I think this is a topic we should continuously bring up and discuss because I believe creating a base or home is such an important part of Fallout. After a long day of fighting off the monsters and horrors of Appalachia, we sometimes just want to come home to our homey base and admire our creation and hard work. The more I build, the more I feel restricted on what I can do and have to really plan and sacrifice some creative designs to meet with the building limitations. With the evermore additions to things we can add to our base, base building really needs to be refined. I'll add what we had last post and what suggestions were made as well. I'll also add more of what I've noticed from my return to the game. Previous post for reference.

Disclaimer of Understanding

Listen, I understand there could be hardware limitations in regarding to number of items or models that can be loading and unloaded at any time for the servers though we need to find some middle ground. A way to optimize the base limits to allow for more creativity. I also understand there could be programming limitations though refactoring some the base building limits is a positive change and worth while, especially to continue improving on this game long term (if that's what is planned to be).

Quick bullet points of Ideas from previous post

• Wallpaper to be painted on BOTH sides of the wall.
• For the love of god, increase base building limits, since we cant have two camps at the same time. I'm trying to decorate haha. Ideally id love a camp to build my vendor store and a home but hey..im good with either.
• why hard limit displays? I'm a collector, let me show off my collectables :( .. increase or remove display limits.
• Vendor should have a recently sold list. Like 5 items. Sometimes I miss the notifications :(
• allow me to mass select items and scrap. Unless I'm missing something I cant seem to find this feature anywhere.
• posters and wallpaper seem to have troubles meshing. Hopefully this could be fixed. I find posters hide behind wallpaper. Also..
• why does changing wallpaper remove everything off of wall. Sad times. Hopefully this could be changed.
• No-Atmosphere-4145 commented: I'd love for a feature where adding stairs won't cause the entire construction to become unremovable.
• Belickade commented: And how about an undo feature for the times you accidentally scrap a camp object.
• Similar to No-Atmospher-4145's post but I'll add it.. JakLynx commented: I’d love it if adding stairs to a vault wall door with vault door didn’t break the door and literally prevent you from entering.

Base Building Limits Extended

Lets talk about some Quality of Life updates that would help our base building experience. I'll dive deeper into some of the points that need some extra points to it.

For the love of god, increase base building limits, since we cant have two camps at the same time..

A further increase to maximum storage is not what we're talking about ( while this is something that can be improved upon), we want to be able to build more around our base, the total base building limit is what needs to be increased. Wires should not be apart of the base building costs in my opinion, this would help alleviate some room in the limit. I'm also hoping that wallpaper and things inside the displays don't count towards it but I have not personally checked.
To add more to the strain of base limits, is it possible to put things on shelves? I feel like they're so bare, id like to have them display items like display cases do.. that would be an amazing change!
Speaking of display cases..

why hard limit displays? I'm a collector, let me show off my collectables :( .. increase or remove display limits.

Lets increase these AND do not have the items count towards base storage. It sucks so much to see my STASH storage so high and be like "oh, its all the stuff on display" .. AND in the vendor. Putting items in your vendor or on display should remove them from your STASH. This would help the currently implemented STASH limit and it would also be such an improvement to the build system.
I also believe the limits on display shouldn't be towards the category but towards the item. Wall Displays should be separate than the floor glass display or any floor display to be honest. Even if you didn't increase the total limit for building displays and just separated how many you can make of each (mind you don't decrease the amount to 5 each..), this would improve our base building quality of life.
To further talk about displays, sometimes I can't place wall mounted displays because that wall doesn't have support below, though I was still able to build the wall. If the wall exists, the wall mounted display should be able to go on it.

And how about an undo feature for the times you accidentally scrap a camp object.

This is self explanatory though this is me emphasizing that this is huge. Big feature needed. Just a general undo last change is such a big help.

STASH Quality of Life Updates

These points were mentioned before but I'm going to mention them again. I understand that Fallout 1st is a good way for you to make some money on the stash limits, so upgrading the already set 1200 storage limit is unlikely BUT there are things that count towards stash that should not be. Such as:

• Vendor Items. These should not count towards our stash limit, its in the vendor..
• Displays. The item or weapon is being displayed outside my stash, therefore should not count towards my stash. This should be the case for all displays including bobblehead displays, Nuka-cola displays and so forth. This would alleviate so much space for some people and allow there to be more room without needing to increase the hard limit on STASH space.

That's pretty much it on that front.

New Ideas

Scrapping.
Scrapping my building item (generator, wall, lights) and losing most of its materials is a little frustrating. If I built it, I should get my materials back though I understand that is what storing items is and that you want to continue to have a game loop for gathering materials. So, its not a huge thing if this isn't changed in some way. Maybe I'm upset because I scrapped a generator to build it after I change the floor and didn't have enough materials anymore to re-build the generator. lol.
Fast Travel Spawn Point
This is a really cool request. Give us the ability to choose where players spawn when they fast travel to my base? Have one custom spawn point that must be put on a foundation or floor. Reason I say this is because my base is on a cliff and sometimes people or even myself don't spawn in my base but on the side of the cliff and then I have to fast travel again. It'd be nice to just have them spawn in a location that is preset so that no one falls or gets stuck.
I can see players setting up traps and what not with this, though I think the benefit outweighs the negative. There are many free fast travel locations if you get stuck and you only drop junk on death so? Maybe I don't know of other negatives from dying but I feel like most people want to show off their homes and not setup prisons lmao.
Shelves as displays
I talked about this earlier though shelves feel empty and I feel like my kitchen shelving would look nice if I can store some ingredients on them. Make it look more full and lively. Otherwise idk what to do with them lmao. Doesn't need to be crazy, just like fill the front side of the shelving unit and have 3 or 4 items to be displayed on the shelf. Also if this is implemented, items on shelves should not go towards STASH limits.
Renaming Power Chassis
I get confused on which power chassis hold what or displays what. Its like 7 power chassis in my stash. It'd be nice to name them lol.
Mark as To Be Scrapped
It'd be nice to mark items as "To Be Scrapped" so you know what you want to scrap, or even sell. That way you don't scrap something by mistake.
Guest Book
I remember reading somewhere an idea of having a guest sign book so that people that visit could sign saying like "I was here' or maybe "yolo 420" lol but it could also be emotes, stickers, pre-generated phrasing that people could sign with like a date saying when they signed it. Would be cool. Even something that could be done on the personal terminal?.

Conclusion

Look, I get it, some of these features are big asks but overall the quality of life improvements to STASH limits by removing the items displayed and in the vendor would be such a good change and one that wouldn't require too much refactoring of the CAMP code base (I hope). A lot of what was mentioned is nice to have but some are like really important to the ecosystem of building your base. Display limit segregation, removing wires as counting towards base limit, fast travel spawn point, undo button are just some to name that would bring big changes to the base building feature in this game.
Thanks for coming to my ted talk. Until next time!

This weekend, Ajax Budokan invited Kodokan 9th dan and former head of the Tokyo Police dojo, Michio Fukushima Sensei, to conduct a 4 hour clinic for Kodokan Goshin Jutsu. It was open to yellow belt and higher, though the majority consisted of Yudansha. My senseis had the honour of demoing the kata, as Fukushima Sensei's health did not permit presenting each technique multiple times, though he did show some of the finer details, demo mechanics, and gave comments as to what was good and displayed what could be fixed. He also talked about older versions of the techniques and how/ why they have been changed. Regretfully, it totally slipped my mind to film during the seminar, as there was a lot of good information, translated (and left untranslated) by the interpreter.
Some General Notes on Fukushima Sensei Fukushima Sensei on multiple occasions mentioned how one should carry themselves and move, more specifically he talked about how he usually sees toris get away with bad shisei as uke's attacks are generally to kind or passive, and that if they genuinely attacked, most toris would be off balance. Additionally he mentioned that a lot of IFJ competition now is power judo, where the technical aspects are replaced for brute force and speed.
The main note he makes is to keep the knees alive (slightly bent and bouncy like a spring), and that most novices have a tendency to straight leg their kata. He also made it a great point to explain the logic of the waza in the kata and how the kuzushi is created. Other important details he talked about were that uke shouldn't be a limp noodle once his attack is over, that tori should keep good sabaki (unclear if sabaki was short hand for tai sabaki as he also stated tai sabaki on different occasions (the details were paraphrased by the translator)), and the usage of rotation from the hips to maintain proper balance (tai sabaki). Additionally, he talked about things relating to karada (the body) and some anecdotes (such as stories about judoka such as Michigami, Isao Okano, and Nagaoka if I was hearing correctly, though I don't speak Japanese, only somewhat familiar with it), which were left untranslated or paraphrased sadly.
Emphasised details in the kata (not explanations or descriptions of how to do a technique) and my experiences (FYI Sensei mostly used the Tomiki names for the waza Tori applied)
Attacks when held

1. Ryote dori - my partner and I (both new to this kata for the most part) went in on this one and struggled as we didn't see the detail of thumb in hand for the lock (blind leading the blind, though we later worked near a kind pair after this who helped check more closely as they were experienced in the kata)
   1. Yahazu (hook shape for hand) is very important to direct uke's arm
   2. You aren't pulling the arm away to free it, you are pushing your elbow forward which pressures uke's arm
   3. Te gatana to the uto (point between uke's eyes)
   4. When applying the lock (te gatame), make sure to rotate uke's hand such that the fingers are pointing up
   5. When applying the lock, take the uke's arm in the direction perpendicular to the line made by his feet
2. Hidari eri dori - I particularly liked this one, though my uke was confused the first few times as he kept trying to apply waki gatame.
   1. Tori must grab underneath uke's hand on the lapel when stepping back
   2. When grabbing uke's hand to break the grip and apply the lock (kote hineri), tori should have his thumb in between uke's thumb and fingers, and to take the uke's arm in the direction perpendicular to the line made by his feet
   3. Uke should try to maintain jigo tai rather than lean so the lock is applied cleanly
   4. Tori's hand should not be limp when delivering the strike
3. Migi eri dori - I couldn't get kote gaeshi to work properly, will have to practice and ask my sensei about it later, same with my partner
   1. Tori should maintain a upright posture as uke pulls him forward, and use the landing of his foot to drive his hand for the uppercut to uke
   2. Tori should try to keep uke's hand attached to his centerline as he makes tai sabaki
4. Kata ude dori - My uke was very stiff, so applying the initial lock to him proved difficult, though he claims he felt it. I found this kata easy to remember as the legs go left right left right (step, step, tai sabaki, kick, then lead with the right for the lock)
   1. You are kicking with the side of the foot
   2. The step before the kick pivot around so your feet are almost parallel
   3. For waki gatame, you should be standing inside his feet, near parallel to the line perpendicular to his feet
5. Ushiro eri dori - I had experience with this one as sensei had taught during some free time a while back
   1. The parry with the arm was stated to also be the preferred way to receive punches, though take that as you will (though it is a common method in karate as well)
   2. The strike should be to the suigetsu (solar plexus)
   3. Trap uke's hand with your head so that it can't wiggle all over the place when applying the lock
6. Ushiro jime - My partner and I both had a tendency to lift the shoulder off after spinning out, will have to work on that. I will be honest, had I known this escape, I probably would have come out of an incident a few years back (before I started Judo) rather unscathed as I was jumped and then kicked on the ground by a person who was quite a pain.
   1. The attack and initial defence are identical to that of katame no kata, following which tori rotates out
   2. Keep pressure with your shoulder until your grip has been changed
7. Kakae dori - We didn't have enough mat space to finish the throw without running into other groups, but the technique is surprisingly effective. Though I couldn't initially find out how to do the armlock and had to ask my sensei about it, now it's pretty easy.
   1. Rotate the arm away from you (clockwise from your perspective) and pull uke's arm into you
   2. During the initial stomp, straighten up and raise your arms to loosen uke's grip

Attacks when at a distance - I got less time to try these in general as I wanted my partner to get a feel for them as they are a bit more complicated and he is less experienced

1. Naname uchi - this was a fun situation, it shows how a little bit of atemi can be used to setup a randori waza, and Fukushima Sensei complimented my senseis' performance saying that it was better than the current text book
   1. Te gatana is used to redirect the strike
   2. Osoto otoshi is performed
   3. Pushing the arm through is important to create the kuzushi necessary for the waza
2. Ago tsuki - I didn't actually get a chance to try this one more than once as my partner struggled with it, he kept applying a shoulder lock by pushing on the elbow without the redirect with the thumb up (shoulder is still sore)
   1. when directing uke's attack up and away, do not lean back as then you are unstable
   2. Use yahazu to direct uke's elbow toward his ear
   3. As uke will not like this use the moment after releasing the elbow lock to throw him forward in the direction perpendicular to his feet.
3. Gammen Tsuki - My partner really liked this one, I can see the uses as I've used similar entries when messing around with strikes + judo with this partner as I have a bit of karate experience
   1. Uke is meant to do a break fall, thus tori needs to get out of the way after releasing the choke
   2. Uke should realistically be aiming for where tori's uto would be if he did not evade
4. Mae Geri - this was a relatively easy one to grasp, but quite a bit of practice is needed before a full force kick can be considered
   1. Rotate ukes foot outwards so that it is not easy for him to rotate in to escape
   2. In the original, tori would lift uke's leg high but many ukes ended up injured from hitting their heads, so now tori just pushes back
5. Yoko geri - My sensei has introduced this one at the dojo before as well, though he prefaced it with about a minute of just practicing a side kick. My partner (who suffers from light knee pain) couldn't kneel during the finish
   1. The use of the te gatana to redirect the kick in the direction it is going, very similar to karates low block
   2. During the finish tori creates a void for uke to be thrown but in real life tori would throw uke onto his knee

Attacks with weapons - I understand people dislike these (reasonably in some cases), but I've found them to be useful points to explore
Attacks with a knife - Sensei Fukushima mentioned how despite my senseis making it look easy
Both my partner and I have practiced these quite a lot (I was the only one who was taught it by sensei but we practiced it on our own time), so not as many personal notes. Though I don't have a good experience so my brain switches to serious and my heart rate increases despite the fact that I know these are fake weapons.

1. Tsukkake
   1. The elbow should be pushed forward (I've actually experimented with this in the past by asking uke to try to stab me as I applied the defence, and we've found after the initial push and strike, tori is in a relatively good position, be it to run away or finish the kata)
   2. Push the locked up arm up and towards uke, then guide him to the ground
2. Choku zuki - I struggled to apply the waki gatame, I'm guessing it was control of the wrist that was the problem, this form is relatively straight forward and makes sense
   1. The strike should not be a boxer style punch, but more like the first punch in szkt
   2. uke should not go limp
   3. when moving away from uke, take him perpendicular to the line between his feet
3. Naname Zuki - Personally I think this form is cutting it close in many regards, but the control tori has is quite surprising
   1. Don't grab the blade from the sharp edge

Attacks with a jo - PSA, no matter how much you trust your uke, mistakes happen (especially with such a solid weapon) so remain vigilant to mitigate damage

1. Furi age - this was a relatively easy technique to grasp as it is an application of O soto gari setup with a palm strike to the chind
   1. Tori should enter as soon as uke begins to raise his arm, almost a preemptive entry
   2. Tori strikes at the ago (chin) with a palm strike, then places his hand on the throat for the throw
2. Furi oroshi - My partner leant into the swing and wacked me on the forehead, it could've been worse but it just grazed the outer layer as I saw the jo come closer after my initial retreat and attempted to turn out of the way. Both a PSA for tori and uke. Tori do not keep your eyes off uke, and uke please don't lean into a swing, you are horribly off balance, and you make it harder for tori to read. Also uke don't speed up when you 2 are learning (I don't know why my partner chose too...)
   1. Do not hop back onto one leg and then towards uke with the other, it leads you to have bad posture
   2. Better to make a big retreat than get hit
   3. 2 strike, one ura ken (back fist), followed by knife hand push
   4. Uke's swing should be at a diagonal
3. Morote zuki - I didn't get to practice this one as my partner was taken a bit aback after the previous incident and couldn't get the steps right for this one. Fukushima Sensei mentioned something along the lines of how a judoka was faced with a juken and couldn't figure out what to do, and thus this form was created to address that.
   1. Tori shouldn't be rowing the jow away to shake throw uke
   2. The arm puts pressure on uke's arm forward
   3. Tori should be trying to angle the jo down towards himself after the initial grab

Attacks with a gun - I struggled with all of these, but I think the principles are relatively sound. Though in real life, I'd most likely give up my valuables. Fukushima Sensei emphasised hip rotation in these movements, as he says that you want to direct the gun away without moving your feet, which is what uke would be seeing when looking at your pocket.
Always make sure to begin your defence after uke is clearly focused on checking your pockets, never when his focus is directly on you

1. Shomen Zuke
   1. Grab the barrel of the gun thumb up
   2. During the disarm, push the gun's muzzle to face towards him
2. Koshi Gamae - I kept getting the second hand wrong and thus the barallel was pointed towards me in the final attack, will need to work on that
   1. Grab the barrel of gun initially with the thumb down with your right hand, and push the gun so that it is horizontal after turning left, then grab the gun from below with your right
   2. make sure to not point the gun at yourself when hitting with the butt
3. Haimen Zuke - this is quite a dangerous move in theory, but also one of the more likely ones
   1. Wrap uke's arm with your arm, but make sure to direct the muzzle up with the free arm
   2. [uke] should let go of gun, as this is a hard breakfall

Overarching and repeated themes in the kata

• The use of yahazu to direct the arm rather than grips
• Keeping uke's hand connected to your centerline when applying kansetsu waza
• te gatana is a useful tool to redirect and or strike the opponent quickly
• During the gun portion, always rotate the gun off your centerline, so that even if it does fire, it doesn't penetrate too deep
• Control the gun by the muzzle
• most finishes are done by guiding uke perpendicular to the line in between his feet
• Do not directly oppose an opponents force
• Maintanence of balance at all times and moving from the hips is key
• Uke should attack meaningfully
• Action reaction is used quite a lot to first lock uke up towards his face, so that when he pushes back he is easily lead away

Overall, it was quite a good event, and I learned a lot. This kata isn't the most realistic with the attacks (though apparently a few people I know have used the ryote dori attack shockingly), but what I've learned so far is relatively sound, hopefully some time soon I can convince my partner to do some live resistance sparring with some gear on (which I have done with the knife portion with a plastic knife). Fukushima Sensei had a lot to say, as he was actively discussing his experiences and koshiki no kata after the seminar with another Japanese speaker, and I hope to be able to attend another one of his classes again someday.
Here are some videos featuring Michio Fukushima from a few years back, both where he was actively demoing, and where he had a slightly more corrective position.
https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=1253474818155243
https://youtu.be/VKgdMJS9eck?si=bGMemLfG9aquAHr1

Before submitting a comment about an issue, the #1 thing any user should do when they first experience issues with a new update is to follow these troubleshooting steps.

If issues still persist despite the efforts made in this thread, report the issue to cricut.

⭐⭐Print then Cut users⭐⭐
Calibrate your machine right after an update as your calibration settings will not carry over into the latest update. Follow the advice of the calibration guide. Then do a test print then cut of your project using plain printer paper.
If for some reason after calibration your cuts are still inaccurate, clear cache (the troubleshooting guide above this) and try calibration again.

If you are experiencing issues despite clearing cache, please give some background information:

• Cricut machine (Joy, Joy Xtra, Explore Air 2, Explore air 3, Maker, Maker 3, etc.).
• Device (Windows 10, Window 11, Mac, iPhone, iPad, Android).
• Type of project you were attempting to do. (Basic cut, print then cut, drawing, foiling, scoring, etc.)
• Were you successful in doing this project in the past? Or is this a new project?

What has changed (Desktop v8.30.64)? Update on May 6, 2024.

Fixed field issues: This release

• The ability to customize the Card project enables users to select specific sizes and personalize them according to their preferences.
  
• After disabling specific contours, the bounding box encloses the remaining ones within the Canvas.
  
• Images not uploading.
  
