This man (44M) and I (32F) met at the beginning of last June 2023. I had just re-entered the dating pool after taking a break for 4 years, and he was fresh out of a 4-year relationship with a very avoidant woman who initiated the breakup. We fell for each other hard right away, and shared a whirlwind summer romance and were basically inseparable for 3 months. He eventually ended things in September 2023 due to no longer feeling a spark. He also knew I was headed towards wanting to deepen our relationship, and he didn't feel he could do that with me.
We didn't see or talk much with each other for about 6 months after that, only exchanging intermittent texts here and there. We met up in-person in mid-March 2024 and have been seeing each other regularly since, doing all our old relationship-y stuff without the label - spending nights + weekends together, going out on dates, having amazing sex, texting each other daily, chatting through the night.
Last night while talking, he was really high, and he told me he felt like he manifested me. He asked the universe for months to give him his perfect woman, and then we met. He told me that I'm everything he's ever wanted in a partner, and I check boxes that he didn't even know he had, and he should feel crazy about me...but he doesn't. He's spent countless hours since our breakup trying to figure out why, and he hasn't come up with an answer. He emphasized he's having an amazing time with me in the present and is trying to take things day by day and wants to keep spending time together to see what might happen.
He stressed that he didn't want me to overthink his comment, but I can't stop thinking about him not feeling "crazy" about me. He recognized that he's still recovering from his breakup last year, and that what he knows as feeling crazy about someone as unhealthy - he is used to extreme highs and lows of a relationship, and since I make him feel so safe and secure, he may see it as boring.
These were things I knew deep down, and ultimately the same thing that was the breaking point in our relationship when he ended things. I'm the opposite of him, whereas I've always been head over heels for him, treated him like a king, and was convinced at one point he could've been "the one."
After his comments last night, I'm not sure where to go from here. I know that I deserve someone just as crazy about me as I am about them. But I also know relationship and attachment traumas are real, and he has skewed views of what it means to feel a spark with someone. I don't want to waste my time putting more of myself into him and us just to possibly have my heart torn from my chest again, but I also recognize the importance of patience in a lasting relationship and enjoying the moment for what it is, trying not to worry about the future. I guess I need an outsider's perspective, tough love, or anything in-between. I truly love this man and see forever with him, but I need to put myself first this time around.
TL;DR: Ex I rekindled a connection with said I'm everything he's ever wanted in a partner and woman, and although he cares deeply about me, he should feel crazy about me, but he doesn't, and he can't figure out why. He is used to being in toxic relationships and having extreme highs and lows when it comes to partners, so he has a skewed view of healthy relationships. Do I keep enjoying time together to see what happens between us or consider him a lost cause and breakaway before I get my heart broken again?

It finally clicked in my brain that every single time I have sex, no matter the person I think "please can this stop, when will it stop, I hate this" over and over again and hate every second of it. Thing is I don't have those thoughts when I do things myself so its truly only when i'm with another person/people. Is this me being on the asexual spectrum?? I called my best friend up right afterwards (legit 30 mins ago) and they said that many people they know have the same experience and proudly use the asexual label. so uh?? Anyone else relate?

It’s a little scattered doing it on my phone. I’ll get home and clean it up. But I want peoples input. I really think this would work and it’s totally realistic. I think CIG needs some guidance and the medical changes offer the perfect moment to add these features in the game.
I have been a developer for years and I can see CIG trying balance what’s realistic and what they promised. Every startup I was with came to a point where they realized their proposals were far too aggressive, and the higher ups would not even listen to ideas unless they were easy to implement.
So, I’ve been trying to come up with ideas that take minimal effort for maximum gains. These are fairly simple, but will add depth or will lay the groundwork for easy future development.
I think this is the perfect topic for my first idea. The medical system is tricky, but so important. Right now, the medical system is boring and doesn’t add much to the game and with a few tweaks it could add 25% more and be a major part imo while feeling more immersive and satisfying both parties. We need to look to other amazing games like Eve online and cyberpunk imo.
The hard-core fans want investment and death to cost. Now that I am older and have a family, I understand how hard it is to balance that in time to play Now that I am older and have a family, I understand how hard it is to balance that and time to play. It’s really hard to get your average gamer to want to invest 30 minutes to simply respawn.
So in my opinion, we need a system that…

1. Makes death inconvenient and costly but with several ways to pay the “bill”, not only costly at that moment so the player decides quitting is easier.
   
2. Makes the game far more immersive and makes the game deeper, not shallower. In real life in the future, in the future, medical would be a vast portion of warfare and finance and exploration and exploitation. Not just a glorified HP counter.
   
3. Makes all medical ships useful and relevant. Cannot have a shallow system where one ship is clearly the best.
   
4. Makes healthcare and biology affect all the other parts of the game…. It is our bodies and minds after all. In the future, the wealthy will modify their bodies, just like their ships.
   
5. Uses a lot of these modules that are currently window dressing, but have amazing application. Things like blood pressure and reflex times and damage reduction and bio scanners and the HUD and incorporates it to a tiered clone system.
   

TLDR is We need a Cyberpunk / Eve style futuristic bio medical system with weapons and implants that completely change a persons capabilities and a jump clone system that reflects this. T5-T1 clones 5 being a throwaway and 1 being a Spartan from Halo. T1 would have the exact HUD we have now with additional systems. T4 and less is like the game in photo mode with nothing. People take for granted how much information you get from the HUD and who would really have access to it?
The beauty of this is while it sounds like a lot and would add 25-50% more careers, economys, gameplay and strategy’s from a gameplay perspective. Its actually not much at all from a development point of view. It would reuse all of the current systems now, and add a few skills like scanning / hacking and weapons like EMP, Darts to humans. Generally, this is how it would work.
T5 clone is a meat bag with a 4 hour life used as a spare tire. It’s the base level. Operated similar to when you’re drunk because The damage from the cryo. You can do stuff, but you are very limited. They can be carried around in 1 SCU containers or special lockers in big ships for dangerous work like reactor repairs etc.
T4 clone is a meatbag the same we are inhabiting right now IRL. Basically this is exactly like you turning off the game hud in photo mode. These cannot be cold stored and reused. No HUD or endgame information input at all outside of your Moby glass watch.
T3 clone is the first of the implants. It can take one implant. Combat might allow thermal vision or the local map and radar and crosshair. Exploration might have the ability to bookmark or see things on your HUD that you scanned from your ship. Conversation might add elements to charisma and talking people into doing things, getting better prices on goods, or hearing rumors about opportunities, etc. Covert allow you to scan people and check their inventory and run checks on who they are, what crimes they have committed, etc.
Basically it’s a stripped down version of the hud that’s active all the time even without helmets. It has to work in tandem with your mobi. You have to select one element.
T2 clone has upgraded reflexes, can run longer, survive more dmg and has the complete HUD suite. It has the bandwidth and upgrades to support 1 implant and 1 physical modification. Everything CIG has been adding can be added to the HUD but you have to switch between exploration, combat, conversation, covert etc. 1 physiological mod or weapon. Like a brain hacking chip that can open ship doors, and emp that shut down all electronics in a 20 m radius for 15 seconds or a drone or fiber optics camera. Then there are all the illegal modifications like hidden blades, Multi launchers with everything from neurotoxin to EMP darts.
T1 clone is very costly and made for combat and for solo explorers who need complete autonomy. 20% more hp, and basically 20% better everything. It has the complete HUD with the ability to Connect to the data stream of two ships in your party. If your buddys ship detect an enemy ship coming in it would pop up in your actual vision as a big red square with information. You would have the ability to zoom without a helmet on and have limited scanning just like your ships function on everything.
It could 2 implants. 1 legal and 1 illegal implant. Emp, Hacker etc
It also has two physical modifications. Blades, darts etc
Also the tier 2 and 1 are the only clones that are not harmed using heavy or power armor. The others are slowly harmed by s by the rapid and jarring servos, etc. so they are all time limited.
Imagine how amazing this would make the universe in general. You would have ripper docs implanting stolen, or military implants. Corpses would now be valuable if they had upgraded organs for implants. People would become targets just for their implants.
If you killed an assassin coming after you, you could take his cool tools.
Sometimes corpses could be worth as much as a ship. You could actually ransom back bodies.
You could have a repo men coming to collect the implants. Organ traders and human traffickers.
But it would also make T1 and 2 ships completely necessary in combat because they were the only ones who could rec clone military units.
Best of all. All of this code is already there. All of the heads up display and all these cool features they’ve been adding Would be the implants themselves.
The game the Way it is it doesn’t make sense that a Moby glass can produce all of this data. It makes the game more immersive as well.
It doesn’t have to be over the top like cyberpunk. But we almost have brain implants now and everything is going wireless, you really think in the future they’re gonna be wearing a wristwatch? Everything will be brain implant and wetware.
With these easy changes, we solve our medical problems and add a ton of depth along with the ability to add as much depth as we want.
All you would need is to create the UI for this, but the game already has a lot of that with its biological scanners. All the balancing could happen by biologically if you’re using implants, etc.
Jump clones would cost a lot of money to make, and healthcare in real life is one of the most expensive things. But just like the hospital doesn’t make you pay your bill the moment you’re out of surgery, we need to spread the cost to a later time.
The time the player needs to respawn is usually after they have already planned and loaded up and executed, but didn’t succeed. This is time where casual players set aside their block of playable hours. (when the kids are asleep and wife is watching something etc) So by making it too costly at that moment, ( 30 minutes to an hour, getting geared up and in ship flying back) your odds are they will just quit, which is not engaging for other players and your odds of a major war or event go down drastically. What’s good for the game and what was so successful in Eve was the fights after the opening.
Instead the front loading all the time investment, Charge 5-25k for the biomaterial. spread the cost of the death to a later time and let them pay off their debt when they log back in.
We also want to make the smaller tier 3 ships necessary while not killing the t1 and 2 beds.

Hey!
If there's something I've noticed recently is how my view of myself, my looks, skills, and personality is incredibly outdated. I still think of myself as a slob, even though I've shedded a lot of weight, and more importantly, I still see myself as a akward kid with no conversational/social skills at all. This means that I not only suprise myself by being able to hold funny and interesting conversations with people I wouldn't have been able to talk with year ago, but I also instinctivly avoid talking with people or putting myself into new situations, as if I'm not able to handle them.
In the few years I've lived at my new house, I've honestly just talked with my neighbour a couple of times, mostly an akward hello or similar. But today, while raking the leaves, we had a convo between the dividing bush and it was super casual and friendly. We talked about summer plans, his daughter joined and we joked around a little. It went extremely well, and it was only until I realized that most of my conversations with friends, family or strangers, goes like this now adays.
To summerize, I think I still live with the brain of myself a year ago, where many of my improvments haven't happened yet. And so I constantly undersell or undervalue myself, both in work and in social-situations and continue to suprise myself.
Do you have any tips on how to get my head back to reality? I like my unintended humbleness, but I don't want these extreme lows and highs. How can I see myself as who I really am and be comfortable and realistic with it?
Thanks!

Most meetings should be an email:
Their “all hands on deck” meetings are early in the morning, even though the first three hours of your workday are your most precious and productive and should be reserved for the most important tasks where focus, attention, high cognitive function, willpower is needed, according to research. Willpower or mental energy regulates your thoughts, emotions, impulses, and performance control.
Top management has recurring meetings but it seems like the topic was determined 5 min beforehand because the meetings are often all over the place, with no clear agenda, and random topics. Often, they feel like a parent lecturing their teenager.
Meetings are mandatory. Most employees do not really have to be there. The meetings do not affect the actual day to day job functions. The main purpose for these meetings seems to be for unity (or the appearance of). They are often not productive. Not useful and not engaging for most employees. Not worth spending company time. Not used for coaching or mentoring. Not used for making decisions. They are not about a complex issue that needs to be talked through ideas and solutions. In actuality, 98% of the meetings should really just be emails. There are three regular weekly meetings: about 80-90% of them include testimonies or personal stories and about 10-20% is someone sharing statistics (about the products they produce) or status updates or the behind the scenes (how the "hotdogs" are made). One out of about four meetings involve a recount of the ministry's history. If one did not attend the meetings, nothing would change. There really would not be any consequences that would affect doing your job.
Finally, Managers or employees who have traveled internationally are the only ones that get to speak and address the entire ministry. Everyone else doesn't get a voice.
Testimonies or personal stories:
Stories and testimonies as a form of encouragement and motivation are not bad or not useful; however, there are other areas in the work culture that are lacking that destroy any built up motivation. Employees are expected to have some kind of emotional response to them. Over the months and years, stories and testimonies become overused. In fact, you will hear so many testimonies that, over time, they will blurr and you will probably become desensitized to them. Stories and testimonies are probably seen as a way of providing support to employees but other supports are also lacking and needed (e.g., better leadership, empowerment, resources, tools, better communication, regular check ins, accountability, empathy, feedback, personal and professional development). Stories, anecdotes, and testimonies seem to be used to deflect from some of the problems in the ministry culture.
Top management pressures employees to feel a certain way. They want them to always feel encouraged and motivated by everything and anything the ministry does:
If you replace "encourage" with Love" and then talk to your wife....
“I took out the trash, that should make you feel loved. I mowed the lawn, that should make you feel loved. I picked up my laundry, that should make you feel loved. I went exercised today, that should make you feel loved. i helped an old lady cross the street.”
This makes it all about YOU, not how your wife actually feels! in fact, you are manipulating her to feel a certain way by what you did!
"If you are not feeling loved by all these things I did, then something is wrong with YOU.”
So management tells employees how they should be feeling about things. Performance is often not rewarded. Many employees do not know how much management cares about them as a person. What would be really encouraging is if management gave employees confidence, listed better, spoke to their needs, and empowered them.
Meetings - introverts vs extroverts:
Meetings are not set up to accommodate the basic differences between introverts and extroverts (e.g., how they best think, work, process information, communicate, learn; introverts typically dislike noise and big group settings) nor of how people need to manage their energy (ultradian rhythms). Management does not use information about individual team members’ personalities and predilections to formulate norms and dynamics that are respectful to everyone. Research indicates that in a typical six-person meeting, two people do more than 60% of the talking. In bigger groups, like the 100+ group at FCBH, the problem is worse. Management allows a certain dominant personality to do all the talking. They are not coached to listen, reflect, and become more open to the perspectives of their more silent peers. Top management does not send the meeting agenda in advance and ask for written feedback to give introverts time to formulate thoughts and summon the courage to share them.
Management’s definition of a “successful” meeting is different from that of other organizations. Top management does not appear to have any training in meeting science. Most meetings do not provide value to all attendees. They are not set up for employees to contribute and add value to them. Also, no opportunities to give feedback on meeting quality when meetings end.
A “Christian” version of CRT:
The opinions and perspectives of international employees are valued over local/american employees. Employees who are international (and especially those who live in persecuted areas) are often prioritized and favored. Their voice, their input, is often considered more important because top management pressures them to share and speak.
If there is a need, entire ministry is notified to pray if the need is from internationals but not if the need is local.
Personal convictions. Money:
Top management tends to have some childhood trauma, that is the root cause of their strong personal convictions, that often comes out during their mandatory meetings. These “preaching” moments usually have to do with money. They grew up poor or had strict parents or been around groups, ministries, and churches that abused money and now they get triggered or feel guilty when they see new things and resist replacing things like whiteboards and chairs: "if we already have something, we don't need to replace it = if it ain't broke, don't fix/replace it. wear your shoes out until your soles poke through the bottom before buying new ones." They seem to get triggered when employees ask them for upgrades/replacements” “if it can still 'technically' work, then it's fine.”
Compromises:
In order to fulfill their deadlines and to keep up appearances with ministry partners and donors, management will often “let things go”. Things such as quality of the recordings or training issues with internationals. They are willing to sacrifice quality control to get the results their supporters want to see.
Employee well-being:
Top management often makes assumptions about the well-being and contentment of employees.
They do not invest time and effort in comprehending genuine emotions and needs to create a supportive and harmonious work environment.
No consideration for managing energy or attention. No discussions on employees’ health and wellness goals. Instead, employees are expected to focus, to look at computer screens for extended periods of time (an 8 hrs shift includes two short breaks) even though editing and processing audio and video requires high mental energy and prolonged focus. Management often ignores telltale singles of burnout and fatigue. No effort is made to increase energy, reduce fatigue, and improve job performance. So, consistency, accuracy, and quality of recordings are affected as well as employees’ well-being.
Moveover, no paid maternity or even work from home options for new parents. Many new moms have left. New parents must be use PTO if they want time with their new baby.
The end result? Low moral, isolation, aloneness. Many employees are overworked and underappreciated. Many are not satisfied with their position. Most work until they burn out. Someone said this and it's true: for every employee that leaves, they have to hire at least two people to replace them. Sure, there are some long-term or for life employees who have been around for 10+ years. Unfortunately, most of these employees have outdated skills and would have a difficult time finding work (there is no continuing education or certifications offered) if they wanted to leave (or were let go). In addition, many of the skills employees learn on the job are non-transferrable. So, many choose to stay and remain loyal to the ministry because the cost of leaving is just too high.
No windows; no natural light:
Most of the building has no windows. Something to note if you struggle with depression.
People are different:
Management seems to lack an understanding of how people are wired, how each person is different, what drives their behavior and what they’re capable of doing with their skills. Not much consideration for each person’s individual goals, strengths, and weaknesses. Management does not create situations that encourage employees to motivate themselves.
So, work areas do not reflect the needs of Gen Z and millennials, the basic differences between introverts and extroverts (e.g., how they think, work, process information, communicate, learn), how personality impacts work preferences and styles. No awareness of how people need to manage their energy (ultradian rhythms). They do not allow people to work the way they want to; extroverts should feel comfortable taking time to socialize, while introverts should have license to work remotely or take breaks from the team.
Top management does not recognize that individuals may not always express their inner concerns or desires openly. They don’t sculpt jobs to enhance individual engagement: they don’t seek to understand the unique motivations of employees or develop each employee’s career. No incentives or rewards are provided. Not much authentic appreciation is shown. Employees have value as people (not just as producers), and management needs to communicate in ways that are meaningful to the recipient (as opposed to just going through the motions). Management must adopt business practices that help employees have a personal life.”
Work family:
Despite current best business practices, management will continually use the phrase “work family”.
All about the numbers:
There is more focus on production than the core values of the ministry. Top management almost idolizes how many bibles are produced. There is a focus on goals and numbers which often comes off as self-righteous and self-promoting and self-important: Numbers of bibles produced, numbers of people who receive those bibles, numbers of testimonies from those that get the bibles. Focus seems to be on the products FCBH produces over the people reached. Focus is on getting bibles to people. Focus is not on discipleship or teaching people how to correctly interpret the Bible they receive so they can become more like Jesus. Top management seems to be more focused on what they have done well rather than on what others have done well. And they often take credit for accomplishments that should be credited to God.
Theology at work:
Management does not want discussions to get “too theological”, they want to keep it “practical”, as though good practice did not require careful thought to direct it. They discourage employees from discussing theology because they want to keep “unity” and avoid division among Christians, however, they will present their own theological positions and convictions but not allow other employees to question or share their own views and opinions especially on controversial topics (e.g., spiritual gifts, hearing from God, fasting, finances, stewardship, prophesy, replacement theology).
Favoritism:
Major donors to the ministry are singled out to entire staff and praised. The poor widow with two coins wouldn't get any mention. This makes it seem that the ministry only really cares about the major donors. All donors should be anonymous to employees that are not directly working with the donors.
Employees who are pastors are also favored:
They are often asked to pray or give a word in meetings as if their prayers and words are above employees who are not pastors. As if God will take extra time and attention to hear from them and answer their prayers.
Inconsistencies:
Some “special” employees are allowed to work remotely for some unknown reason. Most employees requesting to WFH are denied. This is never explained and so it creates division, confusion, and envy.
Birthday, thanksgiving, and Christmas parties vary drastically by department: some departments work half day and get together off site to celebrate; some work full day and have no party; some work full day and have a 30min party onsite (during work hours?); some have food only, some have food and games, some have everyone bring in food but some have the ministry? provide the food; some have gift exchange and some don’t….
​
Conclusion:
Some people might say this is all superficial and selfish, all that really matters is getting bibles to people. You be the judge. Many have chosen to ignore these issues and remain loyal to the ministry; some stay and think things will get better; others stay because they have nowhere else to go; some mentally check out; some have spoken out and been labeled as “causing disunity” and then let go, and many others have chosen to leave. Unfortunately, the people most sensitive to a decrease in the quality of the culture are typically those with the most resources, skills, and talents that could be used to effectuate improvement. The people who are the least sensitive to quality usually have fewer resources, skills, and talents.

