Womens outfits torn off

So, existential crisis of the day hit me harder than a rogue autorickshaw on a narrow lane. Has women's empowerment, you know, the whole "saree-clad-CEO" revolution, gone a little too desi for our comfort?
Here's the thing. We've got these firecracker feminas online, shaking their groove thing to dhol beats in outfits that would make even Kareena Kapoor blush (gasp!). And guess what? They're raking in the moolah for it! Now, I'm all for breaking the bangles and doing your thang, but is this the "thang" that'll get featured on our next Republic Day parade? It's enough to make a grown man question his chai intake.
But the real head-scratcher is the fam behind these, ahem, energetic dancers. Let's talk about the dads, bless their samosas. Imagine settling down for your daily dose of Saas-Bahu after a long day, only to be greeted by your little princess - the one you taught to do Surya Namaskars and differentiate between ghee and vanaspati - twerking like a possessed sprinkler on Holi. There she is, navel on full display, moves that would put Govinda to shame, and you're supposed to do what? Crack open a Limca and yell, "Wah, beta!"? The mind boggles faster than a lost pigeon in Chandni Chowk.
And the brothers? Don't get me started. Picture this: You're scrolling through Insta, innocently checking out pictures of Raju Srivastav, when BAM! There's your sister, the one you used to chase around the house with a badminton racket, looking like she auditioned for a Bollywood item song that got rejected for being "too much". Suddenly, that childhood vow of "rakhi ke liye jaan de dunga" takes on a whole new meaning. Do you like the video? Do you comment with a fire emoji? Do you just... call Panditji for a puja to ward off the evil eye?
Honestly, the future's looking more confusing than an instruction manual for putting together an IKEA bed. All I know is, these ladies better have some Ayurvedic insurance, because those dance moves are bound to break something - either the internet, societal norms, or maybe just a couple of ankles. So, buckle up Bharat, this Bollywood dance number is just getting started!
(P.S. Disclaimer: Strictly hypothetical scenario. No sisters or relatives shaking it online here. Just a concerned citizen with a rumbling stomach and a weakness for puns.)

