2024-172 / Zedd MAP: 98.54 / MLZ MAP: 97.44 / Score Gap: 1.10
Wikipedia?wprov=sfti1#) / IMDb / Official Trailer / Our Collection
“Holy crap…” ((gets out of chair)) “Goddamn it…” ((starts pacing, wipe my face with my hand)) “For the love of all that’s good and holy…” ((the dogs get involved, confused - am I initiating play, is someone at the door - I’m rapidly blinking, snapping my fingers in front of my face)) “fuck me, Mrs. Lady Zedd - I gotta go outside” ((not the way you’d expect to start a Robert Altman film write up - unless (of course), you’ve watched a Altman film with me in person))
From IMDb: Private investigator Philip Marlowe helps a friend out of a jam, but in doing so gets implicated in his wife's murder.
Believe me, don’t believe me - it’s your prerogative ((shrug)) the truth is, at least 50% of any movie you watch happens between your ears - it’s what you bring to the table that counts - I’m upgrading it to 51% ((wink-wink)). You’re going to see what you expect to see, and that’s largely a product of where you come from, what you’ve experienced in life, you’re mental disposition, how you believe life works.
You sit next to someone and 49% of the movie is shared between you - what’s on the screen, from there it’s completely personal… and I take motion pictures very personal. On a film where the sights and sounds make sense to me - it’s like a portal opens up and I’m projected into the story. Everything disappears and I melt away along with it.
Robert Altman and DP Vilmos Zsigmond worked closely to give us a very naturalistic film - it’s not just the way shot are blocked or the lighting choices, it has a lot to do with the way the camera moves. In shot after shot the camera movement transports you into the action. Zsigmond moves like you’d move if you were there - immersion - you and the movie are one.
((Well, 51%, I was))
Mrs. Lady Zedd was “watching the same movie” - she says Raymond Chandler’s story twists and turns. Altman removed the lead character, P.I. Marlowe, from his usual post-wamid-century time period and interjects him into a modern (for the production) setting and it’s a risky move that really pays off. The New Hollywood era was tailor made for this sort of rolling around in the gutter, gritty crime-fest. She went on to commend Elliott Gould for his exemplar performance.
So what about that vulgarity laced reaction up top? I don’t know - I think when I’ve simply disappeared into a film, that sudden return to my senses ((shrug)) I’m slapped back into my body, in my chair, in my living room… everything feels familiar but also too big (?), too small, all at the same time. I have to get up, vacate the room, bring myself back into… me.
So - if the film is truly great, if it reached my heart, engaged my mind - you’ll know even before I take up the MAP worksheet. I’ve got my own very Zedd ways of doing things, I know, but I wouldn’t change a thing. One person’s movie on might be wildly different than another’s - what’s most important is we movie on in the first place, just let the chips fall where they may.
Movie On!

Hi! I very rarely post to Reddit, but I am just seeking some advice before deciding whether or not to ditch my therapist.
I'll try to keep it as short as possible. I have bipolar disorder, crippling social anxiety, PTSD and recently diagnosed with OCPD. I went to therapy for a very brief period of time during my undergraduate degree with the on-campus therapist but she was horrible and just stared at me the whole time, so I just felt uncomfortable and only lasted a few sessions. This was maybe 8 years ago, I'm 26 (almost 27) now.
I have pretty bad medical anxiety, which I think stemmed from taking an antipsychotic for 6 years and not knowing ahead of time what it would do to my body. I gained 50 lbs on the meds, going from a lifetime of being underweight to being chubby, and I have a history of bulimia as well. The anti-psych was prescribed by my PCP (I'm not complaining about her, I absolutely adore her and wish she was my therapist tbh). But this year, when I came off, we were going to try lamotrigine, so I over-googled (I'm talking around 20-30 hrs of researching) and discovered Stevens Johnsons-Syndrome, as well as the horrific images of it. I was scared shitless, and went back to my PCP and told her. She was very accommodating and we tried Wellbutrin which is working amazing for me (by surprise as all other antidepressants made me manic), but only helpful for my depressive episodes. And I've been steadily losing 1-2 lbs per week, haven't changed anything in my lifestyle, I think it's just a combo of being on the Wellbutrin and being off the Seroquel. So needless to say, I'm very wary of medications now.
My PCP suggested I see a psychiatrist to find different options, so I started going in August. My psychiatrist is kind of intimidating, I don't have an issue with her and will probably continue to see her, she just scares me LOL (very straight-faced, which is probably normal). I also started seeing a therapist last month, and I just had my third session with her this week.
So here's where the point of my post is:
I was excited about my therapist because she is a woman of color (as I am) which makes a huge difference because there are certain things only other POC will understand when it comes to family trauma. However, I think I'm trying to force myself to keep seeing her because it was so hard to find a POC therapist with openings, and despite all of her shortcomings, she is a nice person.
My complaints:

• she talks A LOT, often talking over me
• i feel like a lot of the time of our sessions is her speaking, or pulling up a bunch of articles/worksheets on topics that I (to be quite frank - do not care about, and are common sense I could just google)
• our sessions always start with her asking how my week is, i tell her, and she picks one sentence or word out of what i've said and takes 20-30 min of the session making a discussion out of it, when it's not something important or something i want to discuss
• when i've tried to interject her long-winded explanations to try and bring up something i actually want to talk about, she just keeps going on the previous topic until she's done with her point
• during our second session, she brought up how i was too "pretty" to self-isolate and how i need to get out of the house and meet a boyfriend???? i am a lesbian, and i am definitely not in the mental headspace to be dating, nor would that be motivation for me to leave my apartment lol.
• during our second session also, i tried to bring up some of my physical abuse from my dad growing up. she commandeered the whole conversation, told me what my dad was thinking (all of everything she said was wrong), and brought up a worksheet about "forgiveness" and wasted 20-30 minutes of our 1hr session reading every single word on the very long worksheet to me. I felt as if we rushed through my entire childhood trauma in 10 minutes, and i did not gain anything from the conversation.
• i've made it pretty clear that i work full-time during the day and do my master's degree at night, so i enjoy being at home bc i can relax with what little free time i have. i'm not at home because i'm depressed, i'm at home because i want to be. anyways, at the end of our second session, she gave me homework to leave home once before i see her again the following week. i thought that was a good idea, so on sunday i got up, got ready and drove over to my moms to just hang out and did her nails and bring her a gift as her birthday recently passed. in my third session (this week), i told her that's what i did, and she seemed disappointed and acted like i totally ignored her assignment of leaving home. how is getting up, showering, getting in my car, and driving across the state not putting in effort or not leaving my home?
• i had told her in my first session that i asked my psychiatrist if there were any meds that could be added to the wellbutrin that do not cause weight gain or SJS, yet she proceeded to prescribe me something that causes SJS (oxcarbazepine/trileptal). my therapist actually seemed to understand, and wasn't pressuring me. then, my second session, she told me that genetic testing for psych meds existed, and i said ok. i looked into it a bit, but i did not realize it was a command that i was supposed to have found somewhere to get it done. so in my third session, she asked me if i had got it done, i said no, and she seemed visibly irritated. she asked my why i wouldn't take the trileptal, and i re-explained it was because of the disease. She proceeds to pull up some article/workbook thing that says "what will happen vs. what could happen", reads it to me, and then assumed that it magically cured my medical anxiety.

I am in therapy for my PTSD and anxiety, not for my bipolar. I am an ex-sex worker, I have been SA'd many times, I faced physical abuse growing up, and sexual/mental abuse from romantic partners all of my adult life. That is what is crippling for me and makes life hard, not my bipolar. But I feel like I haven't even gotten an opportunity to bring up any trauma without her talking over me, ignoring me, or going back to talking about my bipolar. This week, she asked me to describe all of the symptoms that come with my hypomanic and depressive states, and I had also mentioned something regarding my OCD when she was pressuring me trying to figure out why I'm over-googling medications. After this, she started freaking out and said "you need to be on an antipsychotic or mood stabilizer by the next time i see you next week" which really felt like an ultimatum. I don't want to be on an antipsychotic and get fat again, put myself at risk of heart disease and premature death. I don't want to be on a mood stabilizer that might give me SJS and kill me. I was also confused why she said she was like "ohhhhh I get it" when i explained that the over-googling was due to my OCD/OCPD as if i hadn't told her that in a past session? Why is she so insistent on 'treating' my bipolar when I don't want to? Am I not allowed to get therapy for my actual issues unless I take a medication I don't want to take that is completely unrelated to the reason I'm in therapy?
I know I am a tad overreactive especially with the incidence rate of SJS, but I can't help but to overthink it.
I obviously don't have much experience with therapists, so I don't know what is normal and what is not. Maybe I haven't given her a long enough chance, or maybe it's because we barely know each other that she's forgetting things and being this way. I really don't know. Any and all feedback would really be appreciated!!

Hi all. My husband and I have been seeing a therapist the last few months, and I specifically picked this therapist because she is trained in Gottman method of couples counseling. I have heard that this is the gold standard for couples counseling. From what I understand, this method includes specific assessment tools that the counselor and couple use to assess their relationship and make a plan of what to work on. We started seeing this therapist earlier this year and have never been offered any assessments or homework of things to work on together other than an app to ask each other "get to know you" questions, and a worksheet on a schedule of communication during the week. Typically we start a session and she asks us how we are doing, and then we talk about our struggles or good things from the last week. While she does try to help us share emotions in a clearer way, and communicate by sharing our experience and needs, I feel like we do most of the talking and lately she doesn't interject or guide us. Last week I mentioned to her that I am interested in homework and accountability from session to session. I feel like we get to the root of things by the end of session, and then stop, and don't communicate about the issue again the whole week. Then when we start our new session we move on to the struggles from that last week instead of picking up where we left off the last session. When I asked her for homework she said that with Gottman method there really isn't "homework" it's about focusing on the relationship and communication. While I agree that's important, I can't help but wondering if she is actually implementing the method correctly. I am interested in doing the assessments to get to know more about ourselves individually and as a couple. Is that just an initial assessment or are they subsiquential assessments as the process of counseling goes along? Wondering if I need to find a new therapist. I don't want to waste our time or money if she is not implementing the method correctly.
Any thoughts on your experience with Gottman method counseling and or understanding of what the process looks like would be appreciated.
Thanks in advance

Hi all. My husband and I have been seeing a therapist the last few months, and I specifically picked this therapist because she is trained in Gottman method of couples counseling. I have heard that this is the gold standard for couples counseling. From what I understand, this method includes specific assessment tools that the counselor and couple use to assess their relationship and make a plan of what to work on. We started seeing this therapist earlier this year and have never been offered any assessments or homework of things to work on together other than an app to ask each other "get to know you" questions, and a worksheet on a schedule of communication during the week. Typically we start a session and she asks us how we are doing, and then we talk about our struggles or good things from the last week. While she does try to help us share emotions in a clearer way, and communicate by sharing our experience and needs, I feel like we do most of the talking and lately she doesn't interject or guide us. Last week I mentioned to her that I am interested in homework and accountability from session to session. I feel like we get to the root of things by the end of session, and then stop, and don't communicate about the issue again the whole week. Then when we start our new session we move on to the struggles from that last week instead of picking up where we left off the last session. When I asked her for homework she said that with Gottman method there really isn't "homework" it's about focusing on the relationship and communication. While I agree that's important, I can't help but wondering if she is actually implementing the method correctly. I am interested in doing the assessments to get to know more about ourselves individually and as a couple. Is that just an initial assessment or are they subsiquential assessments as the process of counseling goes along? Wondering if I need to find a new therapist. I don't want to waste our time or money if she is not implementing the method correctly.
Any thoughts on your experience with Gottman method counseling and or understanding of what the process looks like would be appreciated.
​
Thanks in advance!

Hi there,
I'm a normal sensitive person with a highly sensitive child (HSP). Her father is also HSP. Please, are there any more of you normal sensitivity people in a family of HSP out there? I think this dynamic of HSP brings special challenges.
This morning before swimming lessons I asked my HSP daughter to do worksheets out of a summer catch-up book on Phonics. She's in Grade 2. She gets agitated and physical when doing these phonics sheets if she doesn't understand the work right away. She breaks pencil tips by pressing too hard, erases violently until the pages rip, tells me that "I'm making her mad", she hits me, and also gets her stuffies to comfort herself and takes times-outs. She will also "tell on me" to my HSP partner. I'm to blame for "making her mad". My strategy invariably, is to simply not react and take it from her, avoiding most of her hits and kicks, telling her I don't like it and to stop it, warning of consequences, waiting for her to calm down so we can talk.
When my HSP partner gets involved, he interjects himself into the conversation I have been having with her and takes over to "protect" our daughter.
So this morning after the phonics sheet, the physical acting out where she blames me for making her mad (by explaining the phonics lesson on pluralization), she goes upstairs to "tell on me" to my HSP partner, who is work-from-home upstairs. I also let her take a time out. But of course there are the swimming lessons in 5 minutes and we have to get in the car. When I tell my daughter that she's going to miss her swimming lessons if she doesn't get in the car, she says her daddy agreed to take her. No-one told me. My partner comes downstairs and says that HE is now taking our daughter to her lessons and that I'm not even welcome with anymore. I say I'm going with, why are you interjecting, and he is very forceful in excluding me. So here I am writing this, because I stayed home.
There are two issues really. The first issues is how to help my daughter with her overwhelm and acting out.
For instance, not only do workbooks overwhelm her, but physical sensations do too. She has always had an issue with clothing, so over the years I have worked out what type of clothing is comfortable for her. We are frequently at risk of missing the school bus because she is figuring out how to get some article of clothing to fit just right. Real time limits with real consequences stress her out. After the first swimming lesson a few weeks ago, she was swinging punches at me in the change room, which I always tell her I don't like or appreciate, which was ended up being because her wet hair was annoying her (It took her 20 minutes of probing in the car to find this out and have her find her words. When she found her words, she sobbed in relief.. Every time, I have to spend time calming her down and talking to her to even figure out what the problem is, so we can avoid it in the future. I'm often the target of her physical outbursts. She frequently hits or kicks me when she is overwhelmed or annoyed. She will say things like she hates me, or she's divorcing me in her mind. I haven't started consequences for the hitting because she is often remorseful once she calms down. Thing is she is very affectionate when calm, we even co-sleep. She needs the physical contact.
The second issue is my HSP partner interjecting himself into the two-way conversation I've been having. Pretty much he's enabling her.
He won't LET me resolve it between us. He interjects into the argument to "save her and protect her". They both see me as the bad guy, because they are both HSPs. My HSP partner also has a habit of taking emotions out on other people, and I'm his target. So I'm to blame for a lot in this house, both I'm blamed by my partner (when he gets upset he does like an adult tantrum of walking over things, hitting things, teaching me a lesson). I'm to blame for my daughters overwhelm and frustration, and I must be bad because she's swinging punches at me (he has this thing where our daughter's overwhelm will trigger HIM and he will start looking at me like I'm abusive.
I'm the bad guy because I'm normal sensitivity. I feel discarded and powerless because my daughter attacks me and excludes me and my partner had a tendency to believe my daughter over me. If there is ever a dispute, he interjects to protect her "from me" .
My worry is that my daughter starting to use this behaviour of his as a way to "get her own way" and get out of things, like ... learning phonics which she doesn't like. Anybody else have this awful dynamic of where a HSP partner interjects into solvable disputes because THEY are triggered? It's beyond him being a "safe place" for her to calm down, I think he is alienating her and protecting her from real consequences.