[I shared this in girls and gays but wanted to share here as well for those of you not in that sub]
With Kendrick Lamar and Drake’s rap feud raging over the last month, I got curious about what their natal charts say about each of them as rappers, and how the astrological synastry between the two has fueled this chart-topping fight. Luckily we have an accurate birth time for both Drake and Kendrick, so we can see exactly how their charts overlap.
Here’s Drake’s chart:
And here’s Kendrick’s chart:
Inconjunct Suns
Kendrick has a Gemini sun, like many of hip hop’s greatest rappers, including Notorious B.I.G., Tupac, Lauryn Hill and Outkast’s Andre 3000. Geminis are well-suited to rap as the wordsmiths of the zodiac, one of the two signs ruled by Mercury, the planet of communication. Virgo, the other sign ruled by Mercury, expresses the analytical, practical, pragmatic side of the mind, the so-called “left brain” which sorts the wheat from the chaff (and, fittingly, Virgo season aligns with the harvest season of late summer).
Gemini expresses the more playful, self-expressive, hyper-curious “right brain” side of the mind - the monkey mind that swings from branch to branch, seeing connections as it goes. “Curious to a fault, Geminis have a finger in every pie. Solar Geminis are flexible and changeable people. Usually quite clever and witty, Geminis enjoy intellectual conversations and they are easily bored if they are not getting enough mental stimulation.”
Drake is a Scorpio sun, bringing a very different energy to the table. Scorpios seek power above all, and they live life intensely. If Gemini is the court jester, taking life lightly and poking fun at it all, Scorpio is the dark knight plotting and positioning himself for a coup. As one of the two signs ruled by Mars, the planet of war and competition, Scorpios don’t back down from competition, and as a fixed modality sign, they can struggle to let go–even of what hurts them. Scorpios are drawn to the darker sides of life - they know that secrets hold power, so they tend toward privacy, as shown in Drake’s last rap beef, when Pusha T revealed that he had secretly fathered a son with a porn star.
Gemini and Scorpio have a tricky inter-dynamic, with an aspect between them known as a quincunx, or an inconjunct. Quincunxes occur when planets are 150 degrees apart, and therefore share neither an element (water, fire, earth, or air) nor a modality (cardinal, fixed, or mutable). They are at odds in a very fundamental way, and though they can teach each other a lot, in order to get along they will have to make some serious adjustments.
“When these signs get together, they just can’t understand each other. They have almost nothing in common, so it’s hard to find common ground. When a quincunx shows up in a synastry or relationship reading, this can make for a tense or difficult relationship.” This natural repelling dynamic is expressed in Kendrick’s diss song Euphoria (“I hate the way that you walk, the way that you talk/I hate the way that you dress/I hate the way you sneak diss, if I catch flight, it's gon' be direct”).
Drake’s ascendant is placed at 29 degrees Leo, exactly conjunct the royal fixed star Regulus. Regulus is one of the luckiest stars in the zodiac, and it is often seen in the charts of celebrities. “On the Ascendant, it will give a courageous and frank character. A splendid and illustrious life; glorious, mighty and commanding nature; fame, busy with many activities, bountiful resources, well known or feared in cities and regions.” But with Regulus on the ascendant, expanding the already narcissistic tendencies of Leo, there is a risk for an over-expansion of the ego and a lack of humility. Drake wants to be the best by all accounts - not just the biggest commercial superstar, which he is, but also the most critically acclaimed rapper, like Pulitzer Prize-winning Kendrick.
Mercury and Mars vs. Mercury and Venus
When it comes to analyzing writers of any sort, I like to look at their Mercuries, and here we see a fascinating contrast. Kendrick’s Mercury is located in intuitive, emotional Cancer (just like Lana del Rey, who I analyzed last week), and it is conjoined with Mars, the planet of war, which is what makes him such a formidable opponent in a rap battle. “Mercury conjunct Mars natal gives a quick mind, rapid reflexes, and a sharp tongue. These attributes are ideal for making quick decisions in the heat of the moment while others hesitate. Excellent debating skills allow you to stand up not only for yourself but for the rights of others. Your enthusiastic, direct and courageous way of expressing yourself can win admiration in politics, business, and the military.”
I think Mercury in combination with Mars is the ideal aspect for the competitive sport of rap, and interestingly enough, Tupac Shakur and Notorious B.I.G., who famously feuded and are considered by many to be the all-time greatest rappers, both had these planets tightly combined (Tupac had Mercury trine Mars with a 1 degree orb, and Biggie had Mercury septile Mars with a 0 degree orb).
Drake, by contrast, has his Mercury conjoined with Mars’ planetary opposite, Venus. Mercury conjoined with creative Venus is a great aspect for a musician, but it lacks the teeth of competitive Mars. “Mercury conjunct Venus natal makes you a lovable, handsome, neat, refined, romantic, and courteous person. You may tend to be passive and submissive, but this is a means by which you achieve peace in your life. You can lovingly communicate things; a melodic, poetic, and relaxing voice often helps this. Mercury rules trade, and Venus rules money, so you could do well in business and enjoy buying and selling.”
Many of Drake’s biggest hits show this melodic Mercury-Venus aspect - like the no-rapping, all-singing “Hold On, We’re Going Home,” “Hotline Bling” and “One Dance,” or the purported feminist anthem “Nice for What.” Many think Drake is best as a pop star rather than a rapper, which Kendrick references in Euphoria (“I like Drake with the melodies, I don't like Drake when he act tough” “Keep makin' me dance, wavin' my hand and it won't be no threat”).
Mercury conjunct Venus should be a very positive aspect for Drake, and in many ways it is – as two of the planets that rule over money (Mercury the marketplace, and Venus the possessions), this aspect is part of why he’s had such incredible financial success. However, a few factors complicate it. For one thing, they are located together in Scorpio, ruled by Mars. His Mercury is expressed in a Venusian way, but it wants to be expressed in a Martian way. I think this is why Drake returns regularly to gangster rap despite his success in pop and R&B. He wants to be a Mercury-Mars rap powerhouse like Kendrick, Biggie, and Tupac, but he’s fundamentally different. From the beginning of his career he’s been taunted as soft, weak, feminine, privileged–all very Venusian adjectives.
Another complicating factor is that Drake’s Venus is doubly challenged - it is both in detriment in Scorpio, as well as retrograde. Venus is in detriment in Scorpio because it rules over Scorpio’s opposite, Taurus, and so the planet is not at ease in suspicious, jealous Scorpio. “Fears of being too vulnerable or of giving up their own power to others is strong. Scorpio is an “all or nothing” energy, and relationships tend to be somewhat of a rollercoaster ride as a result. Disdain for mediocrity and superficiality can compel them to create crises in order to feel alive and vital.”
Venus retrograde in the natal chart “suggests you have some difficulty in giving and receiving love and affection. You may experience sadness in love or have to endure hardship or delay. Natal Venus in retrograde can also show as excessive use of makeup and jewelry or even disfigurement from cosmetic surgery.” It’s interesting how some of the allegations against Drake in Kendrick’s songs have included a nose job and a Brazilian butt lift. After Drake told Metro Boomin to “shut up and make some drums” in his initial Kendrick diss Push Ups, the producer responded with “BBL Drizzy.”
Drake has never been married or had a public long-term relationship. His highest profile one with Rihanna was on-again, off-again, and at times seemed more like unrequited love than true commitment. When interviewed about the relationship, he said “As life takes shape and teaches you#Personal_life) your own lessons, I end up in this situation where I don't have the fairy tale [of] 'Drake started a family with Rihanna, [it's] so perfect.' It looks so good on paper [and] I wanted it too at one time.” Two years ago Drake had jeweler Alex Moss create a necklace worth $12.5 million dollars built from dozens of engagement rings he had made but never used: ““New piece titled ‘Previous Engagements’ for all the times he thought about it but never did it,” Moss wrote over a video showcasing the stunning necklace, which is made up of “42 engagement rings” totaling “351.38 carats in diamonds.”” It’s quite the testament to a challenged natal Venus.
Lilith Synastry
Here is Drake and Kendrick’s synastry (Drake is on the outer circle):
The most interesting thing I found digging into Drake and Kendrick’s charts was the presence of Lilith in their synastry. Lilith is an asteroid associated with the “angry woman” figure as well as female liberation. In some Jewish folklore Lilith was the first wife of Adam, but she was banished from the Garden of Eden for not obeying him and replaced with Eve.
“In the intricacies of a birth chart, Black Moon Lilith symbolizes the raw essence of femininity, the primal urges, and the suppressed parts of our psyche that lie in the shadows. This point, not a planet but a mathematical point, reveals where one might feel estranged, challenged, or empowered to go against the grain of societal norms. It unveils deep-seated desires, innate instincts, and perhaps the areas where one feels the need to challenge established roles or expectations. It's a place of power, mystique, and, occasionally, friction – pinpointing where one's true nature might clash with the conventional, leading to feelings of marginalization or rebellion.”
The allegations Drake and Kendrick threw at each other both had to do with mistreatment of women - Drake said that Kendrick abused his fiancée, and Kendrick said Drake was a pedophile who shouldn’t be trusted around young women.
Both Drake and Kendrick’s Liliths make tight aspects with the other’s chart. “Whenever Lilith is around, you can expect to feel a wild, intense, deep, and sometimes obsessive energy. If you have Lilith aspects in synastry then this energy will show up in your relationship. Whenever your Lilith touches one of your partner’s planets or vice-versa, you can expect to see your deepest fears revealed. You might also see glimpses of things you desire but can’t have. Ultimately, Lilith aspects in synastry give both partners a chance to work on their shadow sides.”
Kendrick’s sun exactly conjoins Drake’s Lilith at 26 degrees Gemini. “Often, the sun person [Kendrick] represents all that the Lilith person [Drake] wants but can never quite “catch.” There is an illusive vibe to this relationship. The Lilith person may feel somewhat less-than or “bad.” Lilith conjunct sun in synastry is a test for the Lilith person because their most taboo qualities such as obsession and anger will be activated, but it’s also a test for the sun person. The lesson is for the sun individual to stand their ground and follow their inner voice. Lilith is neither good nor bad, and the sun person can share in some of the Lilith partner’s activities without merging.”
This resonates with the fact that despite Drake’s huge commercial success, he is deeply jealous of Kendrick’s critical success. In Family Matters Drake took a jab at Kendrick’s acclaim (“Kendrick just opened his mouth, someone go hand him a Grammy right now”), and the beef between them played out similarly, with many rap fans deciding that Kendrick won before even listening to Drake. I think it’s obvious that Kendrick is a stronger rapper, but it’s also clear that Drake wasn’t given a fair shake.
Drake’s Lilith makes a tight trine to Kendrick’s Mercury. “Both the Lilith person and the Mercury person help each other to bring unhealed deeper wounds and unconscious emotion to the surface and articulate deeper, wild instincts. Mercury person [Kendrick] helps Lilith person [Drake] make sense of their inner restlessness and insecurities, sexual passions and unresolved rage. Mercury person may find Lilith person to be highly emotional but is also intrigued by Lilith person’s edgy and unique perspective.” It’s remarkable that both of their Liliths are interlocked with each other’s inner planets, creating a push-pull, love-hate, shadow-enlightening dynamic between the two.
I think the obsession goes both ways, and that part of the reason Kendrick fought back so viciously was because Drake triggers something in him shown through the Lilith synastry. Drake shows Kendrick what he could be–a charismatic playboy enjoying his fame and money to the fullest. And in engaging with the feud he stooped to a lower level, making unsupported claims about Drake’s supposed secret daughter, and writing a rap song (Meet the Grahams) addressed to Drake’s 5 year old son opening with “Dear Adonis, I’m sorry that man is your father.” All is fair in rap battles–or is it? Questlove called it out, saying on Instagram: “Nobody won the war. This wasn’t about skill. This was a wrestling match level mudslinging and takedown by any means necessary — women & children (& actual facts) be damned.”
Kendrick’s latest diss track Not Like Us has just debuted at number one on the Billboard Top 100, and it’s clear this battle has propelled him to another level of stardom. Drake’s Regulus ascendant arrogance and Scorpionic desire to fight to the death drove him to attack the strongest living rapper, and now he’s dealing with the fallout. Kendrick’s streams of his back catalog are up 50%, while Drake’s are down 5% and his reputation has taken a massive knock. But Kendrick has taken a hit as well. Having rap’s two biggest stars accusing each other of heinous crimes might drive up streams in the short run, but it’s a dangerous game. Astrology helps us understand why these two polar opposites are so intertwined, and why their mutual dislike has spurred on such a captivating firestorm.