I wasn't planning on watching Thrice Upon A Time. I had not liked the previous films and they seemed like a very inferior product compared to the original anime. However, the good reviews and opinions I saw about it encouraged me to do so. I did it with as open and tolerant a mind as possible, knowing that there was a good chance I wouldn't like the film. "What's the worst that could happen? That I don't like it and continue to prefer the original series? At least I'll be entertained for two and a half hours," I thought. What I did not expect at all is the deep feeling of disgust and repulsion that this film provoked in me, in a way that no other film has provoked in years.
I hated the movie from start to finish. I could spend hours talking about the boring action sequences, about its ugly, excessive CGI that ruins the already ugly mecha, about its disgusting hypersexualization of fucking 14-year-old girls, about how Misato's plans don't make sense, about how Last Kiss almost made me tear my ears off, or its plot full of Deus Ex Machinas with concepts conveniently taken by Hideaki Anno from the place that his last name suggests; but the real reason I'm writing this is because I feel like these movies spit on everything the excellent original work represents.
Not only because as adaptations they fail miserably, but also because they retroactively damage the original work (we'll talk about that later).
Before I begin to explain why the rebuilds are bad adaptations, I want to warn that I am going to do a relatively exhaustive review of the 4 films, so this rant is going to be very long, like staying up late on a winter night with chronic insomnia. That said, let's start to see the reasons:
WHAT IS NEON GENESIS EVANGELION?:
To understand why rebuilds fail as remakes, I must first ask you, dear reader: What does Neon Genesis Evangelion mean to you? (it should at least be familiar to you, unless you've spent your life under a bridge) What do you think about when you read that title, apart from Shinji fucking in front of a comatose Asuka? What comes to mind when you hear the most famous opening in anime history, apart from Shinji strangling the otter against Happy Thursday's throat? (in more ways than one). If your answer is: "It's a mecha anime for emos with a coomer protagonist", that's fine, I respect that; but please press the red "X" in the top right corner of your screen, you can now leave.
Now, I'm going to get serious and explain my definition: Evangelion is a work about the hedgehog's dilemma and the difficulties of forming emotional bonds that human beings have, as well as the consequences of trying to separate from them for fear of rejection. It is not a story about heroes. It's not a story about saving the world. In Evangelion there are neither heroes nor villains, but rather a group of emotionally broken characters trying to be happy in a world just as broken as them. The real enemy of Evangelion is not the angels. It is the lack of communication and empathy.
https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dilema_del_erizo
It is that same lack of communication and empathy that progressively causes everything to go to hell to conclude with a cathartic and bleak ending, but consistent with the themes of the work. It is therefore an existentialist work about human relationships disguised as a mecha anime. This, added to a unique visual style, daring direction, and mechas like never before seen on television, made Evangelion one of the most influential anime in all of history, as well as a true commercial success for Gainax Studio. Success that encouraged other studios to carry out projects such as Cowboy Bebop or Serial Experiment Lain, taking anime towards a new golden age.
Even today you can hear the echoes of that Third Impact of End of Evangelion in 1997. The list of works influenced by Evangelion both inside and outside of Japan is endless. Of course, it is not a perfect work, nor extensive in errors: its target audience is ambiguous, many of the biblical references are more for decoration than anything else, and several aspects of the ending(s) could have been explained better. However, many of these errors can be attributed to a lack of time and budget during the production of the original anime (which was quite chaotic and improvised); therefore, they are understandable and forgivable.
In summary, we can conclude that Evangelion is a dark, introspective, provocative and unique work (at least at its time). This is also combined with a unique visual identity and complex characters whose relationships intertwine and interconnect throughout the work. The sum of all these factors is what led Evangelion to be such a critically acclaimed work that it transcended its own genre and became an icon of popular culture. And this in turn constitutes the biggest mistake of rebuilds; because they commit the biggest sin that an adaptation can commit: denying everything that made the original work great.
ADAPTING WITHOUT A CLEAR PURPOSE:
One of the biggest problems with these remakes (as well as a clear example of what I'm saying) is their total narrative inconsistency. Let me explain: the first rebuilds movie (1.11) is a literal copy-paste of the first 6 chapters of the original anime, with practically the same scenes, dialogues and even music. This makes the film completely redundant and unnecessary (and makes one wonder why it exists); But in any case, the message is being conveyed that the purpose of these remakes is to adapt the original series as faithfully as possible to the cinema with a current animation style.
However, the second movie (2.22) is a... something. A pastiche of new and old things where the plot broadly follows that of the original anime, but with many things changed (of course, for the worse) and a different ending. All this compressing no less than 14 chapters of the original anime into two and a half hours. Here the message that one can infer is that it seeks to adapt the original story (very briefly) by changing and rearranging certain elements, now more in line with what an adaptation is.
However, then we get to 3.33 and... well, after a 14-year because reasons timeskip, we're now in a post-post-apocalyptic world (repetition intended) where ex-Nerv members fight against Nerv itself. Nerv in giant spaceships, there are mechas everywhere, Misato is a sociopath, and Shinji and Asuka still look exactly the same because "DAMN JEBA." Here we can infer that what is sought is to create a totally new story and take it in different directions than the original. The following movie (3.0+1.01) is the only one that is consistent with this purpose.
Whether all these narrative pirouettes were planned in advance or not (clearly not), we can see that there is a clear incongruity between what is intended to be done and what is finally done. All of this generates a strong narrative chaos where the elements and themes of the original anime are mixed with the new ones, creating a total inconsistency. Since also in 3.0+1.01 it is revealed (unfortunately to me) that everything is part of the same universe and this is not really a remake, the excuse of "they are different universes, they don't have to be the same" doesn't work either.
In fact, one thing that you will see me comment a lot throughout this article is the lack of narrative consistency of these remakes, especially in comparison to the original work.
A HEDGEHOG WITHOUT TICKS:
No character in Evangelion better embodies the central theme of the work than Shinji Ikari, its own protagonist. Shinji is not a hero: he is not brave. He is not a genius. He is not charismatic. He is not selfless. He doesn't want to save the world. His reason for piloting the Eva is to gain recognition and appreciation from others; especially from his father, whom he hates, but at the same time admires; He feels that she despises him, but he also wants (and needs) that she loves him. Shinji spends the entire series in the dilemma between escaping from what hurts him (classic avoidance behavior) or accepting it and moving on, even at the risk of being hurt again.
This theme is rock solid throughout the entire original series: from the first to the last chapter of the anime, and from minute one to the very end of End of Evangelion. Even the opening itself makes several visual references to Shinji's hedgehog dilemma. This can make Shinji an infuriating character for audiences accustomed to typical anime protagonists; but it's those same things that make Shinji such a unique and special character. He deconstructs and subverts the hero's journey. And it's not as if this hinders the plot: Shinji is not proactive, but he also does not spend the series crying, as many often claim.
https://files.catbox.moe/eolho0.mp4
https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monomito
And as you may already be imagining, the Shinji of the rebuilds does not have a hedgehog's dilemma. Or rather, he has it, but only during the first movie (copy-paste of the original anime) and part of the second. This is a problem, because it creates a strong narrative inconsistency (again) where it seems that two Shinjis exist at the same time or that this one is bipolar. As of 3.33, Shinji's entire character arc is based on trying to redeem himself for his past mistakes first by unleashing "Almost Third Impact" (what a stupid name) and subsequently preventing Kaworu's death while trying to right said mistake.
Is this a bad thing? Not necessarily. The problem is that I have already seen the arc of the hero who fails to eventually rise up and succeed in 100 trillion works, while the hedgehog's dilemma in none more than in Evangelion (at least in my case). Which makes Shinji a much less interesting character. Some might argue that in 3.0 + 1.01 Shinji does have such a dilemma because he spends half the movie crawling on the ground; but there is not a hedgehog's dilemma, but rather depression for having seen Kaworu's head go KAWOOM (I know, the joke was very bad, but if he didn't do it, I would explode too).
End of Evangelion's Shinji did have such a dilemma because the reason for his depression was having been manipulated and used by someone he had previously opened up to and then forced to kill him, not for failing in his mission (in fact, he was very efficient in her mission to separate Kaworu's head from her body), which in turn brings sexual (and later, deadly) results for Asuka. I insist: narrative consistency. But this is not the worst: the worst thing is that at certain moments in these films, Shinji becomes the typical shonen savior hero, betraying the central point of his character in the original series.
https://youtu.be/E-x-f2OrWeA
A perfect example of this is the ending of 2.22, where the fight in chapter 19 (COINCENTLY from where the original anime starts to get more introspective) is transformed into a ridiculous shipping attempt, with Rei turned into a damsel in distress and Shinji into a savior hero while spouting all the typical cliché lines, topped off with a disgustingly cheesy ending. But of course, how could it end otherwise? With Shinji's Eva practicing cannibalism on Zeruel's corpse (the original scene)? Too disturbing for current times. Shinji and Rei fighting as a team to defeat him? Yes of course. Rei has enough not being in the kitchen. Besides, Asuka already takes care of that, hoping to receive her alpha male's cock as a reward.
https://youtu.be/TPS0Uk0TkP0
Because, like any good modern anime protagonist, Shinji now has a harem.
FETISHING WITHOUT CONTROL:
Of all the characters who are now part of Shinji's harem, the one who is most harmed by this is Rei (Asuka's case is different, and the other character is an infernal creation from Anno's sick mind). Not only because acting like a bitch in heat goes totally against her personality and because of the murky situation, considering that she is a clone of Shinji's mother, but also because her character is reduced to a mere fetish object that does things cute to produce tenderness in the viewer and make coomers buy their figurines.
Rei is an interesting character because he raises numerous existential questions based on the ship of Theseus paradox: the concept of identity, to what extent we can consider ourselves still ourselves, the construction and definition of a "self", etc. But here, her screen time piloting her Unit 00 is minimal (COINCENTLY most of it in 1.11) and her exploits are practically irrelevant or non-existent, also being reduced to a mere damsel in distress at the end of 2.22, as I said before.
https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paradoja_de_Teseo
In 3.0+1.01 he doesn't even get to pilot an Eva. Her role in the film is to cause pity and produce tenderness with her total ignorance (I see that the idiot Anno forgot that all the Reis are born with basic knowledge) while she is seen with different hairstyles, different outfits, working as a farmer, taking care of a baby, etc. In short, a fetish object where she wants the public to value her for how "moe" she is instead of for her abilities or as a character. In Anno's mind, feminism advances in reverse. Ironic, considering that it was precisely Rei who unintentionally started the moe culture.
Of course, it goes without saying that Rei is not the only one who suffers from this extreme fetishization of her character in these films. Under the excuse of paying homage to End of Evangelion, Asuka now always wears an eye patch (needless to say it has nothing to do with having been injured there), a cap with cat ears, in addition to having a very convenient trend for the coomer public of walking naked and semi-naked through other people's houses. She sometimes puts on the plugsuit, but near the end of the movie, it is conveniently torn off, lest we forget that this is made by the Japanese.
One of the best examples of how this hareminication has destroyed the main female characters is in the elevator scene. In the original anime, Rei tries to advise Asuka in a time of particular vulnerability and depression. Rei's limited social skills, coupled with Asuka being Asuka, cause her to misinterpret the attempt to help as mockery and an act of condescension, triggering a slap from her towards Rei and a worsening of her already strained relationship and Asuka's mental state. Rei doesn't fight back because she knows that doing so would only make things even worse.
It is an excellent dramatic scene because it once again brings to the foreground the hedgehog's dilemma and the difficulties between human relationships, very much in line with what Evangelion is. In 2.22, this scene is gratuitously introduced and turned into two horny bitches fighting over which of the two will let their alpha male penetrate first, with a highly OC Rei stopping the assault attempt in a 100% gangsta way to make her see more "cool." The scene doesn't even make plot sense, because Asuka at that moment is not even depressed, and in the original anime this occurs at a much later time under a very different context.
and speaking of asuka...
SOMEONE CALLED ASUKA:
When I started watching these movies, I was afraid that Asuka's character had undergone modifications to make her more "palatable" to new audiences. What took me completely by surprise was how radically different this Asuka is from the original. So different that they can't even be considered the same character. To show it very clearly, we are going to review the personality of both:
Asuka from the original anime: An energetic and outgoing half-German, half-Japanese girl (actually it's 1/4, but who cares) who loves to be the center of attention and have everyone praise her due to the lack of parental love received during her childhood having been abandoned by her father and supplanted by her mother, who suffered from severe mental disorders. She is extremely proud and competitive because she feels that being Eva's pilot is the only thing that gives her an identity and purpose, which makes her tend to become quickly frustrated when things don't go her way and become defensive when she feels like she is being outmaneuvered. . He loves to make fun of others (especially Shinji), to the point of being cruel at times, but he does not do it out of malice, but rather to compensate for his enormous inferiority complex due to the rejection suffered by his mother and having witnessed her. committed suicide (and possibly even tried to kill her) the day she was chosen as Eva's pilot and came running to wish her a Happy Thursday. She admires Kaji and wants to fuck him because she hates her own adolescence, she needs to feel adult and independent due to suffering from a certain Electra complex for having lacked a true father figure during her childhood. She has a sweet and vulnerable nature, but she rarely expresses it to anyone except her best friend Hikari and I better stop this now because too much text.
Rebuild Asuka (hereinafter "Asuka"): A girl soldier created by Nerv as part of a series of clones who has always been alone and thinks she doesn't need anyone, although she secretly wishes to have a family. She hits and insults others for no reason, she yells a lot, never smiles or makes jokes, and hates socializing with others, which doesn't stop her from looking for Shinji's dick within 2 days of meeting him. She always plays video games while someone is talking to her and at night she talks to herself with a doll like an autistic person.
As we can see, these two characters not only look nothing alike: several of their traits directly contradict each other. Because they look alike, they are not even alike in aesthetics: the original Asuka had red hair and dressed in the traditional feminine way, while "Asuka" is light brown and dresses in a tomboy style (which I'm not saying is wrong, I'm just commenting to show the radical difference). It's not that they have changed Asuka: it's that they have directly murdered her to supplant her by someone with whom she only shares her first name (not even her last name). And needless to say, the change has been VERY for the worse.
To describe the first character, I had to spend 15 damn lines, and even then I had to leave out many important facets of his personality, his development in the original series and his entire character arc in EoE, because if I didn't have one endless bible For the second, 6 lines were enough for me, and I could have had more left over if I had been more concise. The first character is a complex and three-dimensional character, with multiple facets, edges and layers. She feels like a real person. The second character is a generic tsundere that you can find in any mecha anime of the week. She is not even comparable to the first; She's not even a good character.
We cannot speak of Flanderization because not even the most basic traits of the character have been respected. Nor can we speak of a deconstruction because that same absence of basic traits means that there is no character construction on which to stand in the first place. Obviously, this change greatly resents the interactions between characters: the original Asuka was a charismatic and fun character with the ability to drive the plot on her own (as soon as she appears in chapter 8 of the original anime she is already changing the entire dynamic between characters) , while "Asuka" is mostly only in the background or to fight; He doesn't even have a character arc as such. In fact, in 2.22 he has even less screen time than several supporting characters.
His chemistry with Shinji is also non-existent (and I'm not just referring to the romantic level) and they barely have any development together. They like each other here because... ehhhh... she likes how he cooks and he thinks she's hot? It's not that the AsuShinji (or ShinSuka, or whatever the hell it's called) here is forced: it's just that it doesn't even make sense. The only reason people still ship them together is because they did it in the 90s. Yūko Miyamura's performance also feels very lackadaisical and lacks passion, which is quite unlike her. Although perhaps this is intentional, since her character always talks as if she has the spear of Longinus permanently stuck up her rectum. In fact, the few times she says her iconic "Anta baka?" This one feels very forced, in addition to not having her characteristic high-pitched tone.
In short, the character has suffered the same fetishization as Rei (gamer girl, tomboy, one-eyed, etc.), but also with the aggravating factor that not even her basic characteristics have been respected here. This is especially disconcerting when we take into account that the rest of the characters have their original personalities more or less intact (albeit simplified). Even more disconcerting if we take into account that Asuka is possibly the most popular character in all of Evangelion, and even more so if we consider that she is Anno's favorite character (in fact, the initial idea was for Asuka to be the protagonist).
https://evaresources.wordpress.com/der-mond/
Given this, the inevitable question arises: "Why?" What was the point of turning Asuka into an inferior and tsundere copy of Rei, even more so when there are already three clones? It has always been rumored that Asuka is not popular in Japan, but that is completely false. The only semi-rational explanation I can think of is that they did it to please the haters. It's no secret that a portion within the Evangelion fandom (and outside of it) hates Asuka with a passion. They see her as someone toxic and cruel who dedicates herself to screwing others for no reason, without understanding that you don't have to like a well-written character.
https://imgur.com/a/KznXE1x
What these people fail to understand is that Asuka's verbal abuse is a defense mechanism to avoid opening up to others, since Asuka constantly says things that do not fit with what she really feels or thinks (clear proof is chapter 16 from the original series). It's not like it matters much, considering they were never more than an extremely vocal minority. That the character is so popular is proof of this. The great irony of all this is that the new "Asuka" is a much more unpleasant and detestable character than the original, since she lacks the redeemable qualities of the original and her moments of comic relief.
And if until now I have been more or less benevolent with this remake, this is something I cannot forgive: because changing a character just because a group of people doesn't like it is one of the most cowardly and pathetic acts in the world. that a writer can fall. The fact that this was also at the expense of one of the best female characters in the history of anime and with a wonderful story arc makes it even more bloody. Any other halfway competent writer would have responded with this.
https://youtu.be/5Js0ea6yPKM
...although if we go by Ockham's razor, the most likely explanation is simply that Hideaki Anno is mentally retarded.
A CHARACTER TO DESTROY A FRANCHISE AND BIND IT TO DARKNESS:
Mari Makinami Illustrious A.K.A María Iskariote (what an appropriate last name) is one of the worst creations ever made by humans. Not since the atomic bombs has humanity created something so horrible. Worse than the holocaust. Worse than fascism. Worse than Facebook memes. Worse than stepping on a lego. I would even dare to say that it is worse than pizza with pineapple. No character better reflects Anno's mental decline or better embodies all the problems of the current anime industry than this trash.
This character contributes absolutely nothing to the plot, he does not contribute at any time to its advancement, he lacks his own development or story, he does absolutely nothing relevant in the 3 films in which he appears, and he does not even have a defined personality. So much so, that all of her scenes could be eliminated or replaced by any other character and she would barely affect the plot, or not affect it at all.
The character is so frighteningly one-dimensional that she doesn't even show different emotions or moods during the three films in which she appears, always being perpetually happy and carefree even in tense situations for literally no reason. This leads to moments as surreal as her starting to sing and hum in scenes that are intended to be serious or dramatic (or so I think; perhaps what they wanted was to turn this into an unintentional comedy), again generating a gigantic narrative dissonance. The last third of 3.33 is the best example of this.
But that's not the worst: this character is clearly made for otaku coomers to masturbate to. She has almost every fetish possible: glasses/lenses (whatever they call it in your country), pigtails, miniskirt, schoolgirl, saying "nya", big tits, obsession with smell and tight outfits, etc. To make matters worse in 3.0 + 1.01 we discover that she is 48 years old, so we can also add the milf fetish. Evidently, her tits always bounce in her plugsuit (she would swear that never happened in the original series) and there are many close-ups of her ass. In addition to constantly making sexual advances towards Shinji, which also turns this piece of shit into a potential pedophile.
If the thing simply ended there, we could say that this character remains a mere annoying and unnecessary secondary character. Unfortunately, the character is also disruptive to the plot, occupying long filler scenes that do nothing more than waste time that is already scarce in a film, and that could have been used on something else more interesting; like Pen Pen watching TV, Pen Pen eating a sardine, etc. Without going any further, both 2.22, 3.33 and 3.0+1.01 begin with a long filler scene of her hitting on her. Well, to be honest, the 3.33 one is more Asuka, but this abortion is still out there fucking and singing.
It would not be an exaggeration to say that discussing why this character exists is much more interesting than any other debate that can be created about these films. I still think about it. However, the ending of 3.0+1.01 gives a good clue: the character was created solely and exclusively to stay with Shinji. I can only imagine that Anno made this tired of the fandom shipping and the arguments over who Shinji should stay with, so he decided to end the matter by creating his own ideal waifu with all the fetishes he likes in a woman to end it. with this. It's disgusting, but considering we're talking about a Japanese, totally possible.
It's surreal coming from the man who harshly criticized the use of anime as escapism and the excessive female objectification and sexualization in it, but it's the only semi-decent explanation I can think of. Basically, he is what is called a mascot character in literature. That would explain why this character never shows doubts, nor any kind of internal conflict, or why he is a better Eva pilot than Asuka and Rei themselves. It is also very revealing about the quality of the Rebuilds: creating a self-insert OC just to be the partner of the protagonist or another main character is the quintessential trait of all bad fanfiction.
However, among all this tsunami of disqualifications, I also have to say something positive: spending three movies giving hope to the shippers only to have Shinji be cuckolded simultaneously by Rei and Asuka in the last one and end up with a character with which had zero development (before 3.0+1.01 I didn't even know its name) is a true trolling masterclass, worthy of the best of ball pumpers. Only a true emperor of evil would have come up with such a twisted and at the same time perfect way to screw over a large part of the fandom. I give you my tens, Anno.
THE ANTI-UNIVERSE OF ANTI-NARRATIVE:
Of all the new concepts that Anno brings up at the last minute from the place named after his last name, none stands out more than the "anti-universe." Or, as I like to call it, the "anti-good writing." Basically because it perfectly represents all the problems of the rebuilds and their script. In the final stretch of 3.0+1.01 we have the last-minute revelation of a quantum plane of existence capable of turning imagined worlds into reality and changing this through Lilith, which cannot be understood by the human mind (wow, WHAT CONVENIENT!) and whose existence has never been mentioned or even hinted at in the entire franchise until CONCIDENTLY the aforementioned last third of the film.
In other words, a gigantic Deus Ex Machina created in an improvised way to avoid repeating End of Evangelion and forcing a happy ending where Shinji creates an ideal universe for each character (although that is questionable, as we will see later). And it is far from being the only one: the spear of Cassius, the Eva of Infinity, the key of Nebuchadnezzar, the Book of Life, and so on. None of these concepts are integrated into the plot in an organic and natural way, but rather they arise spontaneously at its convenience when it needs it. Except for the new "Super Berserker Mode" of the Evas, which is simply a power-up to sell figurines.
As I said before, if at least this were an alternate universe separate from the original anime, all this bombardment of concepts pulled out of the ass would be a little better justified. But the revelation that everything is a cycle and we are in the same universe as the original work only makes it even worse, generating countless inconsistencies about why they never mentioned this or never used that (what's the point of the seeds of life If you can create universes simply by imagining them?). Although without a doubt, the worst of all these new concepts is "the curse of Eve."
Here we have a new concept with very strong repercussions completely launched, which is not even an explanation in itself, it does not answer anything and to make matters worse, the same films contradict each other several times. Needless to say, this is a cheap excuse for the three main characters not to grow up and continue sexualizing 14-year-old girls after the most gratuitous timeskip ever seen. And speaking of timeskip, putting such a long one in the middle of the story is a first-time writing error. If you are writers, never do that: the bigger the time jump, the more things you will be forced to explain, since the less you do it, the more plot holes will form as a result.
And of course, here it explains little to nothing of what happened these 14 years. Like where Nerv got such a tremendous base from, if in 3.33 it seemed that together with Rei and Kaworu it was made up of four people. Or how they have gotten such an army of pseudo-Evas, especially when these are supposed to be extremely expensive (wow, and SEELE with all her unlimited resources was barely 9 in EoE). Or worse yet, how Kaji managed to stop Almost Third Impact (seriously, the name couldn't be stupider). None of these questions are answered at any time. Obviously because they can't do it.
Evangelion has always been characterized by leaving things up to the public's interpretation, but here I feel that they are vilely taking advantage of it so as not to have to give any kind of explanations. And in the case at hand, do not even pay attention to contradictions. Like Touji and Kensuke got on Unit 01 and that doesn't stop them from being 28 after the timeskip. Or that Mari appears to be 14 despite looking like an adult in Gendo's photos and flashbacks, plus the fact that Evas, by simple logic, could not exist back then.
The height of absurdity is when near the end of 3.0+1.01 the "unexpected" revelation occurs (actually we all saw it coming) that everything is a cycle and we are facing a reboot of the original timeline, of which only Kaworu seems to be conscious. He let them guess without giving them any clues how many times Kaworu mentioned or even hinted at such a thing in the original series. Needless to say, nothing is ever explained about it: Who created that cycle? (Adam? Lilith? The First Ancestral Race? Hideaki Anno's last name?) For what purpose? How does it work? How long does it last? Why is Kaworu the only one who remembers him? Do these remakes make sense?
THE DEATH OF A STYLE:
Fortress-cities folding in on themselves. Designs and constructions oscillating between the nineties, the utopian and the cyberpunk. Meshes of flesh and blood animated with the souls of the dead fighting with classical music in the background. A mysterious and ambiguous lore where aliens, technology and conspiracies mix with gnostic, cabalistic elements and the most esoteric aspects of Christianity (did the History Channel predict Evangelion?). Minimalist posters moving quickly between frames. Monochrome backgrounds flashing aggressively (bad luck if you were epileptic). So consistent with its themes that the A.T. fields themselves. They were an allegory of the hedgehog's dilemma (I'm not making this up, Kaworu himself says it in chapter 23).
https://imgur.com/a/2M0eDVK
The sum of all these factors is what allowed Evangelion to build an absolutely unique identity, the one that allowed people to say "hey, that's an Eva!". Starting in 3.33, all that is lost to disappear in 3.0+1.01 in favor of giant spaceships, mechanical mechas made of pure CGI, battles full of colored lights, multiverses and time loops. I'm not saying these elements are bad in and of themselves, but I've already seen a thousand mecha stories with these. For that, I start watching any of the versions of Gundam or Macross. I could also complain about the boring shots without audiovisual language and always using the same color palette, but to be fair, that is an endemic evil of current anime.
And like any bad remake, 3.0+1.01 can't help but pay homage to several scenes from the original work, completely failing to understand the point of said scenes. As an example, we have Ritsuko shooting Gendo for no reason other than to pay homage to End of Evangelion, ignoring that the context between both scenes is very different. Furthermore, here they never explain the relationship that exists between the two, so the scene makes no sense; especially for those who never saw the original series, who will also find mentions of facts that these films have never shown or bothered to explain.
Even worse is when they try to pay homage to the iconic battle between Asuka and the Eva Series. Not only because of the total absence of the graphic violence and choreography of the original, but because what makes that fight so remembered is its emotional component, since it is preceded by a narrative catharsis in which Asuka discovers that the Her mother's soul was always in Unit 02, in addition to being marked by the constant tension of knowing if she will be able to finish the fight before the Eva's energy supply runs out. Here the Evas never run out of energy (why do they need the power supply, then?), so there is no such tension.
In the original fight Asuka may not be shooting 1387945 Evas with a super cannon larger than her as she falls through an... interdimensional hole?; But there you feel every blow, you can appreciate every movement in detail, and the dramatic tension in crescendo only improves the result. If this were a shonen, the logical thing is that Asuka would win. After all, her character arc has been wrapped up in a climactic way. Unfortunately, this is Evangelion. When the Evas Series manage to cause a mortal wound with the pseudo-spear of Longinus and the energy counter reads zero, the outcome is already decided. What happens next is horrific (Asuka's enemies are cruel to her even after she is dead), and just as horrifying are Yūko Miyamura's screams and Miki Nagasawa's performance as Maya announcing that Asuka is dead. In the Rebuilds there are no performances anywhere near that level.
End of Evangelion will be as dark and uncomfortable to watch as you want, but it is a film where all those responsible put their souls into achieving the best possible result, both on a technical and artistic level.
and well, I think that for today I have already downloaded too much, an apology for the large amount of text, I will make a second part at another time because I have so many things to comment on... anyway, I hope you have a good day/afternoon/night or when you read this .