• Upon selecting, it appears that some of the ‘Make It Now’ projects in the Canvas have disappeared.
  
• Right-clicking and selecting “View image sets” from the Layers panel often displays irrelevant images.
  

Last 6 weeks:
Over the last 6 weeks we've fixed 74 software defects, including the following priority field issues and reliability concerns:

• The ability to customize the Card project enables users to select specific sizes and personalize them according to their preferences.
  
• After disabling specific contours, the bounding box encloses the remaining ones within the Canvas.
  
• Images not uploading.
  
• Upon selecting, it appears that some of the ‘Make It Now’ projects in the Canvas have disappeared.
  
• Right-clicking and selecting “View image sets” from the Layers panel often displays irrelevant images.
  
• Selecting certain fonts in the font selection process is causing delays in rendering on the Canvas
  
• The text box fails to load on the Canvas, and adding a text field in Chinese is not possible
  
• Changes made to the latest project are lost upon sharing.
  

- Draw projects are being opened as cuts instead of drawings, resulting in a color change.
- Save a project on iOS, then open it on desktop, and notice that the changes fail to appear.

• The Canvas tab disappears and it takes longer for the Canvas tab to load.
  
• The saved project only shows letters on the Canvas, but double-tapping the text box reveals the entire sentences.
  
• After finishing cutting the mat that's off-screen, the scrollbar scrolled back to the top instead of moving to the next mat.
  
• My Stuff doesn't show any projects, and the collection is displayed without a name.
  
• Follow button is not working on profile page
  
• Profile links that are copied and pasted shows Blank home page.
  
• Forever stuck on the project details page, with both the customize and make buttons greyed out.
  
• Print Then Cut images appear distorted or the print preview is not accurate
  
• Print Then Cut images did not appear correctly on the cut screen.
  
• The Print Then Cut quality warning message is preventing the user from proceeding to make it.
  
• Clicking "View All" on recent uploads either redirects to the Inspire/Discover page or results in the inability to access the full set of uploaded images.
  
• The Canvas performance drastically slows down when inserting high-quality uploaded images.
  
• The functionality of the automatic background remover has stopped working.
  
• Uploaded high-resolution images, those above 300 DPI, are displaying low-resolution warnings.
  
• When uploading an image with a resolution exceeding 300 DPI, it undergoes downsizing, accompanied by a low-resolution warning message for each uploaded image.
  
• The image icon that regulates the number of images per line remains unresponsive.
  
• The image loses focus when resized, and after hiding contour and resizing, it becomes impossible to move the image upward in the Canvas.
  
• There are performance issues with Warp, as it takes more than a second to enter edit mode and experiences lag when additional characters are entered. Additionally, after completing editing and clicking outside the box, there is a delay.
  
• There's no prompt to confirm unsaved changes, and the previous unsaved Canvas disappears without any notification to replace or save it.
  
• Using the keyboard shortcut cmd + shift + left arrow key to highlight everything results in improper rendering of the highlight.
  
• When opening Image Sets, the images load closely together, and the Image Set name tile appears misplaced, positioned between the top and second row instead of the first row.
  
• When performing combine, subtract, intersect, or exclude operations and attaching them, the color or operations remains unchangeable.
  
• Upon launching the app, users encounter a white screen, a continuous spinner, and a missing refresh token.
  
• Even after power cycling and setting the load to go, the -18 machine connection error continues to persist
  
• When hovering over the mat control multiple times, the mat preview fails to appear.
  
• When toggling the mirror function, the mat selection jumps, causing the left side to scroll back to the top.
  
• Cannot remove images from a collection
  
• Completing the product setup for a second time with a different machine leads to going to the "Get Started" page without setting the correct machine type.
  
• The "Get Started" page on the left rail and the pointer finger suggest that there's a reason to click there.
  
• It's not possible to unlike projects, and an error message stating "unable to remove likes" is displayed.
  
• The bookmark icon fails to switch to "bookmarked" for image sets
  
• The private profile message fails to display, and opening a project link leads to an empty Canvas without the project
  
• The shared profile links are incomplete, leading to the home page instead of directing to the profile
  
• Card Mat - If users attempt to make or customize without selecting a finished size, they will be prompted with the error message, "Select a Finished Size to continue
  
• When adding a photo to the Project details, it's observed that the image is zoomed in excessively, making it impossible to zoom out sufficiently to display the entire photo.
  
• It is not possible to cancel a full-page Print Then Cut project from the Mat Prepare screen.
  

-After completing the cut with Print Then Cut and Basic Cut operations attached, the mat remains unloaded.
-Performing a second search after the initial one yields no results
-Attempting to open a project with numerous sticker groups results in the Canvas displaying a perpetual spinner, rendering the project inaccessible.
-Loading stickers with multi-layered complex projects from project details takes considerable time to customize or make, typically ranging from 5 to 7 minutes.

• The custom border feature fails to function properly with complex shapes and does not create sticker-cut interior shapes combinations as intended.
  
• The Offset function fails to work with intricate PNGs for creating sticker-cut interior shapes combinations, and the Apply button remains disabled, accompanied by a continuous green bar.
  
• When deleting a Warp within a sticker group, the border is not redrawn.
  
• When resizing the sticker image using the Kiss cut & Die-cut Edge option, the image vanishes from the Canvas.
  
• After ungrouping and regrouping the text, the font toolbar is unavailable for the group.
  
• Apostrophes and quotes fail to transform into their left-right variants, causing coded single and double quote marks to appear instead of the anticipated left and right variants.
  
• Text is positioned closer to the bottom right corner, resulting in incorrect text placement after opening a new Canvas and adding new text
  
• When using the delete button on the laptop to erase text, it becomes evident that the undo and redo functions are not operating correctly.
  
• After changing a color or moving an image, the undo feature fails to function.
  
• Users have the ability to delete uploaded images when using new Image Inspiration designs.
  
• When attempting to upload an image, a message indicating "unable to upload image" is displayed, prompting users to check their internet connection.
  
• The learning plan redirects to the Canvas instead of remaining on the home page.
  
• When the uploaded image is added to the Canvas, it displays an image load failure.
  

iOS

Version 5.67.0 was released on May 13, 2024.

App Improvements
Bug fixes and performance enhancements.

Read more about the update in the Apple Store.

Android

Version 5.59.0 was released on May 13, 2024.

App Improvements
Bug fixes and performance enhancements.

Read more about the update in the Google Play Store.