[I shared this in girls and gays but wanted to share here as well for those of you not in that sub]
With Kendrick Lamar and Drake’s rap feud raging over the last month, I got curious about what their natal charts say about each of them as rappers, and how the astrological synastry between the two has fueled this chart-topping fight. Luckily we have an accurate birth time for both Drake and Kendrick, so we can see exactly how their charts overlap.
Here’s Drake’s chart:
And here’s Kendrick’s chart:
Inconjunct Suns
Kendrick has a Gemini sun, like many of hip hop’s greatest rappers, including Notorious B.I.G., Tupac, Lauryn Hill and Outkast’s Andre 3000. Geminis are well-suited to rap as the wordsmiths of the zodiac, one of the two signs ruled by Mercury, the planet of communication. Virgo, the other sign ruled by Mercury, expresses the analytical, practical, pragmatic side of the mind, the so-called “left brain” which sorts the wheat from the chaff (and, fittingly, Virgo season aligns with the harvest season of late summer).
Gemini expresses the more playful, self-expressive, hyper-curious “right brain” side of the mind - the monkey mind that swings from branch to branch, seeing connections as it goes. “Curious to a fault, Geminis have a finger in every pie. Solar Geminis are flexible and changeable people. Usually quite clever and witty, Geminis enjoy intellectual conversations and they are easily bored if they are not getting enough mental stimulation.”
Drake is a Scorpio sun, bringing a very different energy to the table. Scorpios seek power above all, and they live life intensely. If Gemini is the court jester, taking life lightly and poking fun at it all, Scorpio is the dark knight plotting and positioning himself for a coup. As one of the two signs ruled by Mars, the planet of war and competition, Scorpios don’t back down from competition, and as a fixed modality sign, they can struggle to let go–even of what hurts them. Scorpios are drawn to the darker sides of life - they know that secrets hold power, so they tend toward privacy, as shown in Drake’s last rap beef, when Pusha T revealed that he had secretly fathered a son with a porn star.
Gemini and Scorpio have a tricky inter-dynamic, with an aspect between them known as a quincunx, or an inconjunct. Quincunxes occur when planets are 150 degrees apart, and therefore share neither an element (water, fire, earth, or air) nor a modality (cardinal, fixed, or mutable). They are at odds in a very fundamental way, and though they can teach each other a lot, in order to get along they will have to make some serious adjustments.
“When these signs get together, they just can’t understand each other. They have almost nothing in common, so it’s hard to find common ground. When a quincunx shows up in a synastry or relationship reading, this can make for a tense or difficult relationship.” This natural repelling dynamic is expressed in Kendrick’s diss song Euphoria (“I hate the way that you walk, the way that you talk/I hate the way that you dress/I hate the way you sneak diss, if I catch flight, it's gon' be direct”).
Drake’s ascendant is placed at 29 degrees Leo, exactly conjunct the royal fixed star Regulus. Regulus is one of the luckiest stars in the zodiac, and it is often seen in the charts of celebrities. “On the Ascendant, it will give a courageous and frank character. A splendid and illustrious life; glorious, mighty and commanding nature; fame, busy with many activities, bountiful resources, well known or feared in cities and regions.” But with Regulus on the ascendant, expanding the already narcissistic tendencies of Leo, there is a risk for an over-expansion of the ego and a lack of humility. Drake wants to be the best by all accounts - not just the biggest commercial superstar, which he is, but also the most critically acclaimed rapper, like Pulitzer Prize-winning Kendrick.
Mercury and Mars vs. Mercury and Venus
When it comes to analyzing writers of any sort, I like to look at their Mercuries, and here we see a fascinating contrast. Kendrick’s Mercury is located in intuitive, emotional Cancer (just like Lana del Rey, who I analyzed last week), and it is conjoined with Mars, the planet of war, which is what makes him such a formidable opponent in a rap battle. “Mercury conjunct Mars natal gives a quick mind, rapid reflexes, and a sharp tongue. These attributes are ideal for making quick decisions in the heat of the moment while others hesitate. Excellent debating skills allow you to stand up not only for yourself but for the rights of others. Your enthusiastic, direct and courageous way of expressing yourself can win admiration in politics, business, and the military.”
I think Mercury in combination with Mars is the ideal aspect for the competitive sport of rap, and interestingly enough, Tupac Shakur and Notorious B.I.G., who famously feuded and are considered by many to be the all-time greatest rappers, both had these planets tightly combined (Tupac had Mercury trine Mars with a 1 degree orb, and Biggie had Mercury septile Mars with a 0 degree orb).
Drake, by contrast, has his Mercury conjoined with Mars’ planetary opposite, Venus. Mercury conjoined with creative Venus is a great aspect for a musician, but it lacks the teeth of competitive Mars. “Mercury conjunct Venus natal makes you a lovable, handsome, neat, refined, romantic, and courteous person. You may tend to be passive and submissive, but this is a means by which you achieve peace in your life. You can lovingly communicate things; a melodic, poetic, and relaxing voice often helps this. Mercury rules trade, and Venus rules money, so you could do well in business and enjoy buying and selling.”
Many of Drake’s biggest hits show this melodic Mercury-Venus aspect - like the no-rapping, all-singing “Hold On, We’re Going Home,” “Hotline Bling” and “One Dance,” or the purported feminist anthem “Nice for What.” Many think Drake is best as a pop star rather than a rapper, which Kendrick references in Euphoria (“I like Drake with the melodies, I don't like Drake when he act tough” “Keep makin' me dance, wavin' my hand and it won't be no threat”).
Mercury conjunct Venus should be a very positive aspect for Drake, and in many ways it is – as two of the planets that rule over money (Mercury the marketplace, and Venus the possessions), this aspect is part of why he’s had such incredible financial success. However, a few factors complicate it. For one thing, they are located together in Scorpio, ruled by Mars. His Mercury is expressed in a Venusian way, but it wants to be expressed in a Martian way. I think this is why Drake returns regularly to gangster rap despite his success in pop and R&B. He wants to be a Mercury-Mars rap powerhouse like Kendrick, Biggie, and Tupac, but he’s fundamentally different. From the beginning of his career he’s been taunted as soft, weak, feminine, privileged–all very Venusian adjectives.
Another complicating factor is that Drake’s Venus is doubly challenged - it is both in detriment in Scorpio, as well as retrograde. Venus is in detriment in Scorpio because it rules over Scorpio’s opposite, Taurus, and so the planet is not at ease in suspicious, jealous Scorpio. “Fears of being too vulnerable or of giving up their own power to others is strong. Scorpio is an “all or nothing” energy, and relationships tend to be somewhat of a rollercoaster ride as a result. Disdain for mediocrity and superficiality can compel them to create crises in order to feel alive and vital.”
Venus retrograde in the natal chart “suggests you have some difficulty in giving and receiving love and affection. You may experience sadness in love or have to endure hardship or delay. Natal Venus in retrograde can also show as excessive use of makeup and jewelry or even disfigurement from cosmetic surgery.” It’s interesting how some of the allegations against Drake in Kendrick’s songs have included a nose job and a Brazilian butt lift. After Drake told Metro Boomin to “shut up and make some drums” in his initial Kendrick diss Push Ups, the producer responded with “BBL Drizzy.”
Drake has never been married or had a public long-term relationship. His highest profile one with Rihanna was on-again, off-again, and at times seemed more like unrequited love than true commitment. When interviewed about the relationship, he said “As life takes shape and teaches you#Personal_life) your own lessons, I end up in this situation where I don't have the fairy tale [of] 'Drake started a family with Rihanna, [it's] so perfect.' It looks so good on paper [and] I wanted it too at one time.” Two years ago Drake had jeweler Alex Moss create a necklace worth $12.5 million dollars built from dozens of engagement rings he had made but never used: ““New piece titled ‘Previous Engagements’ for all the times he thought about it but never did it,” Moss wrote over a video showcasing the stunning necklace, which is made up of “42 engagement rings” totaling “351.38 carats in diamonds.”” It’s quite the testament to a challenged natal Venus.
Lilith Synastry
Here is Drake and Kendrick’s synastry (Drake is on the outer circle):
The most interesting thing I found digging into Drake and Kendrick’s charts was the presence of Lilith in their synastry. Lilith is an asteroid associated with the “angry woman” figure as well as female liberation. In some Jewish folklore Lilith was the first wife of Adam, but she was banished from the Garden of Eden for not obeying him and replaced with Eve.
“In the intricacies of a birth chart, Black Moon Lilith symbolizes the raw essence of femininity, the primal urges, and the suppressed parts of our psyche that lie in the shadows. This point, not a planet but a mathematical point, reveals where one might feel estranged, challenged, or empowered to go against the grain of societal norms. It unveils deep-seated desires, innate instincts, and perhaps the areas where one feels the need to challenge established roles or expectations. It's a place of power, mystique, and, occasionally, friction – pinpointing where one's true nature might clash with the conventional, leading to feelings of marginalization or rebellion.”
The allegations Drake and Kendrick threw at each other both had to do with mistreatment of women - Drake said that Kendrick abused his fiancée, and Kendrick said Drake was a pedophile who shouldn’t be trusted around young women.
Both Drake and Kendrick’s Liliths make tight aspects with the other’s chart. “Whenever Lilith is around, you can expect to feel a wild, intense, deep, and sometimes obsessive energy. If you have Lilith aspects in synastry then this energy will show up in your relationship. Whenever your Lilith touches one of your partner’s planets or vice-versa, you can expect to see your deepest fears revealed. You might also see glimpses of things you desire but can’t have. Ultimately, Lilith aspects in synastry give both partners a chance to work on their shadow sides.”
Kendrick’s sun exactly conjoins Drake’s Lilith at 26 degrees Gemini. “Often, the sun person [Kendrick] represents all that the Lilith person [Drake] wants but can never quite “catch.” There is an illusive vibe to this relationship. The Lilith person may feel somewhat less-than or “bad.” Lilith conjunct sun in synastry is a test for the Lilith person because their most taboo qualities such as obsession and anger will be activated, but it’s also a test for the sun person. The lesson is for the sun individual to stand their ground and follow their inner voice. Lilith is neither good nor bad, and the sun person can share in some of the Lilith partner’s activities without merging.”
This resonates with the fact that despite Drake’s huge commercial success, he is deeply jealous of Kendrick’s critical success. In Family Matters Drake took a jab at Kendrick’s acclaim (“Kendrick just opened his mouth, someone go hand him a Grammy right now”), and the beef between them played out similarly, with many rap fans deciding that Kendrick won before even listening to Drake. I think it’s obvious that Kendrick is a stronger rapper, but it’s also clear that Drake wasn’t given a fair shake.
Drake’s Lilith makes a tight trine to Kendrick’s Mercury. “Both the Lilith person and the Mercury person help each other to bring unhealed deeper wounds and unconscious emotion to the surface and articulate deeper, wild instincts. Mercury person [Kendrick] helps Lilith person [Drake] make sense of their inner restlessness and insecurities, sexual passions and unresolved rage. Mercury person may find Lilith person to be highly emotional but is also intrigued by Lilith person’s edgy and unique perspective.” It’s remarkable that both of their Liliths are interlocked with each other’s inner planets, creating a push-pull, love-hate, shadow-enlightening dynamic between the two.
I think the obsession goes both ways, and that part of the reason Kendrick fought back so viciously was because Drake triggers something in him shown through the Lilith synastry. Drake shows Kendrick what he could be–a charismatic playboy enjoying his fame and money to the fullest. And in engaging with the feud he stooped to a lower level, making unsupported claims about Drake’s supposed secret daughter, and writing a rap song (Meet the Grahams) addressed to Drake’s 5 year old son opening with “Dear Adonis, I’m sorry that man is your father.” All is fair in rap battles–or is it? Questlove called it out, saying on Instagram: “Nobody won the war. This wasn’t about skill. This was a wrestling match level mudslinging and takedown by any means necessary — women & children (& actual facts) be damned.”
Kendrick’s latest diss track Not Like Us has just debuted at number one on the Billboard Top 100, and it’s clear this battle has propelled him to another level of stardom. Drake’s Regulus ascendant arrogance and Scorpionic desire to fight to the death drove him to attack the strongest living rapper, and now he’s dealing with the fallout. Kendrick’s streams of his back catalog are up 50%, while Drake’s are down 5% and his reputation has taken a massive knock. But Kendrick has taken a hit as well. Having rap’s two biggest stars accusing each other of heinous crimes might drive up streams in the short run, but it’s a dangerous game. Astrology helps us understand why these two polar opposites are so intertwined, and why their mutual dislike has spurred on such a captivating firestorm.