Desperate need of help.
I made two close friends over the course of last year, despite getting betrayed in previous friendships, which was a big step for me. This previous year I've been at home so this was inevitable too. R & L got close to me. They were neighbours but never got along with each other, though they got along with me nicely.
I sort of realised that they both tend to drain me a lot so I made a group chat with them and another acquaintance. R and Z wanted to expand their social circle, L wanted to tag along. Now, L was the type to barely read the chat, but excessively share her problems with us now and then. Draining. R is an egoist by heart, could not tolerate someone different from her. She likes me because I tend to mould myself according to different people.
The acquaintance (Z) had initially been fond of R but soon got tired of her ego and inability to adapt to situations. Which; understandable, but she didn't have to be a jerk about it. Z left the GC after a situation where R said an offhanded remark that disrespected Z.
Now, I got really mad at this, so much that I gave R the silent treatment. I was confused back then too; what stance should I take? But in the end, L brought us together. She listened to R's rants, asked me if I was fine. A group video call and discussing the problem later, we were fine. R and L got closer after that, mostly because I was not always available to talk (ambivert here) and they bonded amongst themselves in my absence.
THE PROBLEM
Me, R and L spend months keeping the GC active, getting closer. I would think that things were fine but at some points they weren't. R and L got along well at first, but L's problem of oversharing everything was getting in the way. I wouldn't call her a narcissist– L is far from that. But maybe she's not used to social cues and her way of bonding is through her tragic stories. While I understand that friends should be there for each other in times of need; and the past year has been a bottom pit for us three, doing things excessively is a problem.
R entertained this at first but soon got tired of it. Repeated bombardment of L's situation with her crush who was nonchalant. Her family problems, career confusion. We knew she needed to see a shrink but our society is conservative. That would not have been possible. (They both need to atp)
I did not take this particularly seriously. I knew that L could change her habits for us, albeit slowly. R; the impatient type, at first could not grapple with it, but then persisted. She said she saw her "past self in L," and wanted to help her.
Situations happened where L's problems triggered R and instead of setting boundaries, she got mad at L when it was too late. Whenever R talked about her problems or feelings, L tried comforting her like, "you can try at this college/major with me," and R would get mad because she thought L was making everything about her.
Through trial and error, they finally decided to take a break. L moved away from her toxic family to frequent an academy in another city, tried to control her urges of talking about her day/problems etc. Exam season for me and R started. I put the "only admins can text," on the GC and I'd share a meme or two everyday.
THE SITUATION
Knowing me, I'd barely text either of them. I wanted no drama during exams. L respected this. She didn't text R either. One day, R texted L and asked her how she was. Instead of an "I'm okay," L hit her with a "this is how my life is going."
L has a boyfriend now. She talks about him A LOT. It gets tiring. She stopped it when she moved to the city and our exams started, but her boyfriend went to the same academy as her. The BF had also acquainted himself with R. R thought he was an okay person.
Now, shortly after R and L's interaction, BF texted R over a petty issue; L hit him in front of everyone, R should scold L that women should not hit men. R's feminism came to play. She tried mediating between them and suggested a breakup. No one liked the idea. L was mad at BF for annoying R with this problem, but since the deed was done, she further consulted R. BF, on the other hand, insulted R with words that pinched her such as, "My judgement of you was wrong. You don't know the difference between right and wrong."
L put off her decision until after a class trip where BF had to be there. She didn't want to ruin the trip. She said, "a third person can't understand the situation of two people," which pinched R. R thought she ignored her advice. I think L was finally putting up boundaries. She didn't want R to be involved in this further.
R does not know boundaries.
Where I was going through exam fever, depressed, I saw that R wanted to call me and I immediately answered. I wanted to share my burdens with a fellow exam taker. Instead, I was hit with late night calls of R ranting about the situation. She was distressed about it. She didn't understand why L wasn't taking her advice immediately. I tried to calm her down, told her it's normal for a third party to be treated like this and you shouldn't take this to heart. Getting involved wasn't the best option but it's no use lamenting over what's done.
Two days before my exam (R did not have that exam), I woke up to R's mean texts towards L in the GC. The context was logical but the way she said it, putting L down and disrespecting her was not. She said, "we never had a friendship. It was always about you and your BF and other relations. I'm ending my friendship with you," among other things. Was this true? I knew L was as much of an emotional pillar for R as she was for L. L had her fair share of listening to R's rants till 2 in the morning. Well– maybe not fair.
What's bothering me is that it wasn't L's fault this time. She tried so hard to change for R– and me– and R treated her this way.
I talked to them individually. L was distressed over this, but she didn't take into account my upcoming exam. R wanted to explain herself but she didn't take into account my exam. R said she "never treated L as a friend. I only pitied her."
Upsetting me more was that fact that R was treating me the same way she claimed L and BF treated her. She ranted to me without thinking that I had a life. She dragged me in her fight with L. She expected counselling/advice from me just to not take it. I tried telling her what she did was wrong but I couldn't control my anger at this point. Once is a mistake, twice is a pattern.
R values her friendship with me a lot more than she does with anyone else. She considers me a role model, a true friend. She also wants to garner all of my attention to her, which is impossible because I have a big social circle. She respects me. But she doesn't respect my friends. Why did I introduce friends like Z and L to her? Because she wanted to expand her social circle and wanted my help. (Of course I learned my lesson after Z's situation).
I value my friendship with R too. Despite our relationship being a 30-70, she has shown signs of improvement. She tries not to interrupt me (and still fails), she likes reading my stories and commenting on characters I make. She takes a genuine interest in my aspirations.
But she disrespected L. I'm grateful for L because she came to me at the darkest point of my life, when my search history was filled with "helpline numbers," and with her help I got offers from two universities. R doesn't know this.
I'm torn apart. I haven't talked to either of them for two days now. My relationship with L will be normal, but not with R. I don't know how to tackle things with her. I am in desperate need of help. I can't even talk about this to anyone because I've shut my socials for exams and no one is close enough for this. What do I do?