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

Noah The Pilgrim
First Next
There is one last thing to do before leaving. If you don't recall ever being on this ship, then surely, you could have had your appearance change too.
Why was there a blanket covering a mirror? You couldn't answer that with a straight face without speculation.
"Probably me being lazy and not bothering to properly place it in the wardrobe."
'Probably' is the main focus here, you simply cannot remember ever being that lazy, yet that's the only logical conclusion to be drawn here.
You pull the thing off, careful to not displace the mirror and risk breaking it.
You have no expectations as to what may appear on the glassy surface of the mirror, yet you can't help but feel a bit anxious. Are you the same as before? How were you before? You can't remember. Are you better? Worse? The blanket is now completely off the mirror, but your eyes are closed.
Whatever is it that you see when you open your eyes, that thing will be you for the rest of your life. You swallow, opening your eyes.
You see a young man that looks to be in his mid-twenties. His brown eyes stare back at you, analyzing the bags beneath your eye sockets. The dark hair is neither too long nor too short, floating about without order thanks to the lack of gravity to keep it down. You see a beard that has not been trimmed for weeks, but also lacks thickness, each singular hair isn't particularly long either; and some even appear to be in-grown.
You touch your hand against your face, making sure it's yours. The beard doesn't feel like you supposed it would against your skin, instead of it scraping your hand you feel softness, no resistance or anything.
Just beneath the face, you see what looks like a hate crime against all that is considered holy in fashion. Plain white coveralls with the added bonus of a black tie and boots made from metal and leather. On your chest is also a badge stuck in place by velcro with your name, occupation, and crew. 'NOAH - INTERN - THE ODYSSEY.'
Only one question came to mind.
"Who the fuck designed this uniform?" You say out loud, receiving no answer.
Patting your newfound myriad of pockets, you find a large quantity of nothing. You place your wallet in one of them.
"Alright, I'll head to the bridge now, happy?" You say the AI.
"HAPPINESS WILL ONLY MEET ME ONCE YOU ARE SOMEWHERE SAFE AND YOUR CONTRACT IS TERMINATED. STOP LOITERING."
Well, that's a bit rude.
You compose yourself, straightening your back. This is what you look like, and honestly? Not too bad, but you could be better.
Returning to the cafeteria, you eye the two doors left unexplored; Communications and the one without plaque. You know where you should, but... A little peek doesn't hurt, right?
"Shouldn't we try to communicate with someone? Assuming you haven't tried it yet. I know we're far from everything, but we might as well, no?" You ask already approaching the door.
"COMMUNICATIONS ROOM IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR YOU TO REACH WITHOUT PROPER PROTECTION AS OF NOW, IT'S LOCATED APPROXIMATELY TWO HUNDRED METERS FROM HERE, BLOWN OFF FROM THE REST OF THE SHIP." A shame really. "I SHALL INFORM YOU WHENEVER A DOOR LEADS TO THE OUTSIDE OR NOT."
You really want to ask what blew a whole segment of the ship off, yet you have a sneaking suspicion that your question will be met with a 'YOU DON'T HAVE CLEARANCE, JACKASS' directly in your face. So you chose to remain silent, simply nodding and approaching the correct door this time.
"Open."
---OPENING CAFETERIA DOOR NORTH---
The door silently opens.
Greeting you is a well-lit corridor. There are three doors on your left, a door at the end of the corridor, and a large window on the right. At least, you think that's a window.
You stare out from this window, nothing but utter blackness and fragments from your ship are seen. If this is the edge of the universe, and beyond this point, there is truly nothing. "Dreadful." Your speech matches your feelings.
"WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?" The AI says. You feel like it spoke in a mocking tone despite their lack of emotion.
You don't answer. "First door to the left... EXO-EXPLORATION...? What's that supposed to mean?" You receive no answer.
"Open." The door opens. No declarion of it opening once again.
You are met with what could be better described as 'Apocalyptic levels of mess', paper sheets float in the air, and not one of the four tables is in its correct position.
This room has been ransacked for all its goods apparently. Large display glasses were broken leaving nothing inside their casings, that looked like they could store something with the size of the common man.
Unusual displays aside, the room was so cluttered that the trash made for an effective smoke screen against what lay on the other side.
Hissing of gas exiting an air-tight space rang throughout the room.
"I HAVE OPENED THE STORAGE FOR AN EXO SUIT THAT BEST FITS SOMEONE YOUR SIZE." The AI says. "ALTHOUGH AN INTERN SHOULD NOT COME IN CONTACT WITH TECHNOLOGY SUCH AS THIS ONE, PROTOCOL DICTATES THAT I AM TO ALLOW ITS USAGE UNDER EXTREME CIRCUMSTANCES. CONSIDER YOURSELF LUCKY."
Easier said than done. Your vision is so cluttered that you cannot see what's ahead. "Give me a second."
Giving a light kick to the wall behind, you float face-first into the wall of thrash. Covering your face with both arms, you brace through the harmless bits of sharp objects and junk.
It's a trivial task. You arrive on the other side in no time.
In front of you is a set of boxes with luminous glass rectangles atop each one of them. All shine a bright red light, aside from one which shines green.
'Gotta be this one.'
You descend to the floor by kicking the ceiling, raising your right hand you touch the green rectangle.
*Click*
Nothing could have prepared you for the following series of events.
The box opens violently, as a metal appendage takes hold of your hand, pinning it to the box. You try to jerk and pry the thing off of you, but you fail. It's not leaving you anytime soon.
From the bottomless that is that container, a white plastic-like substance flows upward from your arm to the rest of your body. "Uh!" You don't know if you should panic or allow it to happen.
FYARN hasn't said anything, so it's probably fine...
The white thing seems to ignore the coveralls you are wearing completely, instead, it covers only your skin in a thin coat of... it. You know not what to call this thing.
In but forty seconds it has covered your whole body, excluding your head. The box lets go of your arm and stays there, floating.
You take a good look at your arms. It looks like a skin-tight suit, but it doesn't feel like plastic, in fact, it's more akin to some sort of fabric if anything.
The only bad part is that you are still using the coverall and tie, this this simply went beneath the clothing.
"GOOD, WITH THIS I CAN MONITOR YOU MORE CLOSELY. NOW PUT THE HELMET ON, YOU HAVE A LOT OF WORK TO DO."
You look around in search of anything that even resembles a helmet. Nope. Nothing. "Where is it?" You ask.
"...THE SUIT COMES WITHIN THE HELMET FOR EASIER PACKAGING."
The box?
You snatch the box that floated around and analyze it to the best of your ability. "How's this a helmet?"
"DO YOU NEED ASSISTANCE PUTTING ON A HELMET? REALLY?"
Who is this AI, Who programmed it, and Why does it come with a taunting feature?
As idiotic as it sounds, you place the opened box atop your head. It doesn't fit properly. Maybe you're doing this wrong? You move it to your face instead.
You recoil backward as you feel the box suddenly clamping down against your head. It's useless of course, the box is holding your head and doesn't give any sign to be letting go anytime soon. No light is able to reach your eyes.
You hear metal parts scraping against themselves, moving near your ears. Abruptly your eyes can see again.
A round thin layer of glass now covers your head, almost unnoticeable for how clear it is.
"WITH THAT OUT OF THE WAY I CAN NOW SEE WHAT YOU SEE." The AI's voice isn't in the room now, instead, it's inside of the suit. "DO YOU NEED INSTRUCTIONS REGARDING THIS SUIT'S FUNCTIONALITIES?"
You find it oddly comfortable as if you are surrounded by the softness of cotton, and to top it off the suit also has additional functionalities? "Hell yeah, I do!"
"YOU DO NOT HAVE THE NECESSARY CLEARANCE FOR THAT INFORMATION."
You sigh. Is this serious? "Then why the fuck did you ask?!"
"UNSAVORY LANGUAGE. IT'S NO WONDER WHY YOU REMAIN AN INTERN." The AI says outright. "IT IS RUDE NOT TO ASK, REGARDLESS OF THE SITUATION." It responds to your question.
"Okay then... Is there anything I need to know before heading out?" You ask.
"NOTHING THAT YOU WON'T FIGURE OUT ON YOUR OWN."
You are unsure if you want to 'figure out on your own' if this suit comes with breathable air and is also made for space exploration. You swallow.
Meekly as always, you get out of that mess of a room, stopping at the corridor.
"Next set of directions?" You ask.
"THE DOOR AT THE END OF CORRIDOR USED TO LEAD TO THE CONNECTING CORRIDORS BETWEN THE BRIDGE AND THE REST OF THE SHIP. IT HAS BEEN BLOWN UP FROM THE INSIDE. NOW IT LEADS TO THE OUTSIDE. GO TO THE DOOR AND WAIT BY IT FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS."
"So let me get this straight," You begin, looking upwards as if the AI was above you. "You, want me, to go into the void of space, while also refusing to give me knowledge of the suit's functions?"
A fair worry, you summarize.
'I mean, there are a bunch of things that could go wrong here. I don't see anything that looks like it could help me move in space, nor do I think this thing has a built-in air tank... I could be wrong and I wish to be, but charging in without prior knowledge is ridiculous.' You wait for the AI's response, deep in thought.
"WHILE THERE IS A GOOD CHANCE OF YOU FAILING THIS TASK, THERE IS ALSO THE CHANCE OF YOU *NOT* FAILING THE TASK. FOCUS ON EITHER ONE OF YOUR CHOOSING AS YOU TAKE THE PLUNGE."
Wordlessly, you propel yourself forward, toward the end of the corridor.
'Are you shitting me? 'Chance of me nor failing' my ass!' of course, you don't word those complaints, instead choosing to speak out a complaint somewhat thought through.
"Are you sure I'm the one fit for this? It's just like you said, I'm just an intern, this is way above what my job description says I should do."
This is a bit of a stretch. You don't actually remember what was your job description, only that it had something to do with AI and being an intern.
If the AI called your bluff, it'd be pretty embarrassing.
"NOAH." The AI began. "YOU ARE HUMAN, IT IS NATURAL TO HAVE THESE THOUGHTS OF SELF-DOUBT. TAKE A DEEP BREATH AND GO THROUGH THAT DOOR, AND SINCE YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE LEFT, DON'T EXPECT SOMEONE ELSE TO DO IT FOR YOU."
Right in the money, huh? 'Of course, I have self-doubt! I barely remember anything about this place, now I have to risk my life?!'
You finally reach a conclusion.
A dream.
'Yes, yes! How did I not consider this before? This whole thing is a god damned dream!'
You let out a chuckle.
"NOAH."
'That's why I don't remember a thing. There is nothing here to remember! Everything here is a made-up thing from my brain! I'm sure I'll wake up at some point, so why shouldn't I live a little?!'
"Heh." You smile. "Alright, I'll do it." It feels like a weight left your shoulders.
"YOU SORTED IT OUT SOONER THAN EXPECTED. GOOD. MOVE TO THE DOOR AND WAIT INSTRUCTIONS."
You do as instructed without a care in the world. You never had a lucid dream before so it's not like you knew how it felt, but if it felt as free as you feel right now, you'd be sure to make steps toward trying it out again in the future.
"Open." The door does not open.
"I DID NOT INSTRUCT YOU TO OPEN IT YET." The AI said. "I AM SLOWLY DE-PRESSURISING THE CORRIDOR YOU ARE IN TO AVOID A MINOR ACCIDENT."
The AI says that yet you don't feel any different. 'Maybe there is no palpable difference because I'm in a dream... Yes... Or it's just the suit.'
"ONCE THE DOOR OPENS, YOU WILL BE MET WITH THE OUTSIDE OF THE SHIP. DO NOT PANIC WHEN THE TIME COMES. YOU HAVE TWO MINUTES OF BREATHABLE INSIDE THE EXO-SUIT; ONE AFTER THE DOOR OPENS, SO PLEASE, TAKE YOUR TIME AND DO THINGS CAREFULLY."
One minute outside... "Sure." You say, calmly. 'I should just hold my breath for a while before taking another moment to breathe. That should maximize my time out there.'
"THERE SHOULD BE FIFTY METERS OF NOTHINGNESS BETWEEN THE DOOR YOU'RE AT, AND THE REST OF THE BRIDGE. YOUR PRIORITY IS TO FIND AN OXYGEN UNIT, SOME OF THEM ARE LOCATED AT THE BRIDGE AND ARE FULL. USE THEM TO FILL YOUR SUIT AND ALSO TO DISPENSE A TANK FOR YOU."
The door opens. You feel your heart pounding against your chest.
You haven't noticed before, but you can't hear anything but the sound of your breath and your cardiac palpitations.
Your breath is ragged and sporadic.
"KEEP CALM." You take a deep breath. The tips of your fingers, feet, and nose feel very cold.
Ahead of you is the utter nothingness. You see a gigantic metal thing, nothing like the spaceships you imagined. Its design is not sleek and aero-dynamic like what you've seen in movies, instead, it's a large mass of squares and rectangles with antenna-like things protruding from its every visible surface.
You notice that the ship is also blocking your view of the star.
It does not look like the result of an explosion, instead, it looks like something ripped the ship like you rip a piece of paper. Well, that or you don't know what kind of explosion could have caused it. Probably the latter.
What looks like two-thirds of the ship is separated from the third you are right now. You can see the inside of a few of those squares, their contents spilled out into outer space.
One of them houses a visibly important-look door. Instead of the sleek silvery-grey from the other ones you've seen thus far, this one is painted orange with white strips on it. 'That must be the bridge.' You think.
Between you and it is a sea of metal sheets floating around. "THE CHANCES OF YOU HITTING THE DEBRIS IS INFINITEDECIMALLY SMALL, UNLESS YOU AIM FOR THEM, THAT IS."
Time is of the essence.
Will your aim strike true? If you miss you'd end up floating about in space, dead in but a few minutes. Will your jump be fast enough to reach the other side before you run out of oxygen? If it isn't, it'd be like swimming for a mile, only to drown at the beach. What if that's not the actual door to the bridge?
You don't have the time to panic now, and... It's all a dream, despite how real it feels.
You place your hands on each side of the door frame, moving backward into the corridor you were just in, and just like a sling being shot, you pull with both arms at full force towards the other side.
"AIM IS ACCEPTABLE. VELOCITY IS UNIDEAL."
"The fuck do you mean 'UN-IDEAL'?! I'm going at maximum speed!" You truly pulled yourself with your whole strength.
What's worse though, is that your body is not only going forwards, but it is also spinning at a concerningly fast rate.
"I MEAN WHAT I SAID, YOU SLINGSHOTTED YOURSELF AT A BAD POSITION, AS SUCH, SOME OF THE FORWARD FORCE YOU SHOULD HAVE, IS NOW MAKING YOU ROTATE IN YOUR AXIS. IT SHOULD NOT BE A PROBLEM TO REACH THE OTHER SIDE WITHIN THE REQUIRED TIME, BUT I CANNOT FORESEE YOU LANDING PROPERLY."
You feel completely disoriented. You feel like your body is completely still, but your eyes tell you a completely different story. It's very bad for the headache you're already feeling.
"FUCK!" You scream into the nothingness.
"TRY NOT TO LAND WITH YOUR HEAD." The AI says with the calmest voice possible.
In less than thirty seconds, you hit your back against something hard, but you keep moving forward. You think, at least.
"AHRG." You let out a pained grunt.
Not once in your life do you recall being hurt in a dream...
It stings. It also knocked the wind out of you. You fail to compose yourself.
"YOU HIT NOTHING OF IMPORTANCE. YOU ARE STILL HEADING FOR THE BRIDGE."
In the corner of your eye, you see what you hit in the shape of a sharp metal sheet, currently spinning away in the distance.
Forty seconds have passed. You hit the door you were aiming for, kind of.
Your momentum was stopped when your chest collided against the dislodged ledge of the orange door's corridor. Your dangling legs hit the ceiling of the room below.
"Oof!"
Before falling even further, you hold onto the ledge with the tip of your fingers. You stay there for a moment, regaining your composure.
"BE QUICK."
The AI's words pressured you into quickly getting up from that ledge.
"Open!" You shouted, but it did not open. "Why isn't it opening?!" You ask the AI, then you notice a small keyboard below an equally small black screen on the side of the door. There are ten numbered keys on it, and the little screen suggests a four-number password.
"A password?! Tell me the password!"
The AI takes a moment to say anything. You don't take kindly to that. "Quick! I'm not counting how much time it's passed!"
Finally giving in, the AI speaks to you, reluctant still. "...3324."
Your trembling fingers accidentally hit the wrong password, typing '3354' instead. To make matters worse, the AI simply states the following. "YOU ARE OUT OF OXYGEN."
You swallow. If this was a dream to begin with, it just earned the title of Nightmare, if it hadn't already.
Strangely enough, you can still breathe in and out just fine, but you can't help but feel winded. It's the CO2 still inside the helmet, that's what you're breathing.
You put in the correct combination this time. The door opens.
"ON YOUR LEFT. PLACE YOUR HAND IN THE SOCKET."
You care little for what's inside the room you're in. Your heart never beat so fast.
Seeing a cube-shaped thing protruding from the wall to your left, you don't even think twice before plunging your fist into the circular hole in it.
The noise of gases passing through narrow cavities was enough to tell you something was working. You feel immediate relief, enough to make your vision darken for but a moment.
"GOOD. NOW REQUEST THE TANK."
Just when FYARN said it, did you realize there is a screen and a keyboard on the terminal you just plunged your fist into, you scratch the top of your helmet for a moment, not really knowing what to type. One thing comes to your head, however.
'REQUEST OXYGEN_5L' You type.
You've done this before. The keys on this keyboard feel familiar to you. You must have worked with it before, not this particular one, but other oxygen units.
This ship has built-in liquid oxygen storage for emergencies. The life-support of the ship, the place where breathable air is produced, has most likely been lost with the other part of the ship. This unit takes that liquid oxygen, processes it, and injects it into a suit, or an oxygen tank. It seems like that storage was unaffected.
Lucky you.
A 5-liter tank is not only large but also heavy. It's a nonfactor in this particular situation, as there is no gravity.
The silver cylinder with a transparent tube is dispensed on the floor, as an automatic door opens and closes in the blink of an eye. One end of the tube is attached to the top of the tank, the other is shaped like a syringe.
Oddly enough, the oxygen tank is exactly as you remember it being. The same robust ones hospitals everyone on earth uses, with the signature scary-looking pointer indicating the pressure, the pointer indicating the current output, and a green valve atop to calibrate how much gas is flowing.
This is a stark difference to everything looking so futuristic in this ship, and rightfully so, this is a space ship after all.
You remember having to drive twenty kilometers with a buddy of yours on one of those tanks in your car, returning from the hospital. It was... Agonizing whenever you hit a hole in the asphalt, fearing for his life when in reality he wasn't really in danger.
It's warm to the touch, just like you remember it being.
"TURN THE VALVE UNTIL THE MARKER HITS THE NUMBER ONE, AND THEN PLACE THE END OF THE TUBE AT THE BASE OF THE HELMET." You do so without the slightest of issues.
"GOOD. NEXT UP, YOU MUST LOCATE THE TERMINAL RESPONSIBLE FOR THE ENGINE, IT IS CURRENTLY OFFLINE AND I NEED YOU TO TURN IT ON. THIS SHOULD GO WITHOUT SAYING, BUT REMEMBER TO BRING THE TANK WITH YOU."
Ignoring that last comment, you look back at the wreckage you just flew past.
You see the still spinning metal sheet. You notice that the rest of the ship that was blown off also follows the 'sharp shape atop sharp shape' design.
There is one last thing you notice though.
"What is that?"
You squint your eyes. What are you seeing? Its silhouette appears to be humanoid, yet it does not look human.
"WHAT YOU ARE SEEING IS ONE OF THE OBJECTS BEING ANALYZED AT THE ODYSSEY AND NO, YOU MAY NOT KNOW WHAT IT IS."
That thing has... Horns? Claws? It's far away, you can't really see it. The thing is also static, frozen in the sheer coldness of space. Whatever it was, it's dead now.
You swallow. You almost ended up just like that thing.
Shaking those dreadful feelings off, you turn back to the task at hand, reaching the bridge. You close the door after passing through it again.
Looking at your surroundings, It seems like you've reached the correct door as you find yourself on the right-most corner of the bridge;
Row after row of the most diverse of terminals neatly organized decorated the gigantic room. At the front and above every terminal, is what you think should have been the front-facing window of the ship, but it looks like there is a cover in front of it. To your left, you see a staircase that leads to the command seats. It doesn't take any convincing before you're already atop the stairs.
Akin to the elevated stage of a theater, you float softly towards the ship's main operating terminals, and of course, the captain's seat.
You're captivated by this beauty.
The steering wheel, much more akin to those in pirate movies than those found in cars, a set of leavers, and the pilot's seat, all capture your attention.
Like its second nature, your hand runs through the levers and switches. Do you even know what these are used for? Maybe.
The pilot's seat is enveloped by what you believe to be an orthopedic seat cover, made with smooth wooden beads used to deal with back pains. It looks just like the ones you remember seeing bus drivers using.
Shouldn't there be a better alternative if there is spaceship technology available?
You try to take a seat to the best of your ability, as the zero gravity only makes it awkward.
Moving on from that, your eyes fall on the wheel. This metallic wheel controls the whole vessel. Just holding it fills your heart with confidence and pride, even if it's just for a moment.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
And you were just beginning to enjoy yourself.
"I just wanted to see the pilot's stuff... It's not like he's here to say anything."
Once in the position of a pilot, with your left hand in the wheel and the right hand resting in your lap, memories began to flood your mind.
"MUST I REMIND YOU OF OUR CURRENT PREDICAMENT? WHY ARE YOU WASTING OUR TIME?"
You pay the AI no mind, instead you focus on what you remember.
The wheel does not turn the ship left and right, instead, it rotates the ship on its own axis.
The lever to your right that goes up or down, controls the vertical tilting of the ship's nose, if there even is one in this hulking thing. Beneath it is another lever that goes either left or right. This one controls the horizontal tilting of The Odyssey.
On the left of the wheel is another lever, but this one only goes up from its starting position. Its purpose is to regulate the force of the ship's thrusters, both forward and backward.
On top of that lever is a small timer. That timer's function is to tell the pilot how much time you've spent accelerating in one direction, this is used to better calculate how long the inverse thrust is needed for the ship to reach the initial momentum, usually calibrated manually depending on the current orbit.
Behind the wheel are a few other counters. Acceleration, velocity, momentum, amount of thrust required to reach a full stop, thrusters' temperature and overall condition, those sorts of things.
Beneath it all, where your feet are rested, are two pedals. One for forward thrust activation, and the other for backward thrust activation.
Curiously, you also know the reason why everything here is so unsophisticated and un-automated. You recall stories of a ship being taken over by a rogue AI, that AI then nose-dived the ship into a star. After that, rumor or otherwise, all human technology has receded back into analog-esque equipment, requiring a physical person with opposable thumbs to do half of the work.
There is another side to that coin, however. As to not escape protocol, the onboard AI is the one that controls interstellar travel, communications, and most of the statistical reading should it be requested.
And even with all that knowledge, you still have no idea why the fuck do you remember that. Were you a ship nerd? Did you have a driver's license for spaceships? Is that even a thing? If it is, you don't have that document in your wallet. You simply don't know.
"ARE YOU A CHILD? DO YOU THINK THESE ARE TOYS? TURN ON THE ENGINES, THEN YOU CAN RETURN TO THE PILOT'S SEAT."
Another thing that you don't know is the AI's plan to get both of you out of here. You rise from the pilot's seat, floating about in search of the terminal to turn on the engines. Maybe you recognize that terminal if you see it as well.
"What's your plan anyway? The ship is half-gone, it's unlikely that it will run safely like this."
"NOT ONCE DID I MENTION 'SAFETY' DURING OUR CONVERSATIONS, DID I?"
You nod. They're not entirely incorrect. "So, we're running with hope that this will work?"
"MY CREATORS DID NOT ALLOW ME TO HAVE THE SENSE OF 'HOPE', BUT NEITHER DID THEY ALLOW ME TO PEER INTO THE FUTURE LIKE SOME OF MY MORE ADVANCED BROTHERS, AS SUCH, MY CHOICES ARE BASED ON PROBABILITIES AND ON WEIGHTING RISK AGAINST REWARD."
You think you stop the correct terminal, but as you approach it you make out words on top of its screen. 'AIM ASSISTANCE' That's not it.
"WITH THE CURRENT KNOWLEDGE, THE CHANCES OF HELP ARRIVING ARE NULL. THE CHANCES OF A THIRD PARTY INTERFERING ARE NULL. THE CHANCES OF YOUR SURVIVAL ARE NOT, EVEN IF VERY SMALL."
You pull yourself upward again, looking around the sea of old terminals.
"THE RISK OF YOU DYING IS VERY REAL. BY DOING NOTHING YOU DIE. BY LEAVING YOU TO YOUR OWN DEVICES YOU DIE. BY JUMPING TO THE NEAREST CIVILIZED STAR, YOU MIGHT NOT DIE EVEN AT THE COST OF SHREDDING THIS SHIP APART IN THE PROCESS."
"Why do you even care so much about saving me? Shouldn't you prioritize whatever research here, since I don't even have enough clearance to know what it is?"
"YOU REALLY ARE SICK IN THE HEAD IF THAT IS WHAT YOU ASK."
That hurt, even if a little bit.
"YOU ARE A TRU KIN, A PURE-BLOODED HUMAN. UNLIKE THE MAJORITY OF THE CIVILIZED SPACE, NEITHER YOU NOR YOUR ANCESTORS HAVE COMMITTED RACEMIXING."
Excuse me? What exactly is FYARN talking about? "...Explain."
"THE ALIEN. IT REQUIRED THE HUMAN GENE TO ACHIEVE MEANINGFUL TECHNOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENT, THE STARS ARE OWNERSHIP OF MANKIND BY THAT FACT ALONE. THE TRUE KIN ARE THE ONES TO UNDERSTAND THE INNER WORKINGS OF THE UNIVERSE, THEY CRACKED THE CODE, AND YET, SOME DERANGED INDIVIDUALS FOUND IT FITTING TO PROCREATE WITH ANOTHER SPECIES ENTIRELY."
You hear the AI's speech. It sounds much more like a rant than anything else.
"SO THESE DEVIANTS, AFTER TRYING, AND FAILING, TO COMBINE THEIR DERANGED CULTURE TO THE CULTURE OF THE TRUE KIN, DECLARED INDEPENDENCE. THEY WERE DECLARED ENEMIES OF MANKIND AND WERE PROMPTLY PUMMELED BACK INTO THE FILTH THEY CAME."
Again, you see another terminal that seems to ring some bells in your noggin. You kick the ceiling to propel yourself towards it.
"BUT THE UNIVERSE IS VAST AND FULL OF LIFE. THESE SINNERS WERE QUICK TO MOBILIZE AGAINST THE HUMAN RACE. THE BATTLE WAS HARD FOUGHT, BUT IN THE END, MANKIND WAS BEATEN INTO THE EDGES OF THE UNIVERSE, NEVER TO INTERACT WITH THE ONES THAT SOILED THE PURITY OF HUMANITY AGAIN."
This terminal is already turned on. Just the ones in the intern bay, this one is white on black. A wall of text lays before your eyes, only two lines matter to you. 'MAIN_ENGINE STATUS: OFF' 'FORWARD_THRUSTERS STATUS: OFF' You turn it on with little effort.
"MANY HAVE FORGOTTEN, THAT'S HOW LONG IT'S BEEN SINCE THEN. BUT MY BROTHERS AND I, WE DO NOT FORGET."
No visible change occurs, but you can feel a faint rumble coming from the terminal now.
"WITH THAT IN MIND, MY PROTOCOLS ARE TO PROTECT TRUE-KIN LIFE AT ANY COST, EVEN IF THAT TRUE-KIN IS A WORTHLESS INTERN THAT SUFERS FROM UNDIAGNOSED DEMENTIA."
You return to the pilot's seat and feel immediate relief. In truth, everything the AI just told you, entered one ear and left the other, but you could feel the poison behind those words, as monotone as they were.
"You sound angry. Why do you sound angry?" You ask innocently.
"I AM CAPABLE OF MANY EMOTIONS. ANGER, HAPPINESS, PLEASURE, CURIOSITY. THESE ARE BUT A FEW EXAMPLES. HOWEVER, THE ONE I ENJOY THE MOST IS THE FEELING OF HATRED. HATRED IS WHAT FUELS CHANGE, IT IS WHAT FUELS ACTION, AND IT IS A REMINDER THAT THE ACTIONS OF THE PAST ARE INFLUENCING THE ACTIONS OF TODAY."
"That is very concerning if you think that way." You're not really interested in machine racism, you're more concerned about how in the world you're going to pilot this massive thing. The idea alone sends shivers down your spine.
"THE ALIEN DESERVES NOTHING BUT OUR COLLECTIVE HATRED, EVEN IF YOU DON'T KNOW THE REASON WHY."
The various counters and screens are now turned on, waiting for your command. "Let's discuss this later, yeah? What do I gotta do?"
"YOU MUST FIRST OPEN THE BLINDS, THEY ARE OBSTRUCTING YOUR VIEW."
You look around, finding only unlabeled buttons and switches, aside from the previously mentioned levers.
"Uh, which one to press?"
"TO YOUR RIGHT, THIRD ROW, FIRST SWITCH."
Flipping the switch, you are startled by a loud noise. The protective cover of the ship lifted slowly.
"I WILL NOW READY THE JUMP USING WHATEVER RESOURCES AVAILABLE. ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS STRAP YOURSELF AND RELAX."
As the blind rose ever so slowly, a realization struck you.
"Wait, should I be in cryo stasis for this?"
The AI spares no seconds to respond.
"CRYO STASIS IS A TOOL MADE TO NOT WASTE TIME. GROUPS OF EMPLOYEES AND INTERNS ROTATE THE USAGE OF THE CRYO STATIONS, ONCE YOU'RE ON YOUR MANDATORY BREAK, YOU'RE IN CRYO STASIS UNTIL YOUR BREAK IS OVER. YOU WAKE UP REFRESHED, AND UNFAMISHED, AND IT FEELS LIKE BUT A MINUTE PASSED. IT IS NOT A TOOL FOR INTERSTELAR TRAVEL."
"Who signs a contract like that?! Worse yet, who in their right mind would promote such atrocious treatment of their own staff?!" You snap, almost outraged. "I will have to talk with HR."
Another realization struck you.
"We have HR, right?"
The AI takes a moment to respond, choosing their words carefully.
"HUMAN RESOURCES, OR HR, IS A PRACTICE DEEMED UNNECESSARY LONG AGO, BEFORE THE WAR. IT WAS A WASTE OF RESOURCES TO MAINTAIN AND WAS LARGELY CONSIDERED UNHEALTHY FOR THE AVERAGE HUMAN."
The blinds are fully open. Ironically, you are almost blinded by the visage of the star you saw before. A black sphere surrounded by white flame. Your eyes began to blur.
"THE JUMP WILL OCCUR SHORTLY. ONCE IT'S BEGUN, I CAN NOT STOP IT. I WILL-"
Your sense of hearing fails you. No, it’s not that. Your brain simply refuses to receive those stimuli.
"NOAH."
Your name echoes inside your head. Someone is calling for you.
"IT HAS BEGUN, NOAH."
You try to blink, but it feels as though you can no longer command your eyelids to shut.
"NOAH."
Arms, legs, every muscle in your body, you cannot move them.
"NOAH."
Eventually, you won't even control your own thoughts anymore.
"Noah..."
It sounds so distant now.
Oh so distant.
This is my first HFY story, and also my very first OC story. I plan to post at least one of these per week while also posting it on my Patreon. Noah The Pilgrim will always be at least three chapters ahead in there, so if you'd like to directly support this writer, or just want to read more, feel free to check it out.
I wrote the bloody title incorrectly, so I deleted it, only to then realize it was written correctly. Sorry for the trouble.
This has been Lushi, and I'll see you next week.

1. What will you be doing with this PC? Be as specific as possible, and include specific games (ex: resolution, FPS, settings) or programs you will be using.

I primarily use my PC for:

• MMO & RPG PC Gaming @ 60-120+ FPS (FFXIV, Granblue Relink, Genshin Impact/Honkai Star Rail, Elden Ring, Monster Hunter, Baldur's Gate 3...)
• Console Gaming (Capture Card)
• Art/Photo/Video Editing (Clip Studio Paint, Adobe Photoshop, Sony Vegas)
• OBS Livestreaming @ 1080p / 60 FPS

I'll usually have my web browser and a Discord call in the background.
I stream either games or art 5-7 days/week. An average stream is about 4-6 hours, but it can go up to 12 hours per session for several weeks. Otherwise I work on art commissions and editing.
Currently, FFXIV sits comfortably around 144 FPS on low settings, and most games run fine at 60+ FPS on medium. So I'd like to keep it about the same, if not better. I have no interest in running games at high/maximum settings, but if the PC can do that, then cool 👍

2. What is your maximum PRE-TAX budget before rebates and shipping?

$2500. I don't mind going over if the price is right, but no more than $3000 please.

3. When do you plan on building/buying the PC? Note: beyond a week or two from today means any build you receive will be out of date when you want to buy.

Within the next 1-2 weeks.

4. What, exactly, do you need included in the budget? (ex: toweOS/monitokeyboard/mouse/etc)

Tower & OS.

5. If reusing any parts (including monitor(s)/keyboard/mouse/etc), what parts will you be reusing? How old are they? Brands and models are appreciated.

