleasure houses. Evening after evening they stayed in the city and Maryah would tease and test him over the matter. Finally he told her he’d renounce his betrothal for her, that there was no one else in his eye. She laughed, replying he would not have to. The next morning, Dorian awoke to find that she was already up, the green washed from her black curls. Maryah had in fact been Joanna Dayne, his dornish bride to be, having traveled the same route as him ever since his ship stopped at Planky Town to refill its food and water. She was already quite familiar with the three closest free cities, having served as a dornish envoy on behalf of its spice traders. As they planned their return to Westeros, Joanna asked him what else in the world he wanted to see. Within a few moons of being wed, they left Westeros, not to return for three years.The journey was what his mind needed, away from the Reach, its knights and tapestries, hunts and tourneys. Ultimately, the lords and knights of his homeland, for all their songs and poetry, lived every day in preparation for war, frivolous though the preparations were. Joanna showed him a different world, the remnants of Old Valyria. War was to be sure inescapable. Wherever they went, there were soldiers, tapestries, contests of arms, and yet the cities housed something else as well, a boundless potential for creation, commerce and growth.
Thanks to Joanna Dayne’s knowledge their stays became far better planned, and they could enjoy the hospitality of wealthy locals far longer. She knew how to talk about the spice trade and similar matters, and Dorian began to pick up on it. On their second stay in Myr, he procured a great deal of fine parchment and began taking notes, everything from negotiation tactics and the prices of cloves or red peppers to court customs, as well as more eclectic pieces of knowledge, details of running an eastern estate, descriptions of technological marvels he had never seen in Westeros, and ingredients in the local food. By the time they neared Qarth he had quite the list of recipes, among other things. There he was even able to learn a few all the way from Yi Ti, as some local cooks catered to merchants from the Golden Empire. On their journey home they’d end up taking the opportunity to see the newly made port of King’s Landing. By that time, a third member had joined their journey, their infant daughter Florys. Having left Longtable in the care of his sister and steward for three years, Dorian finally accepted the responsibility of running his ancestral home.
Longtable was considered to rule over some of the best lands in the Reach, ideally situated along the river with abundant soil which could provide two grain harvests in a year. Having seen the estates which supplied the great cities of the east, Dorian was all too aware of its comparative shortcomings. He found that the abundance of the land had a counterproductive effect, breeding complacency and carelessness. From his grandiose tour of the east, he went on a painstaking tour of his own lands, trying to get an overview of everything he ruled over. He paid the citadel a fee to send him half a dozen maesters in training for a season. These young men, literate and numerate, would serve his own maester in conducting a survey of the land, giving Dorian account of all resources at his disposal as lord. The results were quite varied.
Some peasants were found to have remarkable agricultural insights which they had no way of writing down, entirely reliant on passing the knowledge to their children. Knowing the risks of such a method of transferring knowledge, Dorian ordered such insights recorded. In other places there were farmers and communities who were unwittingly exhausting their soil. Instances of lack of fallow land, excessive grazing by cows and lack of crop rotation were also made note of, followed by edicts against such heedless practices. Septons, sheriffs and tax collectors were given written copies and were obliged to read them to the peasantry wherever it was deemed necessary. It also became part of the obligations of farmers to plant a set amount of clover in their fields and pastures, a practice some had taken up on their own but which had already become a standardized law among the estates belonging to Myr and Volantis. Irrigation was expanded and land inheritance was reformed to prevent the splitting of fields past a certain threshold.
Lord Dorian was not always successful. Some eastern ideas had been useful innovations which improved conditions across the board. In time he learned that the peculiarities of the westerosi system were sometimes necessary for the sake of stability, not merely the misshapen fruits of ignorance. His attempt to enclose part of the common lands proved abortive, as it nearly caused a peasant rebellion. A procession of aggrieved smallfolk headed for Longtable had to be dispersed by knights, armed with wooden clubs to prevent needless bloodshed.Two men were hanged and five sent to the wall, but the reform was thereafter abandoned, leading the populace to calm down. Dorian was not much of a military leader and had not wielded weapons since the Field of Fire. He became aware of his need to bolster his forces, a notion reinforced by the establishment of the Black Roses not long after his return, and again with the Kingswood Catastrophe
In the meantime, he and Joanna raised a family together. Three more daughters would be born healthy, with a couple of miscarriages and a stillbirth in between, also a daughter. Their travels did not entirely come to an end. In 13 AC they would tour the northern free cities of Norvos, Qohor, Pentos, Braavos and Lorath, which they had missed on their original journey. The lion’s share of 17 AC was spent on a journey to the Summer Islands. At other times they would make shorter journeys around the Seven Kingdoms, where they felt more secure in bringing their older children along. Whether it was visiting Joanna’s family in Dorne, tourneys and feasts in the Reach and West or even one trip to see the wall, a nameday wish by Florys, they were often on the move. Like most of their peers, they frequented Oldtown and Highgarden
The growing rift between the two queens and their children was a situation Dorian would watch with dread in his heart, remembering keenly how a generation of young men had been brought to the field of fire. To his mind, the Targaryen rule ought not go to waste. Like Valyria of old, it had begun with fire and blood, yet similarly peace and prosperity had followed in its wake. If only the dragons could stand united, perhaps another long peace like the one the Freehold once enjoyed could again be established. If not, another century of blood was upon them. Under Dorian, Longtable became a place where he sought to bring together people from across the kingdoms and forge unity over the dinner table, an attitude which somewhat vexed and confounded his more militaristic daughter and heiress, Lady Florys. Even amid her questioning of the viability of his peaceful ways when surrounded by those who would make war, a terrible sight would steel his resolve, watching the Mander burning green, every bit as terrible as the flames from twenty one years prior. That night he made a simple vow, never again.