I'm honestly completely obsessed with their song. This song has been on my mind non-stop for maybe like a good 3 days. And though I understand what the songs about, I still get more and more amazed everytime I listen to it, and I find something new everytime.
These are just my observations, that may not be right, but I still wanted to share them, to see what everyone else thinks!

• In the music video, we see a man praying when somethings wrong with the train. Could this be, that people have told them to find God and pray that they would become "normal" (i hate using that word, but I don't know how else to say it)

• The music video starts off by Nemo being in a conductors outfit, and as they walk through each carriage their clothing style becomes more "feminine". When they go through the first carriage, you can see people aren't paying much attention to them, but when they go through the second carriage, and come out in the bunny hat and a skirt, you can see that people are starting to notice the style change. Next thing they have on is a blue jacket¿ And makeup. Here you can see the people clearly judging them, but when they get to the last carriage where everyone is partying, you can see that no one is really paying attention, because they simply just don't care. So could this be, that everyone was judging them along the way of them finding them self, but then found a community that completely supports them & where everyone can just be themselves? The last part where they have the big poofy, fluffy dress on, does that mean that they finally found their true self?

*THE SONG ITSELF*

• "I broke the code" - meaning they broke the gender norms, right?

• "Somewhere between the 0s & 1s - somewhere in the middle of being a man & a woman? Aka = non-binary

• "I went to hell and back" - struggling at knowing who they are, and trying to find what "feels" right.

• The song has 3 different genres of music. Pop, rap & opera. Usually pop is sung by both men & women, rap is more amongst men and opera is more amongst women. Sure there are men who sing opera and women who rap, but what I'm trying to say is that to me this means that they also broke the gender norms by rapping and doing opera.

I hope my explanations were good enough that everyone understands what I mean by them. Feel free to comment your opinions and/or if I over thought these things!
Edit. Changed format, and added text

Just looking for some thoughts and opinions on women of all different ages on clothes that are more scandalous, show more cleavage, or in the more sexy categories. I'm plagued with doubts and conflict about this. How did y'all come to terms with this? Is this just my 20s phase?
What are some of y'all's experiences in general facing the idea that someone thinks you're dressed too scandalously? I've even heard of people facing issues with this in the workplace.
Recently I've become a lot more confident in my body. I've met plenty of girls in all of these more "niche" hobbies and a lot of them have inspired me to feel more at home in my body and sexy with all of my supposed flaws. I see girls posting their pics all the time and I want to feel proud like them. But honestly I waffle a lot on how I think. I feel like a "whore" or like I need attention. Is my self esteem so low I need compliments from other people to feel good about my body? I feel like people in more tame hobbies or guys will look at me and see someone who doesn't respect themself. I don't know how to shake off all these bad feelings about it. Am I losing my perspective on what's normal by participating in this culture? Years ago I would have harshly judged myself for any of these scandalous outfits. I'm not sure how to come to terms with it because sometimes I feel extremely guilty.
Tldr; Looking sexy feels nice and feels almost normal in these subcultures. Is it okay for this to feel normal?

If long-winded effor- posts talking about fictional feudalisms aren't for you, feel free to move along.
Let's start with a disclaimer: I hate the Greens. And while the show-runners did a good job detailing the politics and ambiguity of the succession crisis, they failed at making anybody from the Greens sympathetic. Yes, Daemon is a wife-murdering dick. But he's fun to root for. He's a perfect little bad boy. I mean, think about it, how many of us were thrilled when he took off the Vaemond's head? But... Vaemond was right. I probably felt just as excited as you did when Daemon said, "he can keep his tongue".
Let's talk about why the Greens are right, in my opinion. But to do so, we have to set aside our personal biases for these characters. Otto is a scheemy guy who is clearly self interested. Aliscent is a bit of a stuck up (though, IMO, the most sympathetic of the Greens). Aemond is cruel. The show runners clearly have a protagonist and antagonist in mind when writing this story. Their cause is sympathetic enough to make it compelling, but not so much that you might root for the Green team. In that way, I think they really failed.
So, ignoring the fact we don't like the Greens, why are they right? Let's get an important consideration out of the way: ASOIAF is fairly willing to demonstrate that a law or tradition is only as true as the steel enforcing it. So, at the end of the day who is "right" really comes down to who wins.
But I think there's a political argument to be made for the Greens. The biggest argument is one of precedent and stability. The realm is very clearly built on traditions (some codified, most not) that maintain the thin veneer of civilization. Lords, in general, can be confident that the eldest male inherits. It makes some sense. Men are, after all, often the sex that wields the steel in question. And the era has very clearly established gender roles that grant men a legitimacy that women must spend a great deal of effort in order to combat. You have outliers, sure (Dorne), but for the most part the Andals rely on these traditions to accept the "legitimacy" of a claim.
Jaehaerys recognized this and- contrary to the show depiction- Rhaenys and Laena were immediately recognized as illegitimate claimants due to their sex. This was agreed upon by all of the lords assembled. An alternative was inconceivable.
That segues nicely into the lords of the realm. Feudalism is not a system of absolute monarchy. The idea of absolutism was late to the historical time period this fantasy show is depicted on. I'm not arguing so much against anachronism (after all, it's a fantasy show), but more so that there is also the precedent of: if you piss enough of the lords off, you get civil war.
The responsibility of a King is not to his whims, his desire to make some posthumous amends to his late wife (for whom he feels/is responsible for the death of) by nominating his last living link to her. His responsibility is to the stability of the realm. The wisest and cleverest men of Westeros knew this. Viserys was a foolish man to believe he could unanimously usurp the will of the realm. After all, a Queen now upends the legitimacy of all inheritance traditions. Now, each lord of the realm must look at their daughters and explain why the princess can inherit an iron throne but they cannot inherit their own small banner lands.
"Yass slay queen", right? Huge victory for women right? Viserys doesn't care about the rights of women. He cares about Rhaenyra. He cares, really, about Aemma. He cares so much for these individuals that he is willing to sacrifice however many thousands in the future crisis that he is either willfully obtuse or callously indifferent to. (I think the former is more likely). Viserys cares for his opinion over the stability of his subjects. He is not an absolute monarch and it's never implied that the iron throne is an absolute monarchy.
If you look at the history of the realm, how the politics of Westeros function, and the steps it would take to prevent a kingdom from being torn to pieces; it is glaringly clear that the Greens are right. And this is in spite of your dislike for the characters.

