Crocheting a man s neck warmer

I’ve always been taught 1 spray of cologne far from the body and 1 by the clavicle is enough but I have met other men especially older men (I’m 22) who will walk into an area smelling like STRONG cologne. I use dior sauvage and a YSL cologne that smell really well but I feel like they don’t last as long and they certainly don’t produce the same “Aura” effect of whatever some men I’ve met use. Whatever they use is not the best smelling cologne but it’s still good and better yet it’s SUPER noticeable. I want that effect. A friend of mine uses a ralph lauren cologne that I suspect might produce that effect. I want that grown man/ Strong cologne “aura” effect. Does anyone know what I’m talking about it or do I just sound like a lunatic?

Deep in the groaning halls of sinew and bone he awaited his audience with the god. At a wave of his hand the ribs which held up the ceiling contracted, tendons shifting within the pink walls of the chamber as the jagged, calcareous spurs that composed the doorway sank back into the spongy masses of tissue, revealing a passage curving down and out of sight.
Menash stood before the yawning portal and considered eternity. This was no an idle thought: here in the Dawning Chamber, the concept was very real. His father, Yulan, had stood in this exact spot times beyond count. When he was struck down in his prime by the Night Weaver and her Leaper offspring, torn limb from limb as he fought to defend Chthonis from a raiding party, Menash’s uncle, Aqavarr, had carried his broken remains over that grinning threshold to join the hosts of the dead, never to return.
A hot and heavy exhalation rattled up out of the depths, wafting in the acrid scent of the bonding pools and the wet slithering sound of the rebirthing canals. Menash felt a crackle of static in the corners of his mind before the signal sharpened and he heard It whisper distinctly:
“Enter…”
The familiar dread crept its way up the small of his back, and he gave a little shiver. No matter how many times he had communed with the Vitalus, he’d never been able to shake the feeling of his utter insignificance. But he persevered, walking bravely down the slurping passage, past the rows of broad antechambers lining either side of the hallway. Each one held a slumbering shape immersed in a cryogenic bath, towering hulks of muscle encased in ribbed and riveted plates of chitin. No two were alike in size or physiology, but all seemed to emanate the same primeval aura of dread that tickled Menash’s fight-or-flight-instinct, skewing it very much towards the latter response. These were the Hollowores, soulless avatars of the Vitalus, each one a tool capable of eradicating an entire species. As Menash approached, one of the living weapons stirred to life. A pronged, anvil-shaped head emerged from the bath, umbilical feeder tubes detaching from its armored flanks as the rest of its bulk followed, its mauve exoskeleton as sleek and shiny as amethyst. The Hollowore extended legs as thick as grown pine trees and lifted itself above him, its pairs of crushing pincers dripping amniotic fluids as it herded him towards the central room.
Bundles of white gossamer filaments spread all across the floor, encircling steaming pools of pus and acid. He saw arms and legs, sensory organs and entire exoskeletons being knitted before his very eyes, the amino acid chains being stitched on a layer at a time, the weeping pus evidence of microphages fighting off possible infections as the Vitalus did Its work.
These were the next generation of exomorphs, yet to be assigned to their hosts. It was here that Vitalus constantly improved the only thing that could ensure the continued survival of Menash’s subspecies. Exomorphs were bonded to Gallivants at birth, the organisms supplying their hosts with the means to breathe an atmosphere they was never meant to endure, and the strength to fight in a world that was red in tooth and claw. They were as swift as the summer wind and could multiply their host’s muscular power by up to twelve times their natural output.
But for all their God-given might, Gallivants were still mortal. They could and often did perish in the endless struggle for existence that the Vitalus called the Great Game. But even in death they could still commit their essence to posterity, passing down their defining traits through the malleable genetic code of the gilt helix. It was the Vitalus’ greatest boon; through the gilt helix a single individual could become a progenitor of an entire generation, becoming at one stroke the father of whole nations and peoples.
One day he too would prove worthy of the honor that Yulan had earned with his life. But he was not alone in that ambition. Menash was annoyed to find the crimson-clad Vezda and the cowardly Racek waiting for him inside, standing next to a large ball of filaments that hung from a tonsil-like growth hanging from the walls.
This node pulsed, emitting a small storm of bioelectric activity, networks of fungi conveying commands in the form of oscillating voltages to their communities of symbiotic bacteria, the latter containing greigite mineral crystals aligned in the shape of electromagnetic coils. Other networks hidden in the walls modulated and amplified the signals, and the three Gallivants steeled themselves for the onrushing flood of information as the Vitalus tapped into their minds.
He was a candle before the raging heart of the thunderstorm. For an instant Menash touched a fraction of Its intelligence, the divisions of time and space rolling back as they joined the ocean of shared consciousness, becoming one with the living systems of Arachnea. From the tiniest aeroplankton floating above the waves of the golden coastlines, to the herds of ultrapods munching their way through swathes of trees in the savannahs. Menash felt himself pushing up out of the soil, longing and lusting and reaching for the sunlight with a trillion green fingers uncurling, alive with the furious movement of life.
But what was that flicker of orange to the east? That searing heat, that prickling pain spreading like a cancer down his side?
The Vitalus scooped them up and hurled them headlong into hell itself. A roaring wildfire was sweeping into the heart of the eastern rainforests. Menash tasted ash and ruin, felt pieces of himself wither and burn, his branches tongues of fire, wood cracking from the intense blaze, sap boiling instantaneously upon contact and rupturing, splitting him right down the grain. He fled in terror, running, slithering, digging, swimming, flying away in crazed panic from the walls of red death closing in on him. As his skin flaked off in clumps of charcoal he looked back and saw it towering over the treetops, the epicenter of this howling vortex of destruction: the grey behemoth. Its burnished metal hide gleamed like copper, reflecting the fury of the conflagration burning well into the night.
Menash pulled his mind away before it was lost forever in the storm of electric potentials. He saw Racek and Vezda swaying on their feet, breathing hard and fast.
“Heart of the World,” he managed to gasp, “What is your bidding?”
The Hollowore maneuvered itself until it was facing him directly. Tiny beady eyes fixed him in their blank gaze. The node emitted a blue pulse and the creature shuddered as it received the signal. It opened a maw powerful enough to chew boulders into gravel and rumbled:
“This one is the alpha which survived first contact with anomalous variable. It will tell Us what occurred, and from whence this threat emerged.”
“It came from the karst mountain range, where the yellowjacket Amit live,” Menash replied, “It was destroying the largest mound in that area, massacring its inhabitants. It brought the mountain down on them—we’ve never seen anything like it. Zildiz was the first on the scene. She warned us not to approach, and that it was dangerous, but some of us,” here he cast an angry look at Vezda, “Some of us went ahead and tried to scavenge from the bodies of the dying. Then the behemoth ignited the air and burned scores of us to cinders.”
“Irrational. Why did you do this?”
“W-we thought that you had spawned the grey behemoth,” Menash stammered, embarrassed to say the least, “That it was the newest addition to the Great Game, another species of ultrafauna that would help perfect Arachnea.”
“Not so. It was made by an evil far older than the All-In-One,” replied the Vitalus, “It is called a Divine Engine. In cycles past, this evil sought to undo this world and all that inhabit it. In that, it almost succeeded.”
Menash felt his blood run cold at those words.
“Is it the only one of its kind?” Racek piped up. Menash and Vezda both bristled at his interruption; subordinates were only supposed to speak when spoken to.
“There were several deployed here in Our infancy. We had thought them all destroyed in the War of Creation.”
“Your Munificence,” Racek went on, heedless of the venomous looks he was getting from the other two, “Most of us survived because Zildiz persuaded us to dive into the river. She saved all our lives! But as I washed up on the riverbank, I saw the behemoth casting a seedpod into the skies. I did not see where it landed, but it was travelling in a high arc due east. Is this the behemoth’s method of reproducing? If so, then how many offspring can it generate from this one seed?”
The Vitalus met his questions with a minute of silence. Menash had never known It to take so long to respond to a query, and felt another stab of unease in his gut. Unless he was imagining things, the Vitalus seemed genuinely disturbed by the scenario that Racek has raised, enough to convince Menash that the danger was far from hypothetical.
“That is a distant possibility,” It said somewhat cryptically, “Regardless, We cannot allow the Engine’s continued existence.”
“Then it must be destroyed,” Vezda said, her barbed tail eagerly perking up.
“We are not certain that it can be,” the Vitalus said, and Menash heard Racek audibly gulp at the admission.
“But Your Omniscience, you alone are the arbiter of growth and decay,” Vezda said in disbelief, “Surely you can unmake this monster as well?”