Hi there,
I'm a normal sensitive person with a highly sensitive child (HSP). Her father is also HSP. Please, are there any more of you normal sensitivity people in a family of HSP out there? I think this dynamic of HSP brings special challenges.
This morning before swimming lessons I asked my HSP daughter to do worksheets out of a summer catch-up book on Phonics. She's in Grade 2. She gets agitated and physical when doing these phonics sheets if she doesn't understand the work right away. She breaks pencil tips by pressing too hard, erases violently until the pages rip, tells me that "I'm making her mad", she hits me, and also gets her stuffies to comfort herself and takes times-outs. She will also "tell on me" to my HSP partner. I'm to blame for "making her mad". My strategy is to simply not react and take it from her, avoiding most of her hits and kicks, telling her I don't like it and to stop it, warning of consequences, waiting for her to calm down so we can talk.
When he gets involved, he interjects himself into the conversation I have been having with her and takes over to "protect" our daughter.
So this morning after the phonics sheet, the physical acting out where she blames me for making her mad, she goes to "tell on me" to my HSP partner. I let her take a time out. But of course there are the swimming lessons in 5 minutes and we have to leave. When I tell my daughter that she's going to miss her swimming lessons if she doesn't get in the car, she says her daddy agreed to take her. No-one told me. My partner comes downstairs and says that HE is now taking our daughter to her lessons and that I'm not even welcome with anymore. I say I'm going with, why are you interjecting, and he is very forceful in excluding me. So here I am writing this, because I stayed home.
There are two issues really. The first issues is how to help my daughter with her overwhelm and acting out, which I am the target of.
For instance, not only do workbooks overwhelm her, but physical sensations do too. She has always had an issue with clothing, so over the years I have worked out what type of clothing is comfortable for her. We are frequently at risk of missing the school bus because she is figuring out how to get some article of clothing to fit just right. Real time limits with real consequences stress her out. After the first swimming lesson a few weeks ago, she was swinging punches at me in the change room (while I grey rock it) which ended up being because her wet hair was annoying her. It took 20 minutes of talking in the car to figure this out, and then when we did, she sobbed in relief. I have to spent time calming her down and talking to her to even figure out what the problem is, so we can avoid it in the future. I'm often the target of her physical outbursts. She frequently hits or kicks me when she is overwhelmed or annoyed. She will say things like she hates me, or she's divorcing me in her mind. I haven't started consequences for the hitting because she is often remorseful once she calms down. The thing is she is very affectionate when calm, we even co-sleep. She needs the physical contact.
​
The second issue is my partner interjecting himself into the two-way conversation I've been having with my HSP daughter
​
He won't LET me resolve it between us. He interjects into the argument to "save her and protect her". They both see me as the bad guy, because they are both HSPs. My HSP partner also has a habit of taking emotions out on other people, and I'm his target. So I'm to blame for a lot in this house, both I'm blamed by my partner (when he gets upset he does like an adult tantrum of walking over things, hitting things, teaching me a lesson). He blames me for my daughters overwhelm and frustration, and I must be the bad one who provoked her, because she's swinging punches at me (he's has this thing where her overwhelm will trigger him and he will start looking at me like I'm abusive.)
I'm the bad guy because I'm normal sensitivity. I feel discarded and powerless because my daughter attacks me and excludes me and my partner had a tendency to believe my daughter over me. If there is ever a dispute, he interjects to protect her "from me" .
My worry is that my daughter starting to use this behaviour of his as a way to "get her own way" and get out of things, like ... learning phonics which she doesn't like. She's not learning resilience and perseverance. It's not like you can stop doing homework ... Anybody else have this awful dynamic of where a HSP partner interjects into solvable disputes because THEY are triggered? It's beyond being a "safe place" I think he is alienating her and protecting her from consequences.
​
​

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A homeless teenager reaches out to the Shil’vati on first day of the invasion of Earth.
This is a rewrite of my original story ‘Loyalist’.
Credit to u/bluefishcake for writing the original SSB story.
Pizzaulostin who has been beta reading since the beginning.
u/CompassWithHat For creating the Gearschilde that I have been writing about prolifically
u/BruhMomentGEE who has really helped with plot and dialogue with each chapter now.
andu/AlienNationSSB for helping beta read this chapter!
Credit to u/HollowShel for getting me started with this!
This story is based in the SSB universe.
Previous
First
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as always, comments are welcome.
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Klein:

Knock… knock, KNOCK, knock.
‘How does she do that, make the softer knock somehow louder and more menacing*?’* Squirrel brain interjected.
“Smreglesnortz, I’m AWAKE!” I yelled from my tiny cell of a room in the Gearschilde community center.
“Good, because a Gearschilde breakfast is something you shouldn’t miss,” Reqellia teased.
Breakfast? With a growl I could feel my stomach trying to digest itself. I got out of bed and as I took off my nightshirt to change, the circle tattoo where my appendix had been, was now a bright red. Indication that my healing serum dispenser was out, I also noticed that most of the bruising around the abdomen was gone now showing how effective it was. Cee did mention it needed calories to rebuild tissue.
That probably explained why I was hungrier than normal now.
Following Cee’s directions, I grabbed an auto syringe from my pack and brought it to the center of the circle and pressed the button. The weird feeling pressure lasted only for a few seconds before the tattoo switched to green.
Thank you, Cee, for using my local standard status colors instead of Imperial shape standard.
I quickly changed as Reqellia continued to knock on the door, pestering me to hurry up. I bolted out of my room, and as she led the way I asked, “Where were you all night?”
The relaxed way of her shoulders told me she had fun, whatever it was. “Oh, blowing off steam.”
She breathed, and a small cloud of smoke, or actual steam -that can’t be right- came out.
“Show off,” I played at being grumpy, but was quietly glad to see her giddy again, and let the subject drop.
We passed some of the fun little workshops that made crafts and materials for the Community Center, tailor’s shop, chemical lab, machine shop, even a massive forge area and electronics workstation rooms.
“What can’t be made here?” I asked.
“Fusion generators, phase drives, exos, and some other tech that requires zero gravity grade thermocast,” Reqellia explained.
So almost anything.
Tinker was in the hall, already stuffing his face with something that smelled warm and yeasty, covered in something that resembled gravy and mushrooms. There were even Grindall flank cuts from the local butcher added in!
Cheese might not be on the menu, but Paloova was.
I sat down next to Tinker. Halfway through inhaling breakfast, Cee came down with Firestarter, and as they picked up their own trays, I noticed a different group of Gearschilde coming walking in.They were younger, smaller, but unlike Cee, Writer or Provides, they seemed mismatched, gangly, and all together awkward in their movements. The mods they had were like a patch quilt with all the seams showing. Tinker looked up and raised his sleek arms to wave them over.
‘If it takes all those augments to keep Gearschilde from keeling over before the age of twenty-four Imperial (40 Earth Standard) years, then what’s it like for them growing up through puberty?’ Squirrel brain asked.
I already knew the answer.
Hell, it was hell. Despite that, I was surprised by their cheerfulness. The closest one waved towards me. She had a mask on the was adorned with the feathered-styled herringbone gears typical of Gearschilde heraldry. She wore thick framed glasses with a camera on the left side, the same side her organic eye was clouded over on, while the right eye retained a sharp green.
I stood up, and before I could outstretch my fist, she offered me my first handshake in ages. I grasped her hand and found it was still natural but covered in a colorful compression sleeve illustrated with poisonous flowers, and control cables running along the side. “It’s nice to finally meet you Klein, I’m Weaves Wire In The Light, or just WireWeaver. Firestarter told me about you, I’m glad to meet Reqellia’s son.”
I shook, but was a little unsure of the action. I hadn’t done it in so long. “Nice to meet you, as well, Wireweaver. I see you learned human greetings?”
Her brow furrowed and the mask moved up in what I could tell was a smile underneath. “Only one we could find. It’s rare to meet someone our age here. Most other {young adults} are scared of us.”
She introduced others in the group, and as we sat down Wireweaver took off her mask. Her face had dark discoloration spots and scars that had been turned into a string of board game pieces with silver and black ink. The relaxed body language told me she wasn’t the least bit self-conscious of them. She must have seen me looking at her rather interesting features, because she started to explain, “It’s an oxygen concentrator. My organic lungs are getting replaced, but this lets me get some more mileage. If I get them swapped too soon, Cee is just going to have to replace them again when I get bigger.”
Cee responded to her name being called. “How is the mask working out for you? Having trouble breathing without sitting down? Oh, and do you want to decorate your new lungs in any way?”
Wireweaver paused, looking as if she was seriously considering the surreal proposition. “No issues breathing while sitting or lying down, and my oxygen alarm hasn’t gone off since you gave me this.” She held up the mask, then a spark of excitement flashed across her features. “And yes! Can I use dyed wire? I want the next time a Shil doc does an exam on me to make it look like my lungs are literally on fire!”
Cee responded again non-judgmentally, but skeptically. “You want the wire reinforcement for your lungs as well? I think we can swing that, but I’m going to need you to design it for me and make the spools.”
Wireweaver smile brightened. “Yes! I will start today in tech class. The idea of breathing even better while running sounds like something to splurge some time on. Klein, have you gotten any implants yet?”
The whole conversation was surreal in a weirdly wholesome way that seemed to be the status quo for Gearschilde. Biomechanical monstrosities that turned their bodies into artwork even as it failed them. I felt insecure that I was healthy. “Just one, a healing serum dispenser.”
Wireweaver looked perfectly accepting of that answer. “Those are fun! I have one of those and got dumb one time. Pricked my finger just to watch it heal up before my eyes. When my parents found out it was the first time I got the talk about abusing my augments.”
‘First time?’ Squirrel brain queried.
Tinker laughed and interjected himself. “My first time I got the talk was when I stepped out into snow with little more than a chest wrap and shorts. My priestess at the time practically dragged me inside telling me just because my new arms could warm my blood didn’t mean my feet couldn’t get frostbite!”
“What about you Reqellia, do you have any?” I asked, curious about what she might be packing with her military history.
“More than I’d like to admit. Which reminds me! Cee, after breakfast, can you look at them?” Reqellia asked cheerfully, but the over-eagerness gave me a sense there was some tension about it. The other Gearschilde looked at me questionably.
Did I make a mistake?
Cee responded kindly. “Of course, once you finish.”
After breakfast I walked with Wireweaver, Firestarter and company to “tech class.” Once out of earshot in the hallway she explained, “Reqellia is a little sensitive about her mods. It’s best not to pry.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” I said.
Wireweaver looked me in the eye. The canter of her voice told me what she was saying was a mantra of sorts. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s all new to you, and one can only learn by experimentation*,* right?”
Firestarter interjected, “I did the same thing too. It's okay!”
I tried to stay silent for a while ruminating on that, but the group actively included me into their conversations, trying to get me and Firestarter to voice our own ideas, even if I was still mostly organic and Firestarter was too young to fully understand every topic. It took awhile to realize Tinker was taking us the long way to the class to extend the conversation.
It was embarrassing, but endearing at the same time to be given extra attention. I still didn’t understand why they were so nice to me.
The ‘Tech Classroom’ was not what I expected. The large room lacked the industrial feel of most school labs and felt soft, with rounded edges on the furniture and variable lighting. The fume hoods were carved to look like clouds. The lab tables were nothing like the ones I was used to, with color coded sectioned off surfaces and mats. The whole room was designed to allow a child with a first-grade reading level to understand what was dangerous, and what was safe.
Tinker sat with me and Firestarter as we went through the very basics of Gearschilde perspective on science and technology. It was baked into children’s rhymes, color wheels, and chunky pictures. I did my best to let go of the feeling I was back in kindergarten and reminded myself underneath the pastel exterior of the lessons was the underpinnings of an industrial revolution.
After a while me and Firestarter were sent to one of the small rooms off to the side for math work. I sat in a quiet area with Firestarter that first time, and we read what were essentially technical manual worksheets to be done in crayon.
I connected dots to solve complex equations using nomograms. Long matrix math became a weirdly fun game of dominoes like what I used to watch being played on Earth. A pen that measured volume drawn let me solve calculus problems by coloring in shapes.
Working on little lab experiments with Tinker, we tested voltage, looked at iron temper temperatures, and played with spark and flame tests. singing children’s rhymes in the Gearschilde native tongue, and again in Trade Shil. I picked words up faster than the technology, but I was surprised how quickly I was remembering what a fire of green, blue, or orange signaled for composition.
But for all the loud machinery, it was soulfully quiet.

Reqellia:

I was laying face first on the exam table as Cee poked and prodded with a test probe. My chest vents open to my internal fusion reactor for the umpteenth time. Cee started with her usual question. “Feel better?”
I tried not to move too much while nodding. “Yeah, I feel at peace again. I think it might last longer this time.”
“Oh? Found a new place to go? Must have been exciting, because it looks like your second reactor went out again,” Cee asked as I heard whirring, she was unbolting out a burnt coil again. I was thankful I didn’t have to worry about parts. Marine Sustainment Command offered me a sweet deal that as long as they got my burnt-out parts for analysis, they’d send me replacements. My miniature reactor’s been getting more and more robust over the years as they improved upon the design for other death machines.
“Ruhal is getting the stealth training armor, as well as asked me to start sparring with Klein. I think it might keep the edge off longer,” I explained.
The whirring stopped and Cee asked, “Are you comfortable with that?”
“As comfortable as I can be. Ruhal finally broke down and told me Klein’s been pushing him to use his fast reaction mods to eke out wins. He wants me to start training with him so Klein understands how to fight someone with a longer reach. It’s not long after that Ruhal’s going to let him go out alone. I already do, at least during the day,” I told Cee. The whirring came back on for a moment before I felt Cee pull out the busted component and install the new one. A light clacking sound emanated as each machine screw torqued into place.
“Klein… He’s an interesting person, isn’t he? If you told me your son could go up against your husband, I would have called you crazy if I hadn’t seen the recordings myself. He’s far denser than a Shil’vati, or Gearschilde for that matter. Only thing I worry about is if he comes in for something I can’t fix,” Cee admitted as she rolled her stool to the other side of the exam table and shone a light where my central cooling systems lay.
“What kind of thing? You’re a surgeon-priest. If you can’t fix him, no one can,” I snapped, a knot in my stomach started to form.
“In the short term, yes, I have all the medical texts from Earth in an easy to search database. The problem is long-term. He seems perfectly healthy, and I assured Ruhal he is well adjusted and sane, but all I can do is tell how it looks from my perspective. Klein could be falling apart, and no one could tell because nothing looks wrong until whatever his body is doing to keep him stable breaks. All I can do is replace the parts. But no person is just the sum of their parts,” Cee declared as she finished her inspection and started to clean up.
“This isn’t helping my fears, Cee.” I grumbled as I put my shirt back on.
“I’m telling you this so you aren’t afraid to bring Klein in here if you feel something is wrong. He’s your son, you will be able to tell before anyone else. If you don’t notice something wrong with his health, then odds are I won’t find anything either,” Cee told me.
I almost opened the door, but there was one more thing to say. “The trauma doctor who treated Klein. There’s a chance it might be him.”
Cee narrowed your eyes. There was only one ‘him’ I could be referring to. “Then if they find him. Your priest Justice For the Desecrated will give your old doctor the special hospitality extended to all those deemed heinous enough to be called a Watchheart.”
The little flicker of maliciousness in Cee’s voice told me I could enjoy the thought of him rotting away in the Gearschilde home world’s infamous prison.
I went to find Klein and go home. I was ready to join the real world again.

Ruhal:

The day after Shel break, me and Reqellia stood in the courtyard checking the fit and feel of the new armor. Itaro had escorted Klein today to the Rakiri gym, though by bus instead of the usual run route. Itaro wouldn’t be able to keep up a [five mile] run.
Siltan stood to the side while holding a dead-switch that would lock up our armor. It was Reqellia’s request, she was still the most apprehensive about this. A lifetime of taboos Reqellia had built up were being bulled through.
“Let’s take it slow. I’m going to attack first, alright?” I asked.
She wordlessly nodded in understanding.
The batons were specially built so that the instant they hit it would turn the flexifiber rigid around the area to prevent injury, even if that meant the whole suit would lock up.
This was obviously overkill for regular militia or even marines. For augmented commandos though, striking bare handed or with a blunt weapon could mean death without this level of protection.
I struck lightly at first, then a series of heavier and heavier blows to test the suits’ reaction. I turned my quick react mod on and with both hands delivered a “killing blow” to solidify the whole uniform.
Reqellia was pushed back slightly, but she didn’t go off balance.
“Ok,” I encouraged, “now your turn.”
Reqellia soft pawed the first hit, barely registering, then did the same test I had performed with stronger and stronger until finally she struck full force. I flew backwards and tumbled like an overturned mannequin as my armor locked up.
She instantly dropped her baton and ran over to me. “Are you ok?”
I slumped on the ground as the flexifiber relaxed and sat up with a cheer. “Not even a twinge of discomfort. Look.” I stripped a bit showing my bare shoulder devoid of any bruising for Siltan’s and Reqellia’s benefit. “In fact, I think you are still holding back. Want to get some actual fighting in?”
Reqellia finally was getting into this, but she spoke with reserve. “Slow at first, at least for me?”
After I won three times consecutively, she started to let go of her reservations, and by the seventh round I had to call off any more sparring, panting. She won the last only out of sheer attrition, but I knew she hadn’t started trying.
I gulped air as I tried to speak. “I think we can call this test... a success.”
Reqellia helped me up as Siltan smiled ruefully before leaving. “I need to get back to work. Take it easy for the rest of the day Ruhal, wife’s orders.”
By the time Klein returned that afternoon from the Youth’s Auxiliary I was enjoying my human gin with my feet propped up on an ottoman in my study.
Life was good.
--------------------------------
Author’s notes on Gearschilde 1 :
Gearschilde have core values of acceptance and empathy as strict parts of their identity rooted in the early days of their calamity. Pre-calamity parents had to care for post-calamity children who often needed harsh looking and awkward early prosthetics. The loss of their past empires and lifestyles, dim outlook at survival, difficult living conditions, and even body dysmorphia caused many to break down and stop trying. Many of the surviving towns collapsed in less than a century due to low birth rates coupled with early onset disease.
The townships that thrived did so by embracing the new reality. By the end of the first century post-calamity, the buildup of radioactive materials in the food and water ensured that no one over the age of forty would survive without prosthetics, validating their philosophy as a necessary way of life, and forming what would be known as the Gearschilde “religion”.
Author’s notes on Gearschilde 2: The idea behind the measurement pen is you twist a cap at the top to fill a "measured" volume on the pen, you color the cross section in. The paper is hydrophobic so it just sits on top evenly. The lines of the graph act as small walls for the ink. Check the pen after coloring in and get your answer.
Author’s notes on Gearschilde 3: My worldbuilding model behind the Gearschilde is that they don’t necessarily have the greatest science or super advanced theoretical skills, but that they develop and teach well honed tools for conceptualizing technical problems so that a child with a straight edge and properly organized worksheet can figure out complex calculations normally reserved for third year engineering students.