The League of the Cornucopia, he would name his little group, a gallery of lords and ladies whose acquaintances he’d made over the years. With these fellow gourmets he would share the culinary knowledge he’d gleaned from his journeys in the east and west. Most unusual for a lord of his rank, Dorian came to spend a great deal of time in his kitchens, testing out recipes himself. On occasion, the dishes he served to his guests for these small, intimate gatherings would be the work of his own hands. The membership did vary from time to time, both based on who could make it and who he sought to bring together. Rather than a fully closed circle, the League is more like a form of feasting, only it’s done for a much smaller crowd, without the public spectacle. Such occasions allowed for more refined foods which did not need to be served to hundreds and kept constantly warm over the course of hours like some common tavern stew. It also opened up an arena of more intimate diplomacy and negotiation for those who sought it, hosted on neutral ground by a lordly mediator, free from prying eyes.
Timeline:
25BC: Dorian is born, second in line to Longtable
24BC: His sister Lydia is born
9BC: House Merryweather hosts House Gardener for a tourney and feast. Dorian and his older brother Bennard serve the dish of honor to King Mern Gardener and his family. During the subsequent tourney, Mern knights both boys, despite their inexperience and lack of victory in the tourney
9BC-2BC: Dorian spends much time travelling the reach, attending events
1BC: Dorian and Bennard fight in the vanguard at the Field of Fire. Both are burned, Bennard far more severely than Dorian. Lord Merryweather is killed. Traumatized by the battle and his new maimed body, Bennard starts refusing food. Dorian desperately tries to re-create the dish they served King Mern eight years ago. The cook who made it has since gone senile, but eventually manages to help Dorian re-create it. He is given a place at court as apology for his mistreatment at Dorian's hands before this occurred.
1AC: Lord Bennard dies at the beginning of the year, leaving Dorian as lord of Longtable. His sister Lydia fulfills her betrothal to House Tarly, becoming lady of Horn Hill. At the prospect of marrying a Dornishwoman on the King's orders, Dorian decides to leave Westeros to put off his marriage. In Myr, he meets a woman calling herself Maryah, claiming to be a Tyroshi merchant. They fall in love and travel to Lys together. There Dorian promises to set aside his betrothal for her, whereupon she reveals herself as Joanna Dayne, his dornish betrothed.
1AC-4AC: Dorian and Joanna wed at Longtable, then depart on a new journey of the east. They reach as far as Qarth before turning back home. In 3AC, on the way back, their first child, Florys, is born while the couple are in Volantis, on the way home. They return via the newly built port of King's Landing.
4AC-8AC: Using knowledge from the east, Lord Dorian embarks on a project of rationalizing the agriculture of Longtable
5AC: Dorian and Joanna have their second child, a girl named Ellyn
8AC: Their third daughter, Desmera, is born
13AC: Dorian and Joanna spend a year travelling the northern free cities
14AC: Their fourth and final daughter, Gwin, is born
17AC: Dorian and Joanna undertake a journey to the Summer Islands with their children
23AC: The aftermath of the battle of Stonebridge brings back memories of the Field of Fire, as the Merryweathers watch burning slag run down the Mander
25AC: The Merryweathers travel to the celebration of the maturity of Aegon's sons
Family Tree:
Arthor Merryweather (father, d.1BC)
Cerelle Merryweather (pending family connection) (mother, d.20AC)
Rhea Merryweather (sister b.27BC)
Bennard Merryweather (brother, d.1AC)
Lydia Merryweather (sister, b.24BC)
Glendon Merryweather (uncle, d.1BC)
Myrcella Pommingham (aunt, d.22AC)
Leo Merryweather (cousin, b.13AC)
Joanna Dayne (wife, b.26AC)
Florys Merryweather (daughter, b.3AC)
Ellyn Merryweather (daughter, b.5AC)
Desmera Merryweather (daughter, b.8AC)
Gwin Merryweather (daughter, b.13AC)
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Auxiliary Character:
Name and House: Florys Merryweather
Age: 23
Cultural Group: Reachman
Appearance: [A short, muscular woman with wavy black hair, normally worn in a bun. She has high cheekbones and a proud demeanor. Her rigid strength stands in contrast to the more relaxed nature of the Merryweather court, one she finds overly lax and casual](0_0.png (896×1344) (discordapp.com))
Trait: Hale
Skills: Swords (e), Essosi Blademaster
Talents: Dancing, Fishing, Cooking
Negative Traits: N/A
Starting Title: Heir to Longtable
Starting Location: Opening Event
Timeline:
3AC: Florys is born in Volantis, while her parents are on their way home from Essos
10AC: Florys starts training under Saathos Trevelyan, her father's Master at Arms
13 AC: She joins her parents on a tour of Pentos, Braavos, Norvos and Qohor
17AC: She travels with her parents to the Summer Islands
19AC-23AC: As she comes of age, Florys becomes more critical of her father's desire for peace, viewing it as increasingly far-fetched amid the increasingly controversial regency and the impending succession dispute. She resolves to make the kinds of connections her father seems unwilling to, in case of war
25AC: She accompanies her family to the celebrations
NPCS:
Ser Leo Merryweather (Age: 37, Archetype: Magnate) Lord Merryweather's first cousin, he has become an indispensable agent in the daily running of Longtable. Despite his foppish demeanor and aparent laziness, he is highly capable and loyal in his task of increasing his family's fortune. He remains happily unwed
Saathos Tevelyan: (Age:48, Archetype: Master at Arms) The son of a Lysene father and a Myrish mother, Saathos initially sought a career in amongst Myr's military officers, however his family's relatively low status proved an impediment to further promotion, later compounded by a dispute with a superior. He met Lord Merryweather in 3AC and eventually travelled West to offer his services five years later, finding his career progress stonewalled in his home city. Well into middle age, he still looks firm and imposing as profesisonal a soldier ought to

My last post went over surprisingly well, that said you should check out my new subreddit Talesofzippy for more content, because I'm definitely going to posting in more places around reddit and I'll be cross posting them in the tales sub for more people to enjoy!