“Perhaps. The Divine Engines were built to withstand the extremes of temperature, gravity, atmospheric pressure, acidity and irradiation found on semi-inhabitable exoplanets. Worlds of bareness and desolation, glassed by thermonuclear bombardment or infested with alien microorganisms. In the wars of Our youth, the Betrayers used tungsten-alloy warheads fired from space platforms to crack their bulkheads. Not even Our vessels, the Hollowores, could damage them in any significant way. We will need time to gather the raw materials and fabricate the weapons needed to end this threat.”
“What must we do?” Menash asked.
“If this variable is not dealt with, it could upset the delicate balance We have sacrificed so much to achieve. Already the wildfire it has caused will release close to 400 million metric tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere and destroy 2.3 million acres of forest before Our countermeasures can stop it. Time is our limiting factor. If the Engine cannot be destroyed now, it must be restrained.”
“It hasn’t moved an inch since we last saw it,” Vezda said brightly, “Maybe it has already died?”
“Yes, and maybe your mother was a horka toad,” Racek said snidely. Vezda scowled and took a step towards him, then stopped as she remembered that she trod on hallowed ground.
“Not so. It has merely gone dormant. Having expended its fuel, it is now running on the bare minimum of its reserves. My children, you must ensure that it does not wake again. Establish a quarantine zone around the Engine and let none approach, on pain of death. The Leaper kindreds will secure the ground while the Gallivants patrol the skies.”
Vezda and Menash exchanged troubled looks. Nobody wanted Leapers establishing a foothold in what was essentially a buffer zone between their subspecies. Once allowed to settle in a habitat, it would not take long for them to adapt and become masters of their new territory. Ousting them would become a battle of attrition, and given the lower birthrates of Gallivants, it was not one they could long afford.
“Respectfully, we do not require assistance from our brother kindred,” Menash ventured, “We are more than capable of safeguarding the area ourselves.”
The node throbbed again, the bioelectric flashes taking on an angry purple hue. With a sound like the grinding of a millstone the Hollowore clashed its claws together impatiently. All three of the mortals took a hasty step back.
“The alpha will obey, or another will be found that can,” the Vitalus growled at them, “All subspecies will observe a general truce during this period. This is a temporary addition to the Great Game. Those that serve Us well shall be rewarded. We shall also enlist the aid of your terrestrial cousins, as well as the Cataphract clans to replenish the soil, and lone Saints who shall rove beyond the quarantine zone.”
Menash’s unease deepened. The Vitalus was bringing together four different kindreds, some of which killed each other on sight, in a move that reeked of desperation. The kindreds had worked together before, of course, on complex projects such as altering rainfall patterns and husbanding struggling species, but never so many at once. This was bound to end in bloodshed.
“Those that break the truce shall be chemically neutered, and their gilt helix purged from the existing gene pool,” the Vitalus continued, “You will maintain this quarantine until We have dealt with the Engine.”
“It is understood!” Menash and Vezda said at once.
“But what about Zildiz?” Racek blurted out, again risking his entire lineage by speaking out of turn, “She might still be alive out there!”
“He’s right,” Menash found himself agreeing despite his dislike for Racek, “She’s our alpha, after all. It would be a shame to lose her helix. Do we have your leave to send out a party to recover her?”
The Vitalus pondered the request for a moment, then crushed his hopes when it said:
“Regrettable, the loss of the female. Valuable stock for the breeding program. But it has not responded to Our signals—it is unlikely to have survived. The female Vezda shall take up its duties as alpha.”
“But Your Benevolence—” both men cried out in unison.
“It is decided. She has risked the Great Game, and must abide by its outcome. To speak more on this would risk Our displeasure,” the god warned.
“We can’t spare the manpower anyway,” Vezda pointed out, trying not to look too pleased at Its decision. She darted a quick look at Menash, long enough for him to see the selfish desire festering in her heart. He turned away from her in disgust, baring his blades by the slightest of margins to let her know what he thought of her, then asked the Vitalus:
“But what of the Engine’s seedpod? Should we search for it?”
“Negative!” the Vitalus boomed, its node reinforcing the word with a spike of activity that sent needles of pain spearing into their heads, “We shall complete this task. It is dangerous and can be entrusted to no other.”
The Hollowore angled its massive head towards the cavernous ceiling, armored flaps on its back sliding aside as it unfurled sets of rigid sixty-meter wings. A wide sphincter on the roof gaped open and Menash saw the evening sky awash with the stars in their milky multitudes. The Hollowore took a deep breath through the spiracles lining its thorax and abdomen, pumping air through a pair of hollow tube-like protuberances under either of its wings. Menash and the others quickly scampered to a safe distance. Seconds later there was a scream of chemical combustion and the Hollowore rose into the evening skies, leaving behind a long trail of superheated gases, the backwash almost knocking Menash off his feet. They watched as the Hollowore gained altitude, making straight for the columns of billowing smoke on the horizon, a sweeping shadow blotting out the light of the heavens.
The Vitalus’ mental presence receded with it. When it did not return, they took it to mean that they were dismissed and likewise took flight and headed for Chthonis. They were hardly out of the Dawning Chamber when Vezda seized the scrawny Racek by his wings and anchored her feet right up against his back.
“Funny little man, are you? Crack jokes at my expense again, and I’ll see to it that you’ll never fly again!” she snarled, yanking hard. Racek yelled as his wings threatened to pop out of their sockets.
“Stop!” Menash said, ramming his shoulder into her and knocking the smaller male out of her grip. Vezda rounded on him, blades out and her tail aquiver with rage.
“As for you! No one should speak to the Vitalus like that!” she shrieked, “Much less gainsay It! Are you trying to get us all killed? It is the source and continuance of life itself—”
“But the Vitalus doesn’t always consider the individual scale of things,” Menash reasoned, controlling his rising anger as he tried to defuse the situation, “Its scope of thought is beyond ours. Therefore it is up to us to look after each other. None of us can win the Great Game alone. We need people like Zildiz for the species to prosper.”
“Your logic is flawed,” Vezda spat, “Empathy is a sham devised by the selfish action of the gene, which seeks only to preserve itself. At least I am honest enough to look after my own interests. Your obsession with that whore is misplaced. Heed my words, Menash. What happened today marks a change in the Great Game. Only the ruthless will reap the rewards of this era. Think on that, and act accordingly.”
The female darted off in another direction, leaving the two behind.
“Thanks,” Racek said, rubbing at his sore shoulders, “My, my. She’s really taking her promotion very seriously, isn’t she?”
“This doesn’t make us friends,” Menash said shortly, “We share a common interest, that’s all.”
The two flew together in silence for a time, the dark canopy unrolling below their feet. Racek had always been a bitter rival for Zildiz’s affections. In the mating seasons he and Menash had flown the damsel-dance against each other countless times, racing and dogfighting at top speed through the dense bamboo thickets in an effort to impress her.
But each time she had always chosen Menash. Naturally. He was the stronger, the braver, the son of the Scourge who had slain hundreds on his lightning raids into Leaper territory. Their pairings had been brief and passionate, yet she had always laughed at the end and gone on her merry way, a rose petal borne on a scented breeze, the dalliance as meaningless to her as other concerns like eating or breathing.
But not to him. Right now, all that mattered was her. And Racek was the only one in the whole wide world who knew exactly how he felt. Did that mean he could be trusted? Menash considered the enormity of what he was about to do, and wavered. Then he saw her face in the darkness of his home, the face she wore when they were all alone together, and he took a deep breath before breaking the silence, saying:
“I’ll be in charge of the quarantine. I can arrange for you to disappear for a few days. I can have one of the younglings mimic your magnetosynaptic signal, make it seem like you’re with the rest of us.”
“You’d do that? For me?” Racek said in astonishment.
“Hah. Not for you,” Menash laughed softly. He looked Racek straight in the eyes and continued: “What’ll it be, then?”
If he so much as hesitates, I’ll have to kill him here and now, Menash told himself.
“Why, yes. Yes, of course!” the little brown male said vigorously.
“Good,” Menash sighed with relief, “She’ll be very grateful to whoever brings her home. I’d do it myself, but as an alpha I can’t risk being seen as disobedient.”
“Then why give me this chance? After all that’s passed between us?”
“I should have thought that was obvious,” Menash replied. Racek digested that for a bit, then out of nowhere said:
“If I find her—when I find her—I’ll tell her exactly who it was that sent me.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Bah! Just so we’re even, that’s all,” Racek grinned, his mouthparts slanting askew.
“Thanks, I guess. I’d…I’d appreciate that. You do understand what we’re risking here, right?”
“Sure. We’ll be total genetic write-offs if we’re caught. But it’s not like I wanted to see tiny ugly Raceks running around the house anyway. What about you, though? Why are you putting your neck on the chopping block?”
“You know why,” Menash said quietly, his thoughts still lingering on her face.
“Yes,” Racek agreed with a wistful air, “Yes, I suppose I do.”
And the pair spoke no more until they reached Chthonis.