Let me preface this post by saying that I (28F) don't have a relationship with my mother. We have been no-contact-whatsoever for about a decade and that will never change. She's mentally unwell and abusive. However when I got with my SO (30M), he warned me that his grandmother and mother (FMIL; 65F) can be narcissistic. Yes, his words. So sometimes I'm not sure if I am projecting my issues with my mother or if they're actually being inappropriate. I decided to write out all the things that have sparked concern for me the past 5 years as we're getting serious about getting engaged and married by the end of this year, and I've been getting anxious about how our relationship could change following those milestones.. Let me also say I do get along with her well for the most part, there are just these little comments/passive-aggressive behaviors that irk me and make me uncomfortable. My SO (mostly) stands up for me, but his big thing is, "just nod, say 'mhmm' when they offer unsolicited advice and let it go, we'll make our own decisions at the end of the day."
So I'm kind of looking for reassurance that I'm not being hypersensitive and possibly advice outside of going full NC bc they're not super horrible, she's just.. Having issues letting go and I'd like to be able to correct her behavior instead of sweeping it under the rug and building up more and more resentment. I typed this all out on my phone and made an alt Reddit so I apologize for any typos. My FH and I both use Reddit and if he saw me post something like this on my personal acct I know it would upset him, but I really need to get this shit off my chest.
Here goes..
• Asking about my birth control when we first started dating. I didn't have any confidence and fawned too much in the beginning so I told her the deets. I wish I could go back in time and say, "that is absolutely none of your business"
• The first year we were together on his bday we went out to eat and FMIL brought up his high-school ex who cheated on him in front of me, he was 25 at this point in time, hadn't been together with her in like, 8 years? The convo:
FMIL: "so FH, how is (ex) doing? What is she up to these days?"
My FH: "Uh, I don't know? We haven't spoken in years, and frankly I don't really want to talk about her, especially in front of (me)."
• She was still friends with that high-school ex on FB until only recently
• Texting him long paragraphs on our first Valentine's Day together, calling him her first love and shit, the damn thing was so long you had to scroll down the whole screen to read the whole thing, and then some.
• Talking about my fertility/health issues when he went over to pick up some things and I wasn't there bc she was "concerned" about us having children (i.e; a genetic disorder I have, as do others in my family. It has its good days and bad but is manageable for the most part. Not to mention their family has their own struggles with mental health issues, drug addictions and cancer but I digress.)
• FH's birthday presents scrawled with FMIL'S handwriting, "my big little man.. my first love.. my baby" ALL OVER the wrapping. I wish I was joking.
• Christmas presents for "the both of us" when we moved in together that were plates and bowls decorated + cooked in the oven with "♡ mommy" or "♡ love, mama" written on the bottom of each and every one in Sharpie.
• Wanted a special nickname so she told me and FSIL's bf to call her and was upset when me and FSIL's bf gingerly said, "ermm, no"
• To this day still whines about the ONE Christmas in 5 years we spent with MY family when we spent every holiday, bday, etc with his family. "It was soooo sad that year!" We didn't even not celebrate Xmas with them - we just did it on another day when we got home. Chill.
• Didn't ask how our trip was either. While FH was excited, talking about how pretty the state was and seeing snow for the first time, FFIL interjected, talking about how great the state we currently live in is and activities that FFIL enjoys that we don't.
• Constantly telling FH where he (we) should move/live (get a condo on the beach! Move into the lofts downtown where you can go out all the time!) we want space and we have a large dog that needs a yard. We are homebodies. Neither of us drink (except for me having an occasional drink when we are out for dinner; he doesn't drink whatsoever, nor do we partake in anything recreational unless you count us vaping nicotine lmao. If that's something THEY would like to do, they should sell their house and do it! It's just not a life we would enjoy even remotely. Not to mention, they broach the idea as something *he should do,* like I have no say in our life together. It's their son's world and I'm just a side character in it I guess.
• Trying to guilt us into buying their house, brings it up almost every time we see them. They want to sell their house and retire on a sailboat so it's not like we should be forced to live here forever if they don't plan to stick around. Keep this part in mind for later.
• Trying to guilt us into being caretakers for FMIL's elderly father (in his 90's, experiencing dementia sx) even tho we're about to be married/newlyweds "he could buy you guys a house here and you can live in it together and then when he passes away, it'll be yours" ma'am that's your father first of all. Secondly, did *you* have to be the caretaker of your husband's mother's dad when you guys were newlyweds? No? So why tf do you think I am responsible for him?
• Constantly asking/begging when we're gonna give them babies.
• Refer to us as "the kids" in conversation, to our faces, and at the holidays. We have to sit at the "kids" table until we get "promoted by having our own kids" lol. FH has one cousin with a child so it's basically a "kid's table" with only one actual kid sitting there. Whatever. (might be a 'Southern thing' but drives me nutty. I have lived on my own since I was 18, my bf only moved out to be with me when he was 25) It makes me feel infantilized.
• Constantly give unsolicited opinions and advice on things (see above) which we usually just nod and "uh-huh/mhmm"
• Only last year FMIL finally stopped her "Santa" tradition where she would record my bf and his sis opening presents from "santa" and posting it on Facebook, commentary included: "ooo show me what SaNtA got youuu! Show it to the camera!" FH and his sister always looked uncomfortable, side-eyeing myself and FSIL's partner as we sit off to the side, cringing.
• Tries to cuddle with him when there's a spot next to him on the couch, like full-on, hand on his chest, wiggling herself under his arm the way he would cuddle me on the couch or bed lol! he tells me it makes him super uncomfortable and tries to end it by standing up and moving. I just stare at my phone and pretend I don't notice just in case she is trying to bait a reaction.
• Takes credit for things when it doesn't matter; when FFIL's mom gave us new pots and pans set for Christmas, she just *had* to turn to us and say proudly, "I told her exactly what to get you, you're welcome."
• Trying to guilt us on Thanksgiving to come over and help her decorate the Xmas tree FMIL: "I just miss when you were little (*pouting*). Will you come help me decorate the tree tomorrow? Looking at all the ornaments makes me sad, thinking about when you guys were little. "FH: "... it's Thanksgiving. There's still like 4 weeks till Christmas. No, we're not doing that."
• Posts everything, all sorts of personal shit on Facebook for attn, and even worse - her fb is set to Public. She's all about fake validation and ass pats on social media. I'm highly concerned about this when it comes to us having children. I know there will be a fight about not wanting our children exploited, respecting their privacy with no face pictures or shit like this. I can just see her posting every detail of their birth, right down to their SSN (okay, okay, maybe not the last part but you get the idea).
• Informs US of their plans on our birthdays so we HAVE to spend time with them, we don't get to refuse. "It's just lunch / dinner!"
• Assume we are always available to take care of the animals they have that FMIL gets, doesn't train, or care for properly whenever they go on trips with short notice. "We're leaving to X on Friday and we'll be gone for 5 days so can you just stop by and take care of the animals?"
• Make my bf have to fix things for them/their house or help with random projects they decide to do on a whim, as well as for his gparents/their homes constantly, it's just expected that he will drop everything to do what they ask. He feels like he owes them so he does.
• Literally invite us over every other weekend, sometimes back to back weekends. We live HALF A MILE AWAY. 😭 They act like we never see them every time we visit. It's never, ever enough!
• When I went to court against my ex in a case that took years bc Covid and came home, very emotional and in a bad place, she says, "you know, you should go to group therapy cause you'll probably hear other people's stories and realize some people have had it even worse" lmao fuck you.
• Always says she wants homemade/thoughtful gifts so I spent hours on a painting that she accepted graciously for mother's day and then I never saw it again.... Kinda wish she would have at least given it back, it was a cool painting.
• Makes "jokes" about how FH is gonna buy her nice, expensive name brand purses and gifts when he starts making more money in his career
• Talks shit about her daughter (FSIL, whom I adore, she's truly my sister) and props up my bf; it makes him uncomfortable and angry bc he loves his sister and sees how it is unfair. She will compliment FH and then follow up with criticisms about FSIL.
• Uses her own aging father like a piggy bank, "Hey daddy, I spent $xxx on your card" yet refuses to get him more in-home care bc its "expensive" Last time we visited him, there were ants - trails of ants - all over his dirty kitchen. It was really bad. I feel as though she's more concerned about how much money will be left over for her when he passes, not about making sure he has a good QOL now.
• Yells at her dad (who is HOH and seems to be going thru the early stages of dementia) and gets angry with him for not hearing her.
• Talks shit about people and says things like "she's such a fatass."
• Just to show more of her character, she was a teacher and talks shit about the kids with various disabilities. Especially autistic children, and how "bratty and annoying they are" and how she hated having to deal with the SpEd classes.
• Snickers like a schoolgirl and purposely misgenders/butchers the name of FH's old school friend who is autistic and came out as trans a few years ago at this point. It's not even like we are naturally talking about said-friend, FMIL just likes to insert gossip and brings them up randomly.
• Constantly asks the same q's about who we hang out with and why we may not be hanging out with one friend or another, just tries to heavily be involved in our social relationships.
• Brought over and tried to get us to put a giant letter of FH's name on our wall when we moved into a new apartment. FH promptly put it in the trash when FMIL left.
• Also tried to tell us where we should position our furniture when she came over to check out our most recent place. Thankfully FFIL shut it down by teasing her with, "FMIL are you planning on moving in with them or something?"
• Always gives us a bunch of junk gifts for Xmas even though every year, we beg her not to buy a bunch of things/we don't have room.
• FMIL saved everything from his school years down to math worksheets and wants us to take all that shit with us one day when we move. We're probably going to have to sort through/toss 99% of it. Her mom (FGMIL) is a bad hoarder too - much worse.
• Gets animals she doesn't research or take proper care of. Her cats free roam and then she joyfully tells us about the baby animals they've killed like its something to be proud of. They had 2 kittens in the past die because they were poisoned by a poisonous plant in their yard.
• FMIL's dogs are matted, nails curled over so i cut them for them when we go over, and completely untrained at 9 years old, not house broken so they piss and shit everywhere, bark all the time nonstop. They're just furniture to them.
• Pesters FH to change his Android out and get an iPhone so she can "track him" even though again, we live half a mile away and he WFH. FH is honestly glad he has an Android and has no plans to bend to this wish of FMILs.
• Expects the first son we have together to be named with the family "tradition" of Suffix (the 4th) so basically.. I get no say whatsoever in the name (or so they think. There's no way in hell that'll happen if we do have a son. Sorry not sorry! It's my kid cooked in my body! Maybe FSIL will do the honors of passing on the name.)
• Maybe I'm crazy here but still expects him to come over and dote on her for Mother's Day even though she's had 30 years of them. I'm worried about when I have kids that it'll still be "her day."
• This one is trivial but asks us if we're "still playing video games" to which we reply, "Ohhh yeah!" and she huffs and rolls her eyes in response. 😂 We're nerdy gamers, that'll never change even when we do have children!
That brings us to this past weekend when we went to dinner with them and FSIL. At dinner, they brought up us buying their house again. I immediately blurted out, "no!" My Bf finally shocked me by being direct with them and saying, "We're looking to settle down outside of this state."
FMIL: "so we aren't going to be involved with our grandchildren??"
Me: "my family matters too.. They'd want to be involved when we have children too."
FMIL, pouting: "so you're planning to move near *your family?*"
Me: "no, we don't want to move to (state) but we will take turns visiting both sides of our family equally."
FMIL: "..I thought you weren't speaking to them anymore."
Me: "we're working things out. Nobody wants to be cut off from their entire family.. My mother and I will never have a relationship but my dad and my stepmom are important to me, especially my younger siblings." (who still live at home, one is in HS the other in Elementary)
His mom was so upset, she pouted silently the rest of dinner and didn't give me a hug goodbye. This made me the most uncomfortable because it felt like she wanted me to not have a relationship with my family in hopes that it would keep us living near them forever. Even if we didn't reconnect I would never wanna live here long-term, let alone raise children here.

Memory transcription subject: Daniel Price, Apex Cadet
Date [standardized human time]: March 16, 2137
In the past couple weeks our new Yotul friend had started to get used to classes. It had to be tough on him. It was tough on us and we had months to process how our lives had changed. He was going straight from losing his home to having to play catch up with over a month’s worth of coursework. While he quickly warmed up to me and the other humans in the program he was very reserved around the Arxur cadets. This skittishness even applied to Colton because he hung out with “the big one”, Usli’s descriptor of Tassev. I couldn’t blame him, Arxur were a bit intimidating to us as well, but the obvious contempt some of them had for the Yotul didn’t help matters. It was one thing to live and train with a fellow predator, but to do so with a species seen as prey took more adjustment. Luckily this feeling wasn’t universal among them.
I took to tutoring Usli to get him caught up with us and naturally this led to Jath joining us as we were already study partners. Jath didn’t seem bothered at all by the marsupial’s presence. He insisted, “If he is your friend, then he is a friend of mine as well.” At first Usli opted to sit with me between him and the Arxur, nervously writing and studying while trying to ignore his presence. But as time went on he began to warm up to Jath’s presence.
We studied for tests and compared answers on homework and previous assignments in the library. At first we thought we’d barely get him caught up by the end of the school year, but he learned at a surprising rate. It was mid March and he was only one week behind us.
“Done!” Usli whooped, holding the worksheet above his head.
“Alright let’s check it,” I said, comparing his answers to mine.
Jath interjected,”You are almost caught up, Usli. At this rate you will be the one tutoring us in a month!”
“Aw, well I couldn’t have done it without you guys,” Usli replied humbly.
I put down his paper, “Jath’s got a point you know, you aced it. We only got a 78 on this assignment when we took it. DId the Federation really call you guys stupid all the time?”
Usli lowered his head, “Not all the time… but yeah, I overheard Father on calls and saw on the internet what they thought about us. ‘Primitive’ was their favorite word for us. They never trusted us to be mechanics or scientists because, ‘well you didn’t even discover electricity before we came along!’”
“Well that doesn’t mean anything. If they found us like 300 years ago we didn’t have electricity either,” I said.
Usli’s downtrodden look didn’t fade, “I don’t know. Maybe they’re just right that we can’t do anything ourselves.”
“Hey, don’t say that. I’m sure you guys have done plenty of stuff yourselves.”
Usli became more combative, “Like what? We didn’t invent electricity. We didn’t have flying machines let alone spacecraft or FTL. Our medicine was horrible. The list goes on. Humans did all of that themselves, so did a lot of the Federation. And when they became our enemy what did we do? We couldn’t fight them off or evacuate ourselves, you had to do that for us!” He raised his voice further, “And even now I can’t learn all of this myself and need you two hovering over me just to stay enrolled here!”
We were both taken aback by his outburst. It seemed that Usli was only now realizing what he had said as he laid his head face down on the desk between his arms. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean it like that…”
Jath placed his hand on Usli's back to try to reassure him. Usli tensed slightly at the touch, but didn’t recoil. “You don’t need to be sorry. Just know that they are wrong about you. They are wrong about all of us so why do we even care what they think?”
“He’s got a point,” I added.
Usli still remained face down. Jath continued,“They think me and Dan aren’t even sapient. That we could never live together with herbivorous species. You know us. We are all friends, and that alone proves them wrong.”
I moved to sit opposite of Usli, “Yeah, and look at this paper. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for. The Federation may be convinced that if you can’t do something by yourself then you’re worthless, but here on Earth we know that a little bit of help can go a long way.”
The Yotul raised his head up and wiped a tear from his eye, “You’re right.” He looked at the clock on the wall and then back to us, “I… I should be on my way now. Thanks guys.”
“No problem man,” I said. “We’re here for you.”
He gave us a nod and gathered his things before leaving.
Jath was first to break the silence that followed, “Are you sure he is cut out for this program?”
“It’s tough on him, but I think Stone’s right. Look how fast we caught him up. I mean sure we might just be great tutors but he’s already scoring better than us.”
“Yeah, but at drills he is always falling behind.”
“That’s because he’s not used to exercising like that. You’ll see, next year he’ll be doing laps around you.”
Another voice chimed in, “I doubt it.”
We turned to see Tassev leaning on a bookshelf behind us. He was chewing on a piece of jerky, the only food that Arxur cadets could carry around without making a huge mess or stinking the whole place up. It was sort of like candy for them, or maybe more accurately their equivalent of potato chips. You weren’t supposed to have food in the library, but I doubted he cared.
“And why is that?” I asked in an aggravated tone.
Tassev bit off a chunk of jerky and swallowed it. “He is prey and we are predators. Simple as that. It is not his fault. It is just the way things are. Our instincts are to hunt, to kill. Theirs is to cower, to run. Just look at him now, crying that a bunch of leaf munchers never liked him. Pathetic.”
Jath turned back around and hunched over his papers, not wanting to get involved. I could feel anger in my veins. Tassev narrowed his eyes slightly, an expression that I found was something equivalent to a smirk, likely because he saw my grimace in response to his tirade. “I bet you know a lot about others never liking you.”
I must’ve struck a chord, because Tassev let out a snarl without hesitation upon hearing my retort. “You take that back!”
“Oh so now it matters what others think about you.”
“No! It’s… don’t change the subject. I was trying to help you. Stop wasting your time with that runt. The strong should not waste their time trying to lift up the weak. That effort is better used to improve themselves and those of similar strength.”
I turned back to the table and scoffed, “Yeah, we’ll think about it.”
“You will regret letting that deadweight drag you down. Mark my words. When he fails you will realize that your time was wasted,” Tassev huffed as he left the room.
I sighed and started on my homework for that night, though my thoughts remained on the previous conversation. At first my thoughts went to Jath, who never stood up to Tassev. Every time Tassev started bullying someone or asserting his position somewhere Jath would always hunker down and try to avoid him entirely. I never asked him why, but I felt like I already knew. There were two classes of Arxur that I saw at the academy, Jath’s were more quiet and reserved while Tassev’s were always aggressive and trying to assert their strength. Maybe keeping his head down was how he dealt with them before, but that would have to change sometime. On the other hand Tassev’s words echoed in my mind. Was it a waste of time to teach Usli? He didn’t seem to be a fighter like the rest of us. He did struggle in drills. No, he just needed help getting out of his comfort zone. Looking at the conversation in retrospect, maybe Usli and Jath had more in common than they realized. It was then that I realized Tassev and the Federation had more in common than they realized too. I silently chuckled to myself at the thought of him being outraged that I would compare him to “a bunch of leaf munchers'' as he’d say.