I (29F NT) am extremely neurotypical and emotionally/mentally/financially stable. I’ve been struggling with my fiancé (31M dx rx) for a long time, and could really use some tailored words of wisdom. Lurking this subreddit/community has been so incredibly validating and helpful as I navigate this overwhelming journey… 2 years into our relationship and I feel like I’m at my breaking point. I doubt whether he’s capable of changing fast enough, I’m not sure I want this for my life anymore. Things will only get harder as we age and kids are thrown in the mix…
The past year has been soul-crushing, I’m a shell of the person I used to be. I’ve self-isolated from friends, had depressive episodes (never had that before), gained an excessive amount of weight, am frequently paranoid and anxious (never had anxiety before). I just never have long-lasting peace, it has destroyed my mental health. Before all this, I was eager to get engaged/married while he was nervous and wanted to take it slow. Now things have flip-flopped: he proposed far earlier than I thought he would, and I’m hitting the breaks uncertain of our future when I’m supposed to be planning a wedding (I refuse to until I see long-term/consistent improvement from him).
I can say that thankfully, my fiancé is not on the extreme end of ADHD. He doesn’t struggle holding a job, he isn’t a slob, he doesn’t shut down sexually, etc. He was diagnosed with ADD (so inattentive ADHD) when he was 18, and has been taking Adderall since. He does not take as much as he is prescribed, which I’ve questioned and he brushed off. We have gotten into heated, and ridiculous, arguments since early-on in our relationship.
Fall last year I unintentionally stumbled upon the emotional dysregulation aspect of ADHD. I was watching reels on Facebook, and in one a woman started by saying “If your partner has ADHD, watch this.” I continued watching, and 5-10 seconds later she mentioned in passing how they have problems with emotional regulation. I was immediately floored and replayed the video to make sure I heard it correctly. I Googled it and, low and behold: there was article after article about this. I read bullet point after bullet point of the manifestations of ADHD, and I couldn’t believe how it described exactly what I had been dealing with for nearly a year and a half.
My entire life I thought ADHD just meant someone had more difficulty focusing or they were hyperactive. This is what most of [uninformed] society thinks, and also what my fiancé himself thought. Over a 12+ year period since being diagnosed, not a single doctor or psychiatrist ever once mentioned the emotional dysregulation aspect of ADHD to my fiancé. He had no idea! Previously, I had chalked up our problems to political differences and that for his entire 20s he was always around (and dated) people very different from me. So I thought he just had trouble adjusting away from judgmental worldviews he had adopted while being surrounded by like-minded people for so long.
The discovery of emotional dysregulation and RSD was ground-breaking for us. He had been starting to think I was the problem since he “didn’t have these problems in my previous relationships.” Well that’s because he always dated less-mentally-stable people (his most recent girlfriend was diagnosed bipolar), so by comparison he was always the more stable one in the relationship and the magnifying glass was pointed away from him. Making the link between our problems and his ADHD made it tangible in a way that he could understand, which provided a foundation for his growth and improvements to begin (alongside therapy). But it’s very difficult for a 30+ year old man with a brain disorder to unlearn bad habits he was fully unaware of & learn how to retrain his brain to process information in a healthy way…
My fiancé has externalized RSD - he becomes highly reactive and verbally aggressive. He is hypersensitive, his brain distorts reality and interprets innocuous questions/statements like “did you put water in the soap dispenser” or “that’s a lot of cereal” as personal attacks. He also has a very big problem not respecting certain differences in opinion we have, or not respecting my choice to not eat/do certain things - he will push and push and push and push, will not stop pushing even after I calmly & nicely asked him to stop dozens of times after dozens of arguments, will not stop even after I’m sobbing begging him to please stop with tears streaming down my face. What are these explosive arguments about? The most mundane, inconsequential things. I wish this was made-up: HOV lanes, me not wanting to eat salad, me not wanting to eat warm guac, me not wanting to eat mustard, me not wanting to try Adderall or coke, me having a different view/opinion on how we should heat up a frozen pizza, me not wanting to eat mushrooms because they make me sick, etc etc.
Every single time we have an explosive argument, he pushes and pushes and pushes. When I reiterate, for the 100th time, that I have autonomy over my own body and don’t need to do anything I don’t want to do, he tries to manipulate me by flipping the script and parroting words/phrases I’ve used in previous discussions (like saying I’m being “disrespectful” and “dismissive” of his feelings/opinions because I won’t do what he wants me to do). Only once he calms down does he realize how badly he effed-up, profusely apologizes, and promises to never do it again and that he’s capable of being better… But then he just does it again and again and again and again and again and AGAIN.
He tries to play the victim and come off as reasonable by saying that he’s just “trying to understand” me by asking questions. I told him that is a cop-out because after I’ve explained how I feel, he ignores it since it doesn’t make sense to him & doesn’t line up with what he thinks/believes, and instead he continues pushing/pressuring me.
More recently he also claims that he isn’t trying to pressure me to do anything TO MYSELF, he’s just sharing his own experiences and thoughts with me so I can understand him better. When you repetitively “share your experiences/thoughts” on XYZ after I made it clear dozens of times that I don’t want to do XYZ and to please stop pressuring me to, even if you don’t explicitly state “You should try XYZ,” you are still INDIRECTLY pushing/pressuring me.
I. am. SO TIRED. Resentment has been growing, I’m paranoid and anxious, I don’t trust him (because he has repeatedly lied to me), his substance use (alcohol and weed) has become less and less attractive. He claimed a long time ago that I’m obsessed with being right, but he’s just projecting - he’s the one obsessed with “being right.” While he loves how I do all the paperwork-related “adult” part of life, he gets really annoyed that I’m almost always ‘right’ about things while he is not - so he takes it out on me.
Things have gotten to the point of reactive abuse, which I warned him about a few months into our relationship (at the time I didn’t know the term, just the concept). I’m having such a hard time making my mind up on where to go from here. When things are good, they are so good. He is a genuine person and a good man, we have SO much love for each other. We share many laughs and have built a life together. But… his brain is plagued with a disorder (that he was not fully informed on & did not begin attempting to manage until 6 months ago) that breaks me down.
While he has improved since the ADHD link was discovered and he started therapy, he continues slipping up and defaulting back to his regular BS. I don’t think I can take it anymore. I don’t want to waste more years of my life, or end up trapped in a marriage because of kids… I’m afraid that’s what it will come to, and I’ll be forever mad at myself for sticking around despite the red flags and what I knew about his condition.
BUT… What if it’s possible for him to improve and stop hurting me? Maybe he needs different medication? Maybe there are other communication approaches we can try? Maybe there’s a better kind of ADHD-specific therapy out there (I don’t think his/our current therapist is helping much)?
I know that he has a long way to go, and that I need to focus on healing. What are methods that have worked for you? Is there a better way I can go about looking for a therapist that specializes in adult ADHD & who truly understands it and can help? My fiancé acknowledges and understands that he has a problem, I can see that he is genuinely trying to improve - he wants to be a better person for himself and also be the partner I deserve. He is struggling to make it happen, he wants it SO badly - he doesn’t want to lose me or the life we have together. I just don’t know how much more of this I can take… Please, any advice & support would be greatly appreciated. Thank you so much for taking the time to read.

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

I've been wrestling with the best way to come out to my friend and would love some input from all the lovely people in this subreddit <3
So, for context, I am 21, have been tranisitioning medically for well over a year now, and have been generally passing quite well.
Now, I met my closest friend from being housemates with her last year, which was my second year of uni and her last year. She graduated and moved back to her country, but we still talk and play games for hours each night. She does not know that I'm trans, but knows that I love generally to do makeup and most of my clothes are from the women's side. She also knows that I have been lasering my face. She knows that I exist in online spaces as female (voice included) and actually goes along with it so well, has never misgendered me online or even messed up my name irl when i poliety gave her a new name to use for me, abeit a shortened, feminine nickname. We've done makeovers and photoshoots and just overall done "girly" things together with no issues. She did ask me if I was gay one time but I said that I am not because even though I am gay (lesbian) I know she meant am I a gay men.
I never came out to her before because honestly I never thought we would become so close and stay friends for so long to the point where she has actually brought a ticket and will be staying with me for two weeks during my graduation. The need to come out never really happened and I was happy with how things were so I never saw the point in telling her, like I can present completely femme, use a female voice and she uses the right name for me.
In the time that she left the country, I doubled my dose of E which is when the majority of changes, including me being able to pass as a cis woman have happened. I'm at the point where most people in my life know me as a woman, and I would like to come out to her.
The only reason I'm a bit nervous is that she may not actually view me as a woman. I know that she is completely fine with people being gay/trans or just queer in general but I need more than that, I need her to view me as a woman and use the correct pronouns and everything for me. She's said a few things before such as not accepting trans people as their correct gender until they actually start to tranisition medically which make me think that she may accept me and being trans but not view me as a woman.
Now, of course I don't want people in my life who cannot view me as a woman (in fact I recently cut off one of closests friends for this reason) but I really hate argueing and really enjoy her being my friend, It's almost like a sort of if it aint broke then dont fix it sorta thing, because I have pretty much everything I could want considering im not out to her but I also think being out would help explain some things such as boobs when she comes. Overall I'd just love for her to accept me fully as a woman, and to be honest not that much really needs to change in our friendship and I generally feel like she treats me like one anyway but for some of the reasons I mentioned earlier I'm just kinda nervous and think it may be smart to have some extra talking points for when I do tell her with how some of the things that she says can be problematic sometimes.
I really hope this made sense, my brain feels very scattered currently during the last week of my uni and honestly typing this out made me feel like I am 15 again, confused about identity and pretty much all things trans as well as how to come out to people in my life at the time.

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

Just recently I've had a close friend of mine venting about something pretty messed up that happened some years ago, even before I knew them (we've been knowing each other for about an year and a half).
It involves their step-father, and now, while neither they explained further in detail what exactly happened, nor am I going to for privacy reasons, it was pretty bad.
[TRIGGER WARNING: I am going to give a clearer explanation of the situation as I believe that, in order for you to understand, I should provide a more detailed telling of what happened. However, if you believe to be someone sensitive or you're not used to hear about explicit and traumatic stories, then I recommend you to skip the next paragraph, or just stop reading the post for your own good.]
Anyways, as I previously said, I haven't been given many details, but enough to know in what kind of situation my friend was in. It started when they were at the end of elementary school, and finished when they were about in middle school; while they said that the abuser never went as far as "deflower" them, he still has done something that is depraved enough to make him into a child predator. I'm pretty sure that I can't describe it in here because of Rule 4, but I don't feel like saying it anyways because it would be disrespectful towards my friend's regards (they don't know that I'm posting about this, but I feel like there's something deeper about it and I need answers; that's the main reason why I'm trying to be as transparent as possible).
They still live with their step-dad, but they just avoid him. I've always noticed it, yet I didn't know the reason until recently, though I've always noticed that they avoiding him that way was weird even for a step-dad - kid relationship, and so I've kind of thought that there was something more. I didn't expect it to be so serious, obviously.
Now, I didn't come here just to vent about a traumatic story a friend told me, and I don't need you to believe if it was real or not. I've come here to tell you because it made me have many thoughts about it.
I know the post it's starting to get long, so I'll try to cut it short. Really, I apologize for it being so long, but I feel like I need to share this.
For context, I've been in the internet not as long as many have here, but I've heard some of the most disturbing and depraved stories around on the internet. I've been watching Iceberg videos about true crime stories and some seriously messed up topics, even from reddit or 4chan, so It's not the first time I hear something messed up.
I've also had other friends share very traumatic and disturbing experiences, especially from when they were very young, that could be almost even worse.
If I'm going to be honest, I'm not going to say this to belittle this person's experience, but I've heard some things that could be way much worse and intense, like things that you can hardly recover from if you live them. That was just to clarify that I'm, if not completely desensitized, hard to impress.
So, while they were telling me this, I've felt a strong feeling of anguish that I haven't felt in years from hearing this kind of things, and I was starting to get incredibly uncomfortable, like as if it was something that had to do with me personally, and not just as a friend listening.
The feeling has lasted for almost an hour, and even when I would hear stories of this kind, and would get the chills from it being it too gruesome, I've never thought about it so intensely, and for so long.
I've also felt kind of guilty, and if I had to give a reason for it, it would be probably because I've made some pretty dark humored jokes that were close to the topic, though it's the humor that me and them are used to, and I've never seen them get uncomfortable at them, and they've done some pretty dark toned jokes about it to (it was before I found out about this fact, that's also why I didn't really expect it, especially because this friend as hardly ever been open about traumatic experiences). But at the same time, I still feel guilty about it, even after knowing that it's not my fault since I didn't know about this, and also because they still seem to be comfortable when I do that kind of jokes, so I don't know really why I feel this way.
I've also never felt so personally involved in a story of a deeply traumatic experience, and while I still felt disgusted, I've felt very deeply disturbed while hearing it, and afterwards.
I don't know if it's because, while other people venting to me about this have felt more free, while this friend was cleary hesitant about telling it. Though they didn't seem uncomfortable about the experience itself, but rather what would I have thought of them after hearing it and if my personal view about them would've changed (of course it didn't). In fact, they have referred that they were "fine" about it (I'm guessing they meant that they recovered from it, yet I'm sure that nobody recovers completely from something like that), and they were chuckling about it, but it was clear that their laughter came from nervousness, which makes completely sense, because someone will hardly feel completely comfortable about telling something like this.
But what I'm just saying is, they didn't look anguished or deeply scarred from it, thankfully, so I don't think that it was their tone or body language to make me feel that bad about it.
Now, I've made this post for a question that involved mostly me rather than them. I hardly recollect any memories that go from my early childhood to about 4th-5th grade. I've already mentioning that I can be very paranoid, and I think a lot, maybe even too much. But you could already tell from reading this.
I feel like as if my brain wiped away part of my childhood. I still have some memories about some friends I've made, and some games I used to play, but I hardly remember anything that I haven't been told from my parents. I've felt like this way before I was told this story, by the way.
Now, for context, I live in a healthy household, and no one from my family has never abused me. I've never been bullied or abused by adults, at least not at the point for it to be traumatic, and I don't live in a place where there's a high crime rate. Besides, I've never left home alone until middle school.
I'm don't know much about psychology, but I know that sometimes it can happen that your brain erases traumatic memories from the past, yet they still remain in your subconscious, so they can still have effect on you.
Now, going straight to the point, I've already said that I'm paranoid, but I'm very afraid that something important from my childhood might have been erased, and I can't remember it at all.
I'm not saying that anything actually happened, but I've also never felt this strange in a while, so what I'm looking for is answers, and if you would mind to answer my doubts it would be very kind of you, after all is what I've been writing this post for.
Feel free to ask any questions, however keep in mind that I won't give away very private or specific information about my or my friend's personal life. Also consider that I' a minor, just so that you might think twice before asking certain questions.