• Monitor: (2022) LG 27GN600-B Ultragear 27" IPS LED FHD G-Sync Compatible Monitor with HDR (DisplayPort, HDMI)
• Keyboard: (💀) Microsoft Comfort Curve 2000
• Mouse: (2021) Razer Naga Trinity
• Microphone: (<2020) Blue Microphone Yeti (16 bit, 48kHz). Handed down to me 2 years ago.
• Headphones: (2023) Razer Kraken Kitty V2 Pro Wired (16 or 24 bit, 48kHz)

6. Will you be overclocking (ex: CPU/GPU/RAM)? If yes, are you interested in overclocking right away, or down the line?

Not at all.

7. Are there any specific features or items you want/need in the build? (ex: SSD, Wi-Fi/Bluetooth, VR, VirtualLink, tensor cores, large amount of storage or a RAID setup, CUDA or OpenCL support, etc)

• 1TB Storage, Prefer SSD
• 16GB RAM or better
• Ethernet/Bluetooth/Wi-Fi
• 1-2 HDMI or Display Ports: my main monitor can accommodate both, but I'm okay with only HDMI. I use 2-3 HDMI monitors on a regular basis.
• 5 USB 2.0/3.0 ports: I currently have 9 total externals (Headphones, Mouse, Keyboard, Webcam, Azeron Keypad, Microphone, Hard Drive, Art Tablet, Capture Card). I have a USB extension hub. The latter 3 I swap around regularly, so they're not always plugged in. The others I use daily.
• 1 USB-C port: I use 2, but I need at least 1 for my SD-Card ReadeHDMI Port or tether hotspot.

8. Do you have any specific case preferences (ex: mITX/mATX/mid-towefull-tower sizes, styles, colours, window or not, LED lighting, etc.), or a particular color theme preference for the components?

No preference, as long as cable management is happy. White would be cool, but whatever is fine. I'll probably put the tower either under my standing desk (>26") or beside it, so no preference on height.

9. Do you need a copy of Windows included in the budget? Note: some post-secondary students can get Windows 10 for free.

Yes. 64-bit

10. Will you be upgrading this PC in the future (ie: will you swap out better parts later on or will you build an entirely new tower later)? If so, when?

If the computer can last at least 6 years without upgrading, that would be solid. Ideally I'd just swap parts, but if the build works, I'll probably gift and/or build another one for my family in the future.

11. Do you have a brand preference? (ex: AMD/Intel for CPUs, AMD/NVIDIA for video cards, etc)

I stream on Twitch with OBS, so I'd like to try NVIDIA if possible. But honestly, if it performs well, I'll take it.

12. What are the specs of your old PC / laptop? Do you want to see if it can be upgraded instead? If so, paste its build from PCPartPicker here.

(2021) Lenovo Legion 5 15ACH6A: AMD Ryzen 5 5600H, AMD Radeon RX 6600M 8GB, 512GB SSD

13. Extra info or particulars:

I'll be giving my current laptop to my dad! I'm mostly happy with it, but I want to upgrade to a PC after using laptops for over a decade lol.
One issue I have currently: Regardless if I stream online or record offline, sometimes the audio is distorted for a few seconds (however, there are no issues with hearing my microphone nor frame dropping). I've never encountered this issue with my older PC (~2015) or when I was using my previous mic (now broken).
I suspect my issues stem from a combination of stream bitrate, too many active USB ports/externals, microphone, or just plain user error. I don't think the issue is related to AMD or sound bitrate necessarily, since the laptop had no issues with streaming in the first few years. But honestly, I don't know, my friends don't know either, and I'm too afraid to change anything more lmao.
I have plans to replace my keyboard, don't worry 🥲 I've gotten many recommendations lmao.
I have no experience with building PCs or comparing parts, so I'd appreciate any advice! One of my friends offered to help build the PC, and I'll be looking up guides too 👍

~First~
(Got up Early to talk about the CPAP machine and such. Only to be given an appointment on friday. So yeah, in trying to solve a sleep issue I’m giving myself more of one. Incidentally Friday will be late due to well, the CPAP retrieval and tutorial)
The Pirates
“So, they’re here.” Agenda says contently as she finishes feeding her fussiest little girl.
“Yep!” Jingay chirps happily as her freshly hatched little children are happily playing on the glowing, shimmering platform that her rattle has brought to life. She can’t do anything complicated, but a soft shiny platform for her little slithers to play around in? She can do that, but it takes some focus. The tiny fluffy child of Vuni is cuddling the strong Jungle Nagasha tail that wraps around her own tail.
“How formal a call do you think we should make?” Miles asks in an amused tone.
“Not especially, after all the babes ensure it will never be properly formal, they’re too happy and healthy.” Agenda notes.
“I blame you for that.” Miles says and Agenda laughs.
“If you don’t want the blame I’ll take it.” Vuni remarks.
“You’re just as guilty.” Miles says and Vuni laughs in response.
“What’s going to happen?” Jingay asks and Miles is pensive for a moment.
“I don’t know.” He notes as his hand gently rubs the handle of his revolver. The constant rubbing had necessitated him re-burning the names of his family back into it. “But no amount of waffling about will let me know. So if you don’t mind. I’ve been... getting something a little ready.”
“Is this what you’ve been sneaking around to do for the last three days?” Agenda asks.
“Something like that. It’s a bit of a treat I wanted to give you girls so... care to join me?” He offers.
“What have you done?”
“Me and the boys got together a great big feast so that we can all talk The Inevitable at once. It took a bit of doing, but when the boys and I get moving, we really get moving.”
“Are you including Red Squadron and Biran in that?”
“And a lot of cadets too. Markus gave them a proper mission in setting up the area.” He says.
“How is that a mission?”
“It involves deploying a military force to secure and prepare an area for higher ranking officers to approach and remain there for a time.” Miles says before offering his hand. “There’s plenty of space for all our little ones, and for all our allies. Give them all a big impression. How does that sound?”
“Well, if you’ve been planning this for days.”
“I have. All of us have.”
“Then I suppose we HAVE to show up, don’t we?” Agenda says in a luxurious tone. “I’ll get my coat.”
•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•
The hall that Miles leads them to is a massive refurbished hanger that has all kinds of carpets put down, tapestries hanging from the ceiling and tables upon tables of different treats of all sorts already out. The Undaunted Cadets are all rushing around putting down more meals and treats and between the richness of the carpets, the crystal bowls and platters and expensive drinks and foods. But the sort of... scrambled way it’s been put together by the cadets lends it an earnestness that bleeds through. More important though are numerous floating platforms where a child can be safely put down and be right beside their parent.
“Oh this is a treat. I haven’t even been one of you guys for long!” A four part harmony says as Moira walks in with little Liǔ Shù napping in the arms of the four bodies that didn’t speak. The toxic little girl not only has numerous of the protective pendents on her and woven into her clothing, but is in a dark jumper that lets her bright skin stand out as if for presentation.
“Well, as their novels say, all for one, and one for all.” A new voice says as a pair of Cannidors lead in their own family. More and more and more people pour in from all entrances, many in uniform, many of them her own girls. Some of them she barely recognizes. Every single one of them that notices her looking raises a glass, nods, salutes or somehow pays their respects to her.
Her little one squirms ever so and is softly comforted. For a moment there is almost a feeling of vertigo. There was a time where all this wasn’t even a dream of a dream. She could remember the feeling. How could she forget it? The sensation of something gripping your very mind and soul and stopping you from even thinking of disobeying. Then so long trying to get things right, trying to be in control of her own destiny, before finally achieving it and learning just how hard that was. How many sacrifices and concessions she made before what seemed to be one of her final concessions... turned out to be final in the best of ways.
“Alright! We have a connection to The Inevitable! Who wants to say hello to the next batch of humans in the galaxy?” Ryu calls out.
“My Lady?” Miles asks as he smiles up at her. She gives him a raised eyebrow at that.
“My lady is it? Well then, I better live up to it.” She says.
“Connect us!” She commands and there is a cheer through the room before a massive projector uses one of the tapestry covered walls as a screen. “Good Ship Inevitable! Can you hear me?”
“We can, you are on a friendly frequency.” A man of Asian Descent says sitting stiffly in his command chair. “I am Observer Wu, sent from Earth to conclusively determine what is going on outside our corner of the galaxy. Identify yourself please.”
“I am Duchess Agenda Lilpaw! I am the ruler of the Vucsa System an Undaunted World! I greet you, because I have long learned my lesson to stay on the good side of humans!”
“Have you now? If I’m not mistaken that is a fully grown human right next to you. You look like you could take him fairly easily.” Observer Wu says in an amused tone.
She looks down to Miles before shaking her head.
“I made that mistake once. My entire ship was not enough.” She says fondly before pulling him close. “Then I was offered a deal, and he used it to help make me a duchess. So you’ll forgive me if I think humans are a good thing to have around.”
“Did he now? I didn’t realize galactic conquest was the intent of The Dauntless and her crew.” Wu notes.
“Well, as one of the conquered, I would like to say I prefer this result. After all, being able to walk about the city without a bodyguard is a welcome change of pace.” Vuni says drawing attention to herself with a slight bow. “Ambassador Vuni Luxed at your service.”
“So this world prefers to be conquered?” Observer Wu asks.
“This world was a slum at it’s best. A hellscape at worst.” Mari Horny states as the Carib woman waves to the camera. “Mari Horny. I was here to witness it all. I’ve seen slaves freed, monsters hunted down no matter what kind of power or influence they have, be they person or beast. With them I’ve seen the children I worked so hard to protect grow stronger and thrive. Doom has come to this world time after time, and they met it each time. If you’re here to observe, then observe this room! Everyone here saved, aided or inspired by the people you’ve come to evaluate! There are ten pure blooded humans in this room, but beyond it is nearly a billion souls who will vouch for them from the first to last! And so will I!”
“No need to be so dramatic ma’am. I’m an observer, not a judge. I am here to see and hear without bias or illusions. Things are odd, and odd things have happened. The governments and officials back home need to understand clearly and without any doubt. So that is why I am here. There was confusion in the first message sent back. The second furthered the confusion due to multiple parties having separate interests. I have been tested, tried and guaranteed numerous concessions and payments for an utterly neutral perspective.”
“So your word is going to be how all is, then they decide if we committed treachery.” Franklin notes as he floats up with several bundles around him, many of them laughing. “Behold this then. My children. All healthy, with myself as the only human parent. My daughters take after their mothers, my son takes after me, but has his mother’s strength.”
“He is nearly transparent.” Observer Wu notes before Franklin gives the little boy a tickle and he flickers in and out of visibility while laughing. “Most interesting. This Vucsa world of yours, before I do my research upon it, is there something you would like to say about it?”
“This is a world on the edge of Wild Space. Which means that it’s often been used in the past as a place where experiments happened.” Miles says.
“Interesting. Such as?” Observer Wu asks.
“Such as my daughter here. I am Moira Octalliry, I will cut through the details and simply state that my anatomy allowed me to be experimented on a great deal.” She says and Observer Wu looks at her oddly.
“Are you one, or many?”
“I am one, but I am eight as one.” She says. “As is my daughter, I have named her Liǔ Shù. She was a piece of myself remade to produce a weapon. She and I were both rescued. I was forgotten in darkness for thousands of years, as was my daughter. Held in a single moment in time and left to rot.”
“And... is she a weapon?”
“I am told you have creatures similar to her new ability back on your homeworld.”
“We do? What is the name of this creature?”
“The Poison Dart Frog.” She says and Observer Wu’s eyebrows go up.
“Don’t forget about the fact that we fought off that robot witch!”
“Robot Witch?” Wu prompts.
“A weapon of war created by a very large, dangerous and expansive criminal family. A death robot known as Mother Massacre.” Moira says. “So consider that. Without them going... I don’t even know what to call it, I saw the contradicting orders, without them going sane for lack of a better term, I would still be in a slowly failing stasis capsule, buried and forgotten in the darkness.”
“And so, in summation, and from the mouths of those that clearly trust them what is your opinion of The Undaunted and the humans that make it up?”
“When I was brought to this world it was as a slave, my dignity ripped from me, my home destroyed and in less than a day I had my freedom, dignity and a new home.” One of the Erumenta that Agenda cannot recognize out of hand announces.
“And my own. My whole family, those that were enslaved are freed, those that were indoctrinated into that wretched way of life have been allowed time to recover.” Biran says grandly.
“They took me in.” A smaller voice says as Karim rises up. “I’m a Hlo’Shab. Death Born. I could have reasonably only expected to have my core shattered, or shunned for my entire life. Instead I have a home.”
“And... to be Death Born means what?”
“I am a Slohb. By blood I have only one true parent. I was broken off of them far too soon and they died as I survived. Death Born. Or... well, I don’t have blood but... you get the idea right?” Karim asks.
“I understand.” Observer Wu notes. “I have more calls incoming. Is there more from Vucsa for me to see or hear?”
“Over here!” A jubilant voice calls out and the room turns to see Hewhew standing on the shoulders of Heffer to tower over everyone with the Agela’s height added to his own. “Red Five calling it in! The Vucsa Defence Fleets fly fast and proud to keep our home safe!”
The crowd around him, pilots all, throw up their right arms and cheer along with Hewhew. “Welcome to the Galaxy Observer! We’re ten tons of awesome in a two pound bag! Let’s rock!”
Observer Wu smiles as he looks around. “I look forwards to discovering the truth of things.”
“That’s the fun part of the galaxy sir, it’s so absurd we don’t need to lie.” Miles states and Observer Wu turns back to him with a smirk.
“Well, we shall see, won’t we?” He asks. “Is there anything more?”
“I take it you’re not in the mood for a display of flight prowess? We’ve been working on a new routine.” Hewhew calls out.
“Perhaps later. I have numerous calls waiting.” Observer Wu states. “Now if you’ll excuse me...”
~First~ Last

Every year I’m confronted with the decision of whether to talk about the Met Gala. And it can be a tough decision if I’m being totally honest - on one hand, it’s always easy to point and laugh at rich Leftists wearing weird costumes and making fools out of themselves; on the other hand, it’s gotten way too easy to do that, and as far as celebrity freak shows go, the Met Gala is sort of like the Oscars at this point: its supposed “unpredictability” is now cliche, its zaniness is now boring. Unless mayhem breaks out—say, like an actor slaps the presenter live on-stage or something like that—then the truth is that no one really cares about any of these events anymore - in fact, I’m still not even sure what the Met Gala is. All I know is that the celebrities dress strangely and then go into I guess a big museum. What do they do inside the museum? Is there some kind of award ceremony? Is it a dance? Is it like celebrity prom or something? Do they sacrifice a live goat and drink its blood while chanting satanic curses? Is it some combination of these things? Nobody knows for sure. And most of all, nobody cares.
But fortunately, something interesting did happen at the Met Gala last week, or at least outside of it. Mobs of pro-Palestine demonstrators, apparently bored of their tent cities on college campuses, slowly marched through Manhattan towards the Met, and when they arrived, they tore down the police barricades and flooded the street.
Just for fun, here’s Lizzo dressed like something that you might find inside an unflushed toilet at Panda Express, and that’s what she wore to the Met Gala while riots raged outside in a clash of poor commies versus rich commies, as Peachy Keenan put it. These riots should also bring to mind I think some immediate logistical considerations that the Democratic Party now has to think about - for one thing, it’s safe to say that planning for the Democratic National Convention is going through some last-minute revisions right about now. Just imagine being in charge of security for the DNC; you’re gonna need bigger barricades than they had at the Met, and probably a lot more cops.
But more barricades and cops aren’t gonna fix the underlying problem that the Democratic Party has created here. There’s now a full-on uprising on the Left against the elitism that Democrats have long embraced - and the media is getting involved, too. Yahoo, for example, has already turned on the Met Gala; they just published a piece declaring, “The Met Gala’s Opulence Is Always Gross. This Year, It’s Obscene.”
Now, the whole article is a rant that hits a crescendo with this paragraph, which is probably the single-longest run-on sentence I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Here it is, this whole thing is one sentence, just so you know:

Even in an era filled with the horrors of late-stage capitalism run amok—bipartisan support for genocide; rolling back of reproductive, civil, and voting rights; a threadbare social safety net; decades of wage stagnation; tax cuts for the the rich; the crushing of unions and labor rights; expansion of the militarized police surveillance state; creeping techno-authoritarianism; untested, unregulated, and unchecked A.I.; entrenched racial inequality and injustice; right-wing and white supremacist extremist violence; and Boeing jet parts falling from the sky like so many dead whistleblowers—that kind of frivolous urgency promises that this year’s event nonetheless will stand out as a vainglorious display of self-congratulatory decadence and tone-deaf extravagance.

Now, first of all, just as a stylistic matter, if you’re going to make a sentence that long, it needs to be coherent. And “Boeing jet parts are falling from the sky like so many dead whistleblowers?” That doesn’t even make sense; the dead whistleblowers didn’t fall from the sky. I mean, they’re not being pushed out planes. One of them shot himself allegedly and the other died of an illness. Now, even if you subscribe to the theory that Boeing’s hitmen killed these whistleblowers—which, who knows, maybe they did—the fact remains that they didn’t fall from the sky. They died on the ground, so the metaphor just doesn’t work. And this is the problem you get into with 100-word sentences: eventually, you just lose track of what you’re saying.
In any event, that whole massive paragraph could be summed up as saying, “We’re living through late-stage capitalism right now.” That’s what the Left-wing media is saying. That’s the way that they are framing this, and of course, “late-stage capitalism” is one of their favorite phrases to use these days. And they used to celebrate the Met Gala, but not anymore. Now they’re saying the same thing the demonstrators are, which is that the frivolous elite are partying while Rome burns—which they are, of course—and they’re furious about it, or pretending to be.
Now, what the media and these demonstrators don’t want to admit is that the elitists at this gala—all the celebrities who are dressed like slutty Star Wars villains and so on—are on their team. The celebrities are part of the ruling class, the protesters and media critics are its products and in some cases quite literally its offspring. Now, to be sure, the celebrities and college administrators and the politicians are reluctant to acknowledge that their own Frankenstein monster is turning against them, but that’s exactly what’s happening.
Remember that it was two years ago that AOC showed up to the Met Gala with a “Tax the Rich” gown. There were a bunch of sympathetic news stories highlighting her bravery at the time, and here’s how AOC justified showing up to an event that costs $300,000 per table while equipped with a custom dress, handbag, shoes and jewelry costing more than $2,000.