I developed a lesson plan for a class im taking and the lesson revolves around identifying parts of speech. I have a worksheet made up to identify simple and proper nouns, verbs, adverbs, adjectives, and interjections and then a dice block with one side dedicated to each part of speech. I developed this whole activity and am only just now realizing that I can’t find an ELA indicatostandard relevant to the activity. Can anyone guide me in the right direction? I spoke to a coworker who said her second grade daughter does worksheets on parts of speech often so i don’t think there’s an issue with developmental appropriateness. Maybe im not reading the indicators the proper way? Im mostly familiar with early childhood indicators, im new to elementary education. thank you!!

So in short I’m currently long term subbing an 8th grade science class. I’m covering a vacancy, and it’s possible I may finish out the school year. I’ve been teaching them for a little over 3 weeks, alone and with a co-teacher.
My co-teacher is currently out with COVID so I’m at the helm in deep water. Not too difficult because my co-teacher has provided me with lessons and I’m able to prep daily.
Over the last day and a half I’ve had a repeated problem with the sub covering my co-teacher. While this sub has been at the school longer than me, I’ve been in this class for weeks and receive daily emails so I can prep. I think it’s fair to say I’m being entrusted with keeping the class on track for this week especially.
Starting yesterday, the sub, let’s call him Mr. L, has been stepping over my leadership in the classroom.
Yesterday, during my lecture, Mr. L interrupted me to make jokes with students. I was teaching about Relative Humidity and Dewpoint, he interjected multiple times to ask me how the subject pertained to Football… it doesn’t…
Today, during homeroom, In front of Mr. L, I asked a student to bring down my attendance, standard practice in this school. After I turn my back I then watch Mr. L take my attendance out of this student’s hand and place it somewhere else so he could show off his push-up game. So instead I’m relegated to bringing my attendance down myself.
Following period I begin setting up my lesson. I write my warm-up on the board, plug up my laptop to smart board, and get ready to teach the lesson I prepped for. All of the sudden, without saying a word to me, Mr. L starts teaching from the worksheet I didn’t even know he had because he took it from the office before I arrived and never told me. [This is also not how the lesson should be taught, the students to read along and pick apart the article WITH me so I can properly explain the topics I prepped for].
Here’s where I mess up a bit. After 15 minutes of trying to get my class’s attention, being ignored by Mr. L who is now butchering my lesson, I slam a marker on the ground and walk out. I go complain to the principal that a sub who has no clue what they’re doing has completely ignored me and isn’t allowing me to teach the lesson. This principal is completely aware that I’m receiving the lesson plans in advance and prepping because she in the email chain with me and my co-teacher. I totally recognize that losing my cool was not the right was of handling it.
Here’s the kicker. I walk back into my classroom to find Mr. L crowded around with 2/3rds of the class, the other 1/3rd is disengaged because Mr. L just gave up. For some reason Mr. L is using beakers, not sure why cause we were reading an article about ocean currents. I then proceed to watch Mr. L pour his open Bang Energy Drink into an uncleaned beaker and has a 13 year old, an 8th grader, drink BANG ENERGY OUT OF A DIRTY BEAKER…
I was genuinely so shocked I froze up. I didn’t know what to do. I made the mistake of deciding to report the incident later in the day. That doesn’t stop multiple students from approaching to complain about the situation. Mr. L then eventually let’s me teach during the last 20 minutes because he realized the class wasn’t doing shit. I do my best to make sure the student leave with their work done.
Here’s where I mess up again. Next period when the same situation begins with me being ignored and interrupted, I finally stand up for myself and tell Mr. L in front of the class that he needs to stop and let me teach the lesson I prepped for. I definitely said it too aggressively and publicly and Mr. L did not appreciate it.
I explain that I’ve been with the class for 3+ weeks, I receive the lessons in advance, prep, and help with grades. He then proceeds to ask the class if what I said is true. Implying that I’m for some reason lying about the work I’ve done to keep my classes on track. I basically ignore this and teach my lesson in full, warm up, discussion, video, article, everything explained correctly and work done neatly.
Unfortunately I didn’t really handle the situation with maturity. Students got talking and my principal was aware of something going down before we even spoke. I meet with my principal the end of the day to report everything and she does take my side regarding the bang energy shit and Mr. L stepping over my established classroom authority. She does explain that why I didn’t handle things well and gives me advice on how to improve in the future. She def went easy on me because she knows I only started this job in mid October, I have less than 4 months collective experience. We made a plan for me to reset with the kids tomorrow and put it past us.
I feel honestly so dumb for handling today so poorly but at least I didn’t give a 13 year old Bang Energy in a dirty beaker… everything’s a learning experience :/
TL:DR Sub gave an 8th grader Bang Energy in a dirty science beaker and I lost my cool.

Moms for Liberty are welcome to their beliefs. But don’t infringe on my child _ Opinion
Opinion by Jennifer Koslow
As a proud parent of two children who have attended Leon County Public Schools for the past 11 years, LCS has always included me in the educational process.
Teachers have always shared with parents the topics they were teaching and their materials. As a result, I am confident that my children's education contains all of the standards: reading, writing, mathematics, science, history, music and art.
School is about more than reading and math
But as we all know from experience, school is more than worksheets and textbooks. Contemporary public education in the United States is about learning to be part of a democratic, multiethnic, multicultural and multiracial society.
Leon County Schools and the culture wars:
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• 'Caught in the middle': Leon Schools LGBTQ+ guide explained as it draws viral spotlight
  
• Leon County School Board approves LGBTQ guide after fierce debate
  
• Leon County Schools LGBTQ guide draft completed, public comment scheduled for June 28
  

Public education teaches us that other people's feelings and thoughts matter. It starts early: You can't push the person sitting next to you because they wouldn't give you the purple crayon; no, you shouldn't laugh at someone when they are having trouble adding 2 + 3. Empathy for others is a life skill as necessary as learning to read and write. Therefore, it is nefarious to suggest that public schools are the enemy because they help children learn to respect the feelings of other human beings.
Moms for Liberty pushing political agenda for school boards
The assertion by the Moms for Liberty that teachers are indoctrinating students to be Marxists and injecting "gender ideology" into the curriculum are untruths. Our public schools teach to the state's standards. The standards scaffold information so that education is incremental and appropriate to grade level. The result is to foster independent thinking.
Backstory on Moms for Liberty:
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• At Moms for Liberty summit in Florida, political strategy comes with a dose of conspiracy
  
• DeSantis to conservative Moms for Liberty: ‘You gotta stand up, and you gotta fight.’
  
• Moms for Liberty: Despite nonpartisan claims, army of activists a political force in 2022
  

A transgender child is a person, not an 'ideology'
The insistence by the Moms for Liberty that our schools are teaching "gender ideology" is particularly infuriating. As a parent of a transgender child, he isn't an "ideology," he's a person. No one taught him to be a transgender person. His own embodied knowledge led him to that conclusion over several years of conversations with his parents and physicians.
'How someone interprets their own body comes from a person's heart and soul. As a parent, I love my child, but I don't get to decide who he is. Moreover, other parents don't get to determine my child's sex or gender identity.
Lies matter. A safe learning environment is also an honest one. The proposition by the Moms for Liberty that teachers are "groomers" because they respect a student's humanity is abhorrent. The assertion that transgender students' use of restrooms that align with their gender identity is a public safety issue is dishonest. Statistics consistently demonstrate that the only legitimate public safety issue is for the transgender student, not the other way around.
Mike Lang, Sarasota Herald-Tribune Attendees cheer for Florida Governor Ron Desantis as he concludes his speech at the first Moms for Liberty National Summit on Thursday, July 15, 2022 in Tampa, Florida. The convention continues through Sunday, July 17th with conservative speakers and strategy sessions for members.
Who do these untruths hurt? They hurt us all. Suppose the Moms for Liberty actualize their vision of educational reform. In that case, they will elevate some parents' perspectives — which they explain is a conservative Christian one — above all others in our pluralistic, secular public schools.
The Moms for Liberty are welcome to hold their beliefs. But, they are not welcome to impose them on my children or others in the public schools.
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Moms for Liberty’s conservative activists are planning their next move_ Taking over school boards
Tyler Kingkade
TAMPA, Fla. — Eighteen months after a pair of former school board members in Florida founded Moms for Liberty, the group’s first national gathering drew 500 people, including major Republican figures, to a waterfront hotel here, demonstrating the growing political influence of these local conservative activists.
The organization’s rapid ascension — its leaders say it has nearly 100,000 members across 195 chapters in 37 states — has been driven by the appeal of its core issues among conservatives, including battling mask mandates in schools, banning library books that address sexuality and gender identity, and curtailing lessons on racial inequity and discrimination, its founders say.
The conference in Tampa was a moment for members to meet like-minded parents, reflect on their success in shaping the national debate around school curricula and policies, and learn how to spread their message further. They strategized on what they want to do next: elect their own candidates to school boards, pass state legislation and diminish the influence of teachers unions.
“It’s been said we’re some political powerhouse,” said Tiffany Justice, who co-founded Moms for Liberty in January 2021 with Tina Descovich. “But the truth of the matter is, you have a whole new segment of the American population engaging in politics now, and they weren’t really political before.”
Wearing American flag-inspired accessories, attendees received Moms for Liberty-branded pocket constitutions and bought T-shirts with John Adams quotes. They browsed booths set up by conservative groups, including Turning Point USA, the Leadership Institute and Heritage Action, and the evangelical Liberty University. They logged in to Wi-Fi hotspots named “We Beat School Boards” and “Don’t Teach Gender ID.”
At strategy sessions, which were off-limits to journalists, they were trained on how to get media attention, vet candidates, dissect school policies and prepare to run for office. Speakers frequently criticized social emotional learning, a teaching approach designed to help children manage their feelings, as a way for schools to interject communist ideas. When one activist declared that many school mental health programs were “another form of indoctrination,” the crowd cheered.
Octavio Jones Jara Jeffries organizes Moms for Liberty apparel for sale in the hallway during the organization's inaugural summit on July 15, 2022, in Tampa. (Octavio Jones / Getty Images)
During one panel, two sponsors of Florida’s Parental Rights in Education bill, which critics have dubbed the “Don’t Say Gay” law, described how activists can effectively lobby their state lawmakers for similar legislation: Bring hard evidence of the problem, target legislators with young children and propose a bill rather than just complain. Panelists also said they expect to propose amendments to Florida’s version of the law annually to address additional issues, such as the content of textbooks.
“Our laws need to evolve to respond to these new techniques and things that they’re using,” said Jeff Childers, an attorney and conservative commentator who serves on Moms for Liberty’s board, and was also on the panel about Florida’s new law. “So I look at the parents’ bill of rights and the amendments that we’ve had since — it’s a really good framework, right? That’s like taking the body of an AK-47, and then we can start mounting new accessories onto it: a flashlight, a laser pointer and things like that.”
Childers advised those in more liberal states to try to pass a parental rights measure through their school board or county commission. He said that local action would eventually wear down resistance from lawmakers at the state level.
“Our adversaries, it’s not just that they don’t care about our children — I believe they’re actively trying to harm our children,” Childers told the audience, to applause.
Attendees also heard speeches from prominent Florida Republicans, including Gov. Ron DeSantis, widely considered a presidential candidate in waiting, as well as Sen. Rick Scott, the National Republican Senatorial Committee chair, who said Moms for Liberty-backed candidates are going to help the GOP win governor races and control of the Senate in the midterm elections.
“If you guys run, you are going to make everybody else win,” Scott said.
Critics accuse Moms for Liberty — which is registered as a social welfare nonprofit organization and so does not have to disclose its donors — of sowing division in communities, rolling back progress on issues of diversity and inclusion, and scaring educators out of the profession.
Activists with the group have offered a $500 bounty for information on teachers using critical race theory, the academic study of how racism is perpetuated by laws and institutions, in their classes. They organized protests against Covid mitigation protocols, referring to one school’s mask policies as “segregation.” And they demanded schools pull books about Ruby Bridges and Martin Luther King Jr., saying the depictions of racism were too disturbing for young children.
“They’ve turned our schools into political battlegrounds,” said Angela Wynn, a Sarasota parent who co-founded Support Our Schools, an activist group aiming to counter organizations like Moms for Liberty.
The pushback hasn’t slowed down Moms for Liberty.
Its members have stood behind GOP governors during bill signings. Its national summit booked former Trump administration Cabinet members Betsy DeVos and Ben Carson, in addition to Scott and DeSantis, who gave the keynote address after accepting a sword from Moms for Liberty. Last month, the organization received an award from the Heritage Foundation, an influential conservative think tank, which was also a sponsor of the national summit.
Octavio Jones Image: Governor Desantis Speaks At Moms For Liberty Summit In Florida (Octavio Jones / Getty Images)
In interviews, attendees shared similar stories of how they joined Moms for Liberty: They had an issue with something that happened at their child’s school, or they were upset over mask requirements or Covid-related school closures, and they began speaking at school board meetings. They connected with other parents in person and on Facebook. They learned about Moms for Liberty online and created a chapter in their county.
“When I’m going up there by myself, the school board overlooks you,” said Ken Davenport, a father from a chapter in Orange County, Florida, who is running for state representative. “When you go in with 40 people that have the same shirt on — you’re looked at. We’re starting to rise up and be noticed, because we are not just one person out there screaming.”
Octavio Jones Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis speaks during the inaugural Moms For Liberty Summit on July 15, 2022, in Tampa. (Octavio Jones / Getty Images)
Members also get access to monthly training sessions hosted by the group’s national leaders, as well as private webinars with GOP lawmakers and conservative activists. Chapter leaders are frequently in touch to strategize.
“So far, they seem to have their act together,” said Jennifer Bengtson, a vice president at Association of Mature American Citizens, a conservative advocacy group. She attended the summit because her organization is interested in partnering with Moms for Liberty.
Aside from a few mentions, there was little talk of Congress or the presidency. Instead, speakers encouraged attendees to put pressure on local officials.
DeSantis said he began endorsing school board candidates in part because he saw conservative counties where districts were “fighting tooth and nail to mask kids against their will.”
“Who’s running for governor or senator, those are important, don’t get me wrong,” DeSantis said in his speech. “But these positions have a significant impact on families’ lives in a way that some other offices may not be able to do. So it’s important to be involved in it, and I know this group has gotten it.”
Octavio Jones Image: Governor Desantis Speaks At Moms For Liberty Summit In Florida (Octavio Jones / Getty Images)
The new conflicts enveloping schools have caught many school administrators unprepared. They’re more accustomed to debates about the length of the school day and teachers union contracts, not political controversies that go viral, said Jonathan Collins, a Brown University public affairs professor who is writing a book about school board politics.
Collins said there hasn’t been this much conflict affecting school districts since racial desegregation. He fears one outcome of the increased politicization of school boards will be entrenched polarization, leading to inaction on new hires and student achievement goals because no one will work across ideological lines.
“Everything we’re seeing in terms of the playbook that is being written is a pathway to turning school districts into Congress,” Collins said.
Moms for Liberty did not share figures for the number of school board candidates the group’s chapters have endorsed nationally, but in Florida, they have backed more than 40 candidates and expect to endorse another 20 in the coming weeks, said Marie Rogerson, the organization’s executive director of program development.
“They’re coming to us for our endorsement because our moms are on the ground in their area,” Rogerson said. “They know the moms are out talking to people and making an impact, and they want that on their side.”
At one strategy session, Rogerson walked attendees through Moms for Liberty’s three-step vetting process: Candidates must fill out a questionnaire, participate in an interview and then face a vote by the local chapter.
Paulina Testerman, another Support Our Schools co-founder, said her group has tried to recruit school board candidates of its own but has been rejected repeatedly by people who fear getting swept into the center of a hostile board meeting, facing down a group like Moms for Liberty.
“So what’s happening is these people are winning,” she said. “They’re chasing off great candidates because of the chaos they are creating.”