With that, I don't remember any good stories about Zippy, but the place I work at is fucking filled with loonies, so tonight I'm going to introduce you to Katniss.
Katniss is about 63, tiny, and absolutely loved to talk about how good her guns are, even if she can't shoot or generally understand how they work. She tried to tell me that her Girsan was a high quality gun because the barrel is pinned in place.
I'm a competitive shooter, I grew up shooting and learning about guns.
When a pistol fires a round, a floating barrel will be pointed at an upward angle at the end of the stroke, while a pinned barrel doesn't. The floating barrel doesn't effect accuracy in any meaningful way because it is held in place by several seers, and doesn't begin to move until well after the bullet is out of the gun.
I tried to explain that, she didn't listen. She also can't shoot. Katniss.
She also wears boomer shirts about "snowflakes" and shares memes about the good old days when you could say whatever you want and be offensive.
This gets funny later.
Katniss and I worked together running gas pumps, and we generally got along great, in fact for a year I considered her to be a friend.
And then my dad killed himself.
I got the call at work and got a ride home as quickly as possible. Katniss was on shift with me and Yawn, who is the most chill person you can imagine.
They were incredible, Katniss broke into my apartment (at my request) and took my shotgun for safe keeping. She also took my keys and made me wait for a family friend to pick me up.
I called the night manager and told him I was going home and why, He offered me a ride.
I came into work three days later and stuck my head into my boss (Elk Daddy's) office. He simply said "how long do you need?"
"Two weeks."
"Okay."
I mention this because Anything less than this is a cancerous work environment. If a manager tries to negotiate with you when you've experienced a true tragedy, they're not a manager, they're a slave driver.
I had severe PTSD, nightmares, the whole shabang, for months I would stand at the desk and hear my mom's voice telling me my dad was dead, the first night back at work I witnessed some dumb janitorial drama (not zippy) and I started smelling the sickly sweet smell of human brain before I ran home and had my first panic attack.
(I'll tell the story of Elk Daddy, and make good on a promise I made my dad as a bonus at the end.)
Six months passed, my PTSD wasn't even beginning to heal, and she pulled me aside.
"Okay. It's time to stop now."
"Stop what?"
"This, you're in a rut, and you need to get out of it. It's high time you moved on and stopped being sad and moved on. See my sister was in a car accident and went into a coma when I was about 20, and I had a dream about her getting up and walking out of her hospital room and saying "it's about fucking time." The next day her heart gave out and she finally died. It was this freeing thing for me, because I felt like she was finally free of the broken body and the pain."
"Katniss I just don't feel like I'm... There yet. I'm still hurting, and I really don't feel like I'm ready to let him go. Things aren't that easy."
She didn't like that answer.
At the time I just felt broken, and just laid there and took it, but today I'm genuinely angry about it.
I was hurt, and now that I've rebuilt myself I realized how truly broken I was as a person.
She had no right to say anything to me about how it was time to stop. I'm still healing four years on.
That was when we stopped being friends.
Last year I was going through stickers for our local pride, the second one our community has ever had! I had come out as bi the year before, and had a side project that had grown large enough to have a booth at the local event. I was showing off some cool and funny stickers to Yawn, another cashier.
Yawn is great, he has no blood pressure, everything is just really cool and chill, and he really just wanted to be friends with everyone.
Genuinely nice person. I always get him a Christmas gift and he's always grateful, no matter what it is.
I turned around and handed a sticker to Katniss that said "be gay, so crime" with a little picture of a fabulous criminal goose on it.
She took one look at it and just went "No" rather forcefully, so I just backed off and moved on.
The next day my boss, Elk Daddy, calls me over.
"Op, you handed Katniss a sticker yesterday, and I just want to tell you. Stop talking to her. Please. For me."
"She really complained about that?"
"No, she threatened to go to HR because you "assumed her orientation" and tried to give her a sticker."
It is at this point that I'd like to add that Elk Daddy is gay. Like... Really gay. Him and his husband both donate their time and money to pride, and have been instrumental in making it happen. They are the gay uncles that stepped up to be dads for their nephews when Elk Daddy's brother couldn't.
He knows Katniss, and both of us know her HUSBAND.
So. We didn't talk outside of necessary conversations, and haven't really said anything to each other for any reason.... Until I transferred to my current department and ran out of pens.
I walked over to the cashier desk "hey Katniss, can I get a handful of pens? I ran out."
"I gave three to morning shift last night, what happened to those?"
"I don't know, and it doesn't matter, can I get some?"
Yawn walked over to the drawer where we keep the pens and opened it, while Katniss sighs and opens up her drawer and drops a pen on the counter.
"Come on Katniss, I need more than that."
"I don't have that many pens, they're not giving them to us, here, this is all I have."
She angrily throws down two more pins on the counter as Yawn retrieves an entire box of pens from the drawer and begins walking over. She sees him and motions for him to stop."
"Don't fucking bullshit me Katniss, I see Yawn with the box. Just give me some pens."
She drops six more down on the counter, I take them and walk off. "Thank you."
Ten minutes later she comes over to the deli and slams a box of pens down on the counter for me
"Don't ask me for pens again."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
She then told the MOD that I cussed her out. I told my side, and several people in the management chain pointed out that she wore tee shirts under her uniform that said more offensive things, one of them even saying "don't fucking bullshit me."
She is no longer allowed to wear her tee shirts.