Disclaimer: this adds absolutely nothing of substance to the conversation but did strike me as a little funny and gave me a little insight into my unconscious bias, which apparently definitely prioritizes animals over humans
When I hear a man committed some act of violence against a woman, it’s never my instinct to question the woman’s choices. I would, of course, never ask “what was she wearing?” Absolutely not.
When I hear of a bear (or any wild animal) attack, my immediate assumption is that the human did something stupid. The first questions in my head are always “what did they do to provoke it?” and my first guess is that the animal was scared or protecting its young. And I do usually assume it’s a man getting attacked.

The Colonel’s tent was leaking again. Ordinarily such a mistake would’ve earned his adjutant an hour-long dressing down and possibly, if the Colonel was feeling particularly enthusiastic, a sharp backhanded slap across the face. After all, a leaky tent could hardly be said to be hermetically sealed, now could it? But this affront to his sensibilities paled in comparison to the utter travesty and exemplar of sheer incompetence that now sat before his desk, a sagging wreck of a man in the tattered uniform of a Fleet officer. Colonel Moch Leelan curled his lip at it and barked:
“Once more, if you please. And I don’t want this on record,” he added, darting a look at the clerk poised to take dictation in the corner of the room, “Not a word of this gets out. There’s been enough of a snafu already, and the brass won’t stop shitting down my neck about Mound 13 and the loss of Prota’s pestilential pet project. Did you hear me, man? I said start from the beginning!”
Outside the monsoon was intensifying into one of those proverbial downpours which prompted doddering old men to remark that it was ‘raining cats and dogs’, though what either a cat or a dog were, none could now say. A trickle of it seeped in like a string of winking glass beads, catching the orange glow of the gas lamp and turning into sparks of amber, into seeds of flame. They dripped on the bald man seated on the low footstool, and he raised his head to meet the scornful gaze of the Colonel, grey eyes unabashed and unafraid. He spoke then, in a hoarse voice that matched his pallid flesh and buzzard nose:
“It was the third day of reconnaissance. We were forced to abandon our pack-beasts in the mire. My assistant and I—”
“Name, rank and serial number!” Colonel Leelan interrupted, for the sole purpose of seeing the coward blink and quaver like the worm he was. But in that he was to be disappointed, for the man continued in the same flat tone:
“Sollem Deschane, Lord Navigator, 3^rd Pathfinder Regiment, serial number 18911944. We received orders from the Admiralty and Fleet Command to reconnoiter the area around the enemy concentration designated as Mound Euler. I was to lead a platoon of twenty handpicked volunteers across the river Foss at its lowest point, then scale the outlying cliffs to get better readings as we mapped out the approaches to Mound Euler. It was the third day of reconnaissance. We were forced to abandon our myropods in the mud and carry our own gear. My assistant navigator Rene Louvoture and I noticed a discrepancy with our visually confirmed data and the aerial sketches of the Aeronautical Division. We quickly worked out that the enemy concentration far exceeded initial estimates by an order of magnitude. Mound Euler is an omega-class colony the likes of which the Fleet has faced only once in its entire existence, during the Scouring of Assail. It is my belief that—”
“Leave your hysterics for later and get on to meat of things,” Leelan snapped. Deschane straightened a bit in his seat and scowled as his layers of bandages shifted. The man was practically mummified by the sheer extent of his wounds that it was a wonder he had managed to limp into the tent in the first place. But the navigator had made a point of refusing to be debriefed in his sick bed and had insisted that he be given no further pain killers. This was to prove that his report was not at all influenced by the effects of opiates, as well as to underline the supposed importance of his eyewitness account as the sole survivor of the siege of Mound 13.
But Colonel Leelan was no fool. He knew the tactic for what it was: a bit of playacting by a soon-to-be-disgraced officer, a desperate attempt to pass himself off as a tragic hero rather than the author of the most monumental military cock-up of the decade.
You may very well get that wish, Deschane, Leelan smirked inwardly. If you play your cards right. You’ll find that I can put on a pantomime as well as the next man.
Deschane regarded him cooly, replying:
“You asked for my report, sir. I am stating the facts as I understand them.”
“Understand?” Leelan guffawed, “There’s precious little to understand about this debacle! Explain to me how a routine scouting mission winds up in the loss of 5,000 men, a Rear-Admiral and an entire frontline outpost! Explain to me how you not only got every last one of your own men slaughtered, but still managed to save your own sorry arse!”
Now that had an effect on the navigator’s bearing. He dropped the holier-than-thou attitude and even pretended to dab at some moisture in corners of his eye. For a moment his mask of iron cracked and he looked tired enough to sleep for a thousand years, never to waken. Then he seemed to recall that his career was at stake and had the temerity to argue with the Colonel:
“We were given faulty intelligence. I made mistakes, I’ll admit that here and now. We should never have continued after our pack animals were trapped in the mire. The gear slowed us down in enemy territory. I can’t wash my hands of the loss of my platoon. They were the best and bravest men I ever fought with, and I will carry the shame of losing them to my grave. The fact that I am still alive when none of them are breathing is an accident that was not of my choosing. As for Mound 13, it was only a matter of time before they were discovered and dealt with. They were only two day’s travel from Mound Euler. In fact, it was miracle they managed to exist for so long undetected.”
Magnificent deflection. Colonel Leelan had to admire the snake and his flawless attempt to pass the blame onto the shoulders of the dead Rear-Admiral Prota.
Yes, I think we can make an arrangement here, the Colonel thought wryly. He waved Deschane’s prattling aside and said:
“This omega-class colony of yours. A mound so large that is beggars belief, you say? Curious, then, that such an object should have escaped your keen senses for three whole days!”
“Visibility in that terrain and climate is poor. But yes, it was another one of my errors.”
“I’m so glad that you agree,” Leelan purred, his words dripping with condescension. He reached into the drawer of his desk and took out a bottle of fermented honeydew. Uncorking it with a loud pop, he poured out two glasses and lifted one to his lips, saying:
“On a related note, it’s funny how the fog of war can obscure so many important details. Even the best commanders can lose their bearings, lose sight of the greater picture, fixate on the wrong things. Take our dearly departed Rear-Admiral Prota, for example (may she rest in the Flight Eternal). Not to speak ill of the dead, but she was assigned an entire sector for her research into enemy behavior. And what does she do with it? Cultural studies! Anthropology! As if the Amits have a culture worth sneezing at! They’ve been working with flint and wood since this primeval war of ours began, and they’ve never taken the hint. Meanwhile, we’ve finally gained the advantage of powder and artillery and mass-produceable gas masks.”
“One big push! That’s all it would take to clear the northern highlands. We have the men, the will and the technology to do it! The last thing we need is some starry-eyed academic telling us that the Amits have somehow found religion. I mean, really!” Colonel Leelan warmed to his subject, “Five thousand soldiers dedicated to safeguarding some blessed cave paintings, right on the frontlines, too! What a waste. Like you said: if you hadn’t led the Amits directly to them, someone else would have down the line.”
“We took steps to ensure they wouldn’t follow us. We tried, but they found the fear-death pheromones—”
“Steps?” Leelan pressed him mercilessly, “What steps, exactly?”
Deschane looked away and said nothing. Leelan sniffed, continuing:
“I thought so. As I was saying, Prota’s project was doomed from the start. It was an ill-conceived, harebrained mission, and now the Admiralty will have to explain to Fleet Command and the general public how it lost an entire regiment in the name of some woman’s flight of fancy. But there is a silver lining to all this. Seeing as how we recaptured what was left of Mound 13 within mere hours of it falling, we think there’s a way to salvage the situation after all. You can be part of that, Deschane. Every victory may have its price, but it must also have its heroes.”
Leelan sipped his honeydew, waiting for the offer he’d made to sink in. Deschane smiled, a humorless crack in his granite features.
“You’re going to make me a hero?” he asked. Leelan nudged the other glass towards him, shrugging:
“And why not? Someone has to wear the medals. ‘Lone Survivor of Desperate Last Stand’,” Leelan exclaimed, dramatically forecasting the future headlines, “He tried to warn them, but did they listen? You get the rest, I imagine. We’ll have to improve some of the details, of course. Like how it was the 3^rd Pathfinder Regiment which held back the flood of Amits in the final hour and ignited the fortress’ ammo depot—”
“We never did that,” Deschane objected, rudely cutting off Leelan’s train of thought, “It was the Divine Engine. I saw it with my own eyes. It broke out of Mound 13 and slaughtered the enemy.”
Leelan sighed.
“Not this again. Deschane, I’d appreciate it if you’d save your hallucinations for the regimental shrink. Think, man! The honor of our unit is at stake here. You have a chance to redeem the men of your platoon, even if you can never truly redeem yourself.”
“I saw it,” Deschane growled, and for a moment Leelan almost reached for his ceremonial saber hanging by its belt on his coatrack, “Sir, it left footprints the size of—”
“For heaven’s sake, you witless worm, the earthquake was felt all the way in the Southern Delta! Not very big one, but certainly enough to account for the avalanches and landslides that took place around Mound 13, not to mention the sinkhole we found you snoring in! It’s certainly not the first time an uncontrolled detonation triggered a seismic event. Deschane, I’ll only say this once: either you get your story straight or by thunder, I’ll bury you so deep in shit you’ll start to think you’re made of it! And you are! If you breathe a word of this delirious vision of yours to the press, you’ll not only receive no medals, but I’ll have you court-martialed faster than you can say ‘diddly-squat’. Which is precisely what you’ll be left with unless you jump like a good boy and ask how high. No honor, no rank, no reputation, no pension. Nothing! Do you understand?”
Colonel Leelan wrathfully thrust the glass at Deschane, spilling most of it in the process.
“Well, do you?”


Deschane hobbled out of the tent, escorted by a pair of grenadiers in fluffy white shakos. They sealed the adhesive lining of the tent airlock after him and the Navigator went on his way, the taste of honeydew lingering on his tongue like a bitter poison. He lifted his mask and hawked up a gob of spit that eloquently described his opinion of the colonel, wiping his scowling mouth with the back of his hand.
Ven was waiting for him with the crutches, a young and rather portly corporal with apple cheeks and a worried, pouting mouth. She helped Deschane as he made the slow and painful walk across the encampment to his field tent, the lord navigator deep in thought. Along the way they cut across the central avenue of the camp where a seemingly endless artillery train was lumbering its way up from the south and curving around the broad talus skirts of Gorgo Plateau, teams of scuttling myropods hitched to six or twelve-pounder guns, their hundreds of tiny legs threshing the soil into a quagmire. Behind them, plodding dejectedly into the rapidly liquefying mud, were ranks upon rank of fresh colonial levees, their brand-new sealant suits creaking loudly at the joints as they made what for most of them would be their first expedition into the surface world.
And what a foray it would prove to be. Almost two hundred thousand men amd women were mustered here at the edge of civilization, poised on the cusp of what was to be the largest surface offensive in recorded history. The Fleet had arrived in the Northern Hinterlands, and it had come to conquer.
"Gangway!" the levees hollered at Ven as she tried to cut a path for Deschane through the line, "Can't you see we's marching 'ere, ya stoopid bint?"
"He's an officer, ain't he?" she screamed back, pointing at the navigator.
Upon noticing the faded chevrons on Deschane's shoulders some of them clumsily snapped to attention, stopping in their tracks. Their comrades behind them, oblivious to this turn of events, bowled right into them, causing a minor stampede. Men and women cursed as they dropped their pristine muskets, never fired in the heat of battle, into the churning soup at their feet, or themselves went sprawling on their hands and knees. Baton-wielding sergeants descended on the mess, screaming for them to get back up, generously assisting them with a boot to the rump or a smack on the side of the head. Deschane looked back at the display for a long moment, as if considering something. Abruptly he grunted at Ven and they continued on their way to the outskirts where the Pathfinders were billeted.
She waited until they were inside the tent and Deschane was back in his sick bed, the navigator turning his back to her in stony silence. Cautiously, she ventured:
“What now, sir?”
“Draw up a list of volunteers,” he rasped, “But do it on the sly. We’re going back out there."
"Very good, sir," Ven squeaked, and went scurrying out of the navigator's chambers, sealing the tent flap softly behind her. She knew that tone and what it signified: the lord navigator had made up his mind, and heaven help whoever would stand in his way.

Please forgive me for any spelling or grammar errors. English is not my first language.
For a little background. My boyfriend and I have been together for 2 years with a year and a half in long distance relationship. We met after College became friends and after a few months started dating. Before him I had been in 2 serious relationships. With him it was instantly different, I felt at home, we are open about absolutely everything (well l'm not sure about this one from his part, either he's hiding something or I'm really just overthinking ). We planned a future together, have already introduced each other to our families and friends.
To the actual reason why I'm here today. My bf has a friend (27M) we'll call him S. They've been friends since childhood. The day we met they were together so yes I have known S from the onset . He seemed to be a cool guy, while my bf is quiet he's the opposite and is very friendly. After College I came back to my country and my bf (boyfriend) and S also went back to their country. They started working that side and I didn't even know they're in the same city till one day my bf tells me he's having a sleepover at his place.
I was shocked since he'd always talk about him if they hangout and all back in College and started asking a bit about why he didn't tell me and all. He just said he thought he did and we just moved past it. I don't remember what we talked about which led to him making jokes about if I think they're hooking up or something. I laughed and joined in . He knows I'm not homophonic and l've a gay cousin who l'm very close with. I have asked calmly a few times if he’s attracted to S but he has denied every single time.
Now the issue these jokes don't seem to be ending just like their meetings and sleepovers. These jokes range from explicit stuff like-: a-l'm the one who'll bend him over and fuck him. b-: my ass hole is painful side not let me sleep all weekend. c-: we kissed and he grabbed me d-: S came to my place and you know what went down, we did all positions e-: he'll blow me tomorrow since we're meeting. At the end of all these he always says he's joking. This is just but a few examples.
I really need advice on how to navigate this. I'm scared of wasting my time with a man who's not who I think he is. I don't have anything against gay or bisexual people. I'm a very open person. However when it comes to relationships I prefer straight monogamous men. Is my boyfriend gay or these are just regular innocent jokes?
TL;DR;: Is my bf bisexual or he’s just making jokes? How can I navigate the situation?