I'm putting this under culture and society because I'm asking about fashion and not like. Hair texture or whatever. But if it needs re-flaired let me know and I can change it.
To be clear - I am not saying all black people, or no white people do this. This is a generalization. But I get around by bus and I see a lot of black people wear all black clothes, or have a very limited palette.
By limited palette I mean, like, the actual clothes will be all off-white or grey and matching, or all shades of brown, or all black, or it'll be black-white-red or black-white-gold. Usually solid prints/colors with the exception of anime themed things. In my (biological) family they/we in the same situations would be wearing colored prints, graphic t shirts, brighter clothes, more colors, etc. The last anime thing I saw on the bus was a super flashy and busy printed pair of pajama pants on a white guy, and the second to last anime themed thing was a black sweatshirt with a just little swirly thing in the corner on my black cousin-in-law.
It seems to be less common in older black people like middle aged and up, especially older women who like fancier prints and more colors. This also could just be a my-city thing (although I would be liable to disagree with that. We're like 40 minutes from Cleveland ain't no unique clothes system happening here) or even broken down by class (my average view of this city is via those who get around by bus, so this view isn't exactly representative, but my in-laws are middle-class so there's that.) Am I just not seeing it in white people or is there a thing here?
Thanks in advance.
edit: I forgot to say this isn't me complaining. These outfits look fine as fuck I just saw a group of black teens on they're way home after class the other day and noticed they were all wearing black or black with red or white shoes. I promise this isn't my first time on earth lol

everything following is my opinion based upon my own perceptions. The following should not be taken as ultimate truth, and i cannot know the content of someone's head nor heart
So, I've overall evaluated the advocacy of Adora, and i have found her lacking. She refuses to include anyone that isn't a white trans woman in her conversations. She doesn't uplift voices that won't benefit her directly. Her "advocacy" is done solely through the medium of debate.
So how is she at debates? Well, in a word, bad. Let me explain why.
Her arguments: Adora is bad bad when it comes to creating arguments. Debating, as a skill, requires more than just building an argument that stands on its own. If you created the perfect arguments that were undefeatable, only half the work would be done. The real skill comes in when you go conversation to conversation actually being able to respond to your opposition. Listening to the points that are made and being able to show them why the ground they stand on is weaker than yours. Not just stating your position, but being able to show why your position is superior.
Adora is incapable of doing so. Her conversations are the same every single time because she's using copy-pasted arguments she got from other people, merely inserting them like every conversation is simply by the numbers. And that is with rando's. It should be extremely simple for adora to prove her womanhood to most people she talks to, because the bulk of her talks are said rando's.
for clarity, the random individuals who come into lives are usually quite simple because they are typically unprepared for a debate. They don't have supports. They don't have sources pre-saved. They don't have a masterdoc. They don't have have a pre-prepared argument. Hence why rando's should typically be a slam dunk
But adora can't even defeat the random opps that come through because she is not a thinker. She doesn't spend her time considering her own arguments, improving her stances, or learning more. She doesn't know what she's doing when it comes to what debaters ought to do when she's not live. Instead she outsources it to her panelists, and leeches off their arguments.
The leech: Adora, for a long time, refused to develop her own points. She stole them. Stole them from mostly from Parker and myself, but also picked up arguments here and there from her panelists.
to be clear knowledge is absolutely a collaborative effort. It is completely normal for arguments from others to be lifted and reused. The issue comes into place when adora refuses or simply can't do the work herself.*
When i first realized she was lifting my arguments, truth be told, i was flattered. I said something so smart, other people started repeating it. Not just adora! But overtime, other people moved on to their own talking points, and adora continued to use my arguments for months until very recently.
It was when i noticed how much of my arguments and even pieces of my personality she started taking, i admittedly got the ick and haven't really wanted to be close to her since.
"I am a female": Adora argues that she's a female, because she is generally defeated by the "adult human female" argument. For a long time she's tried fo use my "sociology female" argument, which is robust, and not only demonstrates the point without declaring myself to be a female, and merely talks about social categories. The issue comes in that she doesn't understand the argument i made, just that it's effective. It requires an understanding of not just the social categories, but also a grasp of pragmatism.
Since she stopped using said arguments, she's instead resorted to calling herself female full stop, using Phenotypically female as her arguments, referring to her vagina, breasts, and skin.
Not only is this argument purely rooted in transmedicalism, (and would leave trans people of other experiences behind, uplifting only herself and her womanhood), but also is directly contradictory to herself.
Any time any of her opps uses her more masculine features to exclude her from being a woman, she stands firm on one point. "There is no right way to look like a woman."
But apparently her phenotypes are the right way to look? I digress.
Christie: So, as i described earlier, the 'bread and butter' (if you will) of a debate live are the random people that come in. But just like there are 'career' debaters focused on the support and advocacy of trans people, there are, in turn, 'career' debaters specially aligned against trans people. And just like there are solid stances for supporting trans people, there are solid points against. And it is a testament to a debater's skills to be able to defeat career opposition, as they're just as prepared as you are for a debate.
So, given the aforementioned lack of debate skills, it is my genuine and firm belief that she is scared of Christie. She flees from Christie, avoids her debates, avoids her even when Christie isn't even on the panel but merely GIFTS someone.
This doesn't just stop at Christie. It extends to rawreal, NATe, every single career debater. Menareforged was blocked for handing her ass to her in a debate, and feigned some nonsense reason why.
She cannot stand any challenge to her genuine existence and experiences. But she decides to debate her existence. So she's going to perpetually run away from any single individual that threatens her beliefs, and when she's WRONG she will run from those that prove her so, rather than amending the stances.
Andromeda: Forgive me, for i love to talk about myself, and i only feel it's so apt that i bring up the adora and andy debate.
It was my idea, suggested towards Maria initially, and adora liked the idea and volunteered herself. I had no idea at that time that she was so woefully unprepared, and thought adora would be one of my bigger challenges. I knew i would win, but i expected it to take 30 mins-an hour. Not 5 minutes.
I was crushed, if I'm honest, for a few reasons. Firstly, for a selfish reason. I was so excited to be challenged in my thoughts and i was extremely let down. I crave and thoroughly enjoy debates. I see them as mental puzzles. There's a right piece for the conversation, i just need to find it.
It was when i kept having to throw her a bone to chew on that that i became woefully aware of what i was looking at. Someone who doesn't know anything. Someone who is ignorant to why trans women are women, someone who only holds the belief that we are, with absolutely no way to support that position.
I was shocked. Ashamed. I supported someone so fucking bad at debates, and when she was FORCED to debate, with no pay to kick, she was so thoroughly torn down that she avoided hosting the topic for a couple months unless i was on the panel. She suddenly started rambling on about "trans identities aren't up for debate".
Final thoughts. I will be honest, i feel I've left a legacy of shame when i left the app. I feel I've done a disservice to the trans community, and debatetok. I do feel responsible for what i left behind and seeing and listening to adora now has me feeling a sense of guilt for not seeing the problem earlier and intervening when i could.
On that woeful note, i will always stand up for trans people, and if it means helping adora, i will. But if need be i will continue to stand up to her. Even if i can't help bring about change with adora, i feel I must draw my own line in the sand.

**TL;DR; I’m worried my boyfriend doesn’t find me attractive. To give some context - we have been dating for just under 1 year. He’s super sweet and shows a lot of love through actions (like helping out proactively without me asking, carrying things for me, opening doors, buying flowers, immediately changing any behaviour I say I don’t like etc) but not through words. For the first two months he didn’t give me a single compliment, but after this point randomly said “I just realised I never told you how beautiful you are”. I thought this was nice but it also got me thinking about it and why he hasn’t. He claims not to be a very verbal communicator, which I to some point can see. For further context, I’m not an unattractive woman. I’ve been told I look like a blond, more athletic Barbara Palvin many times, as well as a blond Natalie Portman. My point isn’t whether or not that is 100% true, but more that I am not ugly and often get told by others that I am very good looking. I’ve gotten asked to model many times but I am personally really turned off by things that I find very superficial, so I’ve said no. I also have an athletic body type, and am toned but do not have massive boobs that I feel many men may be drawn to.
When this worry initially came up I decided to look through his Instagram followers (just a few as he follows a lot of people) to see if he was the kind of guy who followed influencers. There were a handful of accounts of Instagram “models”. And I thought to myself “this must be what he finds attractive”. By this I mean the very artificial look; fake tan, lip filler, acrylics, hair extensions, big boobs etc - and to me it suddenly made sense why he never complimented me. I prefer a natural look and pride myself on natural beauty I’m also outdoorsy and climb a lot (so acrylics are a no go) but if this is what he likes there’s no way he is attracted to me. In addition I’m a creative person and my style is more fashion-y and subtly sexy than sexy sexy. He says he likes this, but I’m wondering if what he prefers is the overtly sexy (tight outfits, low cut etc). Part of the reason this bothers me is not because of jealousy (I like the way I am and don’t want to change) but to me there is something tasteless about these types of looks. And of course everything is personal preference and people should look how they want, but to me it says something about your values and interests. If he likes these things it also says something to me about how he views women and that maybe we have some core (and critical) differences in values that I shouldn’t overlook.
I confronted him about it. And after a few talks (initially I was trying to play it cool and didn’t let him know how much and why this made me uncomfortable) he unfollowed as many as he could and continued to unfollow the others as they popped up in his feed. And I know that he actually did do this.
Despite this, this still effects me. He compliments me rarely. We have talked about this and he makes an effort to do it more but says it doesn’t come naturally to him, which also comes across as the compliments seem stiff. Periodically he will struggle to finish when we “do it”, he blames this on stress (and to be fair this usually only happens when he’s running late for work already or similar situations). But I can’t help but think if he was with someone who looked like these girls he used to admire he would be complimenting her all the time and would be much happier and would never struggle to finish.
I love him and he’s great for me but I believe attraction is a big part of a relationship. I asked him about this too, saying I don’t understand how he can find that look and me attractive at the same time. First he said he didn’t find it attractive, but I pointed out that it made no sense to follow such accounts if he didn’t. He later admitted that he did find it attractive, but he finds lots of different looks attractive and that he followed those accounts when we was single and living semi off-grid (he works with outdoor sports and touring). I find this hard to believe (that he can find two so polar opposite looks attractive) and am stuck wondering if I should leave him, despite everything else being good. This has become a rift in our relationship and I’m struggling to see if I am being too black and white (and maybe a little dramatic) or if he really just doesn’t find my type of woman attractive.
Any thoughts? Is what he’s saying true or am I being lied to? And why do men find this very artificial look attractive?
For background details I have a history of dating narcissists and have abusive exes and am maybe used to being love bombed.