I naturally fell into babysitting around the age of 14. Through friends and family, I got leads for babysitting to score some cash, which definitely beat having to work at a restaurant. The job had its ups and downs, but overall it wasn’t a bad gig at all.
Yet, as many good experiences as I had, they were all eclipsed by one night.
A new family in town talked to my dad at work and it turned out that they needed a babysitter. I happily took the job and found myself watching their 10-year old boy a couple of weeks later. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the family themselves. They were the model citizens of suburban America, complete with the white picket fence and blue shutters. Nothing about their house was strange or even unique. Their son Avery was very mild-mannered and polite. Even their car was basic. Not that these were bad things, but I expected it to be a very boring night.
What I did not expect was the uncomfortable, inexplicable feeling that I got when I set foot in the house. A chill ran through me, but there was no draft. I rubbed my arms as I gazed at their staircase as we passed. They gave me a brief tour of the house before they left a note of instructions and all the usual information I expected from a job.
While trying to figure out what was making me so uneasy about the place, I noticed something about their basement door when I passed it. A padlock was placed on the door, along with a deadbolt in place.
"Any questions?” The father asked as my mind was pulled out of my curiosity.
"No, sir. Everything looks great!”
So they left and Avery and I played some games before I made dinner. A couple of times, I thought I heard Avery call me into the den. Both times, I found him sitting on the couch in what most recognize as the TV-zombie state. He denied having called me, and I went back to making dinner. After the third time, I told Avery it wasn’t funny and that he should stop.
“I’m not doing anything, I’m just watching TV!”
His voice went to that higher tone of pleading, sounding desperate for me to believe him.
“Avery, I know it’s my first time and sometimes you wanna test things out, but I’m trying to get dinner ready so if you call me again, I’m not checking on you, okay?”
“I didn't say anything.”
The child glared at the TV with a pouting face, and I began to feel bad. As many times as I’ve heard lies, I was starting to sense that he was telling the truth. So what was I hearing?
“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not mad. Promise.”
Avery turned his head back towards me, seeming to test if I was the one fibbing now.
“How about I let you stay up a little later if we forget about it?”
“Do you really promise?”
“Pinky promise.”
With our contractual pinkies interlocked, spirits were raised again and I was able to finish dinner. Although I didn’t finish without hearing Avery’s voice calling me once more. I ignored it, and when Avery didn’t mention it at dinner I figured it was him fooling around again. The whole time we chatted as we ate, I couldn’t help but feel that something was not right about this house.
As hard as I tried to not look, my eyes kept diverting to the heavy padlock and chain on the basement door. Curiosity got the best of me and as we were cleaning up, I couldn’t help but ask.
“So Avery, what’s the deal with the basement door?”
“What do you mean?”
His words did not match his demeanor. It was obvious he didn’t make eye contact as he forced his sentence out.
“C’mon, you know what I mean. The padlock, chain, and deadbolt. Y’all have dangerous chemicals down there?”
Avery’s face grew paler and he stared at the wall for a moment.
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I didn’t mean to…”
“Dad said no one can talk about it anymore.”
This really threw me off, and I couldn’t possibly finish my sentence now. A thick veil of tension materialized between us.
“So you…you guys aren’t allowed to talk about it?”
Avery shook his head.
“Ah, okay. That’s cool. No big deal.”
It was nothing but a big deal.
Was their dad doing something illegal down there? Or was it something strange that no one could do anything about it? Maybe their dad was in denial about something going on. There were waaaaaay too many questions going through my head now.
“Hey, how about we put on a movie?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“What am I saying? Everyone likes movies, right?!”
Now excited, we decided on a fun movie that quickly pulled our minds away from the mysterious basement door. Well, that’s not entirely true. Maybe Avery was distracted, but it was killing me. As we ate popcorn, I couldn’t help but watch Avery, wondering what was going on in that little head of his.
Was there something awful going on in the house and there was nothing I could do to stop it? Or maybe the dad was just…
“Stop,” I told myself inwardly.
Mulling over it all endlessly was not doing myself any favors.
So the movie ended, and I ushered the drifting child to his bed. Now, the house was all to myself until twelve, so I had a good three and a half hours to myself. Immediately, I began texting my friend to tell her all about the weird experience I was having that night. She dismissed it, saying that I was getting spooked by a new place. This annoyed me to no end. I’d been at bigger, way creepier-looking houses but never got weird vibes like this.
Then…I heard it.
“Stephanie…..”
I went instantly still and listened intently.
“You didn’t hear that, Steph. Just keep texting your friend and…”
“Stephanieeeee…”
There was no mistaking it this time. It was definitely coming from the basement.
The acoustics couldn’t have been from Avery upstairs. The voice sounded like a little girl’s. In fact, I’m not even sure he could make his voice like that, anyway.
Slowly, I stood up from the couch and approached the door. Maybe like earlier, I was just hearing things. Maybe being creeped out by the house was starting to mess with my head. That made sense…right?
“Stephanie?”
I jumped back from the door, almost wetting myself in the process. There was no way I could dismiss it as anything else now. There was a little girl’s voice coming from the basement.
“H-hello?” I responded.
I couldn’t keep my voice from shaking.
“Is this Stephanie?”
“Y-yes, it’s Stephanie.”
“Can you help me?”
“Who are you? Why are you locked in the basement?”
“My name is Meredith Rosenberg. They’re kept me locked up for a long time now. The police were almost on to them and that’s why they moved. Can you get me out?”
A cold shock washed over me and made it hard to respond. Was I actually babysitting for a family that kept a little girl prisoner?
“Oh my God…um….how long have you been locked up with them?”
“Ever since I can remember.”
I felt somehow hot and cold at the same time, and wanted to throw up. This all made sense now with what Avery had told me. Of course his father didn’t want him talking about the door…
“I just need to find the keys and I can…”
“They’re hidden in the garage underneath the metal shelf. It’s inside a magnetic key holder.”
“Okay, just hold tight.”
In a panic to free the poor girl, I darted into the garage and began feeling the space underneath the bottom shelf and sure enough, there was a magnetic key holder there. Running back, I popped the key holder open and began to insert the key into the padlock.
“Did you find it?”
“Yes, sweetie. I’m almost there!”
“Oh, please hurry! Sometimes they come home early!”
This sent me into even more of a rush, and I barely managed to fumble the key into the padlock. I finally heard the successful click of the padlock, pulled the chain off, and slid the deadbolt to the right.
“I’m coming, Meredith. Hold on!”
I turned the doorknob and threw open the door, only to be met with darkness. Now full of adrenaline, my hands felt around for the light switch. Finally finding my purchase, I flicked the light on which lit up most of the stairs.
“Meredith?” I called out.
Unless I was remembering it wrong, it sounded like her voice was just on the other side of the door a minute ago. In fact, it was quite strange that she wasn’t waiting for me at the top of the stairs. Wouldn’t you immediately run out of a basement that you were locked in for God knows how long?
“I’m down here!” The little girl’s voice called out.
Judging from the distance, it sounded like she was calling from somewhere at the bottom of the stairs. My brain suddenly began piecing all the details of this interaction together and the idea of going down into the basement became absolutely terrifying.
“Meredith, you can come up now! The door’s open!”
I couldn’t hide the tremor in my voice. Why I was scared of a little girl was beyond me, but much like the house itself, something felt very wrong here.
“I hurt my leg, owww! When you said you were getting the key, I went back down to get some of my things and got hurt. Ahhh….”
Her sounds of pain filled me with sorrow, but an invisible force was holding me back from taking another step into that basement.
“Can you move? Maybe pull yourself up on the railing?”
“I can’t! It hurts too bad!”
“Okay, sweetie umm…”
“What’s wrong? Won’t you help me?”
“I-I it’s just…really dark down there and…and I don’t want to get hurt too. Is there any way you can get to the stairs? Any way at all?”
“I tried to sit up, but my shoulder hurts too much.”
“I thought you said your leg got hurt?”
The words hung in the air like a noose. It was only after I said it that I realized there was several things seriously wrong about all of this. A question popped into my head I didn’t even have time to think about until now.
How did she know where the padlock key was?
A deathly silence took up the space between me and wherever this girl was. It was a standoff, and I couldn’t think of anything else to say. There were questions I could ask her to figure out what was happening, but I felt that her answers weren’t going to be honest. Perhaps at this point, the truth was too frightful to know.
"Meredith? Are you still there?"
It was a stupid question, but it was the only thing my mind could conjure. The additional silence only unnerved me, so I decided to try and get a better look. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I clicked on the flashlight. It didn’t do me any good because of the awful range, so I did the one thing I’d already told myself not to do…
I took a step forward...
Maybe it was the angle of the stairs or the lighting, but that one step gave me more information than I ever wanted to know. I caught a better view of the bottom step, which was essentially a ledge into a black abyss. Something looked different on this step, but it took a second to register what it was.
The step was wet, a pool of some unknown liquid overflowing into the darkness of the basement. I knew for sure that the father hadn’t mentioned any flooding so it would be way too random for that. So I stood there, watching in frozen curiosity as the puddle then suddenly rippled…and I realized the abominable truth.
It wasn’t water.
It was a puddle of saliva…and something was drooling into it from the dark.
A wretched chuckle emanated from the horrid void beyond the step, and it cemented me even further into place. It was a wet chortle, and positively evil.
“How did you like my voices?” The thing said from the dark. “I’ve been practicing."
The epiphany creeped down my spine…it was now talking in Avery’s voice. Everything in my body screamed at me to run. I heard the screams but I couldn’t respond no matter how hard I tried.
"A pity though…almost got you."
At this, the most gruesome face peeled back the shadows and revealed itself, along with its unearthly mandibles and small fountain of saliva. My faculties finally came to and I threw myself into the house and kicked the door closed. In mere seconds, I had the door bolted and chained. Leaning against the door, my chest heaved as I struggled to catch my breath.
Just as I felt I was safe, the door shuddered as a terrible blow rocked it. I screamed and ran upstairs to grab Avery.
I practically dragged the poor kid out the door and called the police. It wasn’t until the operator came on that I realized I was about to report a monster in the house. Thinking quickly, I told them that I heard a burglar in the home.
It wasn’t long before the police and Avery’s parents came home. Nothing was found, even in the basement, but I didn’t even care at that point. I just wanted the hell out of that house and away from whatever that….thing was. Avery’s parents kept glancing at me funny the whole time, probably because they knew I had their basement key. I shoved it into their hands before I hugged Avery and got into my car to drive home. That poor kid has to live in that house with that thing, but there was nothing I could do about it.
As long as I am alive, I will never….ever set foot in that house again.
And as for basements go, I can't go into them anymore. I just simply can't...

My fellow gamers, for too long has our community suffered the indignation of an intolerable culture that has denigrated, besmirched, exploited, and has outright demonized our culture of unique individuals with a genuine love of a hobby that they see as profitable and progressive. They have taken beloved IP’s (Intellectual Properties) and twisted them into their own personal ideological crusade of undermining and humiliating the core aspects of characters they deemed as “Toxic” or “White Supremacy”. Through the guise and protection of DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusivity) & ESG (Environmental, Social, and Governance) they have used our influence in the entertainment industry to push their narratives and agendas that have stigmatized our culture with numerous anti-consumer practices that they call “being progressive”. But the truth of the matter is they were never really looking to be a part of our community, they simply wanted to use our community as a tool of activism and propaganda in the entertainment industry as it was extremely profitable, and they wanted inclusion in that division. Ever since GamerGate & Female Frequency, we have had to endure the incursion of forced ideologies, xenophobic behaviors and inferior overpriced products that have never been in our best interest and have been flat out disgraceful towards foreign media.
Before Gaming had become a major source of entertainment, we were often categorized as anti-social or societies rejects where because we found more enjoyment in playing fictional characters and not spending as much time out and about, we never fully assimilated in society (which is a good thing if you ask me). From 1998 to 2007, at the height of innovation, creativity and production, Gaming had reached a golden age in which it had revolutionized society. Hollywood Execs who had ruined the movie industry turned their attention to video games as a source of income since video games had outperformed movies in terms of profit. No one was concerned about gaming, much less diversity or inclusivity until it became profitable. This makes people like SBI look extremely disingenuous as they were not interested in gamers as a community with its own culture. They simply wanted to use it as another weapon in identity politics.
Microtransactions; the hidden enemy to gamer progress and inducer to mental laziness of our community. Microtransactions have been around for a long time; however, it has never been more potent and apparent than in recent years. It has aided in the dismantling and segregation of players on the ideology of FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) and has created another sub-culture of gamers who have no real drive to be better outside of how much money they put into the game. This has degraded our culture as well as we have become “fat” off transactional gaming but at the same time we have been “starved” of purposeful gaming where our achievements were our sustenance. I am not saying that microtransactions are bad, but when they are exploitative and predatorial like they have been and don’t give gamers room to grow, we become lethargic and unwilling to improve ourselves as gamers. Oversaturated microtransactional games are one of the many reasons why we have become complacent and unwilling to fight against the exploitative tactics used by big brand game companies such EA, Ubisoft, ActivisionBlizzard, NaughtyDog and so many other western business model companies. Western style games were not like this in the past, they had much more depth and actual effort put into them with the gamer in mind. This has not been the case for over a decade and our connection to western developers has been whittled down to just being transactional. That is one of the reasons why you see so many remasters and remakes in today’s gamer community. They have lost their willingness to improve as developers of games and simply accept corporate/share holder rules.
Game journalists also do not have any real integrity or purpose outside of being funded for their involvement in promoting IPG (Identity Political Games) in a positive light to the public whether it’s positively received or not. They are not interested in what we have to say, they all support the same agenda and that is why they are a dying breed. Within the next couple of years, they will be out of the job and more than likely they will not be able to stay in the industry giving how they have responded to past articles that have clearly been scripted on the premise of diversity and racism. Not only that, but most of them are also extremely hostile to the community as they stereotype and defame the individuals that are a part of the community they are supposed to serve. We have been mentally liberated from their lies and coercive tactics as we tend to laugh at their obvious attempt at virtue signaling while hiding their misdoings so that they can play the victim.
My gamer brothers & sisters, I would not suggest the following action that we must take now without good cause. I have weighed our options and the best option for us now is this…...CULTURAL SECESSION. Naturally this is a form of segregation where they would more than likely claim they are being segregated by the dominant culture of the gaming community but that is incorrect. For years now we have been the ones who are often marginalized and ostracized for the smaller portion of our community. And when we aren’t, we’re exploited for more funds so that these companies can stay in business only to subject us to low quality products that coincide with the “WOKE Agenda” that are often huge expenses to these big brands i.e. AAA/AAAA games that will eventually flop for its obvious forced diversity and bug infested product which will undoubtedly piss off the consumer to the point of wanting a refund. Losing copious amounts of capital and stock in the process, not to mention their reputation is permanently marred.
We must separate on every cultural level in terms of entertainment and ideology. We must reject everything from the west that promotes toxic western beliefs, practices, and exclusion from other cultures (i.e. Southeastern Countries such as Japan and Korea). Japan & Korea have been the targets of unjust discrimination from Western Developers, Western Journalists, Western Localizers (The Wokelizers) and Western Society Prejudice regarding their sense of aesthetics as Westerners hate the aesthetic sense of these countries. The reason why they resort to such base tactics isn’t just because it weaponizes the ideal female form but it’s also because they have deep-seated insecurities about their own looks so when they see attractive female characters, they use terms such as “unrealistic” or “hypersexualized” to establish the moral high ground. But the truth is, they want to feel superior to that which is ideal, so they insult and dehumanize this figure that portrays natural female beauty because they see it as an insult to their own social superiority in what they believe is a hierarchy of them being at the top of all other women. Because of this and so many contributing factors, their movies flop harder than the Fat Chocobo landing on a group of enemies and their games seismically fail just as much if not more. We must sever our connection to Western Developers, Publishers, and ALL Western-Centric Entertainment for they seek to mentally enslave us to their Xenophobic ideology.
Let’s define Western Culture and its traits. Western Culture/Society is composed of more than several different ideologies that work in unison with one another to facilitate dominance over multiple aspects of society. Business, Social, Political, Technological, and sometimes even Global Affairs are affected by these ideologies that portray a specific mindset of Western beliefs. What are those ideologies you ask?

• Perpetual Victimhood: By weaponizing the fact that they are marginalized and of a small portion of western society, they can push their agenda to absurd standards that ultimately ostracize the main demographic. And when companies don’t capitulate, they are labeled as anti-progressive/misogynist’s or cohorts of White Supremacy. They use this to cancel their targets and silence them through societal defamation to keep the public on their side. They also use this mindset to justify their own lack of self-agency as they tend to throw companies who do adhere to their demands but miserably fail to turn a profit under the bus so that they can maintain face in front of the public while denying their actual involvement. They will never accept “Sense of Agency” when it’s negative but will gladly accept it when a positive outcome shines on them as if they are entitled to it.

Official Wiki GamerGate Page)
​

• Societal Terrorism: This is another form of ideology weaponization that they use in order to make companies “toe-the-line” with their agenda. By weaponizing cancel culture, they exert dominance over these companies but in exchange they also reimburse those companies with DEI & ESG funds that raise their credit score as well as having social status with the marginalized demographic. However; cancel culture has not succeeded in years and developers and publishers probably only want the money and the DEI ESG rating. But they have to maintain the image of having social economic power so that they can continue to strong-arm other developers into compliance and promoting financial benefits of DEI & ESG. In other words, if you are not for sale, they discredit and stigmatize you in the industry.

Asmongold Clips.
https://youtu.be/Iq86DnmX2xY
​

• “Its not us, its you who’s wrong” Mentality: This mentality is especially annoying as they tend to use it to hide their incompetence. They often look down upon gamers who are not in the industry to hide their obvious lack of knowledge on game development thinking that their job title grants them special status that they believe gives them the right to be condescending. But the truth they never wanted revealed has already strangled their careers of all credibility. They were never GAMERS, they were INVADERS. Community Colonists that seek to indoctrinate next generational gamers into their hive-mind and brand previous generations of gamers as villains.

@GeeksandGamers
https://youtu.be/1HbrTkqQFuM
​

• Double-standard Enforcement: By labeling something as “unrealistic” or “hypersexualized”, they can claim this is morally wrong if it promotes traditional dynamics between men and women. Heterosexual relationships are condemned while at the same time Same-sex relationships are praised. Additionally, heterosexual relationships with main white male characters turn antagonistic and spotlight stealing. This is deliberate as to promote the “Girl Boss” ideology to indoctrinate women into the Feminazi state of mind. While at the same time, should a male character also adopt the “I don’t need male/female” ideology its seen as Toxic Masculinity which isn’t even a real thing. The idea of a strong male character is taboo while enforcing strong female characters is the ideal.

@MugenLord
https://youtu.be/to5Uciy_yeg
@EndymionTv
https://youtu.be/7TPTR8-qmbk
​

• Dehumanization/Demonization: This is something that most military branches use in order to remove conscious inhibitions such as mass slaughter is wrong or categorization. By enforcing ideologies to denounce humanity in certain targets, it deactivates your conscience by saying this is not human therefore its ethically okay to treat this target without compassion and deny the fact it has sentience. We gamers fall under this category for journalists, developers, companies and society at large. This is a tactic we are familiar with to an extent as it implies that we are not normal when we do not do what everybody else is doing. “Geeks are the worse” or “Nerds need to fall into a pit of lava” are verbal dehumanization forms that most people in society say and we as Gamers tend to be relegated to those categories. This is their way of imposing the social hierarchy on us by establishing superiority. We know this as Gamers as we see it very often in the games that we play and some times experience it in real life.

https://rationalwiki.org/wiki/Gamergate#The_end_of_their_relevance
​

• Deflection/Projection: This is basic psychology 101. By redirecting the conversation away from their mistakes and back on to the opposing view to avert blame and justify their innocence they can avoid criticism. However; deflection is a CONSCIOUS decision, meaning they have no real argument to justify their incompetence. If you can consciously process the situation, you have self-agency which means you don’t have a legitimate excuse. Projection is something else entirely. Most times, Projection doesn’t work on conscious decisions rather it is automatically deployed when feeling threatened, anxious or both. Instead of accepting accountability for feelings or actions that are deemed socially unacceptable they accuse others of committing that unacceptable behavior thereby exonerating themselves and proving that those feelings and/or actions are not their own.

@TheTrentReport
https://youtu.be/bPIPSKruYRo
These traits are so nefarious and unconscionable that I have a hard time believing that anyone could harbor them. However, given the social, political, and economic climate that we are in, those in power who use their influence on controlling society most definitely possess these insidious traits. Everything that they do is all about control and since video games are the biggest market in the world, they want control over it and the communities built around it to accrue more wealth and to use that wealth to subjugate other cultures. Mainstream media is a tool as well as mainstream organizations and sites to help accomplish this goal.
The government recently announced its intentions towards what they believe is “GamerGate 2.0” and now even the ADL has made an official appearance, referring to gamers as “extremist’s”. We know EXACTLY what they are doing, and they aren’t even trying to hide it anymore because they don’t think we are aware of their motives. This is just a pretext for them to exert even more control and we know why, it’s because they want the influence we as a community have to must serve them. So here is what we do my fellow gamers-
“In light of recent events and years of mainstream stigma, we the members of the Global Gaming Community [GGC] must officially renounce ALL TIES to the corporate western video game market. We have been financially exploited through predatorial monetization schemes, pelted with numerous articles of disdain and intentional misrepresentation from game journalists, news outlets regarding us as dangerous individuals and, even subjected to inferior products not only riddled with bugs but also products meant to push political agendas. For the preservation of our community and its unique culture, apart from a few select game development studios we officially sever all connections to western owned video game companies & their mainstream affiliates. From this point onward, we will no longer support western corporate developers, journalists and publishers that do not coincide with the goals of our community.”
Naturally this is completely optional. If you are okay with the state of the gaming community as it is, feel free to ignore this. But if you wish for real change and a break away from oversaturated monetization in the games you play and the push for radical ideological reform, then you are in the right place. Lets sever these rotted miasmic ties once and for all so that our community can be preserved and made better for future gamers. If you agree with this, share it with whoever you think might be interested. The more gamers who get involved, the easier it will be for us to finally break free from mainstream game companies and their associates.