So I'm looking back at my past experiences teaching so far as a TA. They've been

• A class in precalculus, focused on trig
• Calculus 1
• A class in business calculus
• Soon, a class in Calculus 2

One (precalc) was taught online, and Calc 2 will be as well. The other two were in-person.
Looking back, the mental engagement is not particularly great. I'm not really sure what to do though, since my default style is lecture-heavy. (Introduce and explain a concept or idea or theorem, and work 3-5 progressively-harder examples, boiling down the problem-solving process.)
In Calculus 1 and business calculus, at least, what I could do and did was "labs." Basically group work from a worksheet of basic problems, where I would go from group-to-group for the given class session, check in on them. They would do the work on whiteboards and whatnot, and perhaps show it to the class given time. Business calculus was worse about this (but they were hardly engaged at all, you could tell they didn't care about math at all and wanted out).
However, precalculus on the other hand eventually devolved to just straight lectures. Labs are hard to really do in a way online that doesn't feel contrived, a pain in the butt, and a little patronizing. (I'm not big on the whole "yes we're online but we're going to pretend that we're not" thing I've seen some people do.) Some of those were still done, but as homework where they could group up however they chose (within reason).
But the lecture sessions themselves... I like to interject with questions of some sort. I usually default to a "is everyone good so far?", but that's kind of lame the more I think about it, so lately I try to make some pointed questions when I can. I might do a step as I'm working an example, and - rather than explain it - ask them why. However, either way, it wasn't long until no one in precalc would respond. Even in-person, similar ideas for business calc didn't work, but some in Calc 1 would respond and engage.
I'm not really sure what to do. I feel things should be more active and engaging, but I'm not sure how to make it so - especially in an online environment.
Maybe I need to get better at asking questions or ask better questions? Or perhaps there's something else altogether I need to look into doing?
The reason being that I feel math is very much something you need to learn by doing. Of course, there's an amount of lecture necessary, but so many students seem clocked out, that I wonder if there's anything I'm doing wrong, or anything I can do to help.
Does anyone have any tips for me? Thanks.

This was supposed to be a much shorter story, but it got a little out of hand... Sorry
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‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Atlas-7 took firm strides towards the Vanguard’s table, Hayes and Tank already waiting for him. Hayes shot him a cocky smirk and opened his mouth to speak, but Atlas cut him off with a finger, “Shut it, do not want to hear it, especially from you!” Hayes closed his mouth and gave a quiet laugh behind his grin, Tank himself having to suppress a sly smile. Zavala looked up from his side of the desk at the three Guardians standing shoulder to shoulder.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Ah, Atlas. You’re late…” Zavala informed him with a wry eyebrow raised. Atlas gave a sigh and nodded with closed metallic eyes.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Forgive me, Commander. You have an assignment for us?” Atlas asked. Behind him, Tank and Hayes passed glimmer from one to another, no doubt the outcome of a bet while waiting for the Exo.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Yes. We have another unusual task for you today. You’re well aware that the relationship Guardians share with the City is not always the most… understood.” Zavala put either hand on the table. “The great battles have long since passed, and the people are forgetting that we are people as well. We need you to go down there and show the civilians that Guardians are nothing to be afraid of.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Cayde-6 laughed from across the table, “So what do you want them to do, start a carwash for them?”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Zavala turned his gaze to the Exo, scowling. “Thank you for your input Cayde, but I was thinking of targeting the younger generation.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Atlas, Tank, and Hayes all traded looks with one another, before looking at Zavala. “What did you have in mind?” Tank rose a grey eyebrow in curiosity.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“I have scheduled a guest visit from Guardians at the Botza Park Elementary School, and you three would make the perfect candidates.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Not to come off as rude towards our team Commander,” Atlas looked over his shoulder as he spoke before turning his gaze back to Zavala. “But we are not what I would define as perfect.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Hey! I find that offensive!” Hayes barked. “Give me a gun and some glimmer and I’ll perfect the crap out of anything you point me at!”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Although I don’t quite agree with what he’s saying, I do agree with his sentiment. Have a little faith Atlas.” Tank shoves him with an elbow.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Zavala rubbed his chin and gestured towards them. “One of each Guardian class in a fireteam, are you aware of how uncommon that is?”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Common.” Atlas plainly stated
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“And that makes you guys the perfect image of the average Guardian team!” Cayde encouraged, giving a thumbs up in the process. “Thanks for volunteering!”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Hayes looked to his Vanguard, placing a hand on his chest and shotting him a hurt expression. Tank crossed his arms and questioned, “When would we be doing this?”
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‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎The three Guardians waited outside in a hallway. One of the many corridors that comprised the labyrinth someone had called a School. Tank sat in a navy blue chair much too small for him while still wearing his bulky, damaged armour, helmet included. Atlas meditated with crossed legs, dressed in pristine, thick red robes with a black interior, it’s bottom just long enough to not touch the ground if he were to stand. Hayes leaned against lockers across the hall from them, spinning a flaming knife in anticipation. His body was covered in a rich, blue velvet vest, wearing a black long sleeve shirt, with small pauldrons on his shoulders. His white pants lead down to dark, armoured boots.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Their Ghost’s wandered the halls. Tank’s Ghost, Omar waited patiently next to his Guardian. Atlas’ Ghost, Cassini, scanned a science textbook someone had dropped on their way to class. Meanwhile, Chaplin, Hayes’ Ghost, analyzed a set of lockers.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎The boredom was beginning to become unbearable. Hayes had been slowly tapping his head against the locker for quite some time now, while Tank had been nodding to sleep in his tiny blue chair, quite clearly not meant for someone of his size. Everything was dead quiet, save for the muffled teachings happening behind a closed door between Tank and Atlas. “How many more of these do we have to do today?” Hayes agonized, smacking his head harder and harder.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“This is the last class we need to go to, have patience,” Atlas said, opening his eyes. “Just look at how relaxed Tank is.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎A muffled snoring came from under Tank’s helmet, his body slouched over. Atlas looked at him, disappointed. “Yeah, real relaxed,” Hayes smirked and twirled his knife into his palm. He gripped the knife by the blade and threw it at the Titan. Spinning through the air, it’s hilt bounced off Tank's helmet, the sound from the impact echoed down the vacant halls. Tank snapped to attention, jumping out of his seat.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“I’M UP!” He shouted, falling back onto his chair. There was a groan of metal bending as he impacted the chair, the force caused the already worn metal and plastic to shatter like glass, throwing him to the ground. Hayes snatched the knife out of the air and burst out laughing, bending over and crying, nearly falling to the floor himself in the hysteria. Tank picked himself up and marched to Hayes with fists clenched. Atlas could feel the rage radiating off him and knew if he didn’t step in, some poor janitor would be cleaning blood and bits of Hayes out of the hallway for days. Tank grabbed Hayes by his collar and raised him up, the Hunter never stopping his cackling. Atlas put his arms between them and tried to push them apart when a voice called out.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Ummm... is everything alright out here?” A middle-aged woman in a relaxed, but formal jacket, peered her head out from their classroom, staring at the three in bewilderment. Tank dropped Hayes, then wrapped an arm around him.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Just fine!” Tank forced a smile, even though no one could see it. The woman stared at each of them for a moment before opening the door, exposing a class full of children, none older than fourteen.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Uh-huh…” The woman turned back to their students and spoke softly. “Well, we’re ready for you.” She welcomed them into the classroom, but stopped, gesturing to the obliterated chair. “I presume that was the sound I heard?”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Tank replied sheepishly, “Unfortunately yes.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Well then, I’ll have to charge your Vanguard for that as well, alongside the OTHER damages from this… Experience.” She chastised them.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Actually, the dye in that chair was from the chemical Rebutinuimate-14, which has been shown to be a leading factor in most childhood poisoning if the toxicology reports are to be believed. We saved you from that chair.” Cassini interjected, looking up from the science textbook laid out in front of her.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎The woman stared back in bafflement, then turned to the students. “Alright kids, our special guests are here for today’s lesson!” The Guardians exchanged looks before stepping inside. Tank looked out over the sea of kids and felt as nervous as he had with the first batch of students, but Atlas and Hayes remained steeled in their emotions. They were very comfortable and familiar with the routine at this point. Behind them, their Ghosts flew in, observing and recording them for Vanguard evaluation.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Atlas stepped forward and introduced himself. “Hello, we are the Guardians of Fireteam Orchestral.” Atlas pressed a hand against his chest, “I am Atlas-7, a Warlock, an Exo, and the leader of this Fireteam. I manage missions, pilot our ship, and perform in the field logistics.” The children stared in amazement, looking over them intently. Atlas moved his hand to his left in an open-hand point, “This is Hayes.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Hayes gave a two-finger wave to the kids and smiled. “Sup. As you can probably tell from my skin, I'm an Awoken, but more importantly, I’m the Hunter of the group. I do all the cool shi-”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎‘AHEM!” The woman loudly coughed, shooting him a look that could cut diamonds.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“I mean, cool stuff like recon, surveillance, scouting and trick shots!”. He pulls his hands up and fires off some finger guns to the class.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“AHEM! I thought we agreed no more summoned firearms after the first… incident.” She scolded.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Is this woman serious…?” Hayes said dumbstruck.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Atlas groaned and moved his hand to his right and continued, “And this is Tank.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Tank gave a quick salute before he spoke. “Hey there, like he said, my name’s Tank and I’m a Titan. I’m the spearhead of the group, being the front line offence in any engagement. Whenever we get into a fight, I’m the first one into the fray.” he proudly spoke behind his helmet. The children's eyes went wide and some of them couldn’t help but oohing and ahhing as the man talked, the baritone of his voice and the size of his armour made him look like a knight from the old, pre-golden-age stories. His armour sold the idea, looking like it had aged for a few centuries.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Atlas nodded, clasping his hands behind his back and speaking in a voice filled with pride. “Together we have been on hundreds of missions beyond The Wall. From Mercury to the Reef, and beyond, we defend the City from anything that dares to threaten it. For centuries we have fought with each other and fought next to each other at the most infamous battles the City has seen. It is my understanding that your students are currently learning about the Battle of Twilight Gap?” Atlas looked to the woman, who gave him a nod. “This afternoon, we will tell you about what it means to be our respective class and what it was like fighting at Twilight Gap. Thank you for your time.” Atlas turned to Hayes and nodded, “The floor is yours.” The Titan and Warlock walked away, taking a seat on chairs at the corner of the room, Tank still dwarfing his chair.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Hayes moved to where Atlas had been standing and pulled a seat to him. He leapt on top of it, sitting on the backrest with his feet in the seat. “Bein’ a Hunter is all about being where you belong. Ask any Hunter and they’ll say the same. The Warlocks may have their libraries and the Titan’s have their walls, but Hunter's? Hunters don't have A place, we have All the places. A Hunter belongs just beyond the line of the world you know and the unknown, whether that's on an asteroid trailing a Fallen Ketch past Saturn, sleeping in the mud, SMASHING THE LEADERBOARDS OF THE CRUCIBLE FOR THE 4TH WEEK IN A ROW!
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“WOOOOOOO!!!” A kid in the back of the class shouted in excitement.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“That guy gets it!” Hayes pointed into the crowd with a toothy grin.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Enough boasting kid, don’t forget to tell them about Twilight Gap!” Tank yelled from the corner of the room.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Oooo Twilight Gap, that was a while ago… Hey guys, did we save the civilians first then crash into the Ketch, or was that after?” Hayes looked to his team.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Civilians first, Ketch second.” Atlas lectured.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Right. So! There we were standing on the wall, the Fallen were everywhere. Captains, Vandals, Dregs and Shanks were swarming us from every nook and cranny they could crawl out of. They were being dropped off by the Skiffs flyin’ low, and we were running out of ammo. As we’re fighting, the big man over there see’s a Fallen Walker stuck to a Skiff descending into the City. I knew then what I had to do!” Hayes leapt from the chair to one edge of the classroom. “At that moment, I ran through the battlefield and cast my Golden Gun! Hundreds of Fallen stood in my way, but with each shot, dozens of ‘em fell!” Hayes ran across the classroom, sliding and firing a finger gun as he travelled across the room. “I jumped aboard a Skiff that was dropping off reinforcements and climbed inside, taking it for myself. Tank and Atlas climbed aboard and we flew into the city after the Walker.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“By the time we got to it, it had already destroyed three buildings. I jumped out of the Skiff as we flew over and landed on top of it.” He vaulted towards the chair and landed on it like it was a wild beast. He stood up and put a leg on the backrest. “With my shotgun, I unloaded a pack of rounds into its legs, tearing it to pieces. Before I could put it down good with a shot from my Golden Gun, Tank lept a hundred feet down and crushed it with a Fist of Havok! Everything exploded! When the dust settled, we stood triumphant on top of its corpse.” Hayes described, posing heroically on top of the chair. He looked over the children, seeing them on the edge of their seats. A smirk grew across his face and he turned to his team. “Tank, you can finish this for me..” He pushed against the backrest of the chair, tipping it over. He tucked into a ball as he fell to the ground, rolling over to Tank before jumping to his feet.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Tank watched with a grin and got up, giving his seat to the Hunter. He walked to the chair Hayes used, picking it up off the ground and setting it back upright. He took his seat, and leaned forward, placing an arm on his knee. “Well… To finish the story. I think I have to tell you what it means to be a Titan…” Tank moved his hands to his helmet, his fingers gripping around the silver mirrored visor and pulled up, revealing his aged face. A few gasps came from the kids, seeing him for the first time.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“What does it mean to be a Titan? It means being the aegis of the City, and being her starwalt defender. While the Warlocks study, and the Hunter’s play, we stand vigil for weeks at a time in an unending watch for all of Humanity’s enemies. Titans cannot give an inch when pushed, because in the end we are the wall against which the Darkness breaks. When even the mightiest weapons come, an unbreakable defence will always stand... ” Tank trailed off. The kids watched him in awe as he slid the helmet back on, becoming the Knight they believed him to be.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“So there we were, Hayes and I standing victorious over the Walker, when we heard the screams of civilians. The Fallen armies assaulted the walls from all directions, but in the chaos, packs of Devil infiltrators had slipped through the fence. With citizens this close to the Wall, they were right in the crossfire of battle. We needed to get them deeper into the safety of the City. The two of us ran to them as I told Atlas the plan. We would use the hijacked Skiff to deliver groups of civilians to the heart of the City. As we arrived at the designated emergency bunker, its doors were already being assaulted by the Fallen. After disposing of the assailants and opening the doors, we realized a problem. There were far too many people for a single ride. There would need to be trips, and a lot of them.” Tank stood up and paced back and forth at the front of the classroom.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Atlas lowered the Skiff, and Hayes loaded people in, but we couldn’t all go. If we all left, the people would be defenceless against any more Fallen. So I told them to go on their own to get them to safety. I gave them a salute as they left, and I was left alone to defend them. Myself, against hundreds of Fallen that all crawled through the streets and across buildings. But I was a Wall… And I would not move.” Tank clenched his fists as he walked, and some kids would swear to this day they saw electricity sparking off his arms. “By the time they came back, scores of Fallen littered the street around me, and I stood unmoving. We would continue moving people for the next three hours as the battle raged on, not a single civilian we found fell that day. When we were done, we…” Tank stopped and stared at all the kids gripping their desks in anticipation. He turned back to Hayes and Atlas and nodded. “I think Atlas can tell this next part better.” Atlas stood, and Tank picked up and tossed the chair at Atlas from across the room.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Atlas caught it, and set it down next to the one beside Hayes, before walking past Tank. Atlas looked at them and pushed against the ground with the force of a leaf hitting the floor. He rose and floated in the air. The children all gasped in amazement as he hovered off the ground. “After we were certain the civilians were safe, we heard a priority one communication over the radio. Zavala and Lord Saladin had ordered a regroup at the Ridgeback District for all Guardians. We knew what that meant. The Wall at Twilight Gap had been breached, and within minutes, the Fallen would be swarming the streets, and within the day the City would be theirs. I ordered my team into the Skiff, and we set off for Ridgeback to try to prevent that outcome.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“When we arrived, we heard that Lord Shaxx was still holding the Wall with five other Guardians. You’ll come to know them as the Hero’s of Twilight Gap. Lord Saladin had taken notice of our Commandeered ship, and together we hatched a plan. There was a Ketch outside the firing range of the Wall’s gun that was still pounding Twilight Gap trying to dislodge the six Guardians. If we could get close to the Ketch without being shot down, board the Ketch, and disable it’s armaments, while the rest of the Guardian forces formed a counter attack. The battle might not be lost.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Atlas looked to his team, and back at the students. He crossed his legs to sit in the air, steepling his fingers. “Before I left, I asked Tank and Hayes if they would like to stay behind. This very well was a suicide mission. Not one answered. We all knew what the plan was. Tank and a two other titans clambered on top of the Skiff, and we set off for the Ketch. As we approached I had Hayes speak in Eliksni to the Ketch’s crew, making sure we were not a target for them on our approach. As soon as we were close enough to not be targeted by their guns, I maxed our thrusters. Tank braced, and right before we hit, the two other titans hurled him with all their might into the hull of the Ketch, breaking its armour and allowing the Skiff to tear through the ship with ease. None of us survived but our Ghosts did. After being resurrected it was an uphill battle to the Navigation room, but we had planned for this. While we made our way to the bridge our two titan company diverged to their aft hangar. Together they caused as much chaos as they could, destroying seven walker tanks and three skiffs before they had to retreat off the Ketch.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Thanks to them we were able to reach our goal of their bridge, where a Nova Bomb easily destroyed the Pilot servitor and much of the hardware. Without anything guiding the ship, it began to plummet to the Earth below, and into the back line of the The Fallens forces. We barely made it out before it exploded on impact. Together we had survived our battle, and as we looked up, we saw the Fallen retreating. The counter attack had been successful. Many Guardians and Citizens perished, but the Battle of Twilight Gap was won, and the City was safe.” Atlas uncrossed his legs and fell to the ground again. His expressionless stare looked at each student, judging their reactions. All of them were glued to every word the three of them had said.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“That’s what it means to be a Warlock. To have a plan and to devise a strategy. To never go into a battle without knowing every possibility, and ensuring that everyone you know will make it out safely. The Titan’s can spend their lives standing idle and the Hunters can spend their life in the wilds, but Warlocks? We feel most comfortable learning, planning, and unraveling the secrets of the universe to prevent Humanity or the Traveler from being eradicated.” Atlas gave a small wave to his teammates to come over. They stood and walked to either side of Atlas. “And what do we all have in common? The drive to fight day and night, through the harshest environments known to man, to keep you safe. That is what being a Guardian is about. Thank you.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎The woman walked to the front of the classroom and looked to her students. “Let’s give a hand to our guest speakers this afternoon!” The room erupted into a symphony of applause. “Please ensure to fill out your worksheet about what you’ve learned today, I’ll be right back.” She opened the door to the hallway, leading the Guardians out one by one. A janitor had just finished cleaning up blue shards of chair off the ground when they stepped out. The woman looked at them and placed her hands on her hip. “That one went a lot better than the last few. It almost made me want to avoid reprimanding you for what happened earlier. Almost. I do appreciate that you came here to talk to our kids though. I’ll let your Vanguard know that you did… Adequately.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Thank you for having us.” Tank gratefully nodded. “We’ll make sure next time is better for everyone.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎The woman scoffed as she opened the door to the classroom. “Ha! Next time, that’s a good one.” She waved a hand and walked back inside the room, swinging it shut behind her. The three were left alone in the halls again.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Hayes looked around and slung his arms around his comrades. “Sooo, who's for a drink?”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Please.” Tank groaned, wrestling loose of Hayes’ arm and walking down the halls
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Definitely.” Atlas nodded and followed.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Hayes joined them through the hallway and smiled. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearin’ that story.” A pause filled the air before he spoke again. “You sure this is the way out?”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“I thought you knew the way out? I was waiting for your directions!?” Tank said.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Why would I know the way out, I’ve just been following her?” Hayes snapped back.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“You’re our scout…”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Hayes shot Tank a vacant expression.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“And our recon…” He growled
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Tank, all the halls we’ve been down have all literally been the exact same. They do this to drain individuality.” Hayes lectured. “We’re stuck here by design.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎"My scans also indicated the same, although there was a variation of 2cm down the second hallway. I have already filed a complaint with the administration board of the school to-” Cassini trailed off, talking to herself.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“And here I was thinking you were planning an escape this entire time…” Tank lamented
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Oh I was, I was just gonna dive out the closest window. Unless you want to go back and ask her for directions, we’re wandering our way out.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Atlas sighed, mumbling, “How in the Travelers name have we lived this long…”