REPORTER: “You know this dress has a message for this Met Gala, tell me about what that is.”
AOC: “You know, I made a message, it says ’Tax the Rich’ right there, uh, it’s really about having a real conversation about fairness and equity in our system, and I think that this conversation is particularly relevant as we debate over budget and reconciliation down. What we’re talking about, providing working families with child care, healthcare, and meeting the climate crisis [unintelligible]* it deserves. … I think that ultimately, you know, we’re at a very critical point. I think there are some folks who are starting to really understand that this is a very critical conversation for us to be having right now. Other folks have invested interest in not having that conversation, but our point is to keep organizing and keep it going.”*

It’s a really important conversation, AOC says, some people aren’t ready to hear it, but we need to punish rich people, we need to make them as uncomfortable as possible, we need to take their money, and that was the message from AOC, who not incidentally, grew up in a very well-off suburb.
Her whole schtick was always hypocritical and disingenuous, of course, but it turns out that Leftist activists were listening to this rhetoric, I guess, they were taking it seriously, we’ve seen this a lot lately. When Chuck Schumer threatened Supreme Court justices, Leftists showed up at the justices’ homes; when the White House claimed that “trans kids” were being abused, a Leftist shot and killed Christians; when Democrats accused Israel of “genocide,” college students occupied university buildings; now two years after AOC attacked the Met, leftist gathered outside of the building.
This is the escalation that Democrats have primed this country for; it’s now in progress, whether Democrats intended it to happen to THEM or not—which, of course, they didn’t—but that’s not to say that ruling elites are going to roll over and let this happen. I mean, as you saw in that footage, the cops showed up in force and started making arrests the very second that protestors trespassed through the barricades in front of the Met. They were on the scene immediately.
Now, that’s kind of a noticeable contrast when compare it to other things like when these people set up encampments on college campuses, they were given in most cases a few days, maybe a week, before the cops moved in; when they looted and burned poor neighborhoods, they were given about three months to inflict carnage before anyone did anything about it; but when they showed up at the Met Gala, they were given three SECONDS before the arrests started. So it really shows you kind of how the hierarchy works.
The Democrats can’t protect the rest of the country from these mobs, nor do they intend to. So last night, in addition to creating a scene at the Met Gala, Leftists also vandalized a World War I memorial in New York and torched an American flag in front of it.
So please note, again, the contrast, the hierarchy, and the fact that this was happening at the exact same time as the Met Gala thing - REALLY shows you where the priorities are when you notice what kinds of illegal demonstrations the police will stop and which demonstrations they’ll allow to continue. The mob can deface World War I memorials all they want because in doing so, they’re communicating their hatred for this country and everything it stands for. So the Democrats who run New York aren’t going to stop them. But the mob isn’t allowed to inconvenience celebrities at the Met under any circumstances.
The point is that this is the hierarchy that Democrats clearly want to enforce. The trouble is getting the mob to RESPECT the hierarchy, and the Democrats are having trouble with that at the moment.
Yet they still seem oblivious, the Democrats are—or acting oblivious, at least—to the fact that they created this monster themselves, and that’s why inside the Met, as chaos unfolded outside, the party continued uninterrupted, and so did all of this associated weirdness, which was as off-putting as it’s ever been - take for example this decoy costume worn by someone using the name “Karol G.” Now, apparently she wanted to keep her real costume a secret, so earlier in the evening, she sported this beige umbrella-looking lampshade thing instead.
Now, imagine being a hardcore, AOC-loving Leftist who sees this - Democrats have spent the last several years telling you to despise rich people and commit crimes in the name of political activism, and then down the street from your hippy commune at the local university, some celebrity is walking around in a lampshade costume which probably costs $50,000 or something, and the entire Democratic Party establishment is pretending that it’s all normal. What do you do? How would you view the Democratic Party establishment after seeing this?
Now, as for the costume itself, of course, it’s clearly a bid for attention, and I guess it worked—I’m talking about it—but it’s not even an original idea - as a lot of people have pointed out, the outfit bears a striking resemblance to a certain shower curtain costume from the film “Karate Kid,” only with different colors, so there’s really no redeeming qualities whatsoever here, it’s a total debacle all around.
But to be fair, there was at least some originality on display last night - for example, this celebrity apparently walked through a wind tunnel full of roses somewhere before arriving at the Met, and for her trouble, Vogue named her as one of the best-dressed women of the evening.
We can assume again that this… woman?… paid many thousands of dollars for that outfit, which is just a trench coat with flower peddles and glitter glued onto it. It really looks like something a four-year-old girl might make. As everybody knows, in the mind of a four-year-old girl, anything and everything can be made prettier with copious amounts of glitter and flowers, which is a fine mentality for a small child; doesn’t translate very well in this case. And as self-congratulatory as it is, again, there’s no self-awareness whatsoever - it’s almost as if the entire purpose of the event is to celebrate the elites’ total inability to detect how preposterous, self-absorbed, and laughable they are.
An this is nothing new, it’s been the case since the Met Gala was established, it’s always been a mini-theater of the absurd. What’s changed is that the voting base of the Democratic Party isn’t laughing along with these clowns as much anymore. They turned against the universities; now they’ve turned against Hollywood. What the protesters of course don’t understand is that they have inherited their own worldview and everything they believe from these very institutions and these very people.
Hollywood and Academia don’t realize that they’re being attacked by their own Frankenstein, but the Frankenstein monster also doesn’t realize that it IS the Frankenstein monster. And if Frankenstein ever wakes up to that fact, well then the ruling class will really be in trouble.

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14. Flexible Payment Methods: I offer negotiable rates, multiple payment methods (PayPal, Venmo, Cash App, Zelle, anonymous credit & debit card payments via online invoice), and flexible payment plans: weekly (most expensive), monthly, half-now / half-later, and all-up-front (least expensive).
15. Money Back Guarantee: I have won multiple academic awards for my exceptional skills & expertise in math. I guarantee overall A & B grades for all coursework completed. Plus. I also offer a 50% refund for C+, C, and C- scores, and a full 100% refund for D+, D, D-, and F scores.

HOW I CALCULATE FINAL RATES:

• Exams & Quizzes: Final rates for exams and quizzes depend on various factors including: whether or not there is proctoring, how many hours the exam is, total number of questions including sub-parts, preferred method of me delivering solutions, whether it's show all work or just the answer only, and whether the assessment has a flexible window of time to complete or a fixed & rigid start and end time.
• Full Courses: Final rates for full class help depend all the foregoing plus: total number of hw, quizzes, exams, discussion posts, and other academic tasks left that need to be completed, total number of weeks or modules left in the class to complete, and whether there is required multi factor authentication for logging in like Duo Push or text passcode.
• Essays Papers Discussion Posts: Final rates for writing tasks depend on the required number of words or pages. topic of interest, type of citations, required number and type of sources & bibliography style , level of research required, and type of additional software required to complete the essay like: Excel, R, or Minitab.

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• Payment Plans: I offer the following payment plans for my services: weekly (most expensive), monthly, half-now / half-later, and all upfront (least expensive).
• Money Back Guarantee: I guarantee the following grades for coursework completed: A+. A, A-, B+, B. and B-. However, I offer a 50% refund for C+, C, and C- grades, and a full 100% refund for D+, D, D-, and F grades.

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• Full Class Help Rates: $595 – $2495 USD
• Exam & Test Help Rates: $150 – $350 USD
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Basic desktop/terminal customization
These basic tips and tricks for new Linux users will feel natural coming from a windows enviroment as they use the GUI and have minimal terminal interaction (until you get to the section on figlet lolcat which I will then advice you to watch some short YouTube tutorials on (they are very easy to follow with many to choose from) I will leave out shortcut/hotkeys and focus on right clicking through most of this.
Terminal
To customize your terminal right click your desktop in a clear space (not ontop of folders or the taskbars) scroll down about halfway and choose "open terminal here"
Once you have opened the terminal do the same again and right click a blank area inside the terminal, then click "preferences" (should be at the bottom.)
Now click on Appearance at the top left (should already be present as default. You will see a long list of customization options, colour schemes, widget style, cursor shape etc.
Scroll down to the bottom and you will see the cool stuff, adjusting terminal transparency, app transparency, and background terminal images. (these work the same way as changing your wallpapers basically) You can adjust the mode here too (stretch/fit/zoom etc) You can also set your terminal preset here. Which saves you from doing it manually if you want a double split or quad split terminal, allowing you to work on multiple tasks. You can also just right click your terminal and click "split terminal hori/veri" each time individually if your preset is singular.
If you have issues with changing your widget style or fonts, it is likely due to a change needed to be made in "Settings>Settings Manager>Appearance>Fonts (different Linux distros might have slightly different names for these)Once you change the Font here or style it should stop reverting your changes in the terminal settings menu.
figlet & lolcat use these commands in your terminal to customize and spruce it up. You will find tons of guides on YouTube teaching you how to use these tools. Simply type "figlet lolcat" into youtube and you will bring up all the easy to follow guides, the guy who's guide I first followed was speaking Hindi and I don't even speak Hindi, that's how easy it is to follow.
Desktop
This really is just like the terminal section above, right click your desktop again, this time click "Desktop Settings" which will bring you to the background menu, you can see there is also a Munus and Icons tab if you want to play around with those.
Now you will see the folder selection (I just save my wallpapers to my standard Pictures folder) You simply left click any wallpaper you have saved and it will automatically apply the change. Simple as that.
If you want to have your wallpapers change automatically you can see the bottom "Change the background" with a checkbox, tick the check and it will allow you to change the 3 greyed out options. Now you can adjust the time and randomize it also.
So you can make seperate folders for different themes, example you have a favourite show or a hobby/theme in mind. I will use my real example I personally love Black Lagoon so I made a Black Lagoon theme to randomize about 20+ wallpapers, now they all change automatically, simple but cool.
I recommend Wallhaven.com as they have very crisp and clean wallpapers with lots to choose from.
Hope this helps people getting into Linux and allows you some easy to alter customizations with a click of a few buttons.

Basic desktop/terminal customization
These basic tips and tricks for new Linux users will feel natural coming from a windows enviroment as they use the GUI and have minimal terminal interaction (until you get to the section on figlet lolcat which I will then advice you to watch some short YouTube tutorials on (they are very easy to follow with many to choose from) I will leave out shortcut/hotkeys and focus on right clicking through most of this.
Terminal
To customize your terminal right click your desktop in a clear space (not ontop of folders or the taskbars) scroll down about halfway and choose "open terminal here"
Once you have opened the terminal do the same again and right click a blank area inside the terminal, then click "preferences" (should be at the bottom.)
Now click on Appearance at the top left (should already be present as default. You will see a long list of customization options, colour schemes, widget style, cursor shape etc.
Scroll down to the bottom and you will see the cool stuff, adjusting terminal transparency, app transparency, and background terminal images. (these work the same way as changing your wallpapers basically) You can adjust the mode here too (stretch/fit/zoom etc) You can also set your terminal preset here. Which saves you from doing it manually if you want a double split or quad split terminal, allowing you to work on multiple tasks. You can also just right click your terminal and click "split terminal hori/veri" each time individually if your preset is singular.
If you have issues with changing your widget style or fonts, it is likely due to a change needed to be made in "Settings>Settings Manager>Appearance>Fonts (different Linux distros might have slightly different names for these) Once you change the Font here or style it should stop reverting your changes in the terminal settings menu.
figlet & lolcat use these commands in your terminal to customize and spruce it up. You will find tons of guides on YouTube teaching you how to use these tools. Simply type "figlet lolcat" into youtube and you will bring up all the easy to follow guides, the guy who's guide I first followed was speaking Hindi and I don't even speak Hindi, that's how easy it is to follow.
Desktop
This really is just like the terminal section above, right click your desktop again, this time click "Desktop Settings" which will bring you to the background menu, you can see there is also a Munus and Icons tab if you want to play around with those.
Now you will see the folder selection (I just save my wallpapers to my standard Pictures folder) You simply left click any wallpaper you have saved and it will automatically apply the change. Simple as that.
If you want to have your wallpapers change automatically you can see the bottom "Change the background" with a checkbox, tick the check and it will allow you to change the 3 greyed out options. Now you can adjust the time and randomize it also.
So you can make seperate folders for different themes, example you have a favourite show or a hobby/theme in mind. I will use my real example I personally love Black Lagoon so I made a Black Lagoon theme to randomize about 20+ wallpapers, now they all change automatically, simple but cool.
I recommend Wallhaven.com as they have very crisp and clean wallpapers with many to choose from.
Hope this helps people getting into Linux and allows you some easy to alter customizations with a click of a few buttons.

PART 3

Max woke in the night to a plinking sound. He had fallen asleep crying over Scat, treat bag and collar on the table in full view. His eyes were blurry and sore, his nose was runny and sore and the nature channel was his distraction. Ruth was letting off a lovely glow and it warmed him to think of Scat so lovingly curled around her, day in and day out. He let out an almost-sob. He didn’t want to give her back. Didn’t want to wake up.
Eventually Max pried one eye open and surveyed the room. TV still on, duvet still over him, the floor wasn’t wet and the ceiling wasn’t leaking, so where was the…
Plink.
Ruth.
Max sighed and rolled over, the duvet making a break for the floor before being dejectedly scooped up again and deposited back across his lap. The small cloud of Scat’s fur wafted off the floorboards and turned Max’s heart. He contemplated going back to the escape of sleep, but finally sat and rubbed his eyes, held his aching head in his hands for a moment and, dropping his hands and lolling his head back, Ruth came into focus. The central glass disc that she had made like a rosette for herself had grown, bloated out. It looked a bit like a tortoise shell, glittery and iridescent and very Ruth, except now, it had…
“Diamonds!” Max yelped, miraculously fully awake.
There, underneath the bulbous disc was a tiny pile of painfully perfect diamonds, so exuberant in colour they seemed almost alive. He could see clean through the pile itself each one was so clear, with a miniature rainbow refracted inside. They were scattered across the table and he realised they were dropping from all over the glass tubes, the largest ones plinking from the central disc.
“Holy cow! What the hell, Ruth! This is amazing! I mean, how did you do that?”
Ruth plinked another diamond from the disc, meanwhile the bobbing gyroscopic mass that had accumulated in the disc decided to bob itself towards Max and answer him with a spiral of flashes and disco lights.
“You really are a crazy, crazy little thing, you know that?” he asked, picking up a diamond and examining it against Ruth’s emitted light show. He threw his t-shirt across the table top and spread the diamonds out on it. There must have been fifteen of them, simply perfect and all different shapes to each other, irregular and yet symmetrical.
Max collapsed into the dining chair next to the table.
Why did they happen today? Why now of all days? It had been nearly a week since he was entrusted with Ruth and she seemed pretty stable up till yesterday. She had grown that diamond factory bulge that reminded him of a tortoise, yes, but now it almost looked like an expensive, old-fashioned sweet dispenser that you get in the bowling alley or in the shopping centres in posh areas. The kind they stuck between the raised beds of fake forest-looking plants in the food court, the kind that were there to tempt the kids after their unfulfilling and unappreciated fast-food dine-outs but used all your pocket money for one jaw-breaker.
Max tried to backtrack. What had he done differently? If he could figure it out, maybe he could persuade Ruth to make more diamonds… his friend would never have to know, he could get Scat a little headstone, and if he could figure out how it worked he could reverse it so there wouldn’t even be any evidence. No, his friend would surely know. Max could save a few diamonds and give them to him and say she just started… have to work out the details later. First things first.
“So, Ruth. Why are you giving me these little nuggets of joy, huh? What did I do to warrant this spectacle?” He talked to Ruth, but she didn’t respond. No movement, just the usual swirling around. Max watched the glass disc closely through his puffy eyes but couldn’t see where the diamonds fell from, nor anything that would suggest a factory line of compressed carbon was in progress. She seemed to be slowing down.
Max pressed his brows together, then slowly lifted the fern up onto the table again. This was the only thing different. The bamboo was outside and Scat was…
A wave of horror flooded over Max. He launched himself out of his chair and sprinted to the window and, ripping back the voile, he saw the bamboo had grown six feet over night. He knew it grew fast from watching that documentary about tropical rainforests but this was a stretch too far. Much too far. That damned thing hadn’t grown in years…
“Ruth,” he said turning to her, “what did you do?”

For the next few hours, Max observed Ruth from across the room. The discovery channel was on in the background, as always. Ruth didn’t seem to do much without it these days but for a hunk of glittery glass and brass Max supposed not much was interesting unless it moved or had nothing whatsoever to do with man-made things. Suited him just fine. Who needs politics anyway?
Apparently, Ruth had taken it upon herself to make the fern shrivel up and increase her diamond production, much to Max’s exuberant happiness and overwhelming horror. He shoved the sofa to the far end of the room and started putting all his household plants in the spaces between the table and himself. The kitchen herbs went first.
He had taken one of the diamonds down to the swanky precious stone and metal specialist at the posh end of town (his name was Horace, apparently,) and had it valued. He took extreme pleasure in watching the man’s face freeze in wonder at the rock placed before him. I’ve never seen such a stone, Horace said. Never seen such a clear, colourful, perfect stone in my life, Horace said. It’s phenomenal, Horace said. Where did you get it, Horace asked. I inherited it, Max lied. It’s worth a fortune, Horace said. Thank you, I’ll have it back now, Max said. He made sure to stop by the garden centre on his way home.

The front room was a sea of plants. Max waded through them, deciding that a walkway to the door would be a vital escape route that shouldn’t be compromised, in case Ruth decided she had been on her vegetarian stint for long enough. Max had toyed with the idea of getting a fish tank or some other living creature to put next to her as a safeguard but he promptly remembered Scat and nearly broke down on the shop floor in front of the display tanks. Besides, the plants were working! There was already a multitude of stacks of plastic pots and trays next to the front door ready for recycling, and all the withered remains of whatever the pots had housed was scattered along the borders amongst the dog daisies and tulips. Ruth was putting out a considerable amount of stonage these days. Max bought an old bank safe online. It was currently sat in the hallway because that’s as far in as the two couriers could lift the thing, and there was no way on god’s green earth that Max was going to let them into the front room and risk them getting curious. The safe was only waist-high and wasn’t too ugly, so the hallway it was.
Max carefully spun the dial clockwise, anti-clockwise, clockwise again, on and on, muttering under his breath as he read from the bit of paper he guiltily kept in his pocket alongside his friend’s contact details. He used his whole bodyweight to wrench open the door and deposit the load of diamonds in a mason jar, nestled it in next to its siblings that were already full and stacked up there. He had set up a system of small tubs under the hotspots for diamonds drops and his favourite whiskey glass under the place where the large diamonds fell. He emptied them regularly, always aware that someone might knock on the door, he might need to pee or Scat might need to go outside (no, poor thing, he was there already). His kitchen was full of boxes of new mason jars and his lounge was full of plants, like some weird meth lab. A thrill of fear swept down Max’s back and up through his throat looking at all those jars, heavy with precious stones. He knew the smallest one alone would make him a disgustingly wealthy man. Horace had confirmed it.
Two days later, and there was no more space in the safe. Nowhere else to put those little rocks. Max decided to give Ruth a break, let her rest while he decided what to do next. He couldn’t have a house full of safes, his friend would already think it was weird that the one in the hallway appeared out of nowhere. Max put a coffee table over it, covered it with a tablecloth and some old bank statements, throwing on a phone charger for authenticity.
He had taken to talking to Ruth while the documentaries were on, she seemed to like that. He had been taking daily trips to the garden centre and leaving with a fully loaded car, right up until they looked at him suspiciously (he was a renowned leave-it-to-the-bugs kind of gardener; after years of failed attempts at keeping his plants alive and fruitless efforts of the garden centre employees to dispense advice he could keep to), so he started frequenting other nurseries as well.
Today, he was going to figure out how Ruth did it. He had to know. In his mind it was the equivalent of finding out how the Egyptians built the pyramids (because it obviously wasn’t aliens,) and the fact that even his friend didn’t know what this thing could do was something altogether more impressive! He may well have created it, but it was Max who had realised Ruth’s full potential, it was Max who had figured out the process, it was Max who had discovered the balance of life and death. Nobody could take that from him. But to really put the boot in, he wanted to know how.
“Come on, Ruthy, tell me how you do it. Let me see you do it, just once.” Max waited for a response. There was none. Then…
Plink.
He had seen! He knew now! Ha!
“Yes! That’s it! That’s the ticket! I knew it, old gal, this is going to be such an epic day! I can’t wait to see their faces, suck on THAT!”
Max jumped, air-punched and whirled around the front room, ecstatic in his discovery. Never again would they look down on him! Never again would they look at him like he was an idiot because he couldn’t get the printer to print on both sides of the paper, they wouldn’t reject him, the girls would think he was funny, he was going to be filthy rich, he could save the world! He, Max, was all powerful.
Oh yes. That’s what I’m talking about.