She's also had it pointed out to her that she says "don't fucking bullshit me" all the time, and management has gently reminded her that she should not swear.
A few weeks ago she very dejectedly told me that she was done trying to help people, and I had to bite back a "good, we don't need it."
And here we are... End of another post about the weird boomers I work with.
BONUS STORIES!
As for Elk Daddy.
My boss has only ever taken his husband out hunting one time. When they did, they ended up trekking across the country on deer trails and through the brush. After 12 hours of being dragged through the brush and not shooting anything, his husband said something to the effect of "I hate this. I can't keep up with you and you just disappear all the goddamn time." He took my boss's phone, logged in, and yells "in fact HEY SIRI, FROM NOW ON CALL ME ELK DADDY."
nickname earned. He has it monogramed on his wallet.
And finally, my dad, who was another Boomer, used to love taking me out camping.
He was an electrical engineer, and was most certainly on the spectrum. He was brilliant in his own way, but absolutely unhinged when it came to teaching things.
A lecture from my dad could cover cleaning the stove (with diagrams on proper wiping techniques) to the finer points of building and firing a nuclear weapon. (With math included. No mercy.)
He tried to teach me calculus when I was six. It didn't work.
Anyway, on this particular camping trip he pulled me aside and said "op, I want you to make me a fire using nothing but two sticks, your knife, a match and the chainsaw"
Now. I knew where he was coming from, he wanted me to make a fuzz stick. I knew because he had only brought up the topic of making a fuzz stick every night for the past three days of camping. He then very helpfully added "and the chainsaw is a distraction."
Uh huh. Okay dad.
I Start cutting up the wood and making a teepee fire, and I hear a little "hmph" I look up and I see the smile. The grin he used to get as he started planning one of his little lectures. He was picking out the right words, deciding if he needed to demonstrate or just use a pen and paper.
I then opened up the gas tank on the chainsaw, dumped in a tablespoon of gas, lit the match and "whoof"
Fire.
Then the argument began.
"I said you couldn't use gas!"
"You said I could use the chainsaw, that includes the gas tank!"
"The chainsaw was a distraction!"
"Still gave it to me!"
"You cheated!!!"
"How?"
Long pause.
"I won, admit it. I beat you in a way you didn't expect. You will never live this down. I'll tell this story at your funeral!"
And I did. Three years later I tore up my hastily scribbled notes and told a group of the friends, neighbors and coworkers that he knew and loved about the time I finally beat him. We laughed.
I think he'd be proud, and a little indignant.
I miss you dad.

My last post went over surprisingly well, that said you should check out my new subreddit Talesofzippy for more content, because I'm definitely going to posting in more places around reddit and I'll be cross posting them in the tales sub for more people to enjoy!
With that, I don't remember any good stories about Zippy, but the place I work at is fucking filled with loonies, so tonight I'm going to introduce you to Katniss.
Katniss is about 63, tiny, and absolutely loved to talk about how good her guns are, even if she can't shoot or generally understand how they work. She tried to tell me that her Girsan was a high quality gun because the barrel is pinned in place.
I'm a competitive shooter, I grew up shooting and learning about guns.
When a pistol fires a round, a floating barrel will be pointed at an upward angle at the end of the stroke, while a pinned barrel doesn't. The floating barrel doesn't effect accuracy in any meaningful way because it is held in place by several seers, and doesn't begin to move until well after the bullet is out of the gun.
I tried to explain that, she didn't listen. She also can't shoot. Katniss.
She also wears boomer shirts about "snowflakes" and shares memes about the good old days when you could say whatever you want and be offensive.
This gets funny later.
Katniss and I worked together running gas pumps, and we generally got along great, in fact for a year I considered her to be a friend.
And then my dad killed himself.
I got the call at work and got a ride home as quickly as possible. Katniss was on shift with me and Yawn, who is the most chill person you can imagine.
They were incredible, Katniss broke into my apartment (at my request) and took my shotgun for safe keeping. She also took my keys and made me wait for a family friend to pick me up.
I called the night manager and told him I was going home and why, He offered me a ride.
I came into work three days later and stuck my head into my boss (Elk Daddy's) office. He simply said "how long do you need?"
"Two weeks."
"Okay."
I mention this because Anything less than this is a cancerous work environment. If a manager tries to negotiate with you when you've experienced a true tragedy, they're not a manager, they're a slave driver.
I had severe PTSD, nightmares, the whole shabang, for months I would stand at the desk and hear my mom's voice telling me my dad was dead, the first night back at work I witnessed some dumb janitorial drama (not zippy) and I started smelling the sickly sweet smell of human brain before I ran home and had my first panic attack.
(I'll tell the story of Elk Daddy, and make good on a promise I made my dad as a bonus at the end.)
Six months passed, my PTSD wasn't even beginning to heal, and she pulled me aside.
"Okay. It's time to stop now."
"Stop what?"
"This, you're in a rut, and you need to get out of it. It's high time you moved on and stopped being sad and moved on. See my sister was in a car accident and went into a coma when I was about 20, and I had a dream about her getting up and walking out of her hospital room and saying "it's about fucking time." The next day her heart gave out and she finally died. It was this freeing thing for me, because I felt like she was finally free of the broken body and the pain."
"Katniss I just don't feel like I'm... There yet. I'm still hurting, and I really don't feel like I'm ready to let him go. Things aren't that easy."
She didn't like that answer.
At the time I just felt broken, and just laid there and took it, but today I'm genuinely angry about it.
I was hurt, and now that I've rebuilt myself I realized how truly broken I was as a person.
She had no right to say anything to me about how it was time to stop. I'm still healing four years on.
That was when we stopped being friends.
Last year I was going through stickers for our local pride, the second one our community has ever had! I had come out as bi the year before, and had a side project that had grown large enough to have a booth at the local event. I was showing off some cool and funny stickers to Yawn, another cashier.