So in 2017 I saw a psych that near ruined me and now that I want to get back on medication I have to see him again as he is the only one available to see in a timely manner. I'm quite proud of this write up and I thought maybe you guys might enjoy my story as well.
A preface for my psychological Assessment.
You sure do not remember me but I sure as hell remember you. In late 2017 I went to see you on the University Campus seeking psychological assistance. At this point my life was in disarray. Prior to this I had attended University for half a semester for a degree in pharmacology after graduating valedictorian from a small rural school. Everything seemed to be on track for me to pursue a successful career in pharmacology, I was passionate and eager. Then I went to my high school's awards show and received a payout of $1500 for academic achievement and character awards. I can not tell you what spurred this next decision but that night at 4am I impulsively spent every last cent and some on computer components. At this point I had no experience in electronics but I did it anyway. Upon receiving these parts I quickly became obsessed with my newly built computer and everything else fell to the wayside. I was doing okay in school but that quickly spiraled as I stopped attending every single class and all my time and energy went into my newfound passion. I ended up throwing away all the money I spent on school that semester and withdrew from every class. The consequences held no bearing on me. I have no artistic ability yet I was determined to pursue a career in 3D modelling. I should have known this was irrational yet I was not phased in the slightest. At this point I was living the rest of the semester in ****** while fucking around with this new obsession. Deep in my mind I knew something was wrong.
I sought help from on campus resources; but first some history, at this point I was also medicated for ADHD and was on a script for 40mg of Vyvanse. I had received a diagnosis from my general practitioner in ********* a year prior as although I was “smart” I had immense difficulty doing anything in high school. There was no enforcement of deadlines in school so although all my assignments were handed in late they were done to a high level of efficacy and I also tested very well despite doing nothing during class time or at home. Over the years I would always get in trouble for disrupting class or talking out of turn. I would sit in class doing nothing but disrupt myself and others, or just look around the room. I received little actual flak because I continued to pump out good marks, yet I was far from being a good student. I flew under the radar. I reached a breaking point in chem 20 during a work period. There was literally only one thing to do, a balancing worksheet. I had well over 90 in the class and excelled at these types of problems. The class was silent and I had one easy task in front of me. Yet no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t focus enough to write a single word, an easy task was insurmountable and I resorted to looking around the room aimlessly whilst doing random math equations in the sidebar. I received a diagnosis. Albeit improper it happened this way.
The medication did not make me superhuman, I was no crack addict, I wasn’t chasing drugs but slowly but surely I was able to do things I wasn’t able to before. Instead of doing nothing in class, I began to actually work. Instead of jumping to answers in math I wrote out my problems. I caught the little mistakes and maybe did one or two percent better. I became more reserved and disrupted less. Yet It wasn’t a magic button, I was still labelled “the laziest honor student” and I was still impulsive. But I felt more in control, I felt as if I finally had some agency in my life. The little things that everybody else did, I could now do. The little things made all the difference. Hell I did the dishes in 30 minutes vs 2 hours. I felt as if I wasn’t just winging it through school, I felt like I was finally in charge and everything I did was not some fluke. I know the argument is that stimulants will do that to everyone, I was aware of that, I did my research, hell at one point I knew the exact mechanism of action for the medication I was taking. I never double dosed or gave my medication out, I actually felt some level of shame for taking these medications. Yet it was the little things that meant the most to me. I felt as if my life made sense; I felt results were now the product of what I put in, not just pure luck that I got the answer. I felt good leaving grade 12 in control of my life as I headed to post secondary.
Back to December of 2017 when I visited you. I went in seeking guidance, a second opinion as I worded it. Here I was medicated and yet my life started to unravel, all feeling of control I had I lost, my impulsive decisions kicked my ass and now I was spiralling. I gave up everything to pursue something. I fell back into much the same way I felt before my diagnosis, a young man winging it with no sense of agency, I couldn’t control my thoughts or actions. In the time I needed reassurance I received the opposite. You immediately dismissed me. I don’t know if it was because you were the only psychiatrist working for the university, or if it was because university students are notorious for drug seeking in the second half of the semester but you tore me down. You told me to ditch the medication and try harder while I was at a point where I felt as if no matter what I tried I was going downhill. I pleaded for an answer to why I couldn’t get my shit together and you simply restated your original point. I left in shambles, I spiralled harder. Eventually I moved on and basically said fuck you (I didn’t move on). I questioned whether you may have been right, Maybe I didn’t have ADHD, maybe I just fucking sucked, maybe I was incompetent, maybe I just had to try harder. I ditched medication for a while and honestly tried, Nothing changed, I went back on.
I ended up going to **** for video game design, something I thought was my passion, I also went to live in ***** residence, I lived by myself for the first time. I started strong, I had a routine, ate proper and went to class. Then it happened again. I missed one breakfast, one class. The dishes piled in the sink, I missed another class, I went to bed later. Most nights I stayed up till 5am playing league of legends. In an exponential fashion my control fell apart and the semester was unsalvageable. I withdrew or failed from every class. I know if I just went to class and even did the bare minimum I could have succeeded. I couldn’t get my impulses under control before it was too late. I finished the semester eating one meal a day, usually take out. I did this as dishes seemed to be the equivalent of mount everest, laundry didn’t get done as I lived in my robe. My parents begged me to just finish something. Instead of telling them the truth I lied and said I wasn’t interested in game design anymore.
The summer wasn’t bad, I did a menial labour job and it was bearable since I was medicated and while working I applied back to the university for a degree in computer science. I got in and the next semester I started strong, I moved in with my girlfriend to an apartment, I found a doctor in the city who kept with the 40mg vyvanse, he was so old he barely talked. Quickly I got caught up in my own side projects and the cycle repeated. These new ventures took all my time even though they would never amount to anything. Instead of listening in lecture I would focus on writing notes on these little projects, when I got home I’d continue to focus on these projects. Slowly but surely I stopped going to class, neglected my sleep and eating habits, and the dishes and laundry would pile up again and it would just get worse. I quickly went back to eating out and racking up credit card debt, I’d forget to take my medication and my side projects stagnated. In december I had my first panic attack in the morning of my math final, I hadn’t been to class and knew I would fail, I was angry, disappointed and scared. sure enough I thought of what you said, “maybe I don’t have ADHD maybe I just fucking suck, I’m worthless”. I failed the class with distinction as I lay in the closet crying in a ball. I passed one class PSYCH 104 by writing the midterm and the final.
Second semester came around, it started off salvageable and I was determined to stick it through but a few game releases and side projects later I fell apart, I stopped getting my medication since doctor’s visits were hard to manage. I let myself fail, I went onto academic probation and was forced to take a year off. I worked the same job as the year prior, although it was much harder without medication, I had a few panic attacks that left me crying in the work truck and stayed on until November. I collected ei and moved in with my girlfriend and two roommates. I sat around from November till May doing nothing but sit in my chair and doing the bare minimum around the apartment. I went back to the same job for the third summer and reapplied to the university. I got in with probation requirements and started the year.
So far I’ve been doing okay. Yet I’m 45K in debt having passed one class, I have strict requirements to fulfill or I’m barred from the University for 5 years. Maybe the direness of the situation forced me to adapt or maybe I’m better at online schooling; but I am at the point I was in grade twelve. I do okay, but all my marks feel like a lucky guess, the level of consequences has doubled but my effort hasn’t. I still can’t fathom what the consequence of failing will actually be. I spend 5 hours a day trying to start my work and go to bed at 4 am. The little mistakes are piling up and on multiple occasions I’ve forgotten to hand in finished assignments. It’s been said on multiple occasions I can’t carry a direct conversation since I either lose focus or interject with something else. I feel as if my control is slipping and any single wrong move will cause a spiral.
I desperately want to feel as if I have agency in my life again, I want nothing more than to wake up and do things in a reasonable amount of time. I want to be able to give attention to those I love and balance the requirements of daily life. As it stands either an assignment or laundry gets done but never both despite both only taking a combined 4 hours. I want to feel in control again. I’m tired of gazing into nothingness, and having the hours pass by, I’m tired of forgetting everything and missing deadlines. I’m tired of disappointing my girlfriend when It seems I’m not listening to a word she says. Yet for all of these things “trying harder” has only marginally improved these things
I’ve started going to therapy and I’m determined to see it through, I’m determined that from this point on I will be the best I can be. I’m now relatively established in ******, I found a good doctor and am interested in exploring medication again. I want to do it the proper and the right way. I want to accent my progress in therapy and hit the hard to reach targets surrounding my issues. If this sounds Like I’m trying too hard then I don’t know what to say. This is merely an account of my past 4 years. I just want to feel in control, I want to actually do the things I want without facing the insurmountable paralysis that comes when starting, finishing or switching tasks. I want to work with the mental health professionals and develop a regiment that is right for me. I just want to be able to feel in control again.
TL:DR I dont have the energy to write more, but yeh past four years of my life here