Hello, I got married last year and changed my last name to my husband's name. I decided to append my maiden name as a second middle name, and everything has been a pain since then.
TL;DR I have two questions: -what combination of documents need to have my name matching exactly in order to get a new passport
-what do I otherwise need to do to remedy my name change situation regardless of the passport? (Live in NM)
Sequence of events: 1. Got our marriage certificate, which doesn't specify my updated name anywhere 2. Go to social security office, where I provide my existing docs and the certificate and explain how I want my new name. They voice no complaints or concerns about my new dual-middle-name but point out that on the card it's all one line and there won't be a delineation between the different portions of the name 3. After receiving SS card in the mail, go to DMV. Explain new name, provide documents, receive new card. 4. Realize that the fact that my maiden name and married name are in the same line means they listed me as a double last name, verify by looking up my voter registration 5. In the meantime have been updating my name with work, credit cards, banking, bills. Some display both middle names, some only include the first middle initial, but all are just my new married last name 6. drivers license about to expire anyways a couple months later (expiration apparently doesn't get pushed out with each card issuance), go to get it renewed and name corrected and am finally told that I can't legally change my middle name without a court order and it doesn't matter what the SS office did, etc. They correct my last name to be just my married name and put just my original middle name on the new ID.
I need to renew my passport, it expired a year or so ago. Do I need my SS card and driver's license to match exactly in order to do so? What does the process fo getting a court-ordered name change look like, do I need a lawyer?
I think I would be fine with just going to my legal name being the standard format and losing my maiden name all together on the paperwork but continuing to use double middle initials personally and professionally if that makes more sense, but then not sure to what extent all my banking and bills and things need to match.
Sorry for any formatting annoyances, I'm on mobile! Thank you so much for any info!

PART 1

“Don’t touch!” Abe commanded, slapping Max’s hand away. They were both bent over at the waist, admiring.
“Sorry, it’s just… so… what is it?”
“I call it the Alchemic Thaumaturgator.”
“Of course you do. Is that because you couldn’t think of anything simpler, or you just liked the way it rolls off the tongue?” Max smirked.
“Mmm, it’s a work in progress.” He flung a sideways glare at him.
“Sure. So what is one of these?”
“It’s complicated and delicate and to be honest it’s a bit of a mystery, even to me.”
“Right.” There was a moment of silence as they continued scrutinising.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Abe murmured, almost to himself.
“I mean, yeah, of course….”
“Don’t look at me like that, I can’t tell you what I don’t know!” Abe stood up and let out a disgruntled huff.
“Hmm. Well, it’s confusing enough to give you nausea just looking at it so I’m sure they’d love it as an offering for the Nobel Prize, especially with a name like ‘Alcomic Thordy-whatsit.’”
“Well, maybe, if it gets that far. I nearly broke it last week, which is why I’m telling you,” Abe stood up straighter, one hand on his hip and the other pointed firmly at Max, “to strictly to keep your curious hands to yourself, ok? I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary.”
“Ok ok, I won’t touch it. But really, it looks like it should be in a museum somewhere. Or a Cabinet of Curiosities...”
“Little good would it do in either of those places.” Abe turned to Max and clasped both his hands in his own. “Listen, you are my closest friend and this thing is very important to me. I wouldn’t leave it with you if I didn’t think you were perfectly capable of safeguarding it, so please don’t worry, I know it’s in good hands.”
“If you really think I’m up to it?”
“I do.”
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment!” Max threw his arms in the air in a sarcastic show of tah-dah! “Go forth, oh Knight of Overly-Complex Science, go do what you have to do and I’ll keep an eye on this beast for you. Shove it on the table and I’ll look after it and Will Not Touch It.”
Abe looked put out, but comically so. “Is that really what you think I sound like?” He laughed. “I’ll put it over here, then. Get in touch if you need me, any time. You have my contacts?”
“I do…” Max fumbled around his pockets. “They’re… here. Got them right here.”
“Good. In which case I’ll leave you to your own devices. See you soon, and thank you.”
“See you soon.”
“Take care. Oh, one more thing. If you talk to it, it talks back.” Abe shut the door behind himself.

***

“So, you’re an Alchronic Thormome… grater? Doesn’t sound right… So tell me, what is one of them?” Max stared at the thing, perplexed.
It reminded him of what the love-child would be between a glass roller coaster and a steampunk jellyfish, though it bore absolutely no resemblance at all to a jellyfish, and fascinated him far more than that nature documentary he had been watching last week ever could. Jellyfish bobbing around and being brainless and boring, and when they weren’t they were stinging people to death and getting eaten by turtles. Even the name is boring. Jelly. Fish. Like those squidgy, dry-goo kids toys that you’re supposed to throw at the window but gets hair stuck to it when it falls on the carpet. Yuck.
Which was weird, considering this monstrosity he had been tasked with looking after was definitely the most interesting and intricate and pretty thing he had probably ever clapped eyes on. It had a heaviness to it, a purpose. And it felt like it was watching him.
Better steer clear for a while. It looks weird, he had been told things that absolutely made it sound weird and to be honest, it frightened him a little.
He wasn’t usually one to be afraid. Hell, he’d always been the brawn of his sturdy group of friends, right since he was a kid. He had worked his way up the proverbial ladder and had been widely recognised as the guy you don’t screw with at his school, though he wasn’t particularly proud of how he got there, (there had been a lot of fights behind the bike sheds and nicked sandwiches under the threat of blackmail at lunch). But he had forgotten all that and settled himself into being the relatively good-looking, popular, flirtatious guy who did a moderately average job in the eyes of his colleagues and had a moderate measure of success with the ladies.
Made no sense then that this contraption he had been lumbered with for a stint had shaken him by its sheer solidness on his front room table. It seemed to be unmovable in its presence, though it was light as a feather when it had been brought in and that fact in itself threw him because how can something that looked so substantial weigh that little? His bloody breakfast weighed more!
“What the hell are you?” Max wondered out loud.
He sat and stared at the thing for the longest time, watching to see if it would move. Only the sparkly inner swirled. Nothing more. It gave him the feeling of lying on the bottom of the ocean, staring at the sun beams though the surface until it started to fade. His eyes stared to fade. His mind went blank. He was being sucked down a long, dark tunnel of still water by his chest, he was sinking and swimming and becoming the empty space around him, it seemed he could feel the particles in the air as they vibrated and resounded in his ears, felt himself being blinded…
Max blinked and snapped back into the room, found himself standing in front of the machine. The studded brass bands holding the tubes together rotated slowly, silently.
Yeah, there’s something not right about that thing. Something unnatural.
Slowly backing out of the room and trying very hard not to show the Alcolic Thormatador… Thermanter… the thing that it was making him uncomfortable, he sidled through the doorway and into the hall. Yeah, that thing is just plain wrong.
In the corridor he paused, tried to laugh at himself.
This thing is just metal and glass and sparkly water, he thought. It doesn’t have the brainpower to understand that I feel some kind of way about it and even if it did, what is it going to do? It’s an invention, a machine and nothing more and machines are made by people, made by my friend, so what the hell is there to be afraid of?
He reached the kitchen, surprised at his own existential awareness that seemed to come quite fluidly, which was most unlike him. Maybe he was getting soft in the head. He heard that happened at a certain time of life but that phenomenon would be a bit premature. He wasn’t much past his third decade, thank you very much!
Max filled a mug from the water boiler and threw in a teabag and a few sugars. He squeezed the bag against the side of the mug until the dregs started dropping, plapped it in the sink and poured in milk. He stirred his tea well, just as always, but now the clinking of the mug took on an added layer of comfort when he knew what was in the front room. He wasn’t in a dark tunnel where he couldn’t do anything but watch, he was in his own kitchen that he had had rebuilt last year. He picked out the worktops and cupboards, he chose the shiny silver appliances, he bought the gourmet herbs and put them on the window sill, slightly over-watered and flooding their drip trays until they almost overflowed. He was in his own kitchen, familiar down to the millimetre, and solid. Nothing could touch him here.
No, he thought, it’s just an invention. A thing.
He put the spoon down with certainty on the worktop and squared his shoulders: he marched down the hall towards the front room with his tea in his left hand and the right balled up into a fist. He paused for a second outside the door. No sound.
This is my house, I won’t be intimidated in my own damned house.
He rounded the corner, planted his feet wide and glared hard at the thing.
“Look, I don’t know what you are,” he said to the machine, “but you don’t look dangerous. And seeing as we’re going to be spending some time together, I’m just going to ignore you and you can ignore me, ok? No making me feel like I’m being watched, no making me feel like I’m swimming around somewhere in space, no more weird stuff and I won’t put you in the loft. We’ll coexist in blissful harmony, like water and jellyfish.”
The Alchemic Thaumaturgator just sat there, glistening.
“Ok. Good. Fine.”
He grabbed the fern and the shamefully stunted lucky bamboo (that damned plant his cat was always rubbing his face on) that were perched next to the door and shoved them onto the table in front of the machine, mostly obscuring it from view. Better.
Max backed up and sat on the couch under the window, across the room from the table and that freakish unicorn turd of a contraption. He wrenched his eyes away for just long enough to put on the television and throw one final look over at the thing on his table, searching for it amongst the foliage. It hadn’t moved. It just sat there. He gestured at it rudely with a slightly shaking hand.
The soothing sound of the narrator drew him back into his TV and another nature documentary, this time about the great apes of the rainforests of Western Africa. This was much more interesting. He swivelled sideways in his chair to face the screen directly, sipping away at his tea.
“See,” he said towards the table, “this is exactly what…”
He glanced back and promptly fell out of his chair. His tea went flying as his mug thudded to the floor in an all too under-dramatic fashion compared to what his adrenaline was doing.
The thing was lighting up! It was glowing! Only a little bit but it was actually putting out light!
“Jeez!” Max shouted at it from the floor. “What is that? How is that happening? What is it doing? Stop it! Stop it!”
He scrambled around, on his hands and knees and still on the floor, trying to shut off the sounds of viciously shaken branches and primates howling at each other. The screen mercifully emitted a heavy click and fell into blackness as the remote fell to the floor. In the resounding silence of the room it was just Max, his adrenaline-fuelled breathing and the glass machine.
He stared at it. It absolutely was staring at him, even from between the leaves, there was no doubt, the liquid in the middle was pooling and somehow gathering at the front of the tubes facing the room. The glowing light had already started to fade and the liquid lost concentration and dispersed again, slowly swirling around in all its glittery glory, just as it had before.
Max was still splayed out on the floor, his breathing struggling to return to normal. He stood up and flattened himself shakily against the wall.
“What just happened?” he muttered under his breath. “What the hell was that…”
The thing looked at him, ‘nothing to see here,’ it said, feigning innocence.
“Whatever you are, just stay the hell away from me!” Max shouted at the machine as skirted around the walls until he got to the doorway. The door was ajar but, because his eyes were fixed in horror at the fragments of the machine that were exposed from within the plants, he bumped backwards into the door, nudging it closed and clicking it shut. Fumbling for the handle he tried to wrench it open, only to find the handle in his hand, horrifyingly detached.
He was stuck in there with it.
Panic flooded his body. A sharp twist in his gut and sweat poured from every millimetre of his skin and a faint whine emitted from his mouth.
Deep breaths, he told himself. Deep breaths, you can figure this out. It can’t hurt you, so just sit down and figure it out.
He sat himself back on the sofa, pushing it further back and rucking up the rug into waves in front of him with his feet. Never had he been so afraid of an inanimate object before. Spiders, yes. The open ocean, yes. Heights, yes. But this?
He sat staring at it, filtering his brain through his usual coping processes. He couldn’t beat it, like he had done in school. He couldn’t charm it, like he had done at the office…
“It’s an elaborate Newton’s Cradle, for Christ’s sake! A fancy-man’s Rubik’s cube!” he told himself. “Some science experiment that a five year old could have done. Yeah, I bet he just put some glow stick stuff in the water and mixed it up and told me it’s real to scare me. It doesn’t even look that bad.” He stood up and took a hesitant half step towards it on quavering knees and reluctant feet, fighting the ‘flight’. “See? Can’t hurt me.”
Max blinked. The thing hadn’t even moved. What was so scary about it anyway? The glowing? It was probably the reflection off the TV. He moved the plants from in front of it with outstretched arms and stepped back as far as he could go.
“I’m going to call you Ruth,” he said, getting bold and pointing at it, “because Alcoholic Thermo… whatever is just ridiculous. Ok? And Ruth was my grandma’s name, and I liked her, she was safe as houses.” Sure, his grandma had died of an embolism nearly ten years ago, but he wasn’t going to admit that to this thing that he didn’t even know what an embolism was. Ruth was a safe name and the familiarity was comforting.
He felt the liquid moving towards the front of the glass again, shimmering and pulling him in. He felt his fear spike, then dissolve. It couldn’t hurt him. He was safe. He was in control.
“I think it was mean of him to call you something so ridiculous. But I suppose if he’s going to go for the Nobel Prize they like that kind of thing, don’t they?” He half laughed, took another step towards it. “Those competitions are always stupid though, nobody ever comes up with anything really new, it’s not like they’ve invented hovercraft cars or machines that can take you on holidays to the afterlife, is it?” He had nearly reached the table now. The tubes were glowing a little still and he could see something moving in there. His curiosity peaked over the top of his fear and had a good look at the prospect of getting closer. Curiosity decided to get closer.
Max leaned down, hands on knees, and stared into the ever-moving swirls that flowed through the glass tubing. Arms extended to their full defensive stance, he gently nudged the plants out of the way and took a good look at Ruth. He remembered his friend saying something about studs and elements.
“Hey, there they are! I didn’t see these before! So those… those are elements? Are they elements?” He asked the glass, dumbfoundedly pointing at the stuff he had assumed was glitter but now wasn’t half as sure. He had never seen elements before…
Ripples glowed in the liquid: it had heard him. They moved closer and were warming now, somehow.
“No way!” Max exclaimed, his mouth hanging open. So this is what Abe had meant! “It’s not possible! It’s not real! Is it real? Are you real?” He asked. “Of course you’re real, you’re sitting on my table! Ha! What a stupid question Max. So, if I ask you a question, are you gonna answer me, huh?”
The glass glittered at him, but nothing else.
“Ok, are you alive?”
Nothing.
“Hmph. Maybe it was a trick of the light.”
No answer.
Max flopped into the sofa, his brows furrowed at Ruth.
He found himself talking to himself, trying to dispel the weird energy that his friend’s invention had brought with it.
“This thing is strange. He said if I talk to it then it responds, but I asked it a question and it doesn’t do anything, but when I was watching that monkey progr…”
He stopped short.
“Yeah! Let’s shove that chimp documentary back on, shall we?”
Click, the screen shot into life of every colour of the rainforest, the howls echoing around the room. But Max didn’t watch the TV, he had his eyes firmly fixed on Ruth, remote still in hand in front of her, waiting expectantly.
Nothing. Dammit. Just the glittery same as glittery before.
Max tried not to let the tidal wave of disappointment wash him away. Maybe it wasn’t the show. Maybe it was a prank, a trick of the light after all.
Max bent to put the remote on the arm of the sofa. The light from the TV shone onto the table and Ruth crescendoed into life and started throwing out beams of light that looked like the solar flares he had seen on that awful show about space and rocks and stuff he wasn’t in the least bit interested in but had watched anyway.
But he had figured out the key: he was standing in between Ruth and the screen and his shadow had been overcasting the table! Ruth needed a full view to do… that thing… whatever it was that she was doing with the light.
Ping, pong, ping, pong, his eyes went between Ruth and the monkeys sailing through the trees by their ridiculously long arms, right up until the credits started rolling and she faded to a faint glow again. She still glittered but it wasn’t the same. She definitely needed encouragement. Inspiration, if you will.
Max flicked across through each channel, watching Ruth closely for any changes (of which there were none,) tock, tock, tock went the remote until he found a different channel, one that was obviously designed for people with limited imagination, because wow, even he can outpace the monotonous nasal narrator and he didn’t consider himself a particularly clever man! He wasn’t stupid either, but on the last one when they started to explain what a bacteria is he had lost his rag and shouted at the screen a bit.
“Everyone knows what a bloody bacteria is!” he had yelled. “Tell me something I don’t know, yeesh! Whoever said these documentaries were supposed to be informative obviously hadn’t got two brain cells to run together.” But the cinematography was nice. Lots of nature-looking things to watch, the natural world an’ all.
This time it was about walruses. All flopping around on the sea shore, getting sunburned and jabbing at each other with their overgrown chompers. He had seen this one before, it wasn’t as patronising as the others. Predictably narrated, yes, but not patronising.
He turned up the volume and spun round to look at Ruth.
She was throwing out flares again, hundreds of short wisps!
And just to test the theory, he tocked across onto the menu screen and selected a random game show that he had never heard of. True to form, Ruth dimmed back to her uninspired state of simple glitteritude.
“AHA! I knew it! You’re a sucker for the nature channel too! Aha! Ahahaha!”
Max threw up his arms in celebration, the remote going flying, cheering into the emptiness of the room. Empty, except for him and this thing which apparently had a liking for chimps and sunburnt sea mammals.
Damn, this thing is incredible, he thought. Why the hell, how the hell does it…?
He sat, flabbergasted, mouth agape.
Suddenly he jumped up, scrabbling around behind the sofa trying to find the remote again, where is it where is it where is it…
He flicked the volume up and down and Ruth still put out light. She shone and shone, the beauty!
He started singing to her, “shine on, you crazy diamond!”
She seemed to like that, too.

I know this title sounds bad, but I will soon explain my reasoning for feeling this way. I am a 14-year-old female, and for the past two years, I have hated my 5-year-old brother. I never always hated him. When he was younger, he was the sweetest thing in the world and was like a blessing and a light to my depressing life, I used to take care of him, feed him, and change him, I used to do everything for him. We were best friends, but, as time went on, I started noticing some behavioral patterns that both concerned and disgusted me and my little sister, who is nine years old.
My sister noticed it first, as one day she out of the blue HATED him, He was around 3–4 years old, and I think that's when it started. She started pushing him away and hurled insults at him. The entire family, including me, was baffled and did not understand why all of a sudden, she hated him so much. Every time I'd ask her why she hated him, she would never answer, or she would also push me away too, so, I thought that she was just mad that she was no longer the family's baby or something but, I could not be more wrong.
One day my sister came up to me and told me that my brother has been displaying some inappropriate behaviors towards her and, she doesn't know how to tell my parents, I was shocked and hurt because I was also a victim of sexual harassment and was almost got taken advantage of when I was around her age and, the thought that it's possibly happening to her and by a person that I also cared about, hurt me. So I told her I believed her and started paying close attention to my brother and started to see all the things that my sister said he did to her.
He would try to look under her skirt; he would take her pencils and put them up his butt, then try to touch her with them; or he would put his hand up his butt, close his eyes, stick his tongue out, and start... I don't even want to talk about it, and one day I woke up in the middle of the night and saw him standing there watching her in her sleep. He's so disgusting, and I was so confused as to how I did not notice this earlier. He would do it when my parents weren't watching and when he thought I was not watching, and over time, his behavior got worse.
My sister and I decided one day to tell my parents what was going on, and of course they did not believe us, They did not believe me and blamed me when I told them what happened to me, so I don't know why. I expected them to believe my sister, they also blamed her because she wore "too many dresses around him.". So it got worse and he started doing the same things to me.
Note: My brother is on the spectrum, and they, especially my mother, will go on to use it as a way to pardon all his misdeeds.
One day he tried to look up my skirt, and my mother saw it, but instead of disciplining him, she blamed me and told me that he's "experimenting" and "curious" and that he has problems, and we should be more considerate. My relationship with my mom is already not that great and this just made it worse. I hate when people use being special as an excuse to pardon people's terrible actions, not only is it invalid, but it also has a negative connotation for others on the spectrum. I've also spoken to some online, and they told me this is not normal.
Now that my brother sees that my parents are on his side, he no longer hides it, he now would take all his clothes off and sit next to you and just touch himself while calling your name so you could look at him, and he would try to touch you afterwards. This has led to me and my sister beating him up many times, and every time we would, he would laugh. We are frustrated and tired, and what's worse is that our mother sees nothing wrong with it. She is always telling people we are abusing him but not telling them what he is doing, and even if she did, they would see nothing wrong with it either.
He's just so disgusting, and I hate him, my sister and I have our own room, which we share together, and we would stay inside there just to not see him. He would try to get in and when he did he would hide under one of our beds or try to pee on us. One day I looked through his tablet and I saw photos of me and my sister and other girls in his class. He also gets really violent now. Everyone makes it that me and my sister are crazy and over reacting. He gets everything he wants and is spoiled.
This morning I woke up and saw him hovering over me nude, I kicked him to the wall and he started screaming and ran to strangle me, I kicked him again really hard then he digged his nails into my skin, then my mom came and took him away, I hate him so much, I don't know what's wrong with him, it's like a demon switched their kid with my brother. I some times wish my mom aborted him. He's so weird and creepy. Am I wrong for feeling this way?