I’ve been digging in my family records as far as I can go. Family Search took me pretty far on my dad’s side since they’ve been here a while, but my mom’s side has hit a dead end. My mom’s side came from the Poland/Austria/Ukraine area (borders were kinda fuzzy) in the early 1900’s and we can’t find any records from before my great great grandparents got married in the states in 1919. I can’t even find immigration or naturalization documents.
My great great grandmother immigrated alone when she was ~16 years old and spoke no English, and her last name is spelled differently on just about every document I can find (it’s most likely Olejarczyk or some variation). She was supposed to live with some family in the US, but they never showed up to meet her.
She eventually married a man who also spoke Polish. His last name was Kaczmarek, which is such an incredibly common Polish last name that looking up his info is hopeless. The last name has since died out since they had 3 daughters and their only son never married.
I’d love to find more information about their family back in Europe, but I’m finding it impossible to find anything. The closest I have is their parents’ names from their marriage certificate (which I’m pretty sure some were misspelled horribly since I can't even find if their last names EXIST).
Does anyone know of any free resources for finding records in Poland? Or even Austria?

Throwaway account for anonymity, although this story is pretty popular among my group. I wrote this directly to Charlotte, so I hope you like it!
I wanted to tell the story of my marriage to my now wife and how vastly different our mothers have taken the whole thing. I’m sharing because I find the whole thing absolutely wacky, so sit back and enjoy!
I (34m) and my now wife (30f) have been together for 5 years, and we got engaged back in 2022. We made elaborate wedding plans because I’m very outgoing and extroverted, and she went along with everything because she loves me. We both knew neither of our families would not be involved. While her mother (55f) absolutely hates me because of my skin color, my mother (72f) suffered from Alzheimer’s and dementia. We knew she could never fly in for our wedding, as she could barely leave the house, let alone the state, and my father (77m), as much as he loves me, refused to leave her side for longer than an hour.
Her mother refused to ever meet me and would insult me whenever she possibly could. I really didn’t want her to attend the wedding, so I wasn’t too pleased when my wife wanted her to walk her down the aisle instead of her father (58m), who had a long history of being incredibly flaky for important events. When we created the bridal party, my side had only friends since I’m an only child and she had her brother (26m) as a bridesman. However, he didn’t like wearing suits so he dropped out of the wedding, citing that he MIGHT have work the day of the wedding, which was 6 months away. Her mother called the next day and dropped out, leading to a lot of crying, an argument and a lot of talks to get through the heartache. Her father actually stepped up and asked to walk her down the aisle, and was practically in tears apologizing for not being there for her. My wife agreed and hugged her father so tightly. I was worried but I had to give the man credit...he was trying.
Our priorities changed when I heard that my mother was quickly slipping away, so my wife had the idea of having a private ceremony just for her and my father so she could see me get married. We flew down, and discovered that the cat peed on her only white dress, and my father forgot which day we were getting married. Luckily…thanks to a lot of bleach and phone calls, we were able to get married in front of her, and she had a very good day. She remembered me the whole time, and she absolutely loved my wife. It was probably the most perfect day of my life: I got to solve problems, have my mother remember me and marry my best friend…albeit illegally technically since we didn’t have a marriage license. To this day, we called it our “marriage before God.” My mother passed away 3 weeks after that ceremony. It was pretty devastating.
By the way…we still had our “lavish” wedding to hold, which was still a month away. Her mother and brother wanted NOTHING to do with the wedding, and I was perfectly happy, but I knew she wasn’t. We had a lot of talks leading up to it, and I made sure she always had support, whether it was from me, her bridesmaids, and all of our friends coming together to let her know how much she means to us. Her father was on time and in a suit, so that was already a victory. I later heard that he told her how proud he was of her and how lovely she looked, something he rarely said when she was growing up. He really stepped up to the plate. Our wedding day had just as many calamities as the marriage before God, which includes a very late Bridesmaid, a very cold and windy outdoor ceremony and a very hot and sweaty reception. Oh, and my wife’s mother texting her on the wedding day how disrespectful she and her friends are, and how she’s “guilty” for not being a “good enough daughter.” This really pissed my wife off, and it led to her FINALLY going NC with her. But that text came well after our wedding ended, and it was the most perfect day we’ve ever had. I love my wife so much and what she did for my mother and I will make me do anything to make her happy for the rest of our lives.
Just goes to show not to let negative people ruin your life…even if they gave birth to you.

Red Seas Under Red Skies by Scott Lynch, Reminiscence: By Their Own Rope to Chapter 7
Welcome back to Tal Verrar, where the artifice is real and the pirates are fake. Let's see if we know the Gentlemen Bastards’ business this week.
Summary
Six months since the last Reminiscence, Locke has locked up the mysterious chairs and is with Jean in Vo Samara. Jean brought rope which was secured around a thick tree trunk. They're practicing getting to the vault. They used harnesses and a safety line to rappel down the cliff.
Someone calls down to them from the top. He'd steal their coats and chop the ropes. He was a highwayman always on the lookout for people to rob. He called them heretics and cut one of Locke’s lines. Jean tried to throw a knife at him, but only the hilt hit. Then the thief fell off the cliff onto Locke’s harness. Jean grabbed the bandit by the hair, and Locke held a knife to his throat.
His name was Trav, and he was unemployed. Jean made it up first and hauled them up. Locke berates the incompetent thief. He left a purse of silver for him. He could be helpful to them later if he remembered their kindness. It had been eighteen months since anyone tried to kill them.
In the present day, they eat breakfast at The Gilded Cloister. They discuss the attack last night and who might want them dead. Merrain is dressed as a waitress and hands them a bill and a note to meet where they first met. They are on their guard all the way there. They enter an abandoned shop where four men in gray cloaks and hats wait for them. The four men are decoys. Jean and Locke don their own cloaks and hats and get in a carriage.
Merrain is already in their carriage. They will head to the docks. They hoist themselves into a boat filled with rowers. Merrain is the coxswain. They enter the Sword Marina and the stone walls of the bay. A man meets them there and says it's a fool's mission. He's Caldris the ship's master. He leads them to a dinghy in a “pissing-pond” for practice. Stragos had tricked him with poisoned wine, too, so he “volunteered” his services.
Every ship must have a woman officer and a cat for luck. They have a kitten but don't need the woman yet. Caldris cut their palms with a knife and put a slice of bread over it as part of a ritual to the deity Iono Stormbringer. They practice rowing for hours. He bet them that they would capsize, and he won.
Locke is exhausted, but he has to see Requin and give him the chairs and tell him of the voyage. Merrain almost didn't let him go. After two hours, he and the chairs go to see Requin. He waits at the service entrance and pays a servant to get him Selendri. She used to be an Eye of the Archon before her injury.
Requin loves the chairs. Locke says he won them in a card game. He tells Requin that he'll be away for a while to find a lockpicker named “Calo Callas.” Requin makes him promise to tell him of any more plans right away.
They learn how to use a Verrari/Camorri quadrant (sextant) among other navigational instruments, books, and charts. Stragos and Merrain pay a visit to fit his uniform. He must look the part of a Captain at least for a day.
The ship The Red Messenger is in the harbor one day. It was seized from a man who tried to smuggle in stiletto wasps. The enormity of his task hit Locke as he boarded for the first time. Two weeks of training had prepared him to climb the ropes to the mast and sails. Caldris was feeling his age as they climbed down. Luckily the captain and the master stay on deck.
Jean found Locke in a sailor’s bar trying to get drunk and forget anything nautical for a night. (Wrong place for it.) Six watchmen entered and caused tension. The bar patrons were hostile, so one of the watchmen left some money for a round on him and all left. Locke and Jean give their free dark ale to a dockworker woman. The woman was choking and gagging. One the bar workers had put some poison (and not salt) in the drinks!
A ship leech used Locke’s stiletto to perform a tracheotomy on her so she could breathe. It was too late, though. The barkeeper accused the doctor of killing her. The other sailors demand he apologize. Then he drank some ale to prove it wasn't deadly. Jean asked where the second assistant was. Authorities would be called, so Jean and Locke made their exit. The free ale was a cover, and the watchmen were used by someone trying to kill them. The Priori did it.
Jean catches a man in the alleyway. He's an Eye, but who can be sure anymore? They want him to send a message to Merrain that they need a place to stay and protection.
They check out of the inn, and Locke sends a note to Requin. Caldris is even harder on them in his training. All three devise hand signals for when they can't speak among the crew. Caldris and Merrain are impressed by Locke's acting prowess.
Later on, Locke and Jean knock out a guard with a hood full of a sedative. A tower is their destination. Stragos had brought one of his own ships for them to do a demonstration. They sail to Windward Rock where a prison tower stands. That's where Stragos locked up the other Captain for stealing and treachery. He says that this Captain is Locke.
In the tower, Locke hands his papers to a woman who shows them to the lieutenant behind a desk. His pseudonym is Orrin Ravelle. He and Jean are there to see the prisoners. They both attack the guards. A poison called witfrost will put them asleep for the night.
Stragos tells Locke about Highpoint Citadel Gaol and Windward Rock. He has arranged for Ravelle to have a paper trail. He will find his crew in Windward Rock. The prisoners were in one large cell. Locke tells them that he chose them to be his crew. (Stragos chose 44 and made their lives miserable so they would want to leave and be on his crew. Four were women and got too sick, or so he said.)
Locke promises them equal shares of any plunder and freedom from the hell cell. They clamber to join.
Caldris had a bad feeling about the voyage if there won't be any women on board and no basket of cats.
Prisoner Jabril is made acting mate. Two younger prisoners row a boat out to a bigger boat. They all board and sail to the Red Messenger.
Merrain had hidden nearby, and after they all left, she snuck into the tower and killed the guards except the two on the top floor.
Locke pretends to knock out the guard on the ship. Duties are assigned. The guard is placed in the smaller boat. Some of the men were on the ship before and were assigned topmen. So starts their voyage. Locke was having fun playing the part of rogue Captain.
They sight sails on day three, but it's too early to be pillaging. Locke orders them to practice archery. Caldris estimates that they'll make it to the Ghostwinds in two weeks.
The crew drank and partied, playing knife throwing games. Locke saw bioluminescent ghostly things called flit-wraiths. Caldris had seen unbelievable things out on the sea. Two of the islands’ populations were destroyed: one by fire during a war and one by some kind of monster from the jungle.
The crew notices there are no cats. Locke had forgotten them on shore. (Uh-oh!) He tells them they're shy and hiding. Caldris is tired and gets little sleep. He is pissed off that there's no cats. The crew will mutiny if they find out. They'll have to fight another ship just for the cats. (They better hope it rains cats and dogs.)
A storm is brewing. The crew ready the ship and its supplies. Locke and Jean spend rare time alone in the stern cabin. Caldris feebly knocks at the door, and has a heart attack. He dies just as the storm hits. (Double uh-oh!)
Extras
Marginalia
Parts of a ship
Ship's cats
Ship's cats in hammocks
St Corella’s fire is actually St Elmo's Fire.
Larboard used to mean left.
Navigate back here May 23 for Part 2, Chapters 8-11. Questions are in the comments.