Yawn is great, he has no blood pressure, everything is just really cool and chill, and he really just wanted to be friends with everyone.
Genuinely nice person. I always get him a Christmas gift and he's always grateful, no matter what it is.
I turned around and handed a sticker to Katniss that said "be gay, do crime" with a little picture of a fabulous criminal goose on it.
She took one look at it and just went "No" rather forcefully, so I just backed off and moved on.
The next day my boss, Elk Daddy, calls me over.
"Op, you handed Katniss a sticker yesterday, and I just want to tell you. Stop talking to her. Please. For me."
"She really complained about that?"
"No, she threatened to go to HR because you "assumed her orientation" and tried to give her a sticker."
It is at this point that I'd like to add that Elk Daddy is gay. Like... Really gay. Him and his husband both donate their time and money to pride, and have been instrumental in making it happen. They are the gay uncles that stepped up to be dads for their nephews when Elk Daddy's brother couldn't.
He knows Katniss, and both of us know her HUSBAND.
So. We didn't talk outside of necessary conversations, and haven't really said anything to each other for any reason.... Until I transferred to my current department and ran out of pens.
I walked over to the cashier desk "hey Katniss, can I get a handful of pens? I ran out."
"I gave three to morning shift last night, what happened to those?"
"I don't know, and it doesn't matter, can I get some?"
Yawn walked over to the drawer where we keep the pens and opened it, while Katniss sighs and opens up her drawer and drops a pen on the counter.
"Come on Katniss, I need more than that."
"I don't have that many pens, they're not giving them to us, here, this is all I have."
She angrily throws down two more pins on the counter as Yawn retrieves an entire box of pens from the drawer and begins walking over. She sees him and motions for him to stop."
"Don't fucking bullshit me Katniss, I see Yawn with the box. Just give me some pens."
She drops six more down on the counter, I take them and walk off. "Thank you."
Ten minutes later she comes over to the deli and slams a box of pens down on the counter for me
"Don't ask me for pens again."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
She then told the MOD that I cussed her out. I told my side, and several people in the management chain pointed out that she wore tee shirts under her uniform that said more offensive things, one of them even saying "don't fucking bullshit me."
She is no longer allowed to wear her tee shirts.
She's also had it pointed out to her that she says "don't fucking bullshit me" all the time, and management has gently reminded her that she should not swear.
A few weeks ago she very dejectedly told me that she was done trying to help people, and I had to bite back a "good, we don't need it."
And here we are... End of another post about the weird boomers I work with.
BONUS STORIES!
As for Elk Daddy.
My boss has only ever taken his husband out hunting one time. When they did, they ended up trekking across the country on deer trails and through the brush. After 12 hours of being dragged through the brush and not shooting anything, his husband said something to the effect of "I hate this. I can't keep up with you and you just disappear all the goddamn time." He took my boss's phone, logged in, and yells "in fact HEY SIRI, FROM NOW ON CALL ME ELK DADDY."
nickname earned. He has it monogramed on his wallet.
And finally, my dad, who was another Boomer, used to love taking me out camping.
He was an electrical engineer, and was most certainly on the spectrum. He was brilliant in his own way, but absolutely unhinged when it came to teaching things.
A lecture from my dad could cover cleaning the stove (with diagrams on proper wiping techniques) to the finer points of building and firing a nuclear weapon. (With math included. No mercy.)
He tried to teach me calculus when I was six. It didn't work.
Anyway, on this particular camping trip he pulled me aside and said "op, I want you to make me a fire using nothing but two sticks, your knife, a match and the chainsaw"
Now. I knew where he was coming from, he wanted me to make a fuzz stick. I knew because he had only brought up the topic of making a fuzz stick every night for the past three days of camping. He then very helpfully added "and the chainsaw is a distraction."
Uh huh. Okay dad.
I Start cutting up the wood and making a teepee fire, and I hear a little "hmph" I look up and I see the smile. The grin he used to get as he started planning one of his little lectures. He was picking out the right words, deciding if he needed to demonstrate or just use a pen and paper.
I then opened up the gas tank on the chainsaw, dumped in a tablespoon of gas, lit the match and "whoof"
Fire.
Then the argument began.
"I said you couldn't use gas!"
"You said I could use the chainsaw, that includes the gas tank!"
"The chainsaw was a distraction!"
"Still gave it to me!"
"You cheated!!!"
"How?"
Long pause.
"I won, admit it. I beat you in a way you didn't expect. You will never live this down. I'll tell this story at your funeral!"
And I did. Three years later I tore up my hastily scribbled notes and told a group of the friends, neighbors and coworkers that he knew and loved about the time I finally beat him. We laughed.
I think he'd be proud, and a little indignant.
I miss you dad.

Hello! I am 20 years old and a female. I’m not very big on socializing and tend to be pretty introverted, not because I hate people but because it usually is exhausting for me. I try to look out for people and don’t like to tell anyone about my problems or feelings; I am also someone who cares a lot about people but doesn’t normally voice it, but would rather show it through gifts or acts of service. I like to pay attention to the details of things and people, and I often have a weird feeling that I can “predict” people or know how they will be/are… and so far, I’ve usually been right. I have a strong moral code and will always advocate for the underdog. I think deeply about things and tend to have a lot of empathy. I experience things and feel that I also think of things differently than most people. I have a hard time explaining my thoughts, but I’ll do my best!
I don’t have any kind of mental diagnosis that could affect my mental stability.