J. V. Stalin
The Party's Tasks Report Delivered at an Enlarged Meeting of the Krasnaya Presnya District Committee of the R.C.P.(B.) With Group Organisers, Members of the Debating Society and of the Bureau of the Party Units December 2, 1923 Source : Works, Vol. 5, 1921 - 1923 Publisher : Foreign Languages Publishing House, Moscow, 1954 Transcription/Markup : Salil Sen for MIA, 2008 Public Domain : Marxists Internet Archive (2008). You may freely copy, distribute, display and perform this work; as well as make derivative and commercial works. Please credit "Marxists Internet Archive" as your source.
Comrades, first of all I must say that I am delivering a report here in my personal capacity and not in the name of the Central Committee of the Party. If the meeting is willing to hear such a report, I am at your service. (Voices : "Yes.") This does not mean that I disagree with the Central Committee in any way on this question; not at all. I am speaking here in my personal capacity only because the commission of the Central Committee for drafting measures to improve the internal situation in the Party 1 is to present its findings to the Central Committee in a day or two; these findings have not yet been presented, and therefore I have as yet no formal right to speak in the name of the Central Committee, although I am sure that what I am about to say to you will, in the main, express the Central Committee's position on these questions.
Discussion — A Sign of the Party's Strength The first question I would like to raise here is that of the significance of the discussion that is now taking place in the press and in the Party units. What does this discussion show? What does it indicate? Is it a storm that has burst into the calm life of the Party? Is this discussion a sign of the Party's disintegration, its decay, as some say, or of its degeneration, as others say?
I think, comrades, that it is neither one nor the other: there is neither degeneration nor disintegration. The fact of the matter is that the Party has grown more mature during the past period; it has adequately rid itself of useless ballast; it has become more proletarian. You know that two years ago we had not less than 700,000 members; you know that several thousand members have dropped out, or have been kicked out, of the Party. Further, the Party membership has improved, its quality has risen in this period as a result of the improvement in the conditions of the working class due to the revival of industry, as a result of the return of the old skilled workers from the countryside, and as a result of the new wave of cultural development that is spreading among the industrial workers.
In short, owing to all these circumstances, the Party has grown more mature, its quality has risen, its needs have grown, it has become more exacting, it wants to know more than it has known up to now, and it wants to decide more than it has up to now.
The discussion which has opened is not a sign of the Party's weakness, still less is it a sign of its disintegration or degeneration; it is a sign of strength, a sign of firmness, a sign of the improvement in the quality of the Party's membership, a sign of its increased activity.
Causes of the Discussion The second question that confronts us is: what has caused the question of internal Party policy to become so acute precisely in the present period, in the autumn of this year? How is this to be explained? What were the causes? I think, comrades, that there were two causes.
The first cause was the wave of discontent and strikes over wages that swept through certain districts of the republic in August of this year. The fact of the matter is that this strike wave exposed the defects in our organisations; it revealed the isolation of our organisations— both Party and trade-union—from the events taking place in the factories. And in connection with this strike wave the existence was discovered within our Party of several secret organisations of an essentially anti-communist nature, which strove to disintegrate the Party. All these defects revealed by the strike wave were exposed to the Party so glaringly, and with such a sobering effect, that it felt the necessity for internal Party changes.
The second cause of the acuteness of the question of internal Party policy precisely at the present moment was the wholesale release of Party comrades to go on vacation. It is natural, of course, for comrades to go on vacation, but this assumed such a mass character, that Party activity became considerably weaker precisely at the time when the discontent arose in the factories, and that greatly helped to expose the accumulated defects just at this period, in the autumn of this year.
Defects in Internal Party Life I have mentioned defects in our Party life that were exposed in the autumn of this year, and which brought up the question of improving internal Party life. What are these defects in internal Party life? Is it that the Party line was wrong, as some comrades think; or that, although the Party's line was correct, in practice it departed from the right road, was distorted because of certain subjective and objective conditions?
I think that the chief defect in our internal Party life is that, although the Party's line, as expressed in the decisions of our congresses, is correct, in the localities (not everywhere, of course, but in certain districts) it was put into practice in an incorrect way. While the proletarian-democratic line of our Party was correct, the way it was put into practice in the localities resulted in cases of bureaucratic distortion of this line.
That is the chief defect. The existence of contradictions between the basic Party line as laid down by the Congresses (Tenth, Eleventh and Twelfth), and the way our organisations put this line into practice in the locali-ties—that is the foundation of all the defects in internal Party life.
The Party line says that the major questions of our Party activities, except, of course, those that brook no delay, or those that are military or diplomatic secrets, must without fail be discussed at Party meetings. That is what the Party line says. But in Party practice in the localities, not everywhere, of course, it was considered that there is really no great need for a number of questions concerning internal Party practice to be discussed at Party meetings since the Central Committee and the other leading organisations will decide these questions.
The Party line says that our Party officials must without fail be elected unless there are insuperable obstacles to this, such as absence of the necessary Party standing, and so forth. You know that, according to the Party rules, secretaries of Gubernia Committees must have a pre-October Party standing, secretaries of Uyezd Committees must have at least three years', and units secretaries a year's, Party standing. In Party practice, however, it was often considered that since a certain Party standing was needed, no real elections were needed.
The Party line says that the Party membership must be kept informed about the work of the economic organisations, the factories and trusts, for, naturally, our Party units are morally responsible to the non-Party masses for the defects in the factories. Nevertheless, in Party practice it was considered that since there is a Central Committee which issues directives to the economic organisations, and since these economic organisations are bound by those directives, the latter will be carried out without control from below by the mass of the Party membership.
The Party line says that responsible workers in different branches of work, whether Party, economic, trade-union, or military workers, notwithstanding their specialisation in their own particular work, are interconnected, constitute inseparable parts of one whole, for they are all working in the common cause of the proletariat, which cannot be torn into parts. In Party practice, however, it was considered that since there is specialisation, division of labour according to properly Party activity and economic, military, etc., activity, the Party officials are not responsible for those working in the economic sphere, the latter are not responsible for the Party officials, and, in general, that the weakening and even loss of connection between them are inevitable.
Such, comrades, are, in general, the contradictions between the Party line, as registered in a number of decisions of our Congresses, from the Tenth to the Twelfth, and Party practice.
I am far from blaming the local organisations for this distortion of the Party line, for, when you come to examine it, this is not so much the fault as the misfortune of our local organisations. The nature of this misfortune, and how things could have taken this turn, I shall tell you later on, but I wanted to register this fact in order to reveal this contradiction to you and then try to propose measures for improvement.
I am also far from considering our Central Committee to be blameless. It, too, has sinned, as has every institution and organisation; it, too, shares part of the blame and part of the misfortune: blame, at least, for not, whatever the reason, exposing these defects in time, and for not taking measures to eliminate them.
But that is not the point now. The point now is to ascertain the causes of the defects I have just spoken about. Indeed, how did these defects arise, and how can they be removed?
The Causes of the Defects The first cause is that our Party organisations have not yet rid themselves, or have still not altogether rid themselves, of certain survivals of the war period, a period that has passed, but has left in the minds of our responsible workers vestiges of the military regime in the Party. I think that these survivals find expression in the view that our Party is not an independently acting organism, not an independently acting, militant organisation of the proletariat, but something in the nature of a system of institutions, something in the nature of a complex of institutions in which there are officials of lower rank and officials of higher rank. That, comrades, is a profoundly mistaken view that has nothing in common with Marxism; that view is a survival that we have inherited from the war period, when we militarised the Party, when the question of the independent activity of the mass of the Party membership had necessarily to be shifted into the background and military orders were of decisive importance. I do not remember that this view was ever definitely expressed; nevertheless, it, or elements of it, still influences our work. Comrades, we must combat such views with all our might, for they are a very real danger and create favourable conditions for the distortion in practice of the essentially correct line of our Party.
The second cause is that our state apparatus, which is bureaucratic to a considerable degree, exerts a certain amount of pressure on the Party and the Party workers. In 1917, when we were forging ahead, towards October, we imagined that we would have a Commune, a free association of working people, that we would put an end to bureaucracy in government institutions, and that it would be possible, if not in the immediate period, then within two or three short periods, to transform the state into a free association of working people. Practice has shown, however, that this is still an ideal which is a long way off, that to rid the state of the elements of bureaucracy, to transform Soviet society into a free association of working people, the people must have a high level of culture, peace conditions must be fully guaranteed all around us so as to remove the necessity of maintaining a large standing army, which entails heavy expenditure and cumbersome administrative departments, the very existence of which leaves its impress upon all the other state institutions. Our state apparatus is bureaucratic to a considerable degree, and it will remain so for a long time to come. Our Party comrades work in this apparatus, and the situation—I might say the atmosphere—in this bureaucratic apparatus is such that it helps to bureaucratise our Party workers and our Party organisations.
The third cause of the defects, comrades, is that some of our units are not sufficiently active, they are backward, and in some cases, particularly in the border regions, they are even wholly illiterate. In these districts, the units display little activity and are politically and culturally backward. That circumstance, too, undoubtedly creates a favourable soil for the distortion of the Party line.
The fourth cause is the absence of a sufficient number of trained Party comrades in the localities. Recently, in the Central Committee, I heard the report of a representative of one of the Ukrainian organisations. The reporter was a very capable comrade who shows great promise. He said that of 130 units, 80 have secretaries who were appointed by the Gubernia Committee. In answer to the remark that this organisation was acting wrongly in this respect, the comrade pleaded that there were no literate people in the units, that they consisted of new members, that the units themselves ask for secretaries to be sent them, and so forth. I may grant that half of what this comrade said was an overstatement, that the matter is not only that there are no trained people in the units, but also that the Gubernia Committee was over-zealous and followed the old tradition. But even if the Gubernia Committee was correct only to the extent of fifty per cent, is it not obvious that if there are such units in the Ukraine, how many more like them must there be in the border regions, where the organisations are young, where there are fewer Party cadres and less literacy than in the Ukraine? That is also one of the factors that create favourable conditions for the distortion in practice of the essentially correct Party line.
Lastly, the fifth cause—insufficient information. We sent out too little information, and this applies primarily to the Central Committee, possibly because it is overburdened with work. We receive too little information from the localities. This must cease. This is also a serious cause of the defects that have accumulated within the Party.
How should the Defects in Internal Party Life be Removed ? What measures must be adopted to remove these defects?
The first thing is tirelessly, by every means, to combat the survivals and habits of the war period in our Party, to combat the erroneous view that our Party is a system of institutions, and not a militant organisation of the proletariat, which is intellectually vigorous, acts independently, lives a full life, is destroying the old and creating the new.
Secondly, the activity of the mass of the Party membership must be increased; all questions of interest to the membership in so far as they can be openly discussed must be submitted to it for open discussion, and the possibility ensured of free criticism of all proposals made by the different Party bodies. Only in this way will it be possible to convert Party discipline into really conscious, really iron discipline; only in this way will it be possible to increase the political, economic and cultural experience of the mass of Party members; only in this way will it be possible to create the conditions necessary to enable the Party membership, step by step, to promote new active workers, new leaders, from its ranks.
Thirdly, the principle of election must be applied in practice to all Party bodies and official posts, if there are no insuperable obstacles to this such as lack of the necessary Party standing, and so forth. We must eliminate the practice of ignoring the will of the majority of the organisations in promoting comrades to responsible
Party posts, and we must see to it that the principle of election is actually applied.
Fourthly, there must exist under the Central Committee and the Gubernia and Regional Committees permanently functioning conferences of responsible workers in all fields of work—economic, Party, trade-union and military; these conferences must be held regularly and discuss any question they consider it necessary to discuss; the interconnection between the workers in all fields must not be broken; all these workers must feel that they are all members of a single Party family, working in a common cause, the cause of the proletariat, which is indivisible; the Central Committee and the local organisations must create an environment that will enable the Party to acquire and test the experience of our responsible workers in all spheres of work.
Fifthly, our Party units in the factories must be drawn into dealing with the various questions relating to the course of affairs in the respective enterprises and trusts. Things must be so arranged that the units are kept informed about the work of the administrations of our enterprises and trusts and are able to exert an influence on this work. You, as representatives of units, are aware how great is the moral responsibility of our factory units to the non-Party masses for the course of affairs in the factories. For the unit to be able to lead and win the following of the non-Party masses in the factory, for it to be able to bear responsibility for the course of affairs in the factory—and it certainly has a moral responsibility to the non-Party masses for defects in the work of the factory—the unit must be kept informed about these affairs, it must be possible for it to influence them in one way or another. Therefore, the units must be drawn into the discussion of economic questions relating to their factories, and economic conferences of representatives of the factory units in a given trust must be called from time to time to discuss questions relating to the affairs of the trust. This is one of the surest ways both of enlarging the economic experience of the Party membership and of organising control from below.
Sixthly, the quality of the membership of our Party units must be improved. Zinoviev has already said in an article of his that here and there the quality of the membership of our Party units is below that of the surrounding non-Party masses.
That statement, of course, must not be generalised and applied to all the units. It would be more exact to say the following for example: our Party units would be on a much higher cultural level than they are now, and would have much greater authority among non-Party people, if we had not denuded these units, if we had not taken from them people we needed for economic, administrative, trade-union and all sorts of other work. If our working-class comrades, the cadres we have taken from the units during the past six years, were to return to their units, does it need proof that those units would stand head and shoulders above all the non-Party workers, even the most advanced? Precisely because the Party has no other cadres with which to improve the state apparatus, precisely because the Party will be obliged to continue using that source, our units will remain on a somewhat unsatisfactory cultural level unless we take urgent measures to improve the quality of their membership. First of all, Party educational work in the units must be increased to the utmost; furthermore, we must get rid of the excessive formalism our local organisations sometimes display in accepting working-class comrades into the Party. I think that we must not allow ourselves to be bound by formalism; the Party can, and must, create easier conditions for the acceptance of new members from the ranks of the working class. That has already begun in the local organisations. The Party must take this matter in hand and launch an organised campaign for creating easier access to the Party for new members from workers at the bench.
Seventhly, work must be intensified among the non-Party workers. This is another means of improving the internal Party situation, of increasing the activity of the Party membership. I must say that our organisations are still paying little attention to the task of drawing non-Party workers into our Soviets. Take, for example, the elections to the Moscow Soviet that are being held now. I consider that one of the big defects in these elections is that too few non-Party people are being elected. It is said that there exists a decision of the organisation to the effect that at least a certain number, a certain percentage, etc., of non-Party people are to be elected; but I see that, in fact, a far smaller number is being elected. It is said that the masses are eager to elect only Communists. I have my doubts about that, comrades. I think that unless we show a certain degree of confidence in the non-Party people they may answer by becoming very distrustful of our organisations. This confidence in the non-Party people is absolutely necessary, comrades. Communists must be induced to withdraw their candidatures.
Speeches must not be delivered urging the election only of Communists; non-Party people must be encouraged, they must be drawn into the work of administering the state. We shall gain by this and in return receive the reciprocal confidence of the non-Party people in our organisations. The elections in Moscow are an example of the degree to which our organisations are beginning to isolate themselves within their Party shell instead of enlarging their field of activity and, step by step, rallying the non-Party people around themselves.
Eighthly, work among the peasants must be intensified. I do not know why our village units, which in some places are wilting, are losing their members and are not trusted much by the peasants (this must be admitted)—I do not know why, for instance, two practical tasks cannot be set these units: firstly, to interpret and popularise the Soviet laws which affect peasant life; secondly, to agitate for and disseminate elementary agronomic knowledge, if only the knowledge that it is necessary to plough the fields in proper time, to sift seed, etc. Do you know, comrades, that if every peasant were to decide to devote a little labour to the sifting of seed, it would be possible without land improvement, and without introducing new machines, to obtain an increase in crop yield amounting to about ten poods per dessiatin? And what does an increase in crop yield of ten poods per dessiatin mean? It means an increase in the gross crop of a thousand million poods per annum. And all this could be achieved without great effort. Why should not our village units take up this matter? Is it less important than talking about Curzon's policy? The peasants would then realise that the Communists have stopped engaging in empty talk and have got down to real business; and then our village units would win the boundless confidence of the peasants.
There is no need for me to stress how necessary it is, for improving and reviving Party life, to intensify Party and political educational work among the youth, the source of new cadres, in the Red Army, among women delegates, and among non-Party people in general.
Nor will I dwell upon the importance of increasing the interchange of information, about which I have already spoken, of increasing the supply of information from the top downwards and from below upwards.
Such, comrades, are the measures for improvement, the course towards internal Party democracy which the Central Committee set as far back as September of this year, and which must be put into practice by all Party organisations from top to bottom.
I would now like to deal with two extremes, two obsessions, on the question of workers' democracy that were to be noted in some of the discussion articles in Pravda.
The first extreme concerns the election principle. It manifests itself in some comrades wanting to have elections "throughout." Since we stand for the election principle, let us go the whole hog in electing! Party standing? What do we want that for? Elect whomever you please. That is a mistaken view, comrades. The Party will not accept it. Of course, we are not now at war; we are in a period of peaceful development. But we are now living under the NEP. Do not forget that, comrades. The Party began the purge not during, but after the war. Why? Because, during the war, fear of defeat drew the Party together into one whole, and some of the disruptive elements in the Party were compelled to keep to the general line of the Party, which was faced with the question of life or death. Now these bonds have fallen away, for we are not now at war; now we have the NEP, we have permitted a revival of capitalism, and the bourgeoisie is reviving. True, all this helps to purge the Party, to strengthen it; but on the other hand, we are being enveloped in a new atmosphere by the nascent and growing bourgeoisie, which is not very strong yet, but which has already succeeded in beating some of our co-operatives and trading organisations in internal trade. It was precisely after the introduction of the NEP that the Party began the purge and reduced its membership by half; it was precisely after the introduction of the NEP that the Party decided that, in order to protect our organisations from the contagion of the NEP, it was necessary, for example, to hinder the influx of non-proletarian elements into the Party, that it was necessary that Party officials should have a definite Party standing, and so forth. Was the Party right in taking these precautionary measures, which restricted "expanded" democracy? I think it was. That is why I think that we must have democracy, we must have the election principle, but the restrictive measures that were adopted by the Eleventh and Twelfth Congresses, at least the chief ones, must still remain in force.
The second extreme concerns the question of the limits of the discussion. This extreme manifests itself in some comrades demanding unlimited discussion; they think that the discussion of problems is the be all and end all of Party work and forget about the other aspect of Party work, namely, action, which calls for the implementation of the Party's decisions. At all events, this was the impression I gained from the short article by Radzin, who tried to substantiate the principle of unlimited discussion by a reference to Trotsky, who is alleged to have said that "the Party is a voluntary association of like-minded people." I searched for that sentence in Trotsky's works, but could not find it. Trotsky could scarcely have uttered it as a finished formula for the definition of the Party; and if he did utter it, he could scarcely have stopped there. The Party is not only an association of like-minded people; it is also an association of like-acting people, it is a militant association of like-acting people who are fighting on a common ideological basis (programme, tactics). I think that the reference to Trotsky is out of place, for I know Trotsky as one of the members of the Central Committee who most of all stress the active side of Party work. I think, therefore, that Radzin himself must bear responsibility for this definition. But what does this definition lead to? One of two possibilities: either that the Party will degenerate into a sect, into a philosophical school, for only in such narrow organisations is complete like-minded-ness possible; or that it will become a permanent debating society, eternally discussing and eternally arguing, until the point is reached where factions form and the Party is split. Our Party cannot accept either of these possibilities. This is why I think that the discussion of problems is needed, a discussion is needed, but limits must be set to such discussion in order to safeguard the Party, to safeguard this fighting unit of the proletariat, against degenerating into a debating society.
In concluding my report, I must warn you, comrades, against these two extremes. I think that if we reject both these extremes and honestly and resolutely steer the course towards internal Party democracy that the Central Committee set already in September of this year, we shall certainly achieve an improvement in our Party work. (Applause.)
Pravda, No. 277, December 6, 1923
Notes 1. This refers to the commission set up in conformity with the decision of the Political Bureau and of the Plenum of the Central Committee of the R.C.P.(B.) which took place on September 23-25, 1923.
Collected Works Index Volume 5 Index Works by Decade J. V. Stalin Archive Marxists Internet Archive