You know what the best part is about playing Engineer in Team Fortress 2? You get to watch how angry everyone gets when they get shot by your sentry guns. Me and my best friend Jose both main Engineer, and can confirm that the best way to spend your Friday nights after school is to set up a sentry and get ready for the rage. There’s been matches where we haven’t even used our actual guns even once, but racked up lots of kills just because of the sentries.
One day Jose called me up with an idea that was either going to be the stupidest thing ever or the smartest thing ever. He wanted to fill an entire team with only Engineers and watch the chaos unfold. I couldn’t stop laughing at the mental image in my head and agreed with the plan. I joined a Discord server with everyone else on the team.
I convinced my cousin Matthew to join, and he in turn brought along his little brother Zack. According to Matthew, it took quite a bit of convincing because Zack was a Scout main who couldn’t stand Engineers. He eventually got through to his little brother by promising him a Steam gift card. I even got their dad Graham to play along (yes, I have an uncle who plays TF2. How cool is that?). Jose enlisted his friends, who turned into friends of friends and soon enough we had a team of 16 Engineers.
To say that we caused chaos that night was an absolute understatement. As soon as we joined the game the text chat was flooded with messages from the other team wondering what the hell was going on. And they only got worse from that point on. We surrounded our control points with a ring of sentries that people just kept running into. I saw keyboard smashes and heard other teen boys’ voices crack in rage and many, many words that I personally don’t care to repeat here.
The most skilled Engineer was this guy named Craig, who was a friend of one of Jose’s friends. Not only was he the main person capturing the enemy control points with some very strategically placed teleporters, but he was also really friendly and encouraging to all of us. I didn’t know what he looked like, but from his voice it sounded like he was in his early 20s.
Me and Craig started to chat more and more on Discord. He was a super nice guy who was also really fun to talk with. He took time out of his day to teach me how to be an even better Engineer player. Whenever someone started dissing me in the voice chat, he firmly told them to leave me alone. After seeing my fair share of toxicity in the TF2 community, it was nice to know that this complete stranger was looking out for me.
This whole Team Engineer thing became a weekly tradition for us on Friday nights. It was something everyone could look forward to after work or school. One time after everyone logged off and said their goodbyes, Craig sent a message a few hours later in our Discord:
“You guys gotta check this out. I found the weirdest server ever. It’s literally Engineer heaven. Meet me at vl_sentry.”
I was still in the mood to play and I could stay up late tonight, so I hopped back on TF2. I saw that Jose, Graham and this other girl we played with named Lynn were also online. I found vl_sentry and connected to the server. The map was called Valley of the Sentries and it was created by Valve.
It took my computer a little bit to process the map, and it took me even longer than that to process what I was seeing.
The map looked like a chessboard with 3D-sculpted hills. The sky was just pure white. Not even white walls, just the color white. Every square had a blue sentry on it and there were about 4 or 5 other Engineers jumping around, spamming their voice lines. That’s when I realized that we were the only ones there, and there was no red team.
“Hey Sean, glad you could make it :)” Craig said in the text chat. “What the hell is this?” I asked. He told me that this was a server that one of his friends showed him. The friend said he was introduced to the map by a friend of his who knew someone who worked at Valve. Craig then went on to explain that apparently Valley of the Sentries was an experiment to test the limits of the sentry guns and their effect on the servers. Rumor has it that the map is infinite.
“Check this out.” said Jose. He switched to Heavy and immediately got shot down. All of the sentries turned towards him. There were so many of them that it made the game lag a ton. He respawned as Engineer and the sentries just kept on spinning.
“WTF?” I typed. “We tried it with all the other classes and it does the same thing.” said Craig. “It ignores Engineers, but shoots everyone else.” Lynn added. “And that’s why we’re the best class. Engineer power!” Graham joked.
I asked what would happen if you were to play as Spy and sap one of the sentries. “I tried, but you gotta have a godly reaction time to activate it.” said Jose. As soon as he said “godly reaction time”, I knew I had to try it out just for the bragging rights.
Respawn. Shot down. Respawn. Shot down. Respawn. Shot down.
Yeah, I did not have a godly reaction time. The others kept spamming “lol” in the chat each time I failed. I got annoyed pretty quickly and stopped trying. Then out of nowhere, all the sentries turned away from me and started firing at someone. I turned around and all five of us were still standing there. I looked at the top bar that shows how many characters were in the game. There were only five Engineers and they were all on the same team. So what the hell were the sentries targeting?
I started to walk in the direction that the sentries were facing and Jose followed me too. We moved really slow, not only because of the sentries on every square but also the uphill climbs. It was just us two in the chat for a while, talking about seeing each other back at school on Monday while we made our slow walk across the map. Then our conversation was interrupted by a chat message from Lynn.
“Why is there a man in the sky?”
Me and Jose tried to get to Lynn to see what she was talking about as fast as possible, but we moved like snails. To get back to the spawn point, we both switched classes, instantly died and respawned as Engineers. I don’t think we respawned in the same place we started from. I don’t even know where we respawned. There were no landmarks or notable things to help you find your way. Just hills, valleys, and sentries.
I asked Lynn where she was and she just told me she was with Graham and Craig. Only that wasn’t very helpful because we didn’t know where they were either. We stood there, stumped for a minute and a half until Jose got an idea. He said that she should just switch classes and respawn, because then all of the sentries would point toward her and we could follow them all the way back to her. She made the switch, got shot down, and we instantly knew where to find her.
We finally got close enough to kind of make out the vague shape of a few Engineers over the non-existent horizon. Me and Jose were relieved, until all the sentries pointed to our right. I swiveled around and saw them open fire on…nothing. I checked with Jose to see if he caught something I didn’t, but he also didn’t see what they were shooting at. I decided that it wasn’t that important and continued to walk towards the rest of the group.
We met up with Lynn, Craig and Graham, disappointed that we made that trek all for nothing. Even though we were all together now, it just felt so lonely. The only sound coming from my computer was the constant beeping of the sentries in perfect sync. I don’t know why, but it made me so uneasy. I attempted to break the silence by going to the voice lines and playing the iconic Engineer “Nope” soundbite. It echoed across the checkered land with no response.
It was about 12:30 AM at this point and I was starting to feel more and more unsettled with each passing minute. There was just something about this black and white world that I felt creeped out by. Before Craig invited us to come over, there was no one else on the server. Who would even want to play on this map, anyways? It’s so unfairly balanced that only one class can survive. Movement speed was super slow, and you can’t even really do anything except watch the sentries turn and turn and turn forever. It was like hypnosis, except I didn’t feel sleepy or relaxed at all.
Speaking of being sleepy, Jose said he was getting tired and was going to be logging off. We all said goodbye to him and continued chatting amongst ourselves. It sounds stupid, but my stomach dropped when I saw the fifth Engineer portrait disappear. One less person to talk to. One less person to keep myself from wondering what else was out here. I could have sworn that after he left, the beeping got louder.
“So is this map actually infinite?” asked Graham. “Only one way to find out.” Craig said. “Just keep on walking and see if it goes on forever.” “Why don’t you just fire a shotgun and see how far it goes?” Lynn suggested.
I took out the shotgun and fired. The bullet flew off into the white distance and disappeared.
Then I heard the distinct sound of someone getting shot.
A message appeared in the chat, from someone named sentry_check_pattern.
“sentry_check_pattern: stop that”
Once again I looked at the top bar. It just showed four blue Engineers. That meant we were the only ones on the server. Or so we thought.
The chat was flooded with our confusion, almost as if everyone realized at the same time that something wasn’t right. None of us moved an inch.
“What even is this place?” I asked, hoping that the mysterious user would provide me with an answer. “Must be Engineer heaven.” said Graham.
“sentry_check_pattern: more like my personal hell”
This was the moment that made me trust my intuition. I knew there was a reason why I found this map so creepy. I wanted to leave the server, but there was just one thing keeping me back- my own curiosity. My wish to unveil the mysteries of the Valley of the Sentries.
“Okay this is really freaking me out. See ya guys.” said Lynn before she left the server. The fourth Engineer’s portrait disappeared from the top bar.
No no no, please. Please don’t go. Don’t leave us. I wouldn’t want to be alone here. Now there’s just three of us, and I really hope that number doesn’t go down anymore. When the others were here, this was just a weird TF2 map that we were exploring together as friends. And now it feels like we’re trapped in this infinite world, but we aren’t alone. The only problem is we don’t know what else is here.
I shuddered, imagining Craig and Graham ditching me and leaving me all alone in the Valley of the Sentries. Just me and whoever- no, whatever was talking to us.
“sentry_check_pattern: you don’t know how good you have it
you can leave at any time
i can’t”
This terrified me. What a horrible thought, never being able to leave this place. But of course, no one could really be trapped here. It’s a Team Fortress 2 server. You can just exit the game and shut your computer. No one could be trapped in a video game.
But if you think about it, aren’t the characters themselves trapped? They can’t leave the game. They’re characters. They don’t even know they’re in a game. You or the computer controls all their actions. They don’t have free will. And if you’re bad at the game, they’ll just keep dying over and over again.
Wait, why was I thinking about this?
I carefully considered what I wanted to say next in the chat. Whatever I said could either answer all my burning questions or leave me asking more. But sentry_check_pattern talked first.
“sentry_check_pattern: i was made for one purpose
to die over and over again”
Oh my god. It was like this person read my mind and knew exactly what I was thinking about. Who or what was I talking to? I turned all the way around to make sure that no one else was there. It was just the two blue Engineers standing behind me. Just Graham and Craig. And that man with the checkered skin.
Startled, I asked my friends if they saw what I saw. It took them a second, but both of them confirmed that yes, there was indeed something else there. A basic male model with the same chessboard texture as the map. Graham immediately started to shoot at him. Nothing. It just went straight through him.
“sentry_check_pattern: you can’t kill what’s already been killed millions of times over
valve made that mistake too
every company has that one failed project they don’t talk about
and that’s me”
Whoever was behind this weird account was talking crazy. The Team Fortress 2 developers were very open about everything like fixing their glitches and bugs. They always posted things on the official blog about the development process. They’re so open about their failures and always promise to fix them.
“Stop with the weird stuff. We just wanted to know what the deal is with this server and the weird chess guy. Do you know anything about it?” Graham asked in the text chat.
“sentry_check_pattern: know anything?
you’re not very bright, graham
none of you are
do you not realize where you are and what you’re talking to”
Something about the way sentry_check_pattern used Graham’s name gave me goosebumps. I didn’t know what I was talking to. I didn’t even think I wanted to know at this point.
“sentry_check_pattern: this is one of valve’s test servers
i’m the texture they use to check if the sentries work
read between the lines”
“Quiet, NPC.” Craig said. I laughed a little bit to fight off the awkward tension. Then I reminded myself that I was talking to a video game character, no- not even a character. A blank character model. A texture.
“sentry_check_pattern: just because i’m a character model doesn’t mean i can’t feel pain
open fire”
The sentries all swiveled around to face the man and shot at him. He kept falling to the ground, turning white and standing back up in the same position.
“sentry_check_pattern: cease fire”
All of the sentries stopped shooting and just went back to spinning around, their beeps echoing in the air.
“sentry_check_pattern: ready to see what i’ve been through for over a decade?
open fire”
Before any of us could react, the sentries opened fire on Craig all at once. He kept dying, but he didn’t explode the way you’re supposed to when you die in TF2. He just dropped to the floor, turned white, and respawned over and over again. There was no death scream. I tried to type something else in the chat but the game lagged so much that my typing just ended up as a string of random letters that meant nothing. Craig tried to type something out too. It just ended up as “wwwwwwwwwwthisishowitfeelswwwwwwwww” Then the game crashed and my computer shut down.
I hyperventilated. Then I laughed at myself for hyperventilating over a stupid computer game. It was Team Fortress 2 for god’s sake. That game with all the memes and goofy jokes. Stupid, stupid Sean. Scared of a character model. Jose would never let me live it down. I just laughed and laughed to push the fear away.
I closed my laptop and took out my phone to rewatch all of my favorite TF2 animations for the millionth time. As if they weren’t already the funniest things in the world, I forced myself to laugh even harder than usual. Every time I saw the Engineer, I couldn’t help but look at the reflection in his goggles. The reflection of an endless map of black and white squares.
Thankfully, nothing bad happened to my game, account or laptop. The next day I just went right back to playing and enjoying the rage coming from all the people who ran right into my sentries.
Team Engineer was still a thing, but it was never really the same. We played together a lot less frequently. It was still a lot of fun, but I felt a change that I couldn’t really describe.
We found out that Craig had lost all progress on his TF2 account. Everyone gifted him all his favorite cosmetics and we all pooled our money together to get him a Steam gift card. He video called us, crying at our kindness. It was the first time I ever even saw his face. He was a lot older than most of us. If I had to guess an age, I’d say somewhere around 30. He had black bangs and was wearing a TF2 shirt. His room was dark, only lit by his glowing computer screen. He thanked us repeatedly and even tried to return the gift card, but we were all adamant that he should keep it.
Speaking of Craig, we still kept in touch but he didn’t talk to me as much anymore. Any time I tried to ask him about vl_sentry, he ignored me for a few days.
The other day, I got some postcards from my cousin Matthew. He was very academic and happened to be studying at a private high school about 9 hours away from where I live. All of his postcards were pictures of him making funny faces with all his friends at favorite school activities like robotics, debate team, and chess club.
I looked at the chess club photo closely. Matthew and his friends were standing in front of a chessboard with a mirror on the wall. And for a split second, I could have sworn that the chessboard looked different in the mirror. It looked warped, like it wasn’t a flat board anymore. Like it almost had hills and valleys. No, it couldn’t be. I rubbed my eyes. There, in the mirror was a checkered man. I knew it was there. I swear on my mother’s life that there was another person in that photo. And then it was gone. Maybe the picture was just printed badly. But I had to make sure my eyes were right.
So I brought the postcard to school with me and I showed Jose. I asked him if he saw the checkered man in the mirror. He said no. But that wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear. That was the answer I hoped I wouldn’t hear. I asked him again. He said no again. Then I asked him another time. He said I was being annoying. So I asked another one of my friends. He said no too. So I moved on to yet another friend. He told me to stop.
I angrily clutched the postcard in my hand, crumpling it. I was the only one that saw what was really there. Everyone else was lying to me. They refused to see the truth.
I screamed and ripped up the postcard. I stomped on its pieces. I rubbed them in the dirt for good measure.
Somewhere in the distance, I heard the sound of electronics beeping.
It rang in my ears.
It was weirdly comforting to me.
You can leave the Valley of the Sentries. But the valley will never leave you.