My upbringing was actually very positive. My family has been big on religion since I was born, but it’s something that I take comfort in and agree with. It brings purpose to my life and helps me to be the person I am. I have two parents who love me and take care of me, and younger siblings that I love dearly. I have cousins who double as my friends, aunts and uncles who have me over all the time, and grandparents that I love so, so much. Having many younger siblings did tend to get lonely at times, especially when they were younger, but it taught me independence and I do my best to take care of them. I count myself as extremely fortunate to have such wonderful people in my life.
As a job, I currently work as a barista. To be honest, I don’t really like it very much. My coworkers are very nice and I get along well with them, and I also like a lot of our regular customers, but my manager makes it a very toxic and negative environment that simply goes against my moral code. I also dislike the fact that most people that I see, I only see them in passing. I’d rather have few deep, meaningful connections that many shallow connections, if that makes any sense? I do enjoy the idea of getting to make people’s days, and I like to encourage the bashful people and love seeing sweet children, too! Both customers and coworkers tend to tell me personal stories, and I really enjoy getting to know them truly and seeing what makes them the way they are. I also tend to think sometimes that I feel a higher calling. I want to be somewhere truly helping people. I feel that I need to make a difference and positively influence people.
Spending an entire weekend by myself would be nice. I don’t NEED human contact, and can generally entertain myself without becoming bored. I do, however, find it a little depressing when it’s TOO quiet, especially since I grew up with my environment being everything but quiet. Normally, I like being near people, especially if I’m not even talking to them. Just sharing the space with someone is comforting enough for me! Overall, though, I do need to be alone frequently and tend to run away from life sometimes throughout the day. I would probably find a weekend alone to be really refreshing, so I could connect with myself and not other people.
I prefer activities where you work alone. I like to bake a lot, especially because it makes me happy when people enjoy the things I’ve made! I greatly enjoy sharing my food. I also like to read and can also write, as they both provide me with the an escape from reality at times. My favorite parts about both is understanding and connecting with the characters in the stories. If I have a favorite character, I like to think about what they think about and how they interact with the world. I feel like it’s something most people would find mundane, but I could do it all day! I enjoy being outdoors and connecting with nature, but I don’t particularly enjoy sports.
I tend to be very curious about many things. I like to know how people work. Not normally objects, but people. I find psychology to be extremely interesting, and could spend hours watching true crime investigations. If I see a stray cat, I wonder how it feels and what it has experienced. When I see a person who is upset, I wonder what happened to cause it and how I can help. I can normally tell quickly when something is wrong, and I am usually good at figuring out what I can do to help and am able to read people to understand the best ways to comfort them. It makes sense thinking that in my head, but writing it down sure makes it seem confusing!
Taking a leadership position is not my preferred route. If it falls down to me, I certainly would try hard to make sure the people working under me are happy. I’d rather make the people around my happy than the company itself. I’d like to be an advocate for their rights and happiness if anything was unfair, and I would like for us to be a “team” rather than simply a workplace. I’d like everyone to have fun at work and feel like friends and family. I know the world doesn’t work that way, but I can certainly dream, right?
In terms of coordination, I feel that I’m in the middle. I’d rather play video games than any kind of sport. I don’t have the best balance or coordination, and I don’t typically do things that involve having a good sense of either.
I feel that I am typically artistic, and have a great appreciation for art. I’m not great at drawing, but I like to write a lot. I also think it feels nice to express yourself through music. I’ve done pottery and would like to start learning to crochet. I enjoy looking at certain arts, such as music and books. My favorite art in terms of drawing is abstract art. I love thinking of the endless possibilities of what it could mean, and also wonder how the artist felt when drawing the piece.
The past doesn’t typically have meaning to me. I can be sentimental about certain things at times, but I typically focus my energy mostly on the future. I do things in my present life to prepare for the future, and I have a positive outlook on the future. I don’t like to think of the things that I find unpleasant now, because I believe in a good, happy future where the things that currently bother me will no longer be able to affect me.
I typically will jump at the opportunity to help someone, especially if they are in my family. I do my best to make people’s days, and I try to be of service as best as I can. I used to be unable to say “no”, but I have since learned to enforce boundaries and would never do something that goes against my moral code. If I have a lot on my plate and someone asks me to do something for them, I will typically tell them that I will help them when I can or if I have the time.
Logical consistency is something that I find important, but I wouldn’t mind making exceptions for certain things. I take comfort in knowing that certain outcomes will always remain the same, as I get nervous sometimes when things are unknown. Since I normally can predict what will happen with certain people or events based on prior experience, I find it both interesting and disturbing when the outcome is different.
Efficiency and productivity are not my top priorities, but I do find them important. I like to be efficient in the things I do, but I will not go out of my way to find the “best” way to do something. I like to stay a little productive so that I don’t feel as if I haven’t done anything, but I am perfectly fine with sitting around doing nothing, too. It’s peaceful. I don’t like being in a rush.
Controlling others is something I never do on purpose, but I will admit I can manipulate sometimes. I would never negatively impact someone on purpose, but I am able to manipulate a situation if I find something to be unfair. I’m especially able to do this with the way my mind sees connections between people and things, as well as the way I see into other people’s minds and understand their feelings and actions. It sounds scary but I promise, I mean no harm! :)
Hobbies I enjoy include baking, playing video games, watching videos, writing/reading, and just being around people! I like to share the things I bake, and video games are fun because I can enjoy them alone or with my family. Playing games and watching videos, whether alone or with others, is fun and stimulating for my brain in all the right ways! I much prefer to write over speak, as I feel I can convey things better and express myself through writing. Reading allows me to look into the minds of other people and I think it’s just so fun.
Learning environments are something I normally can adapt to. Whether a teacher is strict or laid back, I am normally able to perform the same way. I can understand each side and typically earn the favor of teachers no matter their teaching styles. I tend to thrive better in environments where things are on a straight path, but I do like to express myself through various pieces of writing when possible.