Hey guys. I've created a list of the 100 best tools for spatial computing builders that I use. Each tool has been carefully curated, tested and validated.

🤵‍♂️ Best entrepreneurs spatial tools

Great White(board): Great White(board) is a simple, uncomplicated working tool. Take a note, sketch an idea, diagram a process, or think through the details of a complex idea.
Immersed: Immersed offers a virtual reality workspace where users can create multiple virtual monitors without additional hardware. This app excels in enabling focused solo work and efficient remote collaboration, allowing users to share screens and engage in virtual whiteboarding.
Fluid: Virtual workstation, wherever you are. Fluid turns your VR headset into a spatial computer that you can use for work, media streaming, gaming, and more.
Warp VR: Transform your training with immersive 360° scenarios, outperforming traditional e-learning and live actor simulations in engagement and retention.
Zoom for Vision Pro: Zoom’s Apple Vision Pro app banks on a future where virtual meetings will feel like real ones, already offering immersive meeting experiences from wherever you are.
PowerPoint for Vision Pro: You can use Microsoft PowerPoint on Vision Pro to create and update presentations. One unique feature is the “Immersive Environment” feature, which allows you to practice your presentation as if you were presenting it to an audience.
Arthur: Arthur enables your organization to meet, collaborate and manage work
Navi: Navi adds subtitles to your conversations! Perfect for business meetings abroad. Connect directly to other Navi-enabled devices around you, and what they say will be displayed directly on your Mac screen.
Lenslist: Amplify Your Marketing Using AR Filters.
SAP Analytics Cloud: SAP Analytics Cloud on Apple Vision Pro lets users arrange their most critical business workflows and apps in their physical space while using contextual 3D maps and graphics to gain new insights.
Mozilla Hubs: The go-to virtual platform for educators, teams, and organizations. Powered by Mozilla, we’ve designed our platform to make virtual collaboration and learning effortless.
Mindesk: Mindesk is a real-time CAD and VR software that allows designers to create and edit 3D models directly in virtual reality, providing a more intuitive and immersive design experience.

📟 Best spatial developers tools

Tilt Brush: Developed by Google, Tilt Brush is a VR painting application that allows artists and developers to create 3D artwork in virtual reality, making it a valuable tool for prototyping and visualization.
Gravity Sketch: Gravity Sketch is a 3D design tool that enables designers and developers to create immersive 3D models and environments in VR, facilitating collaboration and rapid prototyping.
Substance Painter: Substance Painter is a texturing tool that supports VR painting, allowing developers to create high-quality textures and materials directly in VR for use in their VR applications.
Unity: One of the most popular game engines, Unity offers robust support for VR development with its built-in VR support and extensive asset store.
Unreal Engine: Another powerful game engine, Unreal Engine provides advanced tools for creating high-quality VR experiences, including built-in VR support and Blueprint visual scripting.
Google VR SDK: Google VR SDK provides developers with the tools and APIs for building VR applications for Android devices, including Google Cardboard and Daydream.
VRTK: VRTK is a popular open-source toolkit for Unity that simplifies VR development by providing a collection of scripts and prefabs for common VR interactions and mechanics.
NVIDIA VRWorks: NVIDIA VRWorks provides developers with a suite of tools and APIs for optimizing VR performance on NVIDIA GPUs, including features like Multi-Res Shading and Lens Matched Shading.

🖼️ Best spatial designers tools

Spatial Icon: Download Free Spatial Icons for your Spatial Apps.
ShapesXR: ShapesXR helps you design spatial experience together.
JigSpace: JigSpace helps you create spatial presentations, combining 3D content, audio, video and text in an interactive, step-by-step experience that energizes the communication of complex ideas, products or processes.
SwiftXR: A powerful 3D and immersive design tool that is easy to use
SketchAR: SketchAR is an AR drawing app that enables designers to sketch and visualize their ideas in augmented reality, allowing for immersive and interactive design processes.
Adobe Aero: Adobe Aero is an AR authoring tool that allows designers to create interactive AR experiences using 2D and 3D assets from Adobe Creative Cloud applications like Photoshop and Illustrator.
Blender: Blender is a free and open-source 3D modeling and animation software that supports AR and VR content creation, making it a valuable tool for designers to create 3D assets for their projects.
Reality Composer: Easily prototype and produce AR experiences directly in AR with no prior 3D experience.
Reality Composer: Reality Composer is an AR authoring tool developed by Apple for creating interactive AR experiences without writing any code, making it accessible to designers and artists.
Reality Converter beta: The Reality Converter app makes it easy to convert, view, and customize USDZ 3D objects on Mac. Simply drag-and-drop common 3D file formats, such as .obj, .gltf and .usd, to view the converted USDZ result, customize material properties with your own textures, and edit file metadata.
Adobe Lightroom: Lightroom for Vision Pro lets you edit photos on a truly big screen. It’s been redesigned for the VisionOS, so it’s easier to navigate with hand gestures than the desktop version, which has many more features.

👩‍🎤 Best content creators spatial tools

QuestCam: A system for third person recording that imposes minimal performance constraints and unlocks maximum creativity. QuestCam.
Liv: LIV is your complete toolset for VTubing, Mixed Reality Capture and VR native utilities like in-headset stream chat, alerts and notifications!
XCode + Reality Composer: Record 4K video in Apple Vision Pro using the Reality Composer kit on Xcode. Click here for the full tutorial.
The list is gradually being added to, and all 100 tools will be present by June 2024 (progressive updating).

🤵‍♂️ Best entrepreneurs spatial tools

Great White(board): Great White(board) is a simple, uncomplicated working tool. Take a note, sketch an idea, diagram a process, or think through the details of a complex idea.
Immersed: Immersed offers a virtual reality workspace where users can create multiple virtual monitors without additional hardware. This app excels in enabling focused solo work and efficient remote collaboration, allowing users to share screens and engage in virtual whiteboarding.
Fluid: Virtual workstation, wherever you are. Fluid turns your VR headset into a spatial computer that you can use for work, media streaming, gaming, and more.
Warp VR: Transform your training with immersive 360° scenarios, outperforming traditional e-learning and live actor simulations in engagement and retention.
Zoom for Vision Pro: Zoom’s Apple Vision Pro app banks on a future where virtual meetings will feel like real ones, already offering immersive meeting experiences from wherever you are.
PowerPoint for Vision Pro: You can use Microsoft PowerPoint on Vision Pro to create and update presentations. One unique feature is the “Immersive Environment” feature, which allows you to practice your presentation as if you were presenting it to an audience.
Arthur: Arthur enables your organization to meet, collaborate and manage work
Navi: Navi adds subtitles to your conversations! Perfect for business meetings abroad. Connect directly to other Navi-enabled devices around you, and what they say will be displayed directly on your Mac screen.
Lenslist: Amplify Your Marketing Using AR Filters.
SAP Analytics Cloud: SAP Analytics Cloud on Apple Vision Pro lets users arrange their most critical business workflows and apps in their physical space while using contextual 3D maps and graphics to gain new insights.
Mozilla Hubs: The go-to virtual platform for educators, teams, and organizations. Powered by Mozilla, we’ve designed our platform to make virtual collaboration and learning effortless.
Mindesk: Mindesk is a real-time CAD and VR software that allows designers to create and edit 3D models directly in virtual reality, providing a more intuitive and immersive design experience.

📟 Best spatial developers tools

Tilt Brush: Developed by Google, Tilt Brush is a VR painting application that allows artists and developers to create 3D artwork in virtual reality, making it a valuable tool for prototyping and visualization.
Gravity Sketch: Gravity Sketch is a 3D design tool that enables designers and developers to create immersive 3D models and environments in VR, facilitating collaboration and rapid prototyping.
Substance Painter: Substance Painter is a texturing tool that supports VR painting, allowing developers to create high-quality textures and materials directly in VR for use in their VR applications.
Unity: One of the most popular game engines, Unity offers robust support for VR development with its built-in VR support and extensive asset store.
Unreal Engine: Another powerful game engine, Unreal Engine provides advanced tools for creating high-quality VR experiences, including built-in VR support and Blueprint visual scripting.
Google VR SDK: Google VR SDK provides developers with the tools and APIs for building VR applications for Android devices, including Google Cardboard and Daydream.
VRTK: VRTK is a popular open-source toolkit for Unity that simplifies VR development by providing a collection of scripts and prefabs for common VR interactions and mechanics.
NVIDIA VRWorks: NVIDIA VRWorks provides developers with a suite of tools and APIs for optimizing VR performance on NVIDIA GPUs, including features like Multi-Res Shading and Lens Matched Shading.

🖼️ Best spatial designers tools

Spatial Icon: Download Free Spatial Icons for your Spatial Apps.
ShapesXR: ShapesXR helps you design spatial experience together.
JigSpace: JigSpace helps you create spatial presentations, combining 3D content, audio, video and text in an interactive, step-by-step experience that energizes the communication of complex ideas, products or processes.
SwiftXR: A powerful 3D and immersive design tool that is easy to use
SketchAR: SketchAR is an AR drawing app that enables designers to sketch and visualize their ideas in augmented reality, allowing for immersive and interactive design processes.
Adobe Aero: Adobe Aero is an AR authoring tool that allows designers to create interactive AR experiences using 2D and 3D assets from Adobe Creative Cloud applications like Photoshop and Illustrator.
Blender: Blender is a free and open-source 3D modeling and animation software that supports AR and VR content creation, making it a valuable tool for designers to create 3D assets for their projects.
Reality Composer: Easily prototype and produce AR experiences directly in AR with no prior 3D experience.
Reality Composer: Reality Composer is an AR authoring tool developed by Apple for creating interactive AR experiences without writing any code, making it accessible to designers and artists.
Reality Converter beta: The Reality Converter app makes it easy to convert, view, and customize USDZ 3D objects on Mac. Simply drag-and-drop common 3D file formats, such as .obj, .gltf and .usd, to view the converted USDZ result, customize material properties with your own textures, and edit file metadata.
Adobe Lightroom: Lightroom for Vision Pro lets you edit photos on a truly big screen. It’s been redesigned for the VisionOS, so it’s easier to navigate with hand gestures than the desktop version, which has many more features.

👩‍🎤 Best content creators spatial tools

QuestCam: A system for third person recording that imposes minimal performance constraints and unlocks maximum creativity. QuestCam.
Liv: LIV is your complete toolset for VTubing, Mixed Reality Capture and VR native utilities like in-headset stream chat, alerts and notifications!
XCode + Reality Composer: Record 4K video in Apple Vision Pro using the Reality Composer kit on Xcode. Click here for the full tutorial.
The list is gradually being added to, and all 100 tools will be present by June 2024 (progressive updating).

Hey guys. I've created a list of the 100 best tools for spatial computing builders that I use. Each tool has been carefully curated, tested and validated.

🤵‍♂️ Best entrepreneurs spatial tools

Great White(board): Great White(board) is a simple, uncomplicated working tool. Take a note, sketch an idea, diagram a process, or think through the details of a complex idea.
Immersed: Immersed offers a virtual reality workspace where users can create multiple virtual monitors without additional hardware. This app excels in enabling focused solo work and efficient remote collaboration, allowing users to share screens and engage in virtual whiteboarding.
Fluid: Virtual workstation, wherever you are. Fluid turns your VR headset into a spatial computer that you can use for work, media streaming, gaming, and more.
Warp VR: Transform your training with immersive 360° scenarios, outperforming traditional e-learning and live actor simulations in engagement and retention.
Zoom for Vision Pro: Zoom’s Apple Vision Pro app banks on a future where virtual meetings will feel like real ones, already offering immersive meeting experiences from wherever you are.
PowerPoint for Vision Pro: You can use Microsoft PowerPoint on Vision Pro to create and update presentations. One unique feature is the “Immersive Environment” feature, which allows you to practice your presentation as if you were presenting it to an audience.
Arthur: Arthur enables your organization to meet, collaborate and manage work
Navi: Navi adds subtitles to your conversations! Perfect for business meetings abroad. Connect directly to other Navi-enabled devices around you, and what they say will be displayed directly on your Mac screen.
Lenslist: Amplify Your Marketing Using AR Filters.
SAP Analytics Cloud: SAP Analytics Cloud on Apple Vision Pro lets users arrange their most critical business workflows and apps in their physical space while using contextual 3D maps and graphics to gain new insights.
Mozilla Hubs: The go-to virtual platform for educators, teams, and organizations. Powered by Mozilla, we’ve designed our platform to make virtual collaboration and learning effortless.
Mindesk: Mindesk is a real-time CAD and VR software that allows designers to create and edit 3D models directly in virtual reality, providing a more intuitive and immersive design experience.

📟 Best spatial developers tools

Tilt Brush: Developed by Google, Tilt Brush is a VR painting application that allows artists and developers to create 3D artwork in virtual reality, making it a valuable tool for prototyping and visualization.
Gravity Sketch: Gravity Sketch is a 3D design tool that enables designers and developers to create immersive 3D models and environments in VR, facilitating collaboration and rapid prototyping.
Substance Painter: Substance Painter is a texturing tool that supports VR painting, allowing developers to create high-quality textures and materials directly in VR for use in their VR applications.
Unity: One of the most popular game engines, Unity offers robust support for VR development with its built-in VR support and extensive asset store.
Unreal Engine: Another powerful game engine, Unreal Engine provides advanced tools for creating high-quality VR experiences, including built-in VR support and Blueprint visual scripting.
Google VR SDK: Google VR SDK provides developers with the tools and APIs for building VR applications for Android devices, including Google Cardboard and Daydream.
VRTK: VRTK is a popular open-source toolkit for Unity that simplifies VR development by providing a collection of scripts and prefabs for common VR interactions and mechanics.
NVIDIA VRWorks: NVIDIA VRWorks provides developers with a suite of tools and APIs for optimizing VR performance on NVIDIA GPUs, including features like Multi-Res Shading and Lens Matched Shading.

🖼️ Best spatial designers tools

Spatial Icon: Download Free Spatial Icons for your Spatial Apps.
ShapesXR: ShapesXR helps you design spatial experience together.
JigSpace: JigSpace helps you create spatial presentations, combining 3D content, audio, video and text in an interactive, step-by-step experience that energizes the communication of complex ideas, products or processes.
SwiftXR: A powerful 3D and immersive design tool that is easy to use
SketchAR: SketchAR is an AR drawing app that enables designers to sketch and visualize their ideas in augmented reality, allowing for immersive and interactive design processes.
Adobe Aero: Adobe Aero is an AR authoring tool that allows designers to create interactive AR experiences using 2D and 3D assets from Adobe Creative Cloud applications like Photoshop and Illustrator.
Blender: Blender is a free and open-source 3D modeling and animation software that supports AR and VR content creation, making it a valuable tool for designers to create 3D assets for their projects.
Reality Composer: Easily prototype and produce AR experiences directly in AR with no prior 3D experience.
Reality Composer: Reality Composer is an AR authoring tool developed by Apple for creating interactive AR experiences without writing any code, making it accessible to designers and artists.
Reality Converter beta: The Reality Converter app makes it easy to convert, view, and customize USDZ 3D objects on Mac. Simply drag-and-drop common 3D file formats, such as .obj, .gltf and .usd, to view the converted USDZ result, customize material properties with your own textures, and edit file metadata.
Adobe Lightroom: Lightroom for Vision Pro lets you edit photos on a truly big screen. It’s been redesigned for the VisionOS, so it’s easier to navigate with hand gestures than the desktop version, which has many more features.