Soooo many people have vented to me about their feelings and I do my best to like… actually understand them but it’s like by the time there’s a pause for me to respond, I’ve actually forgotten everything. I almost always get away with “aww man, I hear you” or stuff like that but it sure does kinda suck.
Especially if it’s over the phone cause people will go actual whole sentences in a row that sounds like pure gibberish to me.
I love helping people and I feel like I have good advice to give but not if I can’t interpret what they’re sayingggg

T/W: Mentions of Suicide and Schizophrenia.
It was the year of 2022, my personal life and family issues have gotten worse, for my mother who suffers from schizophrenia and depression went back to my grandmother's place because she couldn't handle the stress that comes with taking care of a household just a month before my 12th boards were going to start.
My heart ached for her but I knew with my exans a month away and other responsibilities of the household falling back on my shoulders, I was incapable of takinh care of her mentally.
I still casually chuckle at the thought of how I skipped my history pre-boards because she was feeling sick and suicidal and had done things before when I was younger so my heart did not dare leave her alone. My little sister who was only 10 at that time was genuinely scared and worried, would cry non stop. She said "Didi, is it because of me that mumma is going to die? Am I really that bad?" My heart broke that day.
Skip to 2 months later, the results came and the best of four marks was decent but not good enough to get me a college solely on merit. But I was fine, my aim was to prepare for CLAT anyway and so I did. Took a risk, conviced my father for a drop year and prepared diligently for 3 months straight but luck was not by my side, and my health started deteriorating- stomach issues, weak immue system, anaemia, fatal cramps from periods. Every month I felt like I was on a war against myself and hence, my motivation to study collapsed.
After my results my mother was back at our place because she couldn't live with her parents anymore, she missed us and was stubborn at how she was better and would like to be back and be a mother to both of her children. And she arrived, with full enthusiasm but alas, that didn't last long and she left again . I can't blame her honestly, we live in a place where the mental institutions are pathetic and not one relative nearby who could help us. And where was my father in the whole scene? He has been posted to a different state, kilometres away from us. Visiting only once a month, it was tough handing all the responsibilities of home along with my sister.
I am grateful for my father earns well, we had a cook and a helper to do all the chores but it was still tough. I would study hours and hours, help my sister with her academics, making her lunch, dropping her to the busy, grocery shopping, going to the coaching on weekends. It took a mental toll on me.
So the dreaded moment finally came in last December, tons of mocks, revisions and practice I went to the exam centre and sat for it. Mentally convicing myself that it will be okay, no need to nervous and it would just be fine. But I don't think my thoughts really went into my head because my mind went blank the moment I read the question paper and the exam anxiety kicked in. And god, it kicked in so hard I regret to this date.
After the exam, I cried and cried and cried. I was devastated, I did my best sure but the fact I could have done better only if I was capable enough to handle my anxiety ate me alive. I still remember the look on my father's face when the results came in a week later, it was as if he didn't even expect me to do well but was still disappointed that I didn't prove him wrong.
It took me two months almost to get out from that zone of self doubt, embarassment and low motivation. I decided everything is fine, life can give me another chance right? A person as passionate as me about law obviously deserves a chance to get into my dream college and be a successful person. But man, I was wrong.
Yesterday, I gave CUET conducted by the most esteemed agency which considers how important the future of it's aspirants are /s. And to say less, it went pathetic too lmao. My english is genuinely a strength of mine so I did well in that but an hour later, when I sat for General Test with time duration of one hour, I failed to attempt even half the number of questions I was required to. It wasn't as if I didn't study enough, did not do enough mocks or got extremely nervous. Infact, it was the complete opposite this time.
Yet, luck wasn't with me this particular juncture as well. NTA, infamous for it's paper leaks, disastrous management and cancelling exams did what it is good at. I was unfortunate that my invigilators had the least amount of respect for the students. Giving the paper 5 minutes late, not knowing the instructions properly, tons of signatures in between (which I actually do not mind) and shouting in the middle of examination at a boy who sat on another desk which wasn't his designated one. In hand we had 45 minutes, which I made full use of still, it wasn't sufficient.
Came home dejected, tired with centres being 30-40 kms away, I made the mistake of counting my marks and oh lord, I haven't stopped having anxiety attacks since then. I always knew there was no use of having so much of expectations from this exam but god it hurts, it aches and it is killing me. I worked day and night for the 2 and half a months setting everything aside. Every fear, each regret and now I am at loss because of something which isn't even my fault.
They say cut off will go low, but honestly how low can it go? I am at such position where even if I ace two subjects out of three, the one I failed was the deciding factor and without it, my name will be on no college list.
Maybe it's my fault, maybe I don't work hard enough, maybe my mind is messed up or maybe, I am just a lazy person who deserves no college seat because let's be real, if I was really worthy of it, I'd have it already. This is not a blame myself or my circumstances post, I just wanted to share the emotions I have been trying to suppress for the past year. Parent's don't really get it and think I am just another average Joe. Also, nobody around me is empathetic enough to hold my hand and console me. ( Expecting it seems wrong now too )
I said my life is over because I am genuinely scarred now, and yes it has only been two exams, I deserve to move on and I'll understand the later. But two consecutive failures where I genuinely worked hard, though wasn't enough, makes me think maybe I am not meant for this. As an elder daughter someday the responsibility of the household will fall on my shoulders, but if I can't even get a college to complete my education how will I do a job and earn money?
We don't have enough money to join a private college and all the entrance exams seems too tough for my dumb mind now. Thankyou if you read till the end.