When I have a project, I would much prefer to start it quickly and finish it as soon as possible. I don’t typically “wing” anything, although I won’t be torn up if something doesn’t go exactly according to plan. I’d rather break things up into manageable tasks and prefer to work alone. I strategize pretty well, but for the most part, I use the strategy as a guideline and like to be creative here and there.
My aspirations are to connect with and help people. I feel a calling to do something and be somewhere that I can help people and understand them. I want to make a difference. I want to be a part of people’s passions and learn their dreams. I want to know the mundane things about them. I want to learn, but I mainly want to help.
I fear being left and not needed. I also fear being taken advantage of and manipulated. I feel that I need to work hard in order to compensate for these things. I also greatly fear having no one to turn to. Being alone is nice, but being lonely is my worst nightmare.
The highs in my life are when I can be around people who don’t drain me. That good feeling after someone tells you you’ve made their day. That feeling you get after you and your family beat the level of the game you’ve been working hard at. The feeling after you look around at your clean room. The feeling after you finally quit that toxic job, or the feeling after someone eats the food you’ve made them. For me, all of those things paired with thinking about and understanding someone’s thoughts and intentions make me happy. They stimulate my brain, and give me that “AHA!” moment.
Lows in my life typically include feeling helpless. I hate when you don’t know how to assist someone, or when all you can do is sit with them. I also hate when people are cruel for no reason. I advocate for justice according to my moral code and I stand up for people as well as what I feel is right. I hate when I think I could have done something better. When I’m upset, I become pessimistic and tend to isolate myself. I hate being stuck with individuals who are unfeeling, uncaring, or narcissistic.
I tend to daydream more than I partake in reality. I have a hard time focusing on what is in front of me, and I like to think more on the hypotheticals. I daydream and think in order to gain a deeper understanding of the world around me, but it causes me to miss some of the simple things right in front of me.
Being alone in a blank, empty room would cause me to think about a lot of things. I would probably think of how to improve myself. I might think of birthday gifts for people, or the next thing I want to cook. I could think of nostalgic things, or the problems I am currently facing in my life. I think I would mostly think on self improvement and the interactions I’ve seen between people.
Making decisions is sometimes hard for me. I normally will go with what my gut tells me, unless there is an obvious logical choice. I tend to be indecisive sometimes, and like to make decisions quickly so I don’t have to think about them anymore. I don’t normally second guess decisions I’ve made.
Emotions are a big part of my life. I like to understand people’s thoughts and feelings, sometimes to the point where I will neglect my own. My own emotions can take me time to understand, but I can read most other people easily. I base my responses to things on how others are feeling.
Agreeing with others just to keep a conversation going is something that I find untruthful. If something goes against my personal moral code, I will either leave or change the subject. I will always kindly stand up for what I believe to be right. I tend to choose my battles, but I will never agree with something that I don’t believe in my heart.
Rules, to me, are made to be followed. Sometimes, I don’t mind bending them a little bit, but I do feel that most people should follow rules the majority of the time. I feel that rules keep things in order and are an important structure in certain places and environments.

Nothing special, feel free to leave feedback.

A year before I left Boston, we went for dinner one night. It was after ultimate frisbee, and Boloco was the only place open. We were still riding high from the last time, when we'd gotten everyone to swim across the Charles. Some kids from MIT had been eating grapes as they walked across the bridge, and I'd convinced them to throw some to me to try to catch in my mouth. They missed a few times before throwing down the ziplock bag, and I was able to throw one to you, which you caught.
So this time, I'd joked we should climb the fence to the reservoir and see if we could eat burritos on our backs as we swam across, like otters. You liked something I'd said, so instead of rushing it with Boloco, we wandered the grocery aisles to savor the planning. In the end, you'd proposed making a little boat by turning the frisbee upside down and duct taping two water bottles beneath as pontoons. "We could make smores," you said leaning toward me. We bought a tiki torch that we sat in the middle and then piled the rest of the frisbee with marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate squares from Hershey bars. Before we left, you ran back to your car to get a sharpie. You wrote "S.S. More" on the side of one water bottle. I posed for a photo.
The platter was awkward, and we dropped a couple pieces of chocolate in the woods. But we got through the fence easily. We broke sticks for our marshmallows and you lit the torch with a lighter from your car. I remember there were these little fish that would nibble at our toes in the shallows. It was unpleasant, but it didn't quite hurt, more ticklish. I was a more confident swimmer, so I pulled the jump rope, swimming on my back, the other hand balancing my marshmallow over the carcinogenic flame.
At some point out on the water, the wind picked up and blew out the torch. We treaded water several minutes as you tried to get the lighter, wet from where you'd stuffed it into your underwear, to work. At the other side of the reservoir, we stood and those little fish nibbled at us, and you shook out the lighter hard, and lit the torch. We ate as much as we pleased, laughing the whole way back. You took a turn with the jump rope.
That summer we drove up and stayed at the cabin your great uncle owned in Maine. The cabin itself was a converted boat, where your uncle, a local politician from Florida, spent his summers with his obese wife. They were the legal guardians of your cousin, whose father disappeared again after relapsing. It was early autumn, and you'd said it was too cold to swim. But we'd go down and jump in the water with your aunt and uncle, who were convinced the cold was soothing to your aunt's gout. I taught the little boy to skip rocks, but I got him in trouble by talking in character as Scarlet O'Hara during a game of Clue, which he wouldn't stop imitating for the rest of the afternoon. His grandfather sent him outside until he stopped. When you and I went to look for him, he was trying to split logs with an axe in his flip flops. We told him not to do that because he could lose his toes, and I told him that voices were only funny for a short time.
You and I didn't sleep in the old boat cabin, which was expectedly small. Instead, we slept in an L in a 12'x12' shed with a light bulb, which hung on an extension cord from a truss. We talked until 3am or 4am, about everything, work, girls, childhood, and the things that we'd done that had finally dragged us into sobriety.