My god, I'm so sorry this is going to be long...but I have to get this out and I have no one else to rant to except myself, so here I am...
TL;DR 1: Theyre expensive for no reason, stressful for no reason, and honestly I just think they're not worth the time...
I love my fiancee to death, but all I wanted to do was go to a courthouse, sign some documents and be married to this absolute beautiful soul that has graced my life. Then maybe take a month off and go somewhere special out of state that we've always dreamed of (Greece is a huge one! Lol), take a cruise somewhere with the money we've saved, or pay off some credit card/student debts..Hell, or even put down a down payment for a house we've always wanted/talked about, get a couple dogs/chickens we've wanted and just... bask in our life together.
But here we are spending 20+ thousand dollars and countless hours testing different fake flowers, trying to find outfits for the groomsman that fit the color palette (men's warehouse fucking SUCKS compared to getting exact colors at the womens bridal place!), frustrated, crying, figuring out how we want to set up the table decorations, aisle decorations, figuring out what to give as gifts to an event that we're fully paying for, what music to play, people aren't rsvping in a timely manner, hotels, venues, caterers, music, food, transportation, alcohol, day of planners, hair, makeup, etc, etc, ETCETCETCETCETCETCETCETC..
All for family that we hardly talk to on a regular, that we prob will continue not talk to on regular after all is said and done and alot of which don't even get along so seating arrangements are annoying to do. The next few months honestly can't come soon enough so all this can just be behind us and we can move on with our lives.
I want to be married to her, I want to hold her, I want to take her last name, I want to spend my life with her... I don't want a wedding, I don't want to go thru this wedding planning, I don't want to needlessly throw money away like this for a single night to appease the eyes of others, cause honestly that's all weddings feel like to me.
I'm not a fan of being the center of attention in any situation and just the thought of it makes me anxious having to do so for 6+ hours. Not to mention, our wedding party is spending their own hard earned money to fund our Bachelorette party and I feel AWFUL about it. I love and appreciate our friends for going out of their way but we're all in our early 30s now, life is basically established for everyone, everyone has things to do, jobs to work, some have children to take care of, some are in the army, life is so hard, I feel so bad...
My future wife (♡) is so precious to me, this is something she REALLY wants and dammit ill deliver lol, I never wanted to say no, I just wanted a happy compromise... she's been thru so much and denied so much in life I want to give her this, shes so sweet and caring of myself and others, always puts others before herself, truly a selfless soul...but wow...is this wearing us down...
Like I said, I don't really have anyone to rant this out to, everyone is so happy for us I'd feel horrible tearing this event down complaining to someone... We'll be married a literal day before our 8th anniversary and I can't wait for us to fully and completely call each other 'Wife' :)
TL;DR 2: I just don't like weddings.