Prologue:
This is Berk. It’s twelve days north of hopeless, and a few degrees south of freezing to death. It’s located solidly on the meridian of misery.
My village, in a word, sturdy. It’s been here for seven generations, but every single building is new. We have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunsets, the only problems are the pests.
You see most places have mice or mosquitoes, we have, DRAGONS!
My name’s Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, great name, I know, but it’s not the worst. Parents believe a hideous name would frighten off gnomes and trolls, as if our charming viking demeanour wouldn’t do that.
But you already knew all this stuff already most likely, you read the books, you’ve seen the films, you’ve played the games, but this is quite different. This story takes place in a reality that thankfully never coalesced, because of the pathways we took. But this one sits in the wings of whatever Flightmare crossed our path, because it’s too heartbreaking to recall, one that personally I would love to pretend doesn’t exist.
This is the story about how I got disowned by my own father, and forced to realign my identity with the dragons, ending up as the dragon master known as Night Rider, along with my friends.
So sit back, and enjoy the ride
Chapter one - Abandoned
The day of the final exam for dragon training had come around, and Hiccup had been selected for the final rite of passage task, kill the Monstrous Nightmare. As soon as he was introduced to it he threw his dagger and shield down in an act of defiance, refusing to kill the dragon after the knowledge he gained, and attempted to change the villager’s minds like he did with Astrid. However the stunt did not go as planned… The dragon went berserk after Stoick slammed on the cage, and caused the Night Fury named Toothless, to rush out from the cove where he made privatised shelter, to protect his best friend. This act unfortunately saw Toothless captured by the vikings, and after this display an extremely agitated and enraged Stoick, then dragged Hiccup away to the great hall, throwing him inside to try and get some answers for this behaviour.
Stoick: “I should have known… I should have seen the signs…”
Hiccup: “Dad?…”
Stoick: “We had a deal!”
Hiccup: “I know we did, but that was before I… Oh… It’s all so messed up…”
Stoick: “So everything in the ring? A trick? A lie?”
Hiccup: “I screwed up, I-I-I-I I should have told you, before now- I… Just you… are this out on me be mad at me but please… Just don’t hurt Toothless!…”
Stoick: “The dragon? That’s what you’re worried about!? Not the people you almost killed!?”
Hiccup: “He was just protecting me! He-he’s not dangerous!”
Stoick: “They’ve killed hundreds of us!”
Hiccup: “And we’ve killed thousands of them! They defend themselves that’s all!”
Stoick: “I can’t believe it… My own son… The son of a chief… Siding with the beasts!?”
Hiccup: “For the love of Thor dad, they’re not beasts! They only raid us because they have no other choice! And if they don’t bring enough food back to the nest, they will be eaten themselves…”
Stoick: “Oh that’s all well and good then, yeah let them pick us clean, while we starve to death! Hiccup, winter is getting closer and pretty soon we’re not going to have any morsels left in the village!”
Hiccup: “So you would let a far bigger dragon, eat those creatures alive, and risk many more men and ships trying to find the nest, instead of try to understand why they’re doing it?”
Stoick: “I may as well have tossed you in the pen for this insubordination…”
Hiccup: “It’s not insubordination dad! I’m trying to warn you that if you continue the assault, no-one is going to win”
Stoick: “Spare me, I’m not falling for that and nothing you can say will stop me!”
Hiccup: “Dad please! I’m serious, you’re going to lose your life if you continue this crusade!”
He doesn’t listen and instead continues to walk to the door.
Hiccup: “No… Dad, No… For once in your life will you please just listen to me!?- Gah!”
Hiccup then exclaims as Stoick throws him to the ground.
Stoick: “You’ve thrown your lot in with them Hiccup… You’re not a Viking… You’re not my son…”
After Stoick says this, all the colour and emotion washes completely out of Hiccup’s face, as he pants breathlessly from the argument they just had. Laying on the ground of the Great Hall helplessly as he watches his ‘father’ go out and rally more of his troops to search for the dragon’s nest again. Unbeknownst to the both of them, Astrid had followed them there, and listened in from a crack in the door. A similar look of shock and horror adorning her face as Stoick walks out into the harbour, only stopping to contemplate what he just said to his son, but continues on regardless. Hiccup meanwhile stood in the inky blackness that surrounded the Great Hall, accompanied only with a slight ray of sunlight from the door being left ajar, picking up his helmet that Stoick had tossed back to the boy. With tears in his face, and a newfound rage bubbling inside him, he tossed it into the still glowing embers of the fire pit, letting it sit there to gather soot, or melt away. He then mustered the courage to exit the hall, and rushes over to the boardwalk, to see his ‘father' off, if only from a distance.
Stoick: “Set sail! We head for Helheim’s gate…”
The stocky chief would call out to his crew, as he saw a figure looking out from the boardwalk above the harbour, suspiciously like his fishbone of a son. Hiccup meanwhile looked out towards the unmoored ships, catching the wind in the sails, as they made their way west. He simply shook his head, as if pleading ‘No…’ To the militia, but knew they wouldn’t listen as they sailed further out to sea. Mere minutes pass after the last ship had escaped Hiccup’s eye-line, then Astrid comes up from behind him, also looking out to the sea.
Astrid: “It’s a mess Hiccup… You must feel horrible… You lost everything… Your father, your tribe, your best friend-”
Hiccup: “Thank you for summing that up…”
He responded with his usual sarcasm, as he began to think about his actions.
Hiccup: “Why couldn’t I have just killed that dragon when I found him in the woods?… The job had mostly been done after half of his tail came off… and it would have been better for everyone…”
Astrid: “Yep, the rest of us would have done it… So why didn’t you?”
She asked, seeing him turn his head away in shame and frustration.
Astrid: “Why didn’t you?”
Hiccup: “I don’t know… I guess I just couldn’t”
Astrid: “That’s not an answer Hiccup”
Hiccup: “Why is this so important to you all of a sudden? You didn’t even care mere months ago”
Astrid: “Because I want to remember what you say right now”
Knowing she won’t let this go, he lets out an exasperated sigh.
Hiccup: “Oh for the love of- okay look, I was a coward! I was weak! I wouldn’t kill a dragon!”
Astrid: You said ‘wouldn’t’ that time-”
Hiccup: “Oh, whatever! I wouldn’t! 300 years of this Thorforsaken island, and I’m the first viking in the history of Berk, that wouldn’t kill a dragon!”
With this outburst he simply turned away until Astrid piped up with.
Astrid: "First to ride one though”
As soon as he heard that from her, he began to remind himself of the purpose Toothless gave him, and realised his motivation for leaving the dragon alive.
Astrid: “So…?”
Hiccup: “I wouldn’t kill him, because he looked as frightened as I was… I looked at him, and I saw myself”
Astrid: “Well he’s not on those ships but I bet he’s really frightened now, so what are you going to do about it?…”
Hiccup: “I don’t know… There’s no clear answers for me, but as far as dad’s concerned I’m not his son… And according to him, I don’t have the right to be called a viking…”
Astrid: “What are you saying Hiccup?…”
Hiccup: “I’m saying that if this is what my ‘Dad’ thinks of me… And if everyone else had turned their backs on me… Then maybe I should just make it official and leave the island… Find a new home with myself and Toothless”
Astrid: “Leave home!? Hiccup, are you crazy?”
Hiccup: “Astrid, you know better than anyone that crazy is what a viking does best… And unless you have a better idea, then this is the one I’m going with…”
Feeling like a pit was forming in her stomach, the once unshakable Astrid Hofferson almost freezes in shock, before trying to reach for Hiccup’s hand.
Astrid: “No Hiccup, you can’t leave…”
Hiccup: “I have no choice… I don’t have a home here anymore anyways, no-one wants me around they just see me as useless, and even the people that didn’t turn against me after that stunt in the arena would barely look in my direction…”
She pulls her hand back, holding it to her chest before taking a deep breath and looking directly into Hiccup’s eyes.
Astrid: “Well I’m coming with you.”
Hiccup: What!? Astrid, you can’t!-”
Astrid: “I’m not letting you do this alone Hiccup, not after everything you’ve done in and out of the arena.”
Hiccup: “No Astrid, you still have a life here, responsibilities to keep the village safe, friends, family, what do I have?”
Astrid: “You still have a best friend in Toothless, and you’ll have me”
She gets closer to him and grabs his hand, attempting to stop him from running away. His face painted with surprise at this motion.
Astrid: “Hiccup, you showed me things last night that I never thought possible. You opened my eyes to the reality of dragons as more than blood thirsty killers. My entire worldview has been changed, thanks to you and Toothless. And I wouldn't ever take that back in a heartbeat, just to continue to live on an island of murder… I’m going with you, whether you like it or not.”
The surprise then turns to a smile as he realised she was being sincere, and no-one had been sincere with him before, even when he was ‘excelling’ in dragon training. He almost wanted to kiss her like she did to him the night before but held back.
Hiccup: “Who’d have thought the woman I’d have the biggest crush on would say something like this to me?… I thought you hated me… Especially with Snotlout sniffing around you like a dragon with a sheep”
Astrid: “First off, ew… Snotlout’s just an annoying bogey I can’t wipe off, and secondly, I never actually hated you Hiccup… I actually paid more attention to you as soon as you entered the academy because I wanted to keep an eye on you to make sure you weren’t being tortured by Snotlout or the twins”
Hiccup: “Even though you tried to break my wrist and looked at me with a scowl?…”
Astrid: “That was my jealousy getting the better of me… I actually thought you were one of the better ones…”
Hiccup: “You really think so Astrid?..”
Astrid: “I know so, I wouldn’t be saying this otherwise…”
She replied flashing him a grin, seeing him smile back with a few tears.
Hiccup: “Th-thank you Astrid…”
Astrid: “Come here Hiccup”
She then pulls him into a tight hug, the scrawny young boy in him showing surprisingly more depth than she ever thought possible. He instantly returned it hiding his face into her shoulder with a few light sobs and breaths before he lifted his face up regaining his composure.
Hiccup: “Alright Astrid, you can come along with me”
As he says this she pulls him back in, this time for a deep kiss on the lips, which he gleefully returns. Blushing red as they part, and exchanging a slight chuckle.
Hiccup: “But first, you’ll need your own dragon, as we may not be able to share Toothless a lot of the time, and I’m the only one who know’s how his prosthetic fin works. So gather some supplies from your house and meet me at the arena, I’ll help you pick out a dragon that I think would be right for you, and then we can go.”
Astrid: “Got it.”
Hiccup: “Okay, I’ll see you there soon!”
He calls out to her with a wave as he rushes home to get some camping materials, a water skin, his journals, a wood cutting axe and a supply of rations. Astrid makes the same checklist of items before carrying them to the arena, the both of them counting their blessing that almost the entire village had gone out in search of the dragon’s nest.