The next morning, I'd said I wanted to see if I could swim across Lewis Cove and back. As soon as I said it, you were in. You were so lean from running all the time, and before we even got past the boats and the lobster traps, you were struggling from the cold. I'd suggested going back or even climbing out on one of the docks holding traps, but you refused. In the middle, you were worried about making it across at all. I figured I could carry you, but without a float, I didn't think I could carry you very far. When we finally got to where we could stand, you got out and tried to warm up. I stayed in the water, swimming back out a little because for some reason I thought a lobster might pinch me. Eventually, I realized how violently you were shivering. So I got out too, and we decided to go find the road and try to hitchhike back.
It turned out to be one of the islands scattered along the coast of Maine. Luckily, the restaurant, the only thing on the island, hadn't yet closed for the year. The staff, who lived on the island in warm months, were shocked to see us on their day off. You asked if they were planning to take their boat across the water anytime soon. "If you're already making the trip, maybe we could carpool?" you suggested. Two of them gave us a lift in a little boat, making thinly veiled comments about the stupidity of summer people most of the way.
The next day, you slept for hours with a fever. Your aunt was angry that I'd been a bad influence. I went back out and tried to complete the round trip swim. I did it carefully, keeping my head out of the water most of the time and swimming a modified breaststroke. I thought maybe a fast pace would help keep my body temperature up. On the other side, I kicked off the rocks and swam back, and it was cold, but I was fine. Back at the cabin, you were awake and gave me a hug when I came in. We looked up the swimming route on your phone and saw that it was indeed an island, a mile and change round trip. That night we bought a few lobsters from some place along the road, which your uncle boiled in seawater.
A few weeks later, you'd tried to set me up with a girl you knew. You showed me a photo of her, a knockout blonde from Florida. You said you'd been telling her all about me and had sent her my website, and that she wanted to visit Boston and meet me. You told me what a good person she was. "She does little things you'd do, like whenever she has spare change, she goes and puts it in the coin return of vending machines so that it'll make someone's day." I asked why you weren't dating her, but you brushed me off. We started arguing somehow at Bukowski's, some comment I'd made because you'd said she routinely got favors from an infatuated ex. I'd told you it sounded like trouble, and that remembering that beauty is fleeting was why I hadn't slept my way through the ultimate frisbee club yet. We ended up finishing our White Trash Cheese Steaks in silence.
I left Boston with some girl the following summer. It fizzled in weeks, but it was years later that I realized how much you loved me. My ex-wife had been organizing photos, and had come across the picture you took of me holding the frisbee boat. She was always jealous of other women, and she asked who I was smiling at in the photo. "He was my friend."

My two childhood dogs both passed away in October from cancer a few months after I moved from the US to Australia for school. Leaving them was the hardest thing I've done and they passed only a few weeks before my flight home to see them. I barely missed my last chance to see them again and it's been extremely heavy on my heart. I've been really struggling with the guilt of not being there when they passed, I even took a gap year before my studies to try and see them through but they were still around when the time came for me to move for school. I had a really tumultuous childhood and those dogs got me through everything. Life without them has been difficult as I had them from when I was a child, so l'd never experienced any real life without them. They were family. Now for the dream. In a month it'll be one year since l've seen them, and I hate myself for the fact that I missed seeing them again by only a few weeks. I experienced the most vivid lucid dream of my life before waking up this morning. It started out with me laying on the floor hugging and petting my dog Sagan in our living room. I wasn't sad in the dream, and she was healthy and much younger, maybe 10 and just starting to go grey (she lived to be almost 16). It was calm and peaceful, but we were both aware that this was closure and her saying goodbye. There was a mutual understanding that she had to go, so l gave her a big hug and she walked from the living room to the kitchen, turned around to look at me one last time, and faded away. Next, I immediately was then on a plane, getting off to grab my luggage with my mom. Waiting to pick us up was my uncle and sister with my other dog, Sinope, in the car. Again, she was also healthy and happy, maybe 8-10, and nothing like what she looked like when she was almost 15 and the cancer took hold. She was extremely happy and crying with excitement, jumping around in the car. She scratched me because she was jumping so much. It was like she was saying, "oh it's you!! I missed you!!" I specifically remember taking photos of her, and the scratch on my leg with my phone in the dream so that I would remember it. When the dream ended, I knew it was ending, and was mentally preparing myself to wake up to reality as well as accept that the photos would not be in my phone. It wasn't until upon waking up that I realized that where I said goodbye to Sagan in my dream was exactly where she was euthanized when telling my mom about the dream. Next, I made another connection. When I was maybe 12 or 13, Sagan scratched my thigh in the car, leaving a scar that I still have. I've often said before to my family that I wish I had a scar from Sinope too, because I'll always have the one from Sagan. And then in the dream Sinope did exactly that, scratching me on the opposite thigh. I've had lucid dreams in the past, but never one like this that was just so overwhelmingly realistic. I woke up with close to you by the carpenters in my head, and one of Sinope's hairs on my shirt (keep in mind I live in Australia now and this shirt has been washed multiple times. She did shed a lot and I do find her hairs from time to time on my things but still, too many coincidences to dismiss). After this dream I feel like a weight has been taken off of me and l've received some closure that I never got. I feel like I got to say goodbye. l've never been religious but would consider myself to be a spiritual person and maybe agnostic. I am not atheist and believe we do go somewhere when we die, but that we as humans just don't have an understanding of it. But yeah, I believe it was them giving me that closure and saying goodbye. Even if it was just my subconscious providing me with something to ease the guilt after all these months, it gave me some solace and I don't think it hurts me to indulge in it.