👩‍🎤 Best content creators spatial tools

QuestCam: A system for third person recording that imposes minimal performance constraints and unlocks maximum creativity. QuestCam.
Liv: LIV is your complete toolset for VTubing, Mixed Reality Capture and VR native utilities like in-headset stream chat, alerts and notifications!
XCode + Reality Composer: Record 4K video in Apple Vision Pro using the Reality Composer kit on Xcode. Click here for the full tutorial.
The list is gradually being added to, and all 100 tools will be present by June 2024 (progressive updating).

🤵‍♂️ Best entrepreneurs spatial tools

Great White(board): Great White(board) is a simple, uncomplicated working tool. Take a note, sketch an idea, diagram a process, or think through the details of a complex idea.
Immersed: Immersed offers a virtual reality workspace where users can create multiple virtual monitors without additional hardware. This app excels in enabling focused solo work and efficient remote collaboration, allowing users to share screens and engage in virtual whiteboarding.
Fluid: Virtual workstation, wherever you are. Fluid turns your VR headset into a spatial computer that you can use for work, media streaming, gaming, and more.
Warp VR: Transform your training with immersive 360° scenarios, outperforming traditional e-learning and live actor simulations in engagement and retention.
Zoom for Vision Pro: Zoom’s Apple Vision Pro app banks on a future where virtual meetings will feel like real ones, already offering immersive meeting experiences from wherever you are.
PowerPoint for Vision Pro: You can use Microsoft PowerPoint on Vision Pro to create and update presentations. One unique feature is the “Immersive Environment” feature, which allows you to practice your presentation as if you were presenting it to an audience.
Arthur: Arthur enables your organization to meet, collaborate and manage work
Navi: Navi adds subtitles to your conversations! Perfect for business meetings abroad. Connect directly to other Navi-enabled devices around you, and what they say will be displayed directly on your Mac screen.
Lenslist: Amplify Your Marketing Using AR Filters.
SAP Analytics Cloud: SAP Analytics Cloud on Apple Vision Pro lets users arrange their most critical business workflows and apps in their physical space while using contextual 3D maps and graphics to gain new insights.
Mozilla Hubs: The go-to virtual platform for educators, teams, and organizations. Powered by Mozilla, we’ve designed our platform to make virtual collaboration and learning effortless.
Mindesk: Mindesk is a real-time CAD and VR software that allows designers to create and edit 3D models directly in virtual reality, providing a more intuitive and immersive design experience.

📟 Best spatial developers tools

Tilt Brush: Developed by Google, Tilt Brush is a VR painting application that allows artists and developers to create 3D artwork in virtual reality, making it a valuable tool for prototyping and visualization.
Gravity Sketch: Gravity Sketch is a 3D design tool that enables designers and developers to create immersive 3D models and environments in VR, facilitating collaboration and rapid prototyping.
Substance Painter: Substance Painter is a texturing tool that supports VR painting, allowing developers to create high-quality textures and materials directly in VR for use in their VR applications.
Unity: One of the most popular game engines, Unity offers robust support for VR development with its built-in VR support and extensive asset store.
Unreal Engine: Another powerful game engine, Unreal Engine provides advanced tools for creating high-quality VR experiences, including built-in VR support and Blueprint visual scripting.
Google VR SDK: Google VR SDK provides developers with the tools and APIs for building VR applications for Android devices, including Google Cardboard and Daydream.
VRTK: VRTK is a popular open-source toolkit for Unity that simplifies VR development by providing a collection of scripts and prefabs for common VR interactions and mechanics.
NVIDIA VRWorks: NVIDIA VRWorks provides developers with a suite of tools and APIs for optimizing VR performance on NVIDIA GPUs, including features like Multi-Res Shading and Lens Matched Shading.

🖼️ Best spatial designers tools

Spatial Icon: Download Free Spatial Icons for your Spatial Apps.
ShapesXR: ShapesXR helps you design spatial experience together.
JigSpace: JigSpace helps you create spatial presentations, combining 3D content, audio, video and text in an interactive, step-by-step experience that energizes the communication of complex ideas, products or processes.
SwiftXR: A powerful 3D and immersive design tool that is easy to use
SketchAR: SketchAR is an AR drawing app that enables designers to sketch and visualize their ideas in augmented reality, allowing for immersive and interactive design processes.
Adobe Aero: Adobe Aero is an AR authoring tool that allows designers to create interactive AR experiences using 2D and 3D assets from Adobe Creative Cloud applications like Photoshop and Illustrator.
Blender: Blender is a free and open-source 3D modeling and animation software that supports AR and VR content creation, making it a valuable tool for designers to create 3D assets for their projects.
Reality Composer: Easily prototype and produce AR experiences directly in AR with no prior 3D experience.
Reality Composer: Reality Composer is an AR authoring tool developed by Apple for creating interactive AR experiences without writing any code, making it accessible to designers and artists.
Reality Converter beta: The Reality Converter app makes it easy to convert, view, and customize USDZ 3D objects on Mac. Simply drag-and-drop common 3D file formats, such as .obj, .gltf and .usd, to view the converted USDZ result, customize material properties with your own textures, and edit file metadata.
Adobe Lightroom: Lightroom for Vision Pro lets you edit photos on a truly big screen. It’s been redesigned for the VisionOS, so it’s easier to navigate with hand gestures than the desktop version, which has many more features.

👩‍🎤 Best content creators spatial tools

QuestCam: A system for third person recording that imposes minimal performance constraints and unlocks maximum creativity. QuestCam.
Liv: LIV is your complete toolset for VTubing, Mixed Reality Capture and VR native utilities like in-headset stream chat, alerts and notifications!
XCode + Reality Composer: Record 4K video in Apple Vision Pro using the Reality Composer kit on Xcode. Click here for the full tutorial.
The list is gradually being added to, and all 100 tools will be present by June 2024 (progressive updating).

Personally, gender is merely a linguistic term that’s used in place of ‘sex’. Perhaps this is due to the English word ‘sex’ referring to both the state of being male/female and also an intimate physical act involving genitals but it’s often used as a more ‘polite’ form of sex for that reason.
I don’t think gender identity exists. I reckon ‘gender identity’ is nothing more than personality but the way TRA’s tell it, it sounds more like a soul. I don’t think it’s possible to ‘know’ that you’re meant to be a woman or a man. The only way I can see someone ‘knowing’ that they’re in the ‘wrong’ body would be if a mad scientist invented a machine that could seamlessly switch the brain and nervous system of one body into another body. For example, if a mad scientist kidnapped me and switched my brain and nervous system into the body of a middle aged Chinese man then I would ‘know’ I am in the ‘wrong’ body when I wake up and look myself in the mirror because I have a mental image of my face developed over many years of looking at that face in the mirror as it’s changed with age. I know the aches and pains of my body, I know the scars and burns and how I received them. Hence I have an actual experience being in the ‘right’ body for me to be able to identify immediately what is ‘wrong’ with the body the mad scientist has put me into. A trans person doesn’t have a similar sort of reference since they’ve never been in any body other than the one they have right now. Their frame of reference is really just stereotypes of what a man or a woman is supposed to be that they then wish to embody. But this is the opposite of what we should be striving for.
Now I certainly do believe that stereotypes of the genders exist and I think a few of them are due to our evolutionary biology (women being stereotyped as nurturing is due to the effects of oestrogen on pair bonding) but I think that most social stereotypes are projected onto the sexes rather than being something that arises from anything innate. During the Victorian era in England women were barred from medicine because they were viewed as being intellectually incapable of handling the stress. Yet for the last 30 years most new medical students in England have been women. Clearly the social stereotype that was projected onto women in the Victorian era was utterly false.
This raises the question, given that the social stereotype was that medicine was a man’s profession does then mean that the Victorian women who did want to become doctors were trans and they didn’t know it? Their gender identity clearly led them to wish to do something that only victorian men could do so maybe they were actually men in women’s bodies. Clearly that’s not the case. Women were not kept out of any profession because of a ‘gender identity’, they were kept out of the profession because they had particular types of bodies and identifying as a man would have made no difference since the stereotypes were projected onto pellle based on their sex.
For my part I find gender ideology to be convoluted, dishonest, and ultimately regressive. It ends up upholding the very stereotypes it claims to want to eliminate by reducing womanhood to a set of behaviours, styles, and manners. We see the dishonesty of the gender ideology movement whenever the definition of woman comes up for debate, or when sex segregated spaces are discussed. On one hand the ideologies claim that gender and sex are completely unrelated but then constantly push to blur the two by pushing trans people into spaces that have been carved out for women on the basis of sex. They want their cake and to eat it too.
My hope is that gender ideology can be defeated through rational argumentation and I believe that the fight back has already began and is wining battles (at least in England), but this is made hard by the total refusal of trans rights activists to engage with the issues at hand often adopting a ‘no debate’ policy perhaps due to knowing their position is founded on sand.
This subreddit is an attempt to create a small space where gender critical voices can engage with those who take the opposite view or who don’t take any particular view. Join us!

Two years ago, I had just moved to a new house from a different neighbourhood for work. I was settling in and getting used to the place, but I was still lonely and went through bouts of depression.
My ex-boyfriend of five years had ended the relationship a while before I moved, and I wasn't having much luck going on dates. I eventually decided to focus my energy into work and fitness instead, but the loneliness lingered. The house still felt empty at times, and the silence was painful. I went through the motions numbly as the days passed by.
About two months after I had moved in, I started noticed a stray dog pacing around my front yard from time to time. It had big, brown, sad eyes, and there was no collar around its neck. I couldn't tell you what breed it was - a reverse Google image search tells me it looks like an Indian Pariah dog. I could always recognize it, as its left eye was slightly larger and darker than the right, but that gave it some unique charm. After seeing it outside my front door for three days straight, I put up some posters along my street inviting anyone who might have lost a dog to call me. I quickly learned that I probably shouldn't have done that, after getting a few silent calls from an unknown number that I eventually chalked up to being a prankster or some scammer.
I called a local animal shelter and them pictures of the dog. A guy came over to scan the dog for a microchip, but found nothing. He said it was most likely abandoned as a puppy. He could take it back to the shelter, or I could look after it for the time being - they would contact me if anyone ever tried to claim it. My grandad had a german shepherd that I used to love playing with, so I always had a soft spot for dogs and agreed to look after it, even if it was for a while. The guy from the animal shelter advised that if I didn't hear back in a week, I should take it to the vet to get it checked out and microchipped, or to the shelter if I didn't want to keep it.
I took care of the dog and let it roam around the living room, with free access to the back yard. I decided to name him Charlie, and purchased more dog food, a labelled dog collar, some brushes to groom him with and dog toys. The nearest vet was a two hour drive away. Work was busy so I wasn't incredibly flexible for a visit, but I managed to get an appointment booked in two weeks' time.
The first night I spent with Charlie, I realized that he might just be what I needed in my life. Late in the evening, I sat on the couch looking at him, sitting quietly in the middle of the room on my wooden floor. I began talking out loud to Charlie. It seemed stupid at first, but the way he sat quietly and listened was comforting. After a while, I got more into it, and vented about my loneliness and frustrations to the point of tears.
How I stayed with my cheating, gaslighting ex-boyfriend because I was too insecure to be alone, until he dumped me. All my failed dates, and how I thought I would die alone and unloved. I poured my heart out to my new companion, spilling my deepest secrets until I cried myself to sleep. The next day, I again began talking to Charlie about the pain and depression I had been through, and he listened patiently once more. I discovered that spending time with my new friend was cathartic. Perhaps I needed to get it all out, and be listened to for once, even if not fully understood.
The third day after I had taken Charlie in, I woke up to realize that I'd overslept half an hour. I poured some food into Charlie's bowl and brushed my teeth at lightning speed, then grabbed my bag and flung the door open, ready to bolt into my car. A surprise greeted me at the front door, that made me stop.
There was a bouquet of red and pink roses on my front door step.
I picked it up and looked at it, confused. There was no note attached or anything. I couldn't think of who it would be from - I obviously hadn't been on any dates recently. Being late for work, I didn't have much time to ponder, so I dropped the roses back on my doorstep and drove off. During the drive, I panicked for a second at the thought that it could have been my ex, but then realized he didn't know my new address, or even that I had moved. The mystery bugged me all day at work. When I came back home, the roses were gone, so I assumed someone had accidentally left them at the wrong address.
That night, I woke to the sound of creaking. As I opened my eyes slightly, I saw something at the foot of my bed and bolted upright, adrenaline rushing through me. As the fogginess faded, my heart rate settled a little.
"It’s just you, Charlie," I sighed, "you scared me."
Charlie continued to stare at me from the foot of my bed. After a minute, he stood up and left the room. I didn't think much of it, and fell back asleep.
For the next week, I continued the usual ritual of talking to Charlie before I went to bed. I would talk about my day, my plans, hopes, dreams and other such things. I found our one way conversations getting more positive each day - they were very therapeutic. Charlie would always stare at me with those big brown eyes and sit quietly still as I talked.
On the morning of the vet appointment, for which I had taken the day off work, I noticed that my car was much cleaner than usual. Had it always been this shiny? I thought. I had driven it to work the Friday before, but I hadn't taken notice of how clean it was then. The last time I had, I could swear there were bird droppings on the back window, and some general grime that covered it all round, but it was now spotless. I pondered for a few seconds, and came to the conclusion that it must've just be a brain lapse on my part - it was probably always clean. Those droppings must have washed away over time with a few rainy nights.
I drove Charlie down to the vet and explained the story of how I'd found him.
"He's very well behaved," she beamed, as she began examining Charlie on the table. "We see a few of these cases from time to time. People's dogs have puppies, and they get sold or abandoned."
"It's a real shame," I sighed. "Charlie's been a star, I'm lucky to have him really. I live alone, so as odd as it sounds, I've been talking to him and it's helped me through some difficult moments."
"That's not strange at all," replied the vet, checking his teeth. "Owning a dog can do wonders for your mental health, especially if you live alo-"
She suddenly stopped.
I stared as she squinted and moved Charlie's head up and down, trying to get a look at something. She plucked a light out of her pocket and aimed it into Charlie's left eye.
"What's wrong?" I asked. She didn't answer, and kept looking at Charlie from different angles. He whimpered slightly.
"Did his eye look like this when you found him?" She asked. I leaned in closer.
"Yeah, I did notice his left eye was slightly darker and larger than his right."
She looked at me for a second and raised her eyebrows, then back at Charlie.
"I'd like to get a closer look at his eye and examine it in the next room, if that's okay?"
"Uh, sure," I said, confused.
Without further explanation, she hastily picked Charlie up and carried him off into a different room. I sat down and waited, reading the news on my phone, expecting her to be back in a few minutes. However, when the vet didn’t come back for a while, my concern began to grow. I paced around the room and tried to glance into the door she had left through a few times.
Then I sat back down and watched the minutes pass by, getting more anxious. Hopefully it's nothing, I thought to myself. An easily curable eye infection perhaps, or a defect he was born with - hopefully it was something like that or nothing. I'd only spent a few weeks with Charlie, but he was the best friend I'd ever had. I had told him so much about me, and he was the only one that had ever really listened to me. I had grown very attached to him quickly, so I almost felt like a worried parent, blaming myself for not bringing him to the vet sooner.
An hour and a half passed, but it felt like eternity. The vet finally came back through the door. I stood up.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
"Have you noticed any odd events recently?" she asked, "Like, anything you couldn't explain?"
"To do with Charlie?"
"No, just in general. Anything you've seen or heard around you that felt out of place in your life?" She insisted. I took a second to think.
"I'm pretty sure this isn't gonna be relevant," I said, "But I have a couple of times. For instance, this morning I thought my car was a lot cleaner than usual. I've been getting some unknown calls, and hearing some creaking noises at night lately, but I'm sure it's just Charlie walking around and waking me up. And… someone left roses on my front doorstep one day. Didn't say from who, but… Sorry, I'm not sure why I'm even telling you this."
I looked up at the vet, who now had a very concerned look on her face.
"I'm going to have to call the police," she said.
It took a few seconds to register. A million thoughts started racing through my mind. Did I say something wrong? Did she think I was abusing Charlie?
"I swear," I said, "Everything I've told you is true, I'm really sorry it took me so long to bring him in, it's my first time owning a dog and all…"
"No, no, it's not that," she said. She gestured for me to follow her into the room through the door.
Charlie was sitting on a table in the middle of the room. There were a few other tables surrounding it, with dog toys and surgical equipment on them. There was a large hole where his left eye had been, now a gaping black cavity.
The vet pointed at a sheet of blue paper on a table next to the one Charlie was on. There were two black domes resting on it, like two halves of a black ping pong ball had been split in half. A clear fluid was covering the outer sides, and staining the blue paper. There was also a tiny black cube. I looked closer, and saw some red and green wires coming out of the tube.
"I took this out of Charlie's left eye," the vet explained, "I thought my eyes were fooling me, but I took a closer look and was sure this thing definitely shouldn't have been in his head. When I took it out, I thought it was some kind of prosthetic eye, until I heard something moving inside it. I opened it up, and found this."
She pointed at the tiny cube and picked it up with some tweezers, revealing a transparent circular window on one side.
"Now I'm no expert, but I took that apart just now and to me it looked a lot like the inside of a camera lens you'd get on a smartphone."
She looked back at me.
"Do you think…" She paused.
"Do you think it's possible someone could have been watching you for the past few days?"
The police were eventually called and an investigation started. The tiny device inside Charlie's eye was indeed a camera lens with a built in audio recording device, and it had a wireless connection. It was an advanced piece of kit, but with some technical expertise they were able to examine its traffic logs and identify an IP address to which the miniature device was streaming.
That IP address belonged to my neighbor, who lived in the house opposite to mine.
I had never seen him leave the house before, although when I moved in I did see his silhouette in the top floor window a couple of times. He was a fifty five year old balding, slightly overweight man who worked as an engineer, but otherwise lived a reclusive lifestyle. I later found out that he had multiple restraining orders placed against him from ex partners. He had a collection of tiny bugging devices which he had been planting in various places including public women's bathrooms for years. These devices could livestream video and audio to his computer, and in his spare time he would watch and listen to this footage he collected.
A while before I moved into the house, he had purchased a puppy from someone he knew, and kept it as a pet without registering it. I assume he got bored of spying on women in bathroom stalls, and when he saw me move into the house opposite, he suddenly got a wild idea of how he could get a peek at something more intimate. The rest is some truly horrific history.
Charlie had been in my room while I slept and even a couple of times while I undressed. But worst of all, I had told him everything about me. The names of previous partners, things about my family, companies I had worked for and more. I wish I could say that I kept Charlie, but I just couldn't. Not after that. The vet arranged for him to be sent to the animal shelter where I'm glad to say he eventually did find a new home. I also relocated and changed my phone number.
For anyone out there wondering, I'm still single. The difference is that nowadays, I'm completely at peace with being alone. I've experienced a worse alternative, that's for sure.