Chapter 10: Magic Lesson

Lynn sulked in the back of the car as she was bring driven home. She saw her stepbrother through the back window head not for the school’s parking lot but towards Campus Village. At first she reasoned that he was going off to study. She knew full well about that little tea shop he frequented. But this was different. Ignoring the swaying steps caused by his illness, there was a lightness in his footing. As pale and slightly green his face was, there was a hint of happiness. And she did not like it. That and being cheated out of driving that black and purple coupe didn’t help her mood.
She was actually shocked to see her father home so early. He was in his office looking through several desk drawers and shelves muttering that he could not find something relating to some other thing. The phone on his desk had the voicemail light blinking since her father didn’t do well with most electronic devices. Desmond did not seem to be aware he had left the den door wide open because Lynn saw him walking up to the higher shelves with small traces of magic underneath his feet like he was walking on invisible stairs.
“Irene, where did I put that file for that Clifford property? I could have sworn it was in here.” Lynn coughed loudly trying to get his attention and slamming the door behind her quite loudly. Desmond only jumped a bit from his mystical footing but he did not drop from where he hovered. Lynn admired his skill of concertation.
“Lynn? What are you doing home? Shouldn’t you be at school?” he rapidly questioned her as he casually walked down back to earth.
“Um…it’s 4:30, daddy. School kinda let out a half hour ago.” Desmond pulled out his pocket watch and buried his head in his massive mess of hair in embarrassment.
“Huh, so it is. Which means Irene is out teaching kids to beat each other up with sticks still. Where is your brother?” Lynn opened her mouth slightly perfectly ready to rat her stepbrother out as Desmond casually waved her off.
“No matter, knowing him he’s studying in his room.” Lynn pouted and made a very audible grunt. But then another idea same to her.
“Say daddy, since Irene and Alucard are busy, maybe we could…have another magic lesson?” Desmond seemed to be ignoring her by the continued shuffling of papers.
“Don’t you have homework?”
“But daddy, I really wanna show you what I can do. And we haven’t had a magic lesson in so long. Pretty please?” She opened her eyes wide and leaned against him. Desmond sighed heavily and slapped the folder closed. A knowing smile shined though his beard.
“Alight dear, let us see what you have learned.”
The Dougal Estates had many secrets since its erection almost 150 years ago. Chambers and secret passages between rooms honeycombed the castle-like estate and not even Desmond knew all of them. The den in particular had its own secrets. He twisted the head of a griffon statue and a very thin slit appeared between two of the bookshelves. Lynn followed him down the winding staircase into the basement. The underground space housed several rooms ranging from a library to a storage room and finally a singular almost barren chamber. Desmond clapped his massive hands and the orb lanterns of the chamber flickered to life. A circle of standing candelabras had been placed around a center dais. Lynn pulled from under her shirt a pendant. It was a circle with black spines jutting out from the rugs and a crystal hung in the center. She raised up the pendant and the crystal projected light before her. The light flickered and danced as it formed into a long black staff. She swallowed hard and stood upon the dais.
Desmond twisted his fingers in the air and the candle holders danced to various spots in the room like those animated brooms from that moue cartoon. Then several lights flickered from his palm and they bounced from candle to candle until the entire room was how bathed in a peculiar blue glow. On a table next to him was a sparkler candle that he lit immediately. Lynn know exactly what he had wanted her to do. She braced her feet hard against the dais and stuck the ground hard with her staff’s spike. She closed her eyes briefly and the purple gem in the top half of the staff hummed with energy. The sparkler had only run down in less than two minutes when it exploded and a thousand dark light shards struck out every which way. Lynn felt several of the slivers slice against her skin, but she had to fold that focus. When the smoke cleared a quarter of the candles had been burnt out. The others were protected by violet orbs though some were half cracked and just barely holding on. Lynn would have fallen to her knees if it were not for her staff to keep her up.
Her father surveyed the candles and hummed something to himself. Then he gingerly grabbed her arms and looked at the cuts and tears in her uniform.
“We’re going to be going that again.” Lynn groaned and let her staff drop to the floor with a loud audible clank.
“Can’t we like learn something else? Something cooler than shields? Maybe shoot lighting or turning teacups into toads…”
“You’re not ready for that. Now again!” The candles flared back to life and the sparkler flung to existence again. Lynn barely had time to think before the magic attacked again and she barely shielded the candles this time around. Desmond told her do repeat it again, and Lynn forced every able sliver of energy she had left to keep her shields intact. She was panting and wheezing before her father let up. She had managed to protect every single candle this time, but now the cuts on her arms were seeping through her blouse. Then Desmond shot a bolt of magical energy that curved around the edges of the room. Lynn swiped the staff to her left erecting a nearly perfect shield around her back. Some of the sparks had managed to break through and singed the ends of her hair but she still stood. She was exhausted and sweaty, but still on her two feet.
Desmond patted her back and congratulated her.
“You’ve been practicing, most excellent!” A beaming grin managed to make its way on Lynn’s tired face. Of course she had been committed. She had to keep that handsome idiot Hunter alive after all-and anyone else unfortunate to get in his way.
“So…what’s the next lesson?” she gasped. Desmond was commanding the candelabras to stand against the wall and he stroked his beard in thought.
“Next lesson…next lesson…I think you might be ready to learn the basics of disarming your opponents. Or maybe more advanced healing spells? Learning how to set bones is actually a lot more tricky…”
“Actually I was thinking about something…more interesting?”
“Define interesting”, her father glared at her as his voice slowed.
“You know…more cooler stuff. Like turning yourself into an animal or telling the future or making statues comes to life!”
“Sorry, but the answer is no.” Lynn’s face drooped.
“But…but it’s not fair! I’m just as much of a Dougal witch as my cousins! They get to learn awesome spells not lame things like shields.”
“You think knowing how to protect yourself and others is lame?” Desmond growled. His voice rumbled inside the chamber and Lynn created a shield out of reflex.
“No…no I…they’re nothing to brag about through.”
“Is that why some of my orbs are missing?” Lynn’s olive color dropped almost matching her stepbrother’s. So he knew. Which means he knew about the missing mysterious green orb she had borrowed for Club Day. A bell rang above their heads signaling that someone had entered the house. Desmond gipped Lynn’s shoulder tightly as he lead her back up the stairs hinting they would be talking about this later. Back in the den Lynn still saw that the message unplayed was still blinking. She tugged on her father’s sleeve guiding his attention to it.
****
Alucard had arrived later than he had anticipated. He hadn’t even looked at his homework. It was a miracle that he made it home in one piece with his ever present migraine.
“And where have you been?” was the first thing he heard. Irene was leaning against the center railing of the front room tapping her phone against her shoulder. There was still a ringing in her son’s ears and he groggily asked her to repeat.
“I asked, where…have…you…been? And is there something you want to tell me?”
“I was out in Campus Village doing homework”, Alucard answered curtly.
“He’s lyyyyiinnnggg”, Lynn sung from the second landing. Irene held out her hand commanding for her backpack. Alucard glared at his stepsister. He was starting to slide off his backpack when another spell of vertigo gripped him and gripped him hard. Desmond caught him before he face planted on the floor again and the contents of his bag scattered on the floor.
“And one more thing. How long have you been sick? Why did you go to school and not tell us?” Desmond admonished him. Alucard bit his lip but said nothing.
“Alucard was out with a girl”, Lynn cooed out from the landing. Desmond yelled for her to go to her room. Alucard just sat there until the voices started to become more than droning clamor. How could he have been so reckless? His grades were going to hurt for this. He could have hurt someone driving in the state he was in? Didn’t he care about his future? Most of the lecturing came from his mother. Desmond only interjected when it came to his son’s health. Alucard had heard it all before since middle school. By now it had just become noise until they were done and sent him to his room. Then it came to Maria. Or rather his behavior towards Chelsea and apparently ‘cheating’ on her according to Lynn. How it was bad form and as a Dougal he had a name to upkeep. Again he was trying hard to not react. As he dragged himself upstairs he passed by Lynn’s open bedroom door. She was casually lying on her stomach on her bed looking at a magazine and cheerfully humming to herself.
“You just had to do that, didn’t you?” Lynn rolled onto her back playfully.
“You should have let me borrow the car, Alu. And Chelsea told me everything. She saw you with another girl at the club. I didn’t think being a two timer was in your blood”, his stepsister teased. Alucard could only muster a deathly scowl at her.
“You’ve never cared about my romance life before. Why now?!”
“Oh ho, you’re mad? Why yes, yes you are.” Lynn rolled to an upright position and seated herself with her legs crossed underneath her and she began to sway back and forth with a low mocking cackle.
“I could have told so much more, Alu. Shall I tell them about certain….escapades you’ve had? Oooh I bet your mother will love that one.” Flames sparked from Alucard’s fingertips and he hastily shoved his hand in his pocket. Some days he wished he could burn every strand of that wine colored hair of hers. Though it seems someone had done that already. He slammed her room’s door and sequentially slammed his own door shut before throwing the school worksheets onto his table.
****
Maria sat at her desk twisting and running her fingers over the paper she had printed from the print store. She had cut letters out of several of the magazines she had found in the closed gift shop and then photocopied that. It was a ransom letter for the return of one Alucard Dougal. She had everything planned out. She had Alucard’s information that she had managed to steal from the school without her sisters knowing. All she had to do was call him, lure him out, and keep him unconscious long enough to get the ransom. He wouldn’t even know it was her. As far as he would be aware, it was Star of the Coyote Crew that had captured him. So why she was she hesitating?
If you need help, just tell me. He was not the first boy she tried to date, but did he really care about her? Of course, she reasoned. Even if he did find out, he’d understand. He’d understand why she had to do what she was about to do.
“Well well well, is little Star trying to outshine her place again?” Maria had been so wrapped up in her quandary she hadn’t even notice Jessie, Jamie, or that horrible pig witch enter the room. Boarcelina was swaying gleefully where she stood.
“See? I TOLD you someone was planning a mutiny.” Jessie snatched both the ransom note and the school paper from Maria’s desk.
“No…No I was going to tell you. Really, Jessie! I…I would never…” Her speech was halted by a loud smack across her face. Jessie then grabbed her by her blouse and hoisted her up a couple inches in the air.
“Who saved you from the pressure from mommy and daddy?” Jessie said deliberately annunciating each word.
“Y-you did,” Maria squeaked.
“Who keeps you off the streets?”
“You do.”
“Who teaches you in academics and our trade?”
“You do, Captain.” Jessie dropped her hard on the ground and began to examine the note.
“Perhaps we can still follow your little idea, but with a few tweaks.” She and Boarcelina walked into the exhibit room where the White Rabbit was curled up in a tranquil ball inside the cage. Jessie could finally stand right next to the cage and not feel threatened herself. The White Rabbit had already tried to drain her when she first forced it into the pen. The following hollow sensation frightened even her.
“So, do we have an accord, now?” Boarcelina clucked. Jessie folded her arms tightly. She still couldn’t believe it. Her own sister conspiring behind her back. Didn’t that brat understand everything she had done for her? She should have suspected when Maria tried to escape with the money from the back during their first Silver Guardian encounter.
“So you’re saying I can use this beast without danger to myself in exchange for my sister?”
“This cannot be taken back, just so you know. But how else will she learn to respect you? Like you said, you’ve done so much for her and this is how she repays you? All I ask is a small token. The most precious thing she values.” Jessie thought hard. Why did Maria value the most? Well, her parents always said she was the most beautiful one. Maybe her looks? Maria always had been the most finicky when it came to her appearance. Jessie could look past that after everything was said and done.
“You have a deal.”

The first time I saw him, I was twelve. I was asleep, and then I was awoken by nothing in particular. I looked up from my bed, and saw him. A frail man, with boyish proportions, hunched over in the corner of my room. I could see his spine protruding, casting shadows on his back in the darkness. His head was comically large. He turned to face me.
“Hello. My name is Sundance, and I am the Sun.”
A rasping voice echoed throughout the darkness. His words were low, croaky, and in whispering tones. I focused on his face; that great, round, yellow disc. With unmoving lips, and unblinking eyes, Sundance smiled. A permanent stare, and a permanent smile. From that yellow face, eight beams burst. Golden, twisting, metallic spikes shot out individually, clockwise around Sundance’s face.
I screamed, and I woke up again. It was morning, and I was in my bed. Sundance was nowhere to be seen. I felt safe, knowing it was just a dream. But then he came the next night. And the next night. And the next. Despite his unnerving appearance, I became less afraid of Sundance. He would always greet me in the same way.
Hello. My name is Sundance, and I am the Sun.
One night, after I had completely grown used to his appearances, I spoke to Sundance. It was a warm night in the Summer holidays. I remember being too warm to get under the covers, but doing so anyway, because I felt exposed. When I “woke up”, Sundance was in his usual spot.
“Hello.” He began. “My name is Sundance, and I am the Sun.”
“Hi, Sundance. I’m Joe.”
“Hello, Joe.” Sundance straightened with a creak. His metal lips smiled. His vacant eyes stared. “I’m a little cold, Joe.”
“Oh, are you? It’s really warm, though.” I said.
“May I lay next to you?” He gestured to my bed.
“Um, the bed is quite small.” I said.
“Oh, don’t fear, Joe.” Sundance took a few steps towards me. “I shan’t take up much room.” He slithered into the bed next to me. He sat up straight, wrapping the blanket over his shirtless body. His bones poked into my skin as he nudged himself closer to me. He was cold. Fingers traced along my arm. His nails jagged, sharp.
In the morning, I woke pressed against the wall. I had found a newfound fear of Sundance. I had grown used to his visits, but that dream had rekindled the uncomfort I felt when I saw him. I didn’t see him for many nights after that. Not until I was thirteen. When the fear of Sundance had finally faded, he returned.
“Hello.” Sundance said. “My name is Sundance, and I am the Sun.”
I silently stared, watching Sundance. He looked less emaciated, though still frail. His spine was less visible upon his back.
“Joe.” Sundance snapped. “Are you not going to converse with me?” He swivelled quickly, to reveal his face. Smiling. Staring.
“Sorry, Sundance.” I stuttered.
“I’m cold, Joe.”
“I don’t think I should-”
“Show some hospitality, Joe.” Sundance interjected. His croaking voice trickling into my ears, as he slid once more into my bed. That same cold skin pressed against mine. Sundance’s feet poked out of the end of my covers. Bare, thin, crooked toes wriggled with glee as Sundance wrapped an arm around my shoulders. Yellowed toenails sat atop his writhing worms like little wax stamps.
The next day at school, I found myself unable to focus. I couldn’t get any of my schoolwork done. I was punished for this, and sent to isolation. In isolation, one would have their belongings confiscated, being made to sit in a small room with nobody else present. I was given several worksheets and a pen. I began drawing on the back of the worksheets, as I wasn’t exactly in the mood to do maths. Absentmindedly, I doodled.
As I drew many innocuous little things, I felt a sharp pain in the nape of my neck. I placed my hand at the source of the pain, and felt a thin, waving, twisting metal. I jerked away, and spun around to face what was behind me.
“Hello.” Said Sundance. “My name is Sundance, and I am the Sun.”
“Help!” I shouted. I backed away from Sundance, climbing over the tables and chairs to the front of the room.
“What do you need help with, Joe?” Sundance giggled.
“Get away from me, go away.” I cried. “Someone, help!”
“Oh, I see.” Sundance took my seat. “You need help with these pictures, don’t you Joe?”
I tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t move. The door didn’t have a lock on it, but still it was stuck in place. I watched Sundance as he drew. He held the pen in his fist, much like a child would. He scrawled frantically, stopping to look up at me before looking back to the paper to continue scribbling.
“Finished, Joe!” Sundance held the paper with pride.
I woke up at my isolation desk. Drawn upon each of my worksheets was a crude picture of Sundance. That same smile, those same eyes. The eight rays of sunshine that poked from his head. I scrunched the pieces of paper into balls, and dumped them all in the waste bin in the corner of the room.
I became used to being reprimanded for misbehaving over the next number of years. The constant panic I felt that Sundance would visit me loomed over me, clouding my every thought. A persistent fog in my mind, Sundance’s smile was lingering in my head. I found it hard to focus, to remember things, to do much of anything. My mind would slowly drift back to that cold, wet skin, and those unblinking eyes. When I was fifteen, I began sleeping with a knife under my pillow. I had gotten it from one of the older boys at school.
“Hello.” In that tone I dreaded, Sundance revelled in his own glee. “My name is Sundance, and I am the Sun.
“Leave me alone.” I muttered under my breath, covering myself completely with my covers.
“That’s not very nice, Joe.” Sundance tore away my blankets. His smiling face peered down at my curled up body. He was larger than before, he looked fuller, more radiant.
I slowly reached under my pillow. Wrapping my hand around the folding knife, I flicked the blade open with my thumb.
“Joe. Share with me your bed.” Sundance dug his jagged nails into my thigh.
“No!” I shouted, and jerked towards him with the knife. My trembling hands were barely able to meet their target, but still, I plunged the knife into Sundance.
“Oh!” Sundance stumbled backwards, and I fell on top of him. I stabbed him, and stabbed him, and stabbed him. I kept stabbing him. With every thrust, Sundance let out a little yelp. I kept stabbing him until he stopped.
I sat atop Sundance, and looked at the knife. It wasn’t wet with blood, but instead with a thick, greasy oil that layered Sundance’s skin. Still, blood poured from him. I felt a great relief. I closed my eyes, and dropped the knife from my shaking hands, ready to stand up and leave. Greasy fingertips grabbed my hips, squeezing my flesh, pulling me back downwards.
“Now it is my turn to penetrate you, Joe.” Sundance reached up, lifting my by the throat. I struggled, kicked, scratched at his arm. His skin grease caught under my fingernails, and I left no marks on him. His stab wounds were still pouring blood, but he paid them no notice. Reaching above his head, Sundance grasped the top sunbeam. It clicked as he uprooted it. I looked Sundance in the eyes, and there was the first time I had ever seen his expression change. Sundance frowned. His lips cracked and warped downwards, little gapes filling the splitting mouth. His eyes narrowed. Sundance sunk his shimmering sunbeam into my stomach. The blistering metal burned as he swished it around inside of me. I saw a smile return to Sundance’s face, and my vision faded.
Sundance’s giggles as he tore me open played in my head like a broken record. I couldn’t have imagined such intense pain. The pure hatred that settled upon that metallic face. The anger and disgust that Sundance felt, that I would dare defy him. A burning malevolence carved into those sunken eyes.
***
I had believed myself dead, yet I was still thinking, feeling. I slowly opened my eyes, and in the blackness of the world around me I saw a distant light. I found that I was alone, in what was seemingly a void, aside from that distant glow. Floating. I looked down at myself. My stomach was agape, and little chunks of myself floated alongside me in the black. Before I could question what was happening, I felt myself pulled towards the light.
Globules formed on my skin, born of the blood that had poured from my stomach. Little red balls floated alongside me, weightless, like tiny cherries. The pull of the light became stronger, and I knew that soon I would pass the event horizon. My thoughts were few as the light grew brighter. Closer. A great orb that encompassed the majority of my vision. In those moments, I only held a melancholy acceptance - this was the light at the end of the tunnel that so many people described. I noticed waves, indentations, spots, and other imperfections upon the light. Slowly, those imperfections shifted to the right, as the great orb rotated.
“Hello.” A booming, skull shattering voice called from all around me. Still, despite its omnipresent echoing, it was a familiar croak. First, the corner of a great eye came into view. “My name is Sundance.” Lips spoke with thunderous volume. Wide, red lips. Cracked and dry. “And I am the Sun.”
In full view, I beheld the great light in all of its terrifying magnitude. Sundance. A vast star. He opened his mouth. Wide, all-consuming, it grew to encompass his entire face. I could do nothing but scream as I drifted towards the chasm. Closer. Closer. Closer still. I screamed for what felt like hours, screamed until my throat was raw, Still, I hadn’t reached him. I endlessly floated onwards, and soon felt no fear of Sundance. Instead, only that same melancholic acceptance remained. I had become too exhausted to scream, to feel that fear.
A shadow loomed over me as I approached the final stretch, passing the boundary of Sundance’s lips. A thick spiral of tiny teeth lined the inside of Sundance’s gaping mouth, and I was sucked towards the central singularity of Sundance’s throat. Little laughs resonated around me, as if each of the tiny teeth were giggling at my expense. The white stalactites peppered my skin with dripping boiling water. Slowly, the mouth closed, and I was engulfed in darkness.
***
Sundance stood over my body. He was fat, gelatinous. His body wobbled as he leaned over to pick me up from the floor. Weak, dejected, I tried to struggle. I tried to release myself from his grasp, but there was no fight left in me. Were his grip not so tight, I’d have slipped through his oily, greasy arms like butter. Sundance hummed a merry tune as he raised me above his head, and dropped me onto the sunbeam spikes that lined his face.
***
Everywhere I look, I see him. I see his rotten nails, his greasy skin. I see his eyes, and I see his face in the sky. I always feel cold. I always feel alone. I try to meet new people, so that I won’t be alone. I always introduce myself politely. I find myself looking for someone who will share their bed with me, just to let me warm myself up a little. It’s not that I wish to impose, I’m just so cold. Perhaps one of my new little friends will speak to me soon.
[x]

TL;DR: Dungeons and Dragons got my students interested in area and perimeter.
It's always a struggle to get students motivated to be creative and excited. I find it especially difficult to do this in high school math class. But I had a great moment with my geometry class today.
Ive been trying really hard to up the class culture this year. I think the biggest culture changer is that I tell my students about my Dungeons and Dragons adventures. I'm a DM for my friends and we play Tuesday nights. My students know that every Wednesday they will get an update on our adventures. I've had a handful of students tell me that if they are absent, they try to make sure it's not on Wednesday. And during class, instead of doing traditional book examples all hour, I sometimes frame it in the context of the adventure.
Now back to geometry class, my students had to create the layout of a dungeon, calculating area and perimeter along the way. I told them if I came up with creative ideas, I'd use them and name enemies and objects after them. One came up with a cool idea that I'll interject into my story and even told him that I'd name a character after him.
Instantly, everyone was jealous, and while I told them they only had to come up with one dungeon that fit my rules for the assignment, many were creating two or three different dungeons. And everytime they did, I told them I wouldn't listen to their new idea unless they calculated all the areas and perimeters of the rooms (because I would have to know how much space my friends have to work with in the dungeon). They did it and kept coming to me with ideas. As they received criticism for too many basic rectangles, they started getting more creative with shapes and figuring out how to find the area of them! A couple said they would come in on Monday with more ideas.
I could have just given them a worksheet and maybe itd be more effective, but it felt awesome to see so many students engaged in creative activities, while still accomplishing our goal of area and perimeter.