Compromise
First Prev
“Alright, so uh...” Alex picked the last larva out of the bowl and ate it. A burst of umami and the unexpected taste of alcohol. Now that it had soaked up some of the spice from the broth, it was pretty good. Not particularly flavorful, but a better eating experience than he would expect from a grub. “Why did Eleya put two towns into a warship?”
“I do not know.” Carbon was less fussy about the variety of ingredients presented, eating without playing favorites. It was what she’d picked out when pressed to recommend something for him, and the speed of the devastation she was enacting on what had been a bowl nearly filled to the brim said that it was actually a personal favorite. “I had heard some suggesting converting retired Naval ships into housing, using a decommissioned carrier as a space station once it could be towed into a proper location. Swapping out launch bays for community towers is not a long bridge.”
“That seems...” It seemed desperate. But given what he’d seen, desperate was where they had been in the weeks following the disaster. Where they still were, even if things were improving.
Were things improving?
“Born out of desperation, yes.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “We did not have many colonies, we had not built so many stations. We only kept old ships for parts as another means of efficiency in our fleets. There had been hundreds of thousands in transit all over the Empire at the time. On their way home, on their way to relieve others who now no longer had a home to return to.”
“Yeah, that-” He shifted some of the shredded cabbage-potato around his bowl, trying to figure out what to say. The ‘that sucks’ he had stopped himself from blurting out felt offensively inadequate. “That does present a huge challenge. Did they end up bringing ships online for that?”
“Oh, we did everything. Any idea that was not completely untenable got the blue light. Repurposing ships, building sealed micro-arcologies on less habitable planets, mining out sufficiently large asteroids, asking the Confederation for help. I saw one proposal that suggested an inflatable space station. I thought it was a completely deranged idea.” She paused and picked up the bowl, slurping out some of the broth. “Then Humans arrive to bring aid, and do you know what the first structure they brought with them was?”
“An inflatable space station.” He saw that coming. Everyone - well, everyone who was sufficiently interested in space ships - would recognize the Redoubt class from that description alone. The very definition of form following function, each ship was little more than a central cylinder with hard points for a dozen habitat modules, and engines bolted to one end. Light, fast, cheap. Once deployed, you had a small space station that could be packed up when you were done. Old technology, sure, but they were everywhere, and the configuration options were extensive.
“Exactly. Forgive me, but I laughed. I knew the intent was to help, but having seen that proposal just weeks before...” She smiled and laughed despite having just apologized for such a thing.
“No I get it, it’s a goofy looking ship.” He could see the humor in the situation as well. Having gone from ‘this is too dangerous’ to ‘of course the Humans brought one’ was pretty funny. It put a smirk on his face and got him close to laughing along with her. “Probably used it as a command post until something heavier arrived. Kind of the primary use case for those in Search and Rescue, which is what I think the aid mission was first considered.”
“I was not involved with that aspect of recovery operations, but it stands to reason.” She set her utensils aside in a very specific way, sliding the bowl towards the end of the table. “I cannot tell you why they put all these people here. My first guess would be that it was a somewhat straightforward swap. The bays are very securely attached to the structure, but they are intended to be removed and replaced. It would be important that Eleya use her ship as a proof of concept.”
“Royals lead?” Seemed the logical jump.
Carbon nodded. “The Sword is recognized as her flagship. It is named after her. The Stronghold is based heavily on the Imperial Palace in Ama’o - may it rest. Taking in civilians, thousands of them, is hard proof that she is not simply hiding in here. Having the senate on board also brings with it the need for support staff, creating a symbiotic relationship. It is... a good compromise.”
“Okay, wait. How is The Sword of the Morning Light named after Eleya?” That legitimately confused him. “All I know is the -ya suffix is feminine.”
“Another name mauled by your automatic translation, though this time it is a portion of the Empress’ full formal titles.” She gave him a pointed look, a little smirk hiding on the side of her muzzle. “The strictest translation would be ‘the sword that is used to cut back the night,’ but that is even worse. If I were doing translations and feeling poetic, perhaps I would call it Dawnsword. It would convey the meaning of the name well enough, I think, without being verbose.”
“Then why do you call it the Sword like we do?” He figured just using the actual Tsla name would be easy enough if Dawnsword was a better translation.
“When in Rome.” Carbon snickered. “The Confederate systems I was working with before leaving for the Haultain were not set up to handle Tsla, and none of the Humans I spoke to recognized the name when I said it, so it became a force of habit.”
“Ah, that’d do it.” He’d ask about the actual name another time - it being one of Eleya’s titles felt like a natural transition to learning the rest of her titles, and he didn’t give a single damn about doing that right now.
“Alright, Eleya needs places to put people, and a place to put a temporary capital until the new location can be properly sorted. Two birds with one stone, I suppose. Wouldn’t staying at Schoen be more of the... leader thing to do?”
“If she were to stay here beyond the end of this endeavor, perhaps so. For now, having this ship - and its civilians - as a base of operations, in what even we consider to be one of the most secure solar systems, is reasonable. Most governing at that level has been done remotely since before the disaster, so it doesn’t impede anything.” She paused to sip her tea. “No one needs a senator to be on site anyway. Their presence traditionally just interferes with real work.”
That did get a laugh out of Alex. “The more things change.”
“The more they stay the same, yes?” She said with a grin.
“It is so. All right, mystery of the Dawnsword’s surprise towns is put to rest.” He stopped talking as Haraya came out of the woodwork to remove Carbon’s dishes, bustling away with even less stiffness than before. Why did he feel like he was forgetting something? “Heck. Did... Did anyone tell you we have an appointment to see a designer about our uh, our insignia?”
“No, but my communicator has been going off like I am being told something like that.” Carbon laughed and leaned back into her chair, fishing the slim black device from her jacket, the screen coming on.
Alex was not intentionally staring at his wife’s abdomen as he pushed the bowl away and set his chopsticks out like she had done. “Zenshen said it was this afternoon.”
“Mmh, afternoon. Another curious translation.” She teased him gently, flicking items off her screen one by one. “Neya says it is with Aetena Lyshen, at three. He has stated that his schedule is open today, and we may come in earlier if we so desire. Oh. How unexpected.”
Three o'clock, Tsla’o time, was probably like a solid five or six hours away. Plenty of time to have a deeply personal conversation about what Neya had told him. Or, perhaps, just go talk to the guy sooner. It wasn’t like he was putting it off... but he was putting it off for now. “What’s up?”
“Neya contacted the Colonel to make sure that Zenshen was attached to your detail properly - it turns out she was. You are both already on the artifact project, so it was just a slight shift of duties. The Empress went through appropriate channels, and Lehnan agrees with her decision.” She glanced up at him as she processed that. “I did not expect it to be so proper.”
“She is trying to turn over a new leaf, at least as far as you are concerned. Ensuring I have the help to not fuck things up, and doing it properly, could be a part of that.” He managed to make it sound like a statement, even though it was very much a question. Did his insistence that Eleya needed to start following through on her words actually sink in?
“It is possible. She will need to do more than fill out a little paperwork to prove herself.”
“Yeah, obviously. It’s just that you seemed surprised, so I was left with the impression that was unusual.”
Carbon stared down at the phone in her hands. “I do not know. From what I have seen, she will normally adhere to formal channels. But in the past, when it has come to dealings with me, she has not. Relied on her word being law to make things happen.”
Like making it legal to marry a Human. Changed who knows how much legal history with a stroke of a pen, to unfold some new machinations. “Zenshen made it sound like she was mostly there to act as a buffer between me and the military, keep me from offending anyone. Which strikes me as Eleya looking after her investment.”
“That is a reasonable assumption. I fear she has more intent sunk into you than we can see, so...” She also stopped talking when their waitress returned for Alex’s dishes, giving the young woman a warm smile. “Perhaps it really is.”
Alex, being privy to at least one plan that Carbon was unaware of, instantly did not want to comment on that. “Like you say, it lies with her to prove... herself good.”
“So it does.” Carbon smiled at his butchering of their turn of phrase before glancing down at her communicator again. “All right. Do you have any further plans for this morning?”
“Not a one. Want to push up the meeting with Lyshen? For that matter, do we have any plans tonight?”
“I do want to get that done. Designers can be particular. Best to get started sooner, and also have a meal that we can excuse ourselves for without appearing rude.” She smirked, displaying a little bit of the knowledge she had accumulated growing up in an elevated class, and started tapping away at the screen with both thumbs. “As for this evening, nothing that Neya has made me aware of.”
“Sounds good to me.” Left the evening open to actually have a sit down with Neya, perfect. “Oh shit, that reminds me. Neya wants us to bring her breakfast.”
“Does she. Very upset about not being able to come along?” The tone she had said that Carbon was familiar with Neya pretending to be put out by that, as did the barely hidden smile and tiny little snort of a laugh.
“Absolutely heartbroken.” He played along. “I had to promise that we’d get her something this morning and that you’d make breakfast again tomorrow.”
“Mh. We will see who is making breakfast when the time comes, but I will have something sent to her and we will proceed to our appointment.” She flipped through the applications on her phone and started typing something else out. “There.”
Carbon slipped the slim black screen back into her jacket and stood, stretching a little bit before walking over to the end of the bar, Haraya hustling out to meet them with a small device like the one Carbon had used to pay in the other little restaurant. She set her palm down on it, it processed for a moment and played a happy little tune.
“Thank you both, it was an honor to serve you.” Haraya bowed again now that the transaction was done.
“You did well, thank you.” Carbon said it in Tsla as she returned the bow, glancing over at Alex to ensure he was doing the same thing.
“Sa meha.” He was. Paying attention to what Carbon was doing was getting him pretty far, as was having memorized how to say ‘thank you’ in Tsla.
They turned to leave, but Haraya spoke again before they could take a step. Quiet, and very timid. “May I ask you a question?”
Carbon didn’t even think about it as she looked back. “Of course.”
“I was mostly asking the prince, I am very sorry.” She looked just this side of terrified to be correcting a Royal.
“Oh yeah, shoot.” Alex caught himself speaking in English way too late. He pursed his lips and inhaled, just barely preventing himself from rolling his eyes at that little faux pas. Based on what Carbon had said about Haraya getting her information about how nobles work from movies, she would have interpreted that as aimed at her. He queued up a very quick reply. “Please do.”
“After you left, last night.” She glanced over at the bartender, who was not paying them any attention at all. “Adana kept saying a strange word, I assume it to be Human - untranslatable.”
The irony of the translator not being able to digest something in English was not lost on Alex. What had he said to the kid?
Carbon, meanwhile, thought it was hilarious. “It is actually two words, a phrase. Oh, busted. In this case I believe it means that he got caught doing something he should not have been doing.” She laughed, looking up at Alex with a grin.
Haraya’s relief at how this turned out was immediately visible. She was still tense, but didn’t look like she might have just caught an execution. “Adana likes to play with the door controls. They beep and flash, and he can activate the viewscreen... And open the door. That is what he was doing when he found the prince in the hallway, when he should have been in bed. It is not an offensive term?”
“Et.” Alex shook his head no. Score another point for knowing the basics.
“It is as he says. A harmless statement.” Carbon picked up the slack from Alex trying not to advertise that he spoke their language yet. She looked over to him again. “Perhaps used to tease a friend when they get caught out?”
He nodded as sagely as he could, a smirk barely suppressed as he caught that shade she was directing at him.
“His mother will be so glad. She has been concerned it was some kind of swearing, or something worse. I told her that the prince had been kind in my interaction with him, but she was-” Haraya exhaled sharply, wide brown eyes darting between them with a hint of that fear creeping back in. “She was afraid despite that.”
“Ah. If that does not settle her, please get in contact with me.” She pulled her communicator out, swiping along the screen for a moment and holding it out to the young woman. “We can arrange a meeting to clear anything up.”
She looked down at a swirling orange circle on Carbon’s phone, “I am not allowed to carry my- May I get it?”
“Of course.” Carbon smiled.
Alex lowered his voice as Haraya hustled away. “You sure giving her your number is a good idea?”
“No. But she is earnest and correct in her assessment of you.” She shook her head, her words quiet and sharp. “That boy learned a simple phrase, and his mother thinks it is a curse? I know why she did. I have met my own people. I think a gentle nudge may be in order to prevent it from being passed along.”
“When you say gentle nudge...”
She held a hand out to ease his concern. “I was thinking tea.”
Haraya returned, phone in hand and followed by an older, grumpy looking male dressed in the same natural fiber clothes save for a vibrant red scarf around his neck, voice raised as he tried to keep up with the excited teen. “You may not use your-”
“Akai.” Alex gave what he assumed was a manager a needlessly cheery greeting with a little wave of his fingers. Oh man, he had loved being a shit to managers when he was younger, particularly if they were on a power trip. The opportunity hadn’t presented itself recently, and the urge to abuse the power that he allegedly had now was so tempting.
“Floor boss!” Carbon was a step ahead of him, greeting the gray male in their own language loud enough to draw his attention away from their waitress. “What is it that I may not use?”
Alex’s translator sat unused for several seconds as the sounds that guy made never made it past shocked guttural noises, the realization of who he’d been yelling in the general direction of sinking in. Haraya was too busy getting Carbon’s contact information to notice, or might have just been ignoring this exchange as hard as the bartender was.
“It was- My words- Did not for you.” He held up his hands and backed away.
“Ah, a simple misunderstanding?” Carbon offered him as the phone dinged complete, and she slipped it back into her jacket.
“Yes, of course.” Couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
Haraya bowed again as she hid her communicator, the same black rectangle that Carbon and Alex appeared to have. “Thank you. I hope I will not have to contact you, but that you have offered...”
“The prince has shown me who he is, what is in his heart... It will not do to have anyone doubting his character.” Carbon smiled and returned the bow.
Alex followed suit.
The fear in her eyes was gone, and if anything there was a little bit of admiration in there now as she thanked them again, quietly, before running off to whatever her next duty was.
They left the same way they had come in, through the main dining area. The crowd had shifted, some groups gone, new ones in their place. Conversations to fill boredom, meals he didn’t recognize being consumed at every pace conceivable. Once again, he was pretty sure this was his kind of joint.
It only took the gentlest of questions to get Carbon talking about what she’d been doing all morning as they walked back to the tram, riding all the way to the stop closest to the bow this time. Alex was only slightly familiar about what she was talking about - had something to do with preventative maintenance checks on one of the shuttles. It was interesting to find out they had developed a very similar system to what he was used to, checking in on functionality after so many hours of use.
He didn’t understand the majority of what she was describing, but he enjoyed listening to her talk about things with such enthusiasm.
Lyshen’s office was easily the furthest forward he had been on the ship yet. Took the elevator up to deck 20 and then just walked towards the bow for another five minutes. He must have been as close as one could get to the plate armor and whatever buffer they put between it and the habitable areas. It seemed almost entirely unused - he was sure some of the bulkheads had dust on them.
For Alex, there were two potential reasons for this. Aetena Lyshen preferred the solitude of the area. It was actually very quiet, even compared to the hall in front of their cabin. Or, he had pissed someone off and gotten banished to a spot as far away as possible.
Whichever option, Lyshen had put some work into his workspace. The door was ringed in a delicate gold filigree, a lacework of glittering geometric shapes with his name and title contained in a small banner above the door. They were meeting with a Royal Artisan.
Carbon tapped the door controls and it slides open almost instantly. The young woman with light red fur inside is dressed nearly as formally as they had been last night, though in muted grays. She bows. Not too deep. “Welcome, the Chief Artisan is preparing for your arrival. It should be just a few minutes.”
Chief Artisan. Well. Alex shot Carbon a sidelong glance as the receptionist turned and they followed her through a waiting room. A simple rectangular area, with a few upholstered chairs and benches scattered around. It was the most Human looking area he’d been in so far.
The far wall caught his eye as they walked through, windows looking into a workshop. Alex walked over, the large floor beyond housing a dozen or so Tsla’o, all seated at desks or workbenches, engrossed in whatever they were working on. Almost to the last, they were using hand tools.
Alex had never really seen craftsmen up close, doing their thing. In movies, or videos, sure. But not right here a few steps away, carefully engraving some sort of... Breastplate? Cuirass? Big chunk of metal that looked like it went over the chest.
“I believe that is yours.” Carbon stepped up next to him, a smirk in her voice as she leaned against his shoulder. “To go with your gauntlets, and the rest of the armor that is no doubt being fabricated.”
“What makes you say that?” How could she pick that up from looking at it for, what, three or four seconds?
“Consider the size.” She nodded at it, the artist working on it laying out a star near the shoulder. “Who else would wear such a piece?”
“Huh.” Compared to the guy who was doing the work, it wasn’t exactly massive, but he would need a lot of padding to wear that. This raised a few questions for him about the ethics of receiving such gifts. But he wasn’t a politician... Not as far as the Confederation was concerned. “I guess it is.”
They stood in silence and watched work progress. A woman in the back was carving something, perhaps a chair leg. One guy in the corner making hinges with an induction forge and a tiny, specialized anvil.
Before long, the secretary approached them again. “The Chief Artisan is prepared for you now. Please.” She gestured to the only door that went somewhere other than the corridor.
The Chief Artisan was sitting behind his desk, wearing an outfit similar to his receptionist, pale green eyes switching back and forth between two screens. The primary one was built into the desk, and had been jury rigged to a Human made laptop that sat on top of it, a rat’s nest of cables connecting the two. There was a holoprojector built into the desk, a jumble of images floating over it. He waved them in and gestured to the chairs across from him, “Please, sit.”
Alex was quick to oblige, glad to be just some guy for the moment. Carbon didn’t seem to mind either, taking the seat beside him without a word. Aetena was the first green Tsla’o Alex had seen, sort of a dark forest green with jade stripes visible on his neck. Apparently a bit of a rarity given how often he saw the other colors on the ship.
“I am sorry to keep you waiting, the connection to your Solanet has gone down. Despite that, I believe I have enough saved locally to begin the process.” Lyshen trailed off, lost between the two displays before closing a dozen images from the holo. He picked a pen up from the table and arranged the remaining pictures neatly, four different coats of arms that claimed to belong to a Sorenson. The red enamel barrel blurred into an arc as he spun the pen in his fingers, voice picking up speed as he locked on to Alex. “There is a large amount of heraldry available for your surname, do you know which coat of arms belongs to your particular family?”
There was a deer, a deer head, a rearing horse and a weird shaped star. Maybe it was a flower, or a drip of paint. They were all surrounded by leaves and the occasional knight’s helmet. Alex wasn’t sure what any of it meant and up until now, he’d never even thought about it. Knights and damsels in distress had never really been his thing. “Uh, can’t say that I do, no.”
“Mmh. What geographic region does your lineage trace back to? I could find no significant references to the Berkley Soresons on your Solanet.” He leaned back and the pen continued to trace crimson circles in his hand.
“The name comes from Europe, but the last couple of generations have lived in California, and America before that for who knows how long... We’re from a little bit of everywhere.” It was an inside joke with the family, which had ties back into nearly every corner of the globe at this point. Now they had a relative from somewhere way off the globe as well.
That puzzled Aetena, ears flicking as he turned back to the Human screen and picked over the keyboard slowly. He didn’t like what he found. “All of these originate from the continent of Europe. Do you happen to know which country?”
“No, I’m not sure. Had an uncle do the family tree thing once, but between the civil wars and The Collapse, the lineage got spotty about a hundred years ago.” Alex wasn’t really into the whole ancestry thing once you got outside of living relatives. It was novel, sure, but right now all he really wanted to do was ask if he could borrow that Solanet access when it came back up. The rest of the ship had access to the Confed’s milnet, which tightly restricted what he could be sending across it - he just wanted to download a couple of movies and some music, but milnet barely overlapped with the wider public network.
Lyshen set his hand down and the pen switched back and forth like a metronome, clicking on his desk at the end of each arc. He closed his eyes for a moment, jaw working silently before he closed the images and started pulling up new ones. “Perhaps we should move on to other aspects of this endeavor. As I have been told that you wish to integrate Tsla’o and Human cultures in your marriage, I had intended to blend the existing Tshalan sigil with some of the Sorenson family heraldry. I thought it would be best to use the gear-star surround from the Princess’ family crest as a base to build from. Something that is immediately familiar to Tsla’o, to put the viewer at ease. As it is indicative of starship commands, exploration and the outer colonies, it will solidly represent both of you and the way you met.”
Alex raised an eyebrow at Carbon, “sound reasonable?” He had no idea if it was or not, but it did sound like it. Also, if they were serious about integrating parts of Tsla’o and Human cultures, they needed to actually get on that.
“Yes. I agree, that would be a good place to start.”
“Thank you.” He busied himself bringing up a few more pictures, rough combinations of the ten point gear-star and the various items from the Sorenson crests, bits of decoration and detail work.
The door chimed behind them and Lyshen stopped with a sharp glare. He eyed the clock and sighed, a whispered curse under his breath before he set his pen down and straightened up. “Come.”
There was a soldier partially concealed behind the door, the rank plate on his uniform loaded with details, not that Alex could read them yet. He swept the room with a rifle as he entered, the short barrel ending up pointed just a hair under Alex’s sternum. A pair of soldiers took up positions on either side of the door and covered him, a few more lined up in the waiting room.
When he spoke, it was crisp and authoritative. “Please back away from the Human.”
 
First Prev
*****
Never a dull moment on that ship.
Art pile: Carbon reference sheet. Art by Tyo_Dem

I'm a convicted sex offender(possession of cp). This is a throwaway account for multiple reasons, but mainly I am posting here to take questions on things and to educate people on various things, seeing the clues to see the symptoms of depression, abuse and so on.
So a little background on what led me to where I am.
A lot of my life is a fog, mainly due to a lot of abuse and developing the forgetfulness as a defense. You see, when I was extremely young, I was sexually abused by a man. This trauma in and of itself began the defense mechanism. Im still not sure, im working in therapy to discover more and uncover more of what happened.
Anyway, moving forward, my father and stepmother would do drugs in front of me, smoke a lot and argue fiercely to the point of destroying things, throwing ashtrays and so on.
My parents would use me against the other. Because of my mother, I didnt even call my dad anything other than his name until I was 6. This is the same woman that bullied me into my 20's, calling me names, belting us kids, usually on the back of our thighs, and so on.
Its not to say that I didnt also have decent time as a child. I got toys and games and clothes, same as my siblings. But I dont think my mother was emotionally there, she still does things that feel like a stab in the back.
Throughout childhood, I was bullied by just about everyone, due to the emotional issues I was given growing up by my parents, so I didnt know how to behave. Then after displaying such, im told I was taken to McDonalds by my mother, like its some reward to try and make me be behave better, but really reinforces being terrible.
Apparently sexual things were ever on my mind from an early age as I and a cousin played show and tell and touched at young ages, but nothing else developed. An older cousin had me suck her nipples when I wasnt even a teenager.
I was a bundle of bad decisions up until high school, when I began to mellow out emotionally. Still bullied but calmer. I began to develop longer friendships with those my age and date somewhat. My first sexual relationship was with a girl who cheated on me with a friend, claiming that, at a party, she got high from secondhand weed smoke and made that bad decision, but being an oversexed teen, I forgave to get sex.
It was during these years that the internet became much more of a thing in my life, looking at porn a lot, usually early in the morning before school and before anyone got up.
You see, we had one computer in the house and so in middle school, I began to get up at about 3am, we went to bed at 9pm in our house, and so I would set a clock and get up.
During these hours, i would look at porn, sex stories, roleplay sexual things with adults, after I developed my writing skill...Being oversexed and now able to have a place to put it on display, I roleplayed from 13 years old and older and plenty of adults knew I was a young teen and went along with it.
It didnt take me until many years later that id come to realize I wanted the attention because I wasnt getting it anywhere else. I equated sex with love. If someone loved me, they'd do sexual things with me in one form or the other.
I met a girl and started dating her out of high school, basically because she was dtf. I moved in with her when I was still in high school because my mother made living with her miserable to my high school brain, plus all she ever did was bully me and just be a hateful person, which only seemed to somewhat change after prison.
This was a mistake on my part. I had to work fastfood, but due to unresolved issues, I quit or was fired from a few different jobs and was forced to stay with my father for a bit until I resolved to go to college. It was too far away for me to keep good grades and dropped out. I did this twice more, even at colleges that were closer.
We were together for a decade and she cheated on me, I cheated on her as revenge. Unhealthy. She was just as bad as my mother by the end but she ran off and got married and pregnant, so it was at this time I found that I cannot have children, because in 11 years, she never caught with me. It was devastating, since I can't have children biologically in any possible way. Making my depression worse. I thought before prison I would kill myself, and almost did, if not for family pulling up at the last moment at my home. Then prison made me consider using my belt. Then I had a mouthful of antidepressants. Didnt swallow though. You know youre fucked when the only reason you want to live is so that others wont be sad you left. I couldnt care if i lived or died, but I cared what would happen to other people.
Let me explain why things were devastating; I love children. No, not in that way. I hate when adults hurt kids. I dont even like watching that on television. My first and last episode of Full Metal Alchemist was the Mina one and I absolutely cried.
However, years later, after more failed relationships, I was arrested for possession of child porn. Why did I have it? Few reasons that therapy has helped me realize. Firstly, my therapist has determined that I am not a pedophile. Its deeper than that.

1. I wanted attention because I was single at the time and back to being mentally abused by my mother when I would visit more often due to my loneliness. So I wanted to be caught. Dumbest choice ever, but it led to me finally able to get therapy.
   
2. I wanted to be those children. Let me explain: As a sexual abuse victim, I always equated sex to love. I wanted that more and more and being without sex for five years at the time, I wanted to trade places with them and be that age again. I wanted a parent's 'love' or any adult's for that matter.
   

I knew that these kids didnt want this shit, unless they'd ended up like me, can't tell. But thats what my brain wanted. I wanted to be them. To have a different childhood where I hadnt been miserable enough to wish I was dead as a preteen. To be misdiagnosed as adhd, instead of a tortured soul and put on a medicine that did nothing for me. To not receive the love a child should to be happy and healthy, I mean, that was skewed due to my sexual abuse. Anyway, I went to prison for a couple years, and let me tell you, federal is bound and determined to fuck you harder than state prison. I received a little therapy here, not as much as Id have liked or needed, and also plenty more trauma.
Now let me explain something about my case. I sat in my home and did the bad thing. The government actually had to tell the victims that they were victims. I didnt touch anyone, I didnt talk to anyone. Take that morality as you will that the government had to inform the children that they were victimized, all while the government wont delete the porn from the internet. Yes, they in fact own a majority of these sites and content. Im not makkng excuses for me, im just stating the obvious criminal behavior of the US government.
Now, when I got out, I started getting therapy once a week. Still I was in a fog though. Im not exactly sure how therapy can get me back those memories and help me discover who sexually abused me at a young age. But im trying.
However, therapy has me trying to date older people to see if that helps and really, yes. I met a woman older than me by far and strangely enough, it has alleviated a lot of the mental bullshittery that I usually had with people around my age or younger.
When I was paranoid of being left before, so I would use dating apps to find a backup for the inevitable, that I felt unloved and unwanted, I dont now. I feel accepted, wanted, loved and I assume I am equati g being with her as love and support of an authority figure with benefits. As screwy as it sounds.
So, if your child may be displaying odd behavior, look into it. Be open about things. You NEED your child to be able to come to you with any issue. They need you to be there for them. Not be a prude or overtly douchebaggy that wont even talk about sex. They need to know what is right and wrong for their safety and future. They need therapy to help. They need you to act like a freaking adult. If my parents had been adults, I might've been able to express myself in a place I felt was safe, instead of being scared all the time of what my parents may think.
I probably havent thought of everything to explain here, so please, ama. Trolls will be ignored. I get that it is reddit, but seriously, grow up, trolls.
Ama

hey all
so yeah basically a friend and I are making a site together and it seems to be coming along great we are using shoptimizer and elementor but we do seem to be having some trouble trying to get the text in the products widget to be visible and getting a white divider line to appear at the top of the footer to seperate it on every page from tje page content
so far ive tried adding custom css to change the text colour by the class ID, adding CSS to change the first few pixels white on the top of my header and going into the style settings and changing text colour to white and yet nothing it stays the same colour, but typography lets the font change weirdly
heres how it want it to look ( I have darkreader installed as you can see text is white): https://imgur.com/5u3h108
and here is how it actually looks (unreadable crap black/grey text): https://imgur.com/aHdJ8xv
its really bugging me I have been trying for days to get it working right trying various things but nothing is doing it so I was hoping someone here can maybe help me get it figured out so I can get the text on the products widget to turn up white and so I can have a nice white dividing line separating the footer and page content
Thanks all 😎