Hi Everyone,
So I'm quite confused about TCP states and how they compare to firewall session states. I understand that they are not the same thing. The firewall session states, are almost like "labels" that the firewall will put on the session, based on it's protocol, be it TCP or UDP or other L4(ESTABLISHED:ESTABLISHED etc). Because of the different natures of these protocols, the sessions have to be represented in different ways. For TCP, the firewall can use the SYNs, FINs and other flags to "label" the session, but it will have to use other methods for UDP, as there is no handshake.
Some questions.
Will actual TCP/UDP sessions will be exactly tracked on the end devices themselves, and the firewall will try to approximate based on the inspected traffic?
Are these "labels" the same between vendors?
This is also different to sockets that you can view with netstat?

A couple of years ago I tried writing my own version of Stones Abbigale. I never got past the first couple scenes, but I'm considering returning to it. I wanted to basically rewrite and change up a lot of things, mainly focusing on Abbi and Davis and changing some elements. Let me know what you think!

1
It's almost four in the morning and Seth is threatening suicide again. Good. Fuck him. I hope he does it. I don't text him that because I read about this girl who told her boyfriend to kill himself. The irony was that when he actually did it she got charged with second degree murder. My life is fucked as it is I don't need to make it worse. I’m shivering under my comforter because we’re halfway through November. I think about the turkey that won't get made this year and the family I won't see. I think that's swell. Seth is still texting.
Its like u dont even care after everything that happened and after everything we did together i saved ur life and i stayed with u when u cried and i hugged u and i did everything for u but that wasn't enough was it? i try so hard and all u ever are is a bitch to me that's not fair u want me to die and u hate me and u dont even care and im sick of it abbi why is is so hard for u to care about me?
I don't respond. I don't like how I feel about this. This should be easy. He won't actually do it. He won't. He’s too self involved to kill himself. I put my phone face down on my bed. The sheets shake around it as he sends message after message. I was sleeping on a ticking bomb so I got off of it. My feet stick to the floor, I struggle to step. I might as well have been standing barefoot on ice. I trudge to my window so I can see my street at night. Winter is really coming. You can't hear as many birds as you used to. They've all gone. They've all flown away. I can see three streetlights from where I’m standing. If you can from right to left you can see the concrete fracture into the sand. I open my window and brace for the chill. I stick my head outside. The ocean is not far away. I hear it hitting the shore over and over. Waves of water splashing incessantly, almost beating out my text notifications. The street lights flicker. I think of last summer. When Seth and I got really high after the news broke that my Mom was cheating on my Dad. I was making out with that bong. Emptying bowl after bowl, clanking the glass on the road to empty it out. Just thinking about it makes me feel the street pole against my back again. I was laughing and crying. Seth leaned in and hugged me. “I’m a sure thing,” he said. “I love you and I always will.” I caught my reflection in his sunglasses. I looked awful. I shiver at the memory. My phone is still buzzing. I try to catch my breath. I shut my window and start to walk back to my bed. A room always looks different in the dark. Maybe you think you know where you are, but there is always something that can jump out at you on the floor. Like a ghostly paper bag or a vengeful shoe. Objects that seem to move on their own with the sole drive of tripping you. I crawl back into bed. There's the phantom of Dad’s snoring . I know he's not sleeping in his room, he fell asleep on the couch after finishing his seventh fifth. Sometimes my brain fills in the gaps so I can hear it everywhere. Funnily, I haven't actually heard him snore since Mom left. That's the one thing I ever heard them fight about. Before she turned out to be a whore, I guess. BZZT.BZZT.BZZT. I can't bring myself to read any of his messages. They're coming so fast all the paragraphs are lost to motion blur. Seth’s arms wrap around me and I think about the beating of his heart and the warmth of his lips against my skin. I open up the texts, ready to respond.
I love you
I text this over and over until I fall asleep.
Davis was the only senior on the bus. Somehow, everyone else had a car or a ride. It’s all right, though. James would probably give him one if he had a car, but he skated to school every morning. That's why he barely ever rode the bus with him. The bus thumped along the under paved roads. Davis forgot his earbuds at home, so the only music that accompanied him was his racing thoughts. Two sophomore girls popped their heads over. “Ohmigod, Davis!” One of them shrieked.. “As I live and breathe,” he smiled. “Nice,” she said. “I’m so excited to see your finished painting.” Davis took the lower level art class for a requirement. Like most things, he's not taking it very seriously. For their pop art unit, he's painting a portrait of the art teacher with a warthog face. It's one of his funny disruptions. He knows Mrs. Stanley is going to have a real field day with it, but it doesn't matter. Artistic liberties, he’d profess. “She's such a bitch, isn't she?” The sophomore girl turns to her compatriot, who only nods in response. “She's just jealous,” Davis says. “It must be depressing to teach art and see the youth soar above her.” “For sure,” the girl doesn't get it. Class clown is a semi-heavy burden. Davis doesn't really feel like talking to these girls, but his position demands it. Comedy informs everything about him. To the giant thrift store jeans, to the loud Hawaiian shirt. He and James are the ultimate combination, at least he likes to think so. Quiet brooding begs for bright distraction. The girl is still trying to talk to him and Davis is saying his preprogrammed lines. The bus stops in front of James’s street. Surprisingly, James is standing there. “Like I’m this close to just filling my hydroflask with vodka, yaknow?” says the chick. Maybe she's just trying to get a rise out of him. “Better be prepared to give me more than a sip,” Davis is watching James grumble towards the bus. The sun is beating down on the forming ice puddles. James stomps through them with small shattering steps. James turns up the bus aisle and plops in the seat next to Davis. Davis’s smile is genuine now, but he fights it from getting too wide. “Crash your vehicle?” Davis asks. “Something like it,” there's something off with him. Davis doesn't want to push it. “Well damn, hope insurance covers it,” Davis wants James to break and laugh. Is it just another mood or did something actually happen this time? “It won't, I got bad credit,” James grins and it's like heaven. “What's the move for you today?” “Surviving art and physics for me,” says Davis. “Those bastards love to keep me down.” “Who doesn't,” James eyes the girls who have since returned to whatever they were doing before. It's the judgement stare, as Davis calls it. James likes to observe his peers like a zoo-goer. Breaking them down to taxonomic types. Davis likes to think that James doesn't do this to him, but he knows he probably does. “It sucks you decided to be bad at school and take baby art,” James is still dissecting the sophomore girls down to their tropes. “We could have done Art II together.” “I wouldn't want to get between you and Alex. I know how you love it when people piss in jars next to you.” “That's disgusting,” James breaks his glare at the girls. “It's performance art, it's beautiful,” Davis gets up out of his seat to yell. “Everyone witness the wonderful work of Alex Madov! Disengage yourself from the shackles of capitalism by shouting with me: Poopy, pee pee, poop!” Davis gets a few chuckles from the other kids on the bus. “Sit down, fatso,” mumbles the bus driver. “I will not be silenced! I’m a messenger of the good word, sir!” “More of this shit and I’m skipping your stop!” “Fine, but I will make Alex remember on the day of judgement,” Davis sits back down. James is full belly laughing. “You're so retarded,” James wheezes. Davis can't even come back with a response. He's high off of it.
The bus pulls into the school lot with a short stop. The mobs get up and begin to race out. Davis follows James down the line. “You know Abbi?” James asks. Davis feels a little pit form in his stomach, but he doesn't change his expression. “Vaguely, what about her?” “She's in my art class,” James begins. “And I think … well you know, I’m going to talk to her.” He walks down the steps and out the door. “Doesn't she have a boyfr-” before Davis can descend the driver's arm blocks him. “I’ve had enough of your shit, kid,” he says. “If you keep being obnoxious, I’m gonna find a way to make you pay for it.” James looks back, but he can't stay. Davis knows that he's gotta get to class. James does a little wave goodbye and Davis salutes him. “Are you even listening to me?” the bus driver seethes. “Yes, sir. Divine retribution, got it.” Davis ducks underneath his arm and exits the bus. James has already disappeared into the crowd.
I pass the bong to Ashley. She starts another bowl. She’s the transport and I provide the material. The little things that keep our friendship afloat. I look at the clock in her car. “It's 8:45,” I pick a piece of bagel out of my teeth. “So that's it, we officially missed first period,” Ashley tops it off. “They won't mark us, you know. It's a study.” “Yeah, but when's the last time we signed in? I heard they're changing the policy again. Do you still have the lighter?” I toss it to her. I don't get it. It's always her idea to pick me up so we can smoke before school, why now is she suddenly caring about attendance? “We're pretty girls, we can get out of it. I’m next,” I tap on the clock. “Are you sure it's not fast?” She shakes her head as she takes a snap. We're parked in the pond area a block or two from the school. It's our designated smoking spot. I like it, even at the end of fall it's pretty. I’m so engrossed that I don't realize her tip out the bowl and put it back in the cup holder. “I don't know if it's wise to keep up the activity, we should probably get going soon,” she starts up her car again. “Okay,” I say. She reverses and swings out of the lot. We lean into the silence and it's super weird. “Seth texted me last night,” I wait for her reaction. “Oh,” she grimaces. “What did you say?” “That I loved him.” Silence again. Ashley's trying to put together something well-meaning while understanding that I’ll probably ignore whatever she has to say. “Abbi, I’m not trying to tell you how to run your life, but …” Her expression is now quizzical. She's said what she is about to say a number of different ways all ready. She thinks and thinks and decides to say nothing. Good call, I would have screamed at her. Not because what she thinks about my situation isn't true, I’m just in a ‘screaming at people mood’ because of it. “I’m going to dye my hair again,” she changes the subject to avoid conflict. Classic Ash. “Oh yeah? What color this time?” “I don't know,” she checks her reflection in the rear view. “The red has faded out, maybe blue or pink this time.” “You should go with a softer pink,” I say. “Since you're a soft spring.” “Yeah, maybe.” We enter the school lot. “Listen, do you want to get together when I do it? Maybe you can dye your hair too.” “I don't know, I might be busy,” I say. “Seth might want to do something,” I pause for her to protest. “Okay,” she says. She parks and we get out.
I barrel into art class. I don't care if I reek, out of all the teachers I can tell Mrs. Stanley smokes the most. It would be hypocritical of her to care. It looks like I’m the first one. Weird. I check my phone. It's 8:45. Well, fuck. Looks like Ashley needs to fix her clock. Mrs. Stanley is at her desk. She looks at me knowingly. “Eager to create today, Abbi?” I just nod and sit at my desk. I’m really feeling it. I open up my precalc notebook and just start sketching. Birds, eyes, trees, whatever. Kids start coming in. Their chatter echoes around me, I try to focus on what I’m doing. Someone bumps into my table. I look up. It's this lanky blonde kid, I think his name is James. He presses his hands underneath the desk as he leans up to talk to me. “Eww!” He shouts. Some kids turn and laugh. I don't. I just stare at him. James goes red and sits next to the kid who pissed in a jar. Once an adequate amount of students are in the room, Mrs. Stanley starts her lesson slideshow. On the screen is a dirty urinal. “How many of you are familiar with this work by Marcel DuChamp?” she asks. At this point, Jason, the designated meathead jock, enters the room. “Sorry I’m late, Mrs. S,” he booms. He looks at the slide. “We building bathrooms today?” Mrs. Stanley glares at him. “Wouldn't you like that? Considering you spend all of your time in there.” “Whatever,” Jason brushes his mullet behind his ears. “No, not whatever. Would you like me to move you into the sophomore class with Davis? Believe it or not he's getting much better marks than you are getting in here.” Jason rolls his eyes and takes his place in the chair next to me. “Up to a little extra curricular activities before art, Abbi?” he motions a joint in his fingers. I scoff and go on my phone. There's another text from Seth.
sorry about last night
and
im reading it all right now that was fucked im sorry
I start to respond, but before I can Mrs. Stanley outstretches her hand. “Give me your phone, Miss Hagerty. I’m sick of giving you warnings.” I don't have the energy to fight, I just give it to her. “You can pick it up at the end of the day.” My jaw actually drops. Jason must have really set her off, she's not usually such a cunt to me. “Anyways, found art. What is it? Well, found art is the use of everyday objects to convey an altered meaning. It can be something you find on the street or something that once held value to you. For example, My Bed by Tracey Elim.” She pulls up a picture of a messy bed that looks suspiciously like my own. “So for your final unit of the semester, you will be making your own found art. I really want you to take this project a little more seriously than most of you have been taking this class. I’m giving you the privilege of picking your own partners, but I’d like to remind you to be thoughtful with your choice. This will be worth more for your grade.” I look around. I don't have any friends here. I toy around with the idea of asking Jason for convenience and he looks like he's about to pull that move. Behind me there's that James guy. He’s sheepishly looking at me. He seems kind of nice. Okay. I don't feel like getting up so I just turn around in my chair. “Hey James, wanna be partners?” He balks a bit and then smiles at me. “Yeah, totally,” He's beaming and it's somewhat endearing. Alex and I switch seats and now I’m next to him. “I’m gonna be real with you …” I begin. He stops and shifts a little. “I have no idea what we're supposed to be doing for this.” He regards me oddly. Like he's trying to piece me together. It doesn't bother me. “She said we have to bring in an object that's special to us and present it artistically basically,” he rubs his chin. Damn, I must be baked to hell. I didn't hear her saying that at all. “So got any stuffed animals we can cut up and make Lovecraftian monstrosities out of?” “I got a hamster cage, hold the hamster,” I say. It comes out kind of weird and I probably sound stupid, but he doesn't seem to care. “Let's make a fucking zoo.” “Perfect!” He’s kind of cute actually. In a way. Something about this feels fun. I realize the bell will ring soon. “So um,” I rip out a page of my precalc notebook, still fresh with my drawings. I scrawl out my number and push it to him. “Call me so we can figure out the project some more.” I pack up all my stuff and start to head out. I can feel him watching me and it's not that bad. “I sure will,” he says. Everything feels really groovy. There's a lightness now. I’m halfway out the door when I remember my phone. I can't believe that I just forgot about Seth. I think about begging for my phone, but I feel too above that. Still, something shakes the good feeling as the bell rings.