Hi I was wondering if you guys could critique my story that I had to write for NYU.

 It was 8 o'clock on a Tuesday night, which meant I had a tutoring session with Mr.Ritker. Mr.Ritker is my math teacher but also one of my good friends. Upon entering high school my dad knew I would struggle with the math curriculum my school had tasked incoming freshman with. I told him that I would be fine for once, as my previous history with math was rather lackluster. I don’t believe I ever passed a single test in the year before high school started. I argued with my dad that this year things would change, and I wouldn’t need a tutor this time. He is a reasonable man, so he allowed me to go a semester on my own to see if I could own up to my boast. I went a month before getting a D on my second test of the year. That’s the same day my Dad asked the administration to assign me a tutor: Mr. Ritker. He opened the door to his roomy beachside home, and gestured for me to come in, as my dad honked and drove off. He closed the door behind him and stared at me as if there was something strange about my appearance. I was about to say something to break the awkwardness, but then suddenly a smirk slowly melted on his face. “ Did I make you feel weird?” “Yes, what was that about?” I said as he led me into his study. “ kids in high school, I find , are the most awkward of human beings. Making you feel more awkward is funny in a way to me” This made me smile. Mr.Ritker had always had this strange humor about him, that made him seem like he was a kid my age. Many of my friends told me to be careful about him, saying things like “ Your tutor is definitely a pedophile” and “ Bro, he might sweet talk you one day into his basement.” I brushed all that off and took it for what it was, his way of communicating with someone 15 years younger then himself. Mr. Ritker sat down at his large desk and opened his labtop, while instructing me to complete the worksheets sprawled out on the little table in front of his desk. “You are being timed by the way, so be accurate but not sloppy.” I worked hard, and made sure to read the question carefully. I focused so hard that my head started to hurt. Every now and then I would peer up at Mr. Ritker behind his labtop. He would notice and glance at his phone and make a “hurry up” gesture. I clamored to finish the last question when a loud alarm went off. I jumped out of my seat and fell backward onto the ground. Mr. Ritker erupted in laughter and turned off his phone’s alarm. “ That wasn’t funny!” “I was about to finish, you saw me.” I said in annoyance. “ About to finish with one second left, I think you are dreaming.” “Anyways let me check this and then you have to do the— “ Cognition test” I interjected. 

“Yes, and today it’s very short, only five questions.” “Bet.. uh, I mean sounds good Mr. Ritker” I always made sure to correct myself when I found my language getting to comfortable with Mr.Ritker. My dad has always taught me to respect authority, as he does everyday in his detective work. It was like an intrinsic part of my soul to respect those above me. I just found myself getting caught in Ritker’s almost childlike humor, that I didn’t see him as someone above me. I flipped through my phone as Mr. Ritker checked my work. I checked Instagram, and saw a post by my school’s account. Mr. Ritker was in it, posing with the rest of the faculty staff. “ I found a rather flattering picture of you.” “ accept you aren’t smiling, you look a little dead” He finished checking my work and took off his glasses. He looked at me like he had when I first entered his house, but this time with more seriousness. “Truth is Dante, I hate pictures, and I hate people, I don’t have any use of either.” I cringed at his words, and started at his statue like expression. He smiled giving me hope that he was again joking. “ Let’s just say all those teachers are real jerks. They kill my good mood” he explained. I agreed with him, and laughed. “ Alright Dante, it’s time for the test. Let’s hurry it up because your father texted me that he is on his way.” The cognition test was a puzzle game that challenged your problem solving skills and hand eye coordination at the same time. Mr.Ritker claimed it would help me think with a critical mind and in turn improve my math deficiencies. I plopped down in front of his laptop and began clicking at shapes, sorting numbers, and trying to decipher whatever Ԁlǝɐsǝ ɥǝld ɯʎ ɔɐʇ that is. I finished the test and promptly cracked my knuckles, “ I’m sure my brain is super cognitive now.” Ritker looks at me with annoyance. “ Dante you truly do need my help” I heard a car honk from outside. My dad called my name from outside. “ Alright Mr. Ritker, thanks for today.” He drifted towards the door and peaked out the window. “ Mr. Ritker, why only five questions today, I was waiting for a challenge after last week— He cut me off. “What does your dad do?” “He’s like a detective for the one of the city precincts.” He continued to stare through the window with a calculative gaze. He looked back at me and simply said “That’s a good job” my dad honked again, and I scurried over to the door. Ritker opened it for me and waved out at my dad. “ Thank you Anderson!” My dad yelled to Ritker. “ I’ll see you at school Mr. Ritker.” He looked down at me as if I had just said he had cancer. “ You alright Mr. R?” He firmly shook my open hand and dropped a paper into it. “ what’s thi—” He made a shushing motion with his finger “ Open it when you get home.” I gave him a confused look, and then one of my friends comments about Ritker rushed into my head, “ He’s a pedo.” He probably just gave me a love letter or something creepy like that. I broke away from Ritker’s proximity and slid my dad’s car. He looked at Mr. Ritker and then back at me. “ Is everything alright with you and him? Are you wasting his time? “No dad.” “You better not, I pay the school extra to have him privately tutor you.” “Dad it’s fine, I’m learning, everything is good just calm down.” My dad drove off and noticed the paper in between my fingers as we stopped at a light. “ What’s that gave you?” “I’m not sure, he said to wait until you get home” My dad just said okay and kept driving. We got back to my house late because of traffic. I kept the paper between my hands and felt nervous to open it. What if my friends were right, my tutor was a creepy pedophile that had just handed me a love letter, or gave me his phone number so we could text. I considered Mr. Ritker my friend, but only an adult friend, not one of my buddies that I hang out with. I took a shower and placed the paper on my bed. I decided it probably was the cognitive test results or the worksheet answers. I turned off my lamp, as the hallway light peeked into my now dark room. I climbed into my warm covers and unfolded the paper. It was completely blank except for a small scribbling in pencil. I shined my phone light on the paper and read it. It simply said “ You are the key” I dismissed it and I put it in my little tin box, and slipped it under my bed.

 It was 8 o'clock on a Tuesday night, which meant I had a tutoring session with Mr.Ritker. Mr.Ritker is my math teacher but also one of my good friends. Upon entering high school my dad knew I would struggle with the math curriculum my school had tasked incoming freshman with. I told him that I would be fine for once, as my previous history with math was rather lackluster. I don’t believe I ever passed a single test in the year before high school started. I argued with my dad that this year things would change, and I wouldn’t need a tutor this time. He is a reasonable man, so he allowed me to go a semester on my own to see if I could own up to my boast. I went a month before getting a D on my second test of the year. That’s the same day my Dad asked the administration to assign me a tutor: Mr. Ritker. He opened the door to his roomy beachside home, and gestured for me to come in, as my dad honked and drove off. He closed the door behind him and stared at me as if there was something strange about my appearance. I was about to say something to break the awkwardness, but then suddenly a smirk slowly melted on his face. “ Did I make you feel weird?” “Yes, what was that about?” I said as he led me into his study. “ kids in high school, I find , are the most awkward of human beings. Making you feel more awkward is funny in a way to me” This made me smile. Mr.Ritker had always had this strange humor about him, that made him seem like he was a kid my age. Many of my friends told me to be careful about him, saying things like “ Your tutor is definitely a pedophile” and “ Bro, he might sweet talk you one day into his basement.” I brushed all that off and took it for what it was, his way of communicating with someone 15 years younger then himself. Mr. Ritker sat down at his large desk and opened his labtop, while instructing me to complete the worksheets sprawled out on the little table in front of his desk. “You are being timed by the way, so be accurate but not sloppy.” I worked hard, and made sure to read the question carefully. I focused so hard that my head started to hurt. Every now and then I would peer up at Mr. Ritker behind his labtop. He would notice and glance at his phone and make a “hurry up” gesture. I clamored to finish the last question when a loud alarm went off. I jumped out of my seat and fell backward onto the ground. Mr. Ritker erupted in laughter and turned off his phone’s alarm. “ That wasn’t funny!” “I was about to finish, you saw me.” I said in annoyance. “ About to finish with one second left, I think you are dreaming.” “Anyways let me check this and then you have to do the— “ Cognition test” I interjected. 

“Yes, and today it’s very short, only five questions.” “Bet.. uh, I mean sounds good Mr. Ritker” I always made sure to correct myself when I found my language getting to comfortable with Mr.Ritker. My dad has always taught me to respect authority, as he does everyday in his detective work. It was like an intrinsic part of my soul to respect those above me. I just found myself getting caught in Ritker’s almost childlike humor, that I didn’t see him as someone above me. I flipped through my phone as Mr. Ritker checked my work. I checked Instagram, and saw a post by my school’s account. Mr. Ritker was in it, posing with the rest of the faculty staff. “ I found a rather flattering picture of you.” “ accept you aren’t smiling, you look a little dead” He finished checking my work and took off his glasses. He looked at me like he had when I first entered his house, but this time with more seriousness. “Truth is Dante, I hate pictures, and I hate people, I don’t have any use of either.” I cringed at his words, and started at his statue like expression. He smiled giving me hope that he was again joking. “ Let’s just say all those teachers are real jerks. They kill my good mood” he explained. I agreed with him, and laughed. “ Alright Dante, it’s time for the test. Let’s hurry it up because your father texted me that he is on his way.” The cognition test was a puzzle game that challenged your problem solving skills and hand eye coordination at the same time. Mr.Ritker claimed it would help me think with a critical mind and in turn improve my math deficiencies. I plopped down in front of his laptop and began clicking at shapes, sorting numbers, and trying to decipher whatever Ԁlǝɐsǝ ɥǝld ɯʎ ɔɐʇ that is. I finished the test and promptly cracked my knuckles, “ I’m sure my brain is super cognitive now.” Ritker looks at me with annoyance. “ Dante you truly do need my help” I heard a car honk from outside. My dad called my name from outside. “ Alright Mr. Ritker, thanks for today.” He drifted towards the door and peaked out the window. “ Mr. Ritker, why only five questions today, I was waiting for a challenge after last week— He cut me off. “What does your dad do?” “He’s like a detective for the one of the city precincts.” He continued to stare through the window with a calculative gaze. He looked back at me and simply said “That’s a good job” my dad honked again, and I scurried over to the door. Ritker opened it for me and waved out at my dad. “ Thank you Anderson!” My dad yelled to Ritker. “ I’ll see you at school Mr. Ritker.” He looked down at me as if I had just said he had cancer. “ You alright Mr. R?” He firmly shook my open hand and dropped a paper into it. “ what’s thi—” He made a shushing motion with his finger “ Open it when you get home.” I gave him a confused look, and then one of my friends comments about Ritker rushed into my head, “ He’s a pedo.” He probably just gave me a love letter or something creepy like that. I broke away from Ritker’s proximity and slid my dad’s car. He looked at Mr. Ritker and then back at me. “ Is everything alright with you and him? Are you wasting his time? “No dad.” “You better not, I pay the school extra to have him privately tutor you.” “Dad it’s fine, I’m learning, everything is good just calm down.” My dad drove off and noticed the paper in between my fingers as we stopped at a light. “ What’s that gave you?” “I’m not sure, he said to wait until you get home” My dad just said okay and kept driving. We got back to my house late because of traffic. I kept the paper between my hands and felt nervous to open it. What if my friends were right, my tutor was a creepy pedophile that had just handed me a love letter, or gave me his phone number so we could text. I considered Mr. Ritker my friend, but only an adult friend, not one of my buddies that I hang out with. I took a shower and placed the paper on my bed. I decided it probably was the cognitive test results or the worksheet answers. I turned off my lamp, as the hallway light peeked into my now dark room. I climbed into my warm covers and unfolded the paper. It was completely blank except for a small scribbling in pencil. I shined my phone light on the paper and read it. It simply said “ You are the key” I dismissed it and I put it in my little tin box, and slipped it under my bed.

My parents had been surprised, at first, when they realized I could speak Spanish to my nanny as well as I could speak English.
"She must have a gift," said my mom. My Dad wasn't as pleased. He thought I was being influenced too much by Mrs. Reyes and promptly let her go. Since then, I had always taken it for granted that I automatically spoke to the gardener and the cashier in Spanish. My Mom was impressed that I had retained so much from my toddler years. We had learned not talk about it with Dad.
In high school, I decided to take Spanish as an easy elective, but I found that I couldn't even remember how to say "How are you?" when I was with my teach, Mrs. Nelson. She was tall with a severely cut white-blonde bob and seemed to hand out C's and D's gleefully. She had learned Spanish as a missionary in Guatemala, and a part of me felt like she was saying it all wrong. Who would have been able to catch her faking it in this town? Just about everyone was the same here: white and English speaking. Another part of me knew that she couldn't have gotten licensed to teach Spanish if she didn't speak it, which lead to a weirder question: why couldn't I remember a single word when I was around her?
Things started to get a lot weirder when I took my Spanish homework to our gardener, Carlos, for help. He seemed puzzled when I handed him my worksheet and asked for help. "Oh Jessie," he said "It's been so long since I took Spanish I don't think I can help." I didn't know what to say for a few seconds. We were speaking in Spanish. Weren't we? I knew we weren't speaking English.
"Ummm..." I stammered "What language are we speaking then?"
Carlos started laughing. "How can you not know what language we're speaking? I'm from the Philippines , Jess, I speak Tagalog. How did you learn it if you don't even know what it's called?"
That was the questions I started asking myself over and over again. I started to stitch together a weak, but plausible answer. Carlos had been the gardener since I was six. I must have just learned it from him. A Google search told me that the vocabulary was influenced by English and Spanish. I must have been able to understand enough of the words to just guess the rest in the beginning and eventually I learned the rest by practicing.
Our town was small and monolingual enough that I almost could have gotten through high school without realizing if it hadn't been for Selim, the Turkish exchange student. When I automatically started speaking Turkish with him, I stopped making excuses. There was something going on that was really weird, and if there was one thing I didn't want to be in high school, it was weird. So I dropped out of Spanish and started avoiding Selim. I even started coming into my house through a different door so I didn't run into Carlos in the garden.
I was able to easily avoid speaking anything but English, until the Saturday my Dad took me to McDonalds. It was a strange thing for him to do. He rarely showed any interest in me and he openly despised fast food. I thought we were going to just go through the drive through, but instead he parked and we walked inside. As soon as I got inside I noticed one of the cashiers. She looked about six feet tall, for one thing, but there was another thing about her that I couldn't quite figure out. For some reason I just wanted to stare.
When it came time to order my Dad ordered a double cheeseburger and an extra large soda. Another time, I would have been questioning when my dad started eating burgers or drinking soda. However, the tall girl was the one taking our order, and I was having a hard time paying attention to anything but her. I realized both the girl and my Dad were staring at me, waiting.
"Umm.... can I get fries?" Is what I meant to say, but what came out of my mouth was something else entirely. It sounded more like a series of grunts and clicks than a language.
"Stop goofing around Jessica!" my Dad said. "There are people waiting."
But it was the girl's reaction that scared me. Her happy how-can-I-help-you face had turned into something else entirely. She glared at me intensely, eyebrows furrowed, lips pulled down into an angry frown.
"Can I get fries," I tried to whisper but the strange sounds came out of my mouth again. I turned to my Dad, "Can you order the fries for me," I said "I need to go to the bathroom."
He seemed too dumbstruck to be angry, so I power-walked from the line to the restroom, where I found an open stall and sat. What had just happened? And why had that girl been angry about it?
I couldn't sit in the bathroom forever, so eventually I got up, went to the sink, and started washing my hands. I looked in the mirror, and I realized I wasn't alone. That girl was standing in the corner staring at me. We both stood in silence while I continued to wash my hands. Was I supposed to break the silence? What was she doing here?
"What are you doing here?" She finally said, in English.
"My Dad brought me," I said, but of course it came out in more clicks and grunts.
"Stop, please."
"I can't"
She just stared for a few seconds. I couldn't tell if she was angry or confused.
"I'm sorry I don't know what is happening, I can't control it." I added
"Just speak English, they have spies everywhere," she paused before adding, "unless you are a spy."
"I'm not!" I interjected quickly "I don't even know what's going on. I've never told anyone this before, but I just speak other languages, I guess, I mean... I don't know anything about it."
"That's hard to believe," she said "But, on the other hand. You aren't one of us. You're too small, for one thing. Just, please, don't come here again if you are going to speak The Language."
"What language? What language are we speaking?" I asked
"If you really don't know I can't tell you. But you put both of us in danger when you speak it. Don't come back here. Get your Dad and go."
She left the bathroom and I went and explained to my Dad that I wasn't feeling well and needed to go home as soon as possible. After the antics I had pulled in the line, he wasn't too happy with me, but he was happy to get me out of McDonalds. Some people had heard me and were staring.
As we got into the car I realized that I needed to go back. I needed to speak with that girl again and find out why she couldn't be heard speaking her language. Mostly, though I wanted to figure out how I knew it, how I seemed to know every language, and how I could make it all stop.