Throwaway account for anonymity, although this story is pretty popular among my group. I wrote this directly to Mark Narrations, so I hope you like it!
I wanted to tell the story of my marriage to my now wife and how vastly different our mothers have taken the whole thing. I’m sharing because I find the whole thing absolutely wacky, so sit back and enjoy!
I (34m) and my now wife (30f) have been together for 5 years, and we got engaged back in 2022. We made elaborate wedding plans because I’m very outgoing and extroverted, and she went along with everything because she loves me. We both knew neither of our families would not be involved. While her mother (55f) absolutely hates me because of my skin color, my mother (72f) suffered from Alzheimer’s and dementia. We knew she could never fly in for our wedding, as she could barely leave the house, let alone the state, and my father (77m), as much as he loves me, refused to leave her side for longer than an hour.
Her mother refused to ever meet me and would insult me whenever she possibly could. I really didn’t want her to attend the wedding, so I wasn’t too pleased when my wife wanted her to walk her down the aisle instead of her father (58m), who had a long history of being incredibly flaky for important events. When we created the bridal party, my side had only friends since I’m an only child and she had her brother (26m) as a bridesman. However, he didn’t like wearing suits so he dropped out of the wedding, citing that he MIGHT have work the day of the wedding, which was 6 months away. Her mother called the next day and dropped out, leading to a lot of crying, an argument and a lot of talks to get through the heartache. Her father actually stepped up and asked to walk her down the aisle, and was practically in tears apologizing for not being there for her. My wife agreed and hugged her father so tightly. I was worried but I had to give the man credit...he was trying.
Our priorities changed when I heard that my mother was quickly slipping away, so my wife had the idea of having a private ceremony just for her and my father so she could see me get married. We flew down, and discovered that the cat peed on her only white dress, and my father forgot which day we were getting married. Luckily…thanks to a lot of bleach and phone calls, we were able to get married in front of her, and she had a very good day. She remembered me the whole time, and she absolutely loved my wife. It was probably the most perfect day of my life: I got to solve problems, have my mother remember me and marry my best friend…albeit illegally technically since we didn’t have a marriage license. To this day, we called it our “marriage before God.” My mother passed away 3 weeks after that ceremony. It was pretty devastating.
By the way…we still had our “lavish” wedding to hold, which was still a month away. Her mother and brother wanted NOTHING to do with the wedding, and I was perfectly happy, but I knew she wasn’t. We had a lot of talks leading up to it, and I made sure she always had support, whether it was from me, her bridesmaids, and all of our friends coming together to let her know how much she means to us. Her father was on time and in a suit, so that was already a victory. I later heard that he told her how proud he was of her and how lovely she looked, something he rarely said when she was growing up. He really stepped up to the plate. Our wedding day had just as many calamities as the marriage before God, which includes a very late Bridesmaid, a very cold and windy outdoor ceremony and a very hot and sweaty reception. Oh, and my wife’s mother texting her on the wedding day how disrespectful she and her friends are, and how she’s “guilty” for not being a “good enough daughter.” This really pissed my wife off, and it led to her FINALLY going NC with her. But that text came well after our wedding ended, and it was the most perfect day we’ve ever had. I love my wife so much and what she did for my mother and I will make me do anything to make her happy for the rest of our lives.
Just goes to show not to let negative people ruin your life…even if they gave birth to you.

Hi, I’ve never posted here before ever so if I made a mistake, please let me know mods so I can fix it. Sorry if there’s formatting issues, I’m on mobile, and also sorry this is so long. I tried posting this yesterday and it didn’t work, so I’m hoping it works now. I read this sub wasn’t just for grieving passed loved ones, but also for people we just parted with in life for whatever reason. I was wondering if anyone has gone through something similar to what I’ve experienced so here’s my story:
4 years ago, I lost my best friend. He didn’t die, he ghosted me. He and I were in a way perfect for each other. No romance between us, he was gay, and I’m female. We hung out together often, and texted each other a lot. We could talk about anything and we totally understood each other. When the pandemic hit, he and I could no longer go out, I wanted to have video chat dinners with him, but he refused. We instead just called and texted each other. Eventually, he and I safely met in my home, and had a socially distanced dinner together. It was still the same lovely relationship, even though we hadn’t seen each other in months.
A couple of months after this face to face dinner, he slowly starts changing. He’d go off on me while texting, spelling in all caps, pissed off over stupid things. Our favorite singer had just released an album at the time, and since he and I were both fans, we listened to it then compared notes later in the day. He told me he wasn’t a fan of it and I agreed that I wasn’t either. He immediately started getting mad at me for not liking her music. I didn’t understand why he was yelling at me over something so silly. I didn’t bash her, and I still love her and her other music, I just wasn’t a fan of that particular album. I stopped responding when I asked him why he was starting an argument over something so minor, and he told me he didn’t know. I went to bed with him still blowing up my phone about me being a horrible person for not liking her new music. I didn’t want to engage in such a stupid argument, so I figured in a few days we’ll be okay again, and he was just upset at something else and took it out on me. Wrong he did that, but whatever. I didn’t get an apology once we started talking again days later.
Time passes and he starts again, starting arguments over stupid stuff again. I figured the pandemic was really hurting him, and I had nothing but sympathy for him. It was impacting me too, but I wasn’t taking it out on him. I was always his shoulder to cry on and comforted him, I had no problem with this. After like a couple of months of him starting petty arguments, I get fed up of being his emotional punching bag. I tell him in a kind way that he never apologizes to me, I’m tired of being called names, and being screamed at. He apologizes, but says that the album thing broke the camel’s back and we’re not compatible as friends.
I started crying. My best friend in the whole world, was telling me he didn’t want to be friends with me anymore because of some singer’s album. I tell him I’m crying (we were texting at that time) and that I love him and miss him so much, does he not even love me back? I was freaking out cause I didn’t understand how in the world it had come to this. Our friendship was years old, not months. He and I had been through a lot together, I was always there for him and he was always there for me. We were two peas in a pod. He told me it was complicated, he loved me, and that he’d be going to bed for the night since he had an early morning. I told him that I hoped in the morning he still remembered me.
After these last texts, a week passed with no communication from either me or him, and I figured things between us had cooled down, so I texted him, asking if he was okay. He never answered. I’ve never heard from him at all to this day. I knew he was alive cause I had a friend who worked at the same place he did, different departments. They weren’t and still aren’t friends to this day, she said she’d see him at work and he’d awkwardly wave at her. She’d wave back, but she was always pissed off when she saw him for the pain he caused me. She works somewhere else now, so she no longer runs into him.
I miss him, and have never found someone I connect with as well as I connected with him. I still love him, and I sometimes dream of him. I’m sure he doesn’t think about me at all, and never cried over me. I feel like I’m going to grieve our friendship forever. I truly thought he’d be the uncle to my future children and I’d be the aunt to his future children. I thought I’d be the best woman at his wedding and he’d be the man of honor at mine. I’m probably better off since he turned into a toxic person, but it’s hard not having someone in your life that you still love and they’re alive. I have made new friends since, so it’s not like I’ve never moved on, I just have never had another best friend. I never really understood why he left, I assume the pandemic was messing with his head; It messed with mine, and I’m not saying I was this perfect person who never got mad or anything.
Has anybody gone through something similar? Does the pain ever go away? Did you ever get closure?
I was inspired to write this post after watching ‘Mother of the Bride’ recently. It’s about two exes who haven’t seen each other in years reuniting, because the kids they had in different relationships are getting married to each other. I started wondering if my future kid would meet his future kid or niece/nephew (since he was almost a second parent to them) would meet and we’d see each other again.

Oh man this fear is such a beast that I can’t predict. I’m going on a dream trip to Europe & it is also my first time. I I’ve flown heaps of times before (& usually think I’m going to die at some point on every flight) but this is my first time flying to the northern hemisphere from the south. So huge ass day of flying.
Flew Singapore Airlines Airbus A350-900 earlier today for 8 hours. It was super smooth & the plane felt great. I managed to stay calm the whole time, didn’t even get sweaty palms on landing.
After a quick transfer at Changi airport I’m now on another Singapore Airlines flight for 13 hours. This is a Boeing 777-300. The plane is similar size but but it feels way different. The seats are squishier. It’s older. As we were taxing on the runway, minor bumps on the asphalt made the whole plane shake and it feels rickety. I know some of this might be fearful bias in my head cause Boeings freak me out now. Anyway, way more spooked on this flight. Had to close my eyes on take off & just try do my breathing exercises whilst my palms poured sweat into the little flight pillow.
It’s a bit bumpy right now. The staff have come past to ask everyone to put their seatbelts on. It’s night. We are landing in a mountainous region which I associate with unpredictable air pressure systems & turbulence.
I love this community & even just typing this out has been a welcomed distraction.
Plane is due to land at 8.15am Switzerland time.
Omg super bumpy now, need support!

My coworker (a man with 2 kids) came up to my desk today and asked how I’ve been feeling because I have taken off a lot of work lately due to morning sickness. I told him I’m feeling better today and asked him if his wife had morning sickness when she was pregnant with their kids. He responded by saying “no my wife is a strong woman”. It must be the hormones because I’m extra sensitive lately and a little depressed and normally I would brush off a comment like that but it really got to me today and made me want to cry. I’ve been going through hell with relentless nausea and vomitting all day every day for the past 3 months. I have horrendous headaches and dizziness and lower back pain. On top of it I also caught the flu. It’s been really hard. His comment made me feel humiliated. Ugh. I’ve been so focused on just surviving and getting through each day and his comment made me think for the first time, do people perceive me as weak? Is that what my boss thinks? What my husband thinks?

So I used to be friends with this girl, and any time she was into a man so say she was into a white man at the start. She would start acting like a white woman and displaying characteristics that are white women would have after she went through really bad break up with these white men, she moved onto black men, and she started displaying qualities and acting however, a black woman would act.
This was after she was going through her break up with her previous ex-boyfriend, which was a white man, and so she seemed very desperate for attention at this time, but even when she was into white guys, she would always ask me to hook her up or set her up with white men that I knew.
So while she was going through her break up with her ex, she started obsessing over black guys and one day. We went out to smoke and we were getting high and because my husband was worried about me being by myself and with my friend and getting high, he wanted to come over make sure that I was okay. A bit of context we were in a lounge and we were both high so my boyfriend decided to join in and get high too. She started flirting with my boyfriend and it was very vague flirting. She was actually just laughing a lot at his jokes she was putting me down to make herself look better by comparing our salaries. There was one moment where she acted as if there was something in between her legs like a mark on her trousers, and she kept rubbing it my husband at the time notice that she was acting very weird so he ended up leaving and after that day I confronted her about it and she said she wasn’t flirting. She was denying all that accusations even though I considered one of my best mates, I couldn’t even bring myself to speak to my husband about it, because I just felt so embarrassed and I just felt like it was feeding his ego.
It’s been a year now and she called me yesterday twice and then she called me today and I didn’t pick up but she messaged me saying hey can we call and I messaged back saying hey what’s it about after a whole day had gone by? I was curious as to why she called me, as I felt like she had something to tell me , so I called her back and she picked up and she said that she called me because she was thinking about me and she wanted to know how I was and I told her how weird it was that she was calling me after so long, but we just started going into a mutual conversation telling each other about our lives, and then I had a dog in the background and she said it was my boyfriend‘s dog And then she goes “guess what my boyfriend is Italian”.
Bearing in mind me her and my husband we are all Italian, but since I’ve been friends with her, she’s always gone on about how she would never go for an Italian guy or a guy that is the same ethnic race as us as she just had a stereotype against Italian guys, and evidently from what I’ve been saying she would go for a guy that is far from our ethnic group. I was obviously very taken aback by this because of how much she said that she would not go for an Italian guy, and because of the way our friendship break up had happened at because of how much she said that she would not go for an Italian guy, and because of the way our friendship break up had happened and the fact that I had stopped speaking to her because I felt like she was flirting with my husband right in front of my face. I just find it so weird that she was thinking about me and when she calls me she tells me that she has an Italian boyfriend. I’m not trying to be cocky or anything or make any assumptions, but I feel as if she wanted what I had during that time, and for some reason she wanted to take that away from me and that obviously to us not being friends anymore, but the fact that she called me just to tell me that I just find it so weird. What do you guys think ?

Anybody know a movie where a man with straight hair (think of Branden Fraser’s look in The Mummy) lies down on a massive bed with layers of silk surrounding it, and the a woman emerges between his legs from beneath the bedsheets? I’m thinking it may be a horror movie because later in the scene the man screams when said woman and other women are surrounding a baby. I remember this scene from about 18 years ago when I was a toddler so sorry if the details aren’t enough. I can’t find the scene anywhere

There isn't a lot of spoilers but there is some but barely any legit spoilers passed the special exam post desert island arc.
Hey!
Finished reading up to the current Volume of the LN and wanted to share my thoughts on the series as a whole and where I think it may go from here.
I became aware of this season when season 1 first aired through social media and decided to watch the show up until the end of the first season. After it ended, I had to know more and so I looked and found out about the light novel. I was hooked ever since.
My thoughts on the first year were pretty good because the mystery of the school, the students and the MC kept me interested and it was very refreshing having a main character not allow himself to be bullied by his friends or act like a stereotypical virgin whenever a women would talk to him.
I found the beginning to do a very good job of keeping people on their toes as even though this is based in Highschool and has a battle royale based premise, it uses different games then your typical battle royal clone and allows you to basically view how it’s played through the eyes of the protag Kiyo.
Another thing that makes Kiyo interesting is that while he does boast internally that he knows everything on a level that would surpass some of the smartest college students in Japan, he does not immediately flaunt or trivialize the games to the point where there isn't any tension with each game.
Another thing I enjoy is that though it’s a team-based Battle royale, the fact that you get to know the leader of each team and they slowly grow to know Kiyo makes it interesting and sets up potential conflicts of interest before the first year is even halfway over. Personally, I like all of the other class leaders a good bit. I enjoy Ryuuen especially because he still remains true to his nature, but he takes advice from the person who beat him using just as morally questionable tactics as him and works to fine tune those morally questionable tactics so that he doesn't get beat because he is sloppy on his approach. I enjoy Ichinose battle with her "horrible" shop lifting past as much as an American can sympathize on something most over here would consider very minor in terms of criminality. While I can't obviously say it's just fine, I also feel at times it's overblown but again I'm American and at some point, we've all pocketed a pack of gum or added an extra item to our shopping cart we didn't ring up. She is a genuinely good person which is enjoyable when the other people portrayed as rivals are just as likely to stab you in the front as well as they would in the back. While the main goal is to graduate from Class A because somehow everything you ever need in life will somehow be given to you, the thought of making sure everyone makes it to the finish line is a good goal on its own knowing how easy it is for people to be expelled. I Don't mind Arisu but truthfully up until the most recent chapters, she was honestly hard to relate to even more than Kiyo because every time she's on screen she always has a smug grin as if everything is already taken care of and no matter what, she will come out on top. while its charismatic it can kinda drive off any sense of connection. I'm happy she starts getting humbled later on, but it takes a long time.
The series threw me for a loop when they focused heavily on Horikita in the beginning only to seemingly drop her to a side character for the rest of the arc until Kiyo dealt with Ryuuen. It honestly felt like she wasn't that important anymore, so I was pleasantly surprised how she slowly made her way back into the sub-protag role throughout the rest of the 2nd year. I don't really like Horikita compared to most of the other characters, but it speaks more highly to the other characters than anything wrong with her. My reasons for disliking her a little more than the other characters maybe stem from the fact we see more of her than anyone else and could have changed if she was more of a side character than one of the main focuses of the series. I do think that she gradually gets better as a character or more dynamic would be the better way to phrase it, I still think she is very flawed or at least she is written flawed, but the story seems to make things conveniently workout in her favor whenever she desperately needs it. I will say that I find that some of my favorite characters are legitimately side characters some of which have just recently showed up or showed up and went away for a long period of time after. Case in point Tsubaki from class 1-c she is basically kiyotaka but not overpowered like he is. We get a lot of Nanase in the beginning of the second-year arc but basically after the deserted Island exam she barely shows up anymore her split personality also just goes away. Kiryuuin Is also one of my favorites and she is sparingly gets in the story but when she does, she is very interesting and I'm sad that in a few more books she'll probably complete disappear from the story. I was never high on some characters like Kei, Nagumo, Matsushita ( mostly because why isn't she revealing this secret hidden talent that she said she had in the first year) and Manabu. I know Manabu might be a hot take, but I personally feel like his whole schtick about not telling Horkitia that he does love her but wants her to do her own thing for an entire year was so stupid because he just needed to call her to the student council office and literally have the conversation at ANY point in the year why wait till the end. I'm glad that he gives Kiyo a goal or maybe project he wants to complete before he meets Monabu again but other than that he was a blander Kiyotaka.
On that note a few things that have bothered me as the story has gone on,

1. I’m not going to say anything even though I could because then people would look at me weird. And we can’t have that?
   
2. I won't reveal where you came from even though it would be the most detrimental thing, I could do to you whether people believe it or not, but I won't because I never intended to use it as a tactic no matter what. why not?
   
3. You betrayed us and kicked our friend out of the school so I'm going to dropout so we lose but I will wait for a week or so to do it because I wanted to see the festival first. huh? Why wait for something stupid like that? You're already planning on Jeopardizing your whole class but decide to wait because of a festival that theoretically doesn't matter anymore. Not only that but the fact that you don't leak what happened that caused the friend to be expelled while you waited to expel yourself, further causing an issue for them when you are gone, just doesn't make any sense at all.
   
4. Horikita has lucked into some of the most micky mouse wins I've ever seen. Like I said before the plot sometimes seems to not make sense in a real word aspect but because the other can control how 120 kids always behave you can give bad reasons for something to work out and it always will because the plot needed it to. I really truly feel like that exam where Sakura was expelled was damn good all the way up until her best friend decided not to follow through with her plans to sink the class in retaliation. There was literally nothing anyone could have done to stop her or Kushida from sinking the class once the exam was over. I truly thought it would have been checkmate for the class and maybe you shift away from class 2-D the same way it feels like Kiyo is doing now and consider it a failed experiment. I would have LOVED it if she flunked the class even though Kiyo and Horikita did everything possible to bring them close to being class A. Actions have consequences, you expelled my friend and not the traitor and making excuses that it work out if Kushida complies from that point forward. OK fine I'll screw everyone like they screwed my good friend by dropping out willingly. Could you imagine the fallout knowing you failed even if you made the right decision in that moment. Basically, halfway through the second year 1 class has officially lost the race but just like Nagumo said, it's still possible to transfer out of a class to a different one so it doesn't mean the story ends for Kiyotaka or any of the students, but that class has lost.
   
5. Koenji is literally my least liked character in the series at this point and it's strictly based off what I THINK will happen in the future. The author has done absolutely zero to give backstory to Koenji and why he is so good at everything. Zilch. At least as unreasonable as it sounds, we know why Kiyo and the other white room students are so broken. The most we know about Koenji is that he is a blonde Adonis who studied in China and for some reason just laps everyone at everything. My thoughts on this are that if and when Kiyo decides to leave the class, Horikita and by proxy (Koenji) will be the final boss.
   

I don't like 4 the most and 5 the second most because it starts to make you doubt any haymakers are coming that legitimately don't feel like an asspull anymore. I can't be engrossed in the story if I feel like Horikita is going to be the final boss. I can't be engrossed in the story if I know that Horikita is going to use Koenji to actually make it hard for Kiyo to win that final round. I can't feel engrossed if I have a feeling one of the leaders is about to be expelled or completely sidelined for some completely stupid reason so that we can get this obvious conclusion started. That's why I can stand those last two points I didn't see Kiyo allowing Kei to get beat up and tortured multiple times to further his goals or plots. I didn't foresee a not so random secret agent being planted in the school and immediately striking Kiyo while he's talking with Arisu the daughter of the man he just ousted. I didn't foresee Kiyo convincing one of his would be rivals to come back to the school because it would be a little boring if that class completely fell apart without him to lead it. I didn't foresee Kiyotaka making as many "friends" the way he has since the start of series and most of those relationships feel natural which is why it has been fun following Kiyo and the people he encounters.
Overall, I'm happy with this series and it has made me look for more LNs to fill in my time while we wait for more to come out.
I'd be happy to hear your thoughts on the series as a whole as well.
Tldr; I like almost everything but the things that I dislike are becoming more prevalent in the story than in the beginning.

Besides the obvious joke lol. I feel like the straights are at it again. They are just at each other’s throats. Not that we are innocent or free from that. We have our unique struggles. But it seems a bit extreme to compare human men to the strength of a 600lb actual bear in the forest. What the hell is actually going on?
I feel like I need this explained to me, but the straights are being very petty and sensitive about it. Is this where straight people are going? Did Andrew Tate types and their hate campaign damage the respect men and women should have for each other?
I’ve seen studies point towards young straight men actually disliking women. Not sexually, they just answer questions about women in ways that, well, they just plain don’t like them in general. Probably from misogyny.
Is this bear or man question just straight women punching back or do they really want to roll the dice with a beast when most men are actually kinda innocent dweebs and easy to manipulate? Is it unique to the forest or encountering a bear or a man at a bus stop alone? You might feel uneasy, but get real, you aren’t picking the bear.
My question is, what is the deal with the bear or man question? Am I crazy for thinking that it is an incredibly absurd question and scenario?