By popular demand, I guess...
I was kinda just being a smart-ass, but some of you wanted more so here it is: epilogues for every NPC as if they didn't continue to travel with Gorion's Ward and instead just decided to live their own life. Obviously, there are some implied alignment changes here.
This turned out to be longer than I expected and I kinda just threw it all together while I was working. Please excuse any typos or sloppy writing.
I want to apologize for one thing, though. Viconia's epilogue really only works if GW is a male, so I had to make that assumption for the sake of her story. If it matters any, I easily play just as many female GWs as I do male GWs. In fact, I probably play more female GWs because I don't care for the romances, frequently play the canon party, and want to nip the lame Jah romance in the bud.
But, to have them all in one place, I included my original smart-ass epilogues with the additional ones I created. Now, every character from BG1 and BG2 has an epilogue. I don't have the EE characters, though, because I play the original games and don't really know them.
So, just for funsies, which one is your favorite and why?
"Anomen continued to wait at the Copper Coronet for a party of adventurers willing to travel with him. Maybe it was the grating sound of his voice, or perhaps the way he leered at women, but he continued to remain alone. Eventually, he needed to find work to make ends meet. With Gorion's Ward having disbanded the slave traders and pit fights, Hendak had to find a new form of entertainment for the patrons. As such, he invented an all male review ladies night, and Anomen found work as a 'dancer'. He left the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart to join the less noble order of the pole. He also renounced his faith to Helm and instead allied himself with Waukeen because if you wanna see some groin, you gotta have some coin."
"Despite Gorion's Ward clearing the trolls from her keep, Nalia was not able to reclaim her lands and instead lost her estate to Lord Roenall. The lord offered to let her retain residence in her family's ancestral home, but only in exchange for her hand in marriage. Nalia found the proposition to be repugnant. Instead, she salvaged whatever wealth she could from her family's keep and moved to Athkatla to start a new life. She no longer helped the less fortunate, as she was now among their numbers and had her own problems. Nalia's lack of any practical skills combined with her sense of entitlement sent her into a life of failure followed by drinking and debauchery. She now spends more time back at the Copper Coronet than anywhere else. It is hard to say where she squanders her wealth more, the alcohol, or on the dancers during Ladies Night."
"After the incident with the Planar Sphere, Valygar was finally free of his past, could retire to his cabin, and pursue his true passion: writing. Ironically, the only inspiration he found ended up stemming from his family's checkered past. Valygar's only works that even had middling success were 'Tuesdays with Lavok' and 'Dude, Where's My Planar Sphere', with the latter being made into a production at the Five Flagoons Theater."
"Haer'Dalis continued to work as a performer at the Five Flagoons Theater. Unfortunately, it struggled due to poor management. It might have turned out better if an outside agent with fresh ideas had stepped in, but Gorion's Ward had better things to do than be a bard. While the work was generally steady, the returns were not great and the material was a little low-brow for Haer'Dalis' liking. The tiefling realized he reached rock bottom when he was cast as the lead in a play about a buffoon who apparently lost a plane-shifting apparatus the size of a small castle and had to find it before his parents returned from Neverwinter. After the opening night, he took his own life in his dressing room. His body was found the next morning with a note saying, 'Art is dead and I am art, so I shall join art in death.' Biff the Understudy stepped in for Haer'Dalis despite never having an opportunity to read the script. Nevertheless, the production was a resounding success and launched Biff's career to new heights."
“A heartbroken Garrick found work as a character actor at the Five Flagoons Theater, but eventually gained more success as a writer and director. He found it to be a mostly agreeable situation, aside from a tiefling primadonna who would constantly belittle his work and call it ”trite" and “drivel”. Fortunately, that situation worked itself out in time and Garrick found Biff to be much easier to direct. With the tiefling gone, his ideas had room to grow. He invented a new kind of love story, one where the protagonist doesn't always get the girl at the end but the journey to that ending would be quite amusing. He labeled this genre “the Comedy of Romance” and the works were mostly based on his own life. His plays were quite popular among the commoners, with his top selling shows being 'Sleepless in Saradush', 'Silverymoon Linings Playbook', and 'Crazy Rich Aasimars'. He eventually fully transitioned off the stage into the director's chair. By the peak of his fame, he was married to none other than Queen Ellesime."
“Aerie continued to work at the circus and WOULD NOT SHUT UP ABOUT HER DAMN WINGS. Even Quayle eventually grew sick of hearing about it. This put strain on their relationship. Things took a turn for the better when Ribald Barterman acquired a new curiosity for his shop. It was a magical ring which he sold to Quayle at a reduced rate out of sympathy. This ”treasure" was actually a cursed Ring of Deafness, which Quayle found to be anything but a curse and wore it for the rest of his days."
“Xzar and Montaron were both slain at the hands of the Athkatla Harpers, but this is actually where their story begins. Xzar, as he had done so many times before, had a backup plan of an arcane nature should death befall either he or the halfling. Their mortal essences were pulled to a pocket plane he created. There they could be channeled into restored bodies cloned at his estate. With this particular round of ritual, Xzar had incidentally made a slight error in the incantation and the two found themselves in a time suspended state in Xzar's pocket plane. It was only five minutes for the rest of the world, but it was fifty years for them. This turned out to be a pivot point in their relationship. Having only each other's company in this shadowy void, they were finally able to work out their feelings for each other. When they had returned to the prime material plane, they discovered their mutual animosity was replaced with love. Rather than pick up their life where they left off with the Zhentarim, they decided to pack it all in, moved to Bryn Shander, and start a bed and breakfast. Montaron rediscovered his halfling roots and love for the culinary arts while Xzar would perform seances to connect guests with their late loved ones. Scones and Bones became an overnight success and was consistently listed as a “must see” in Volo's travel guides. In their golden years, the couple co-wrote a memoir of their journey, ‘Brokeback Montaron’, which is sold in bookstores everywhere."
“After briefly crossing paths with Gorion's Ward, Mazzy Fentan continued her crusade as a de facto halfling paladin. She eventually found herself petitioning for membership at the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart in Athkatla after she had singlehandedly saved a village from an ancient dracolich. Despite the extent of her virtue and accomplishment, her petition was denied on the basis that halflings could not possibly be real paladins. This inspired her next crusade, one to break down vocational barriers for all demihuman races. Why couldn't halflings be paladins or dwarves be wizards? And why did gnomes always have to be illusionists? It simply made no goddamn sense. She began to get traction with her quest when she attended lectures by the wizards of the (sword) coast in Candlekeep. With their help, she ushered Faerun into a new edition era where there would be no vocational barriers for adventurers based on their race. Soon, the world began to see roguish halflings that also venerated Helm, while tending to the wilds as a druid. Half-orc bards also studied as wizards while manifesting natural arcane abilities as sorcerers. Tiefling paladins took their crusades to the wilderness and served as rangers, while sidelining as clergy to Mystra. The world was now a liberated place, free to not make any goddamn sense in a myriad of new ways. At one point, Lady Mazzy Fentan of Trademeet (now formally a paladin) crossed paths with a dwarven shadowdancebard and in that moment she regretted everything. Seriously, just take a moment and picture that. It would look fucking ridiculous.”
“Yeslick's clanhome was flooded once again. Despondent and without options, he took work at a smithy in Baldur's Gate but never stopped dreaming of finding both a clan and a home. He found a way to bring this dream to life after a courageous halfling paladin broke down the barriers for, among other things, dwarves to be wizards. Yeslick had an idea. He studied magic diligently until he was able to cast two spells of great importance: Water Breathing and Permanence. He then searched the lands for other clanless dwarves who would be willing to try something new. With the new clan he formed, Yeslick permanently gave all his fellow clansman the ability to breath underwater. They then moved into the flooded Cloakwood Mines and built the first underwater dwarven stronghold. Using his arcane powers, Yeslick also developed the ability to speak with the marine life that shared this stronghold. And, with that, the clan Aquadwarf was born. At one point, Valygar visited and wrote a play based on Yeslick's story. However, he couldn't even get it to stage at the Five Flagoons Theater. The illustrious director Garrick was quoted as saying, “A hero that can breath underwater and talk to fish? Nobody would go for that!"
“Keldorn finally retired from the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart and looked forward to a much simpler life. He rekindled his marriage with Lady Maria and life seemed to improve. It was rather early on when the couple discovered that Maria had become pregnant again. It was also not long after that when Peony, the housekeeper, also became pregnant. Maria started to ask Keldorn about this, but Keldorn started to get defensive and asked, ”Hey, who's the Inquisitor here?" Then Keldorn started to do the math with her to track the conception of Maria's pregnancy. She certainly did not want him to get to the end of that equation, so she quickly changed the subject. She suggested getting a new maid, but Keldorn chastised her for abandoning someone in their time of need who had been like family for years. He forbade Peony's departure claiming that his god, Torm, would not stand for it. Maria then made a passive aggressive comment about Torm being the god of loyalty, but she was mostly just muttering under her breath to get the last word in. Eventually, both children were born and had probably the most awkward upbringing of anyone in Faerun."
“After Gorion's Ward helped Coran take down a wyvern, the rogue brought the beast's head back to the mayor of Beregost for the reward and accolades. He thought this put him in a position to be a hero of great renown and perhaps, just maybe, people would stop mocking him for his flashy attire and completely superfluous eye mask. They didn't. He only gained acceptance when he crossed paths with a ranger who seemed indifferent towards Coran's keen fashion sense. Coran traveled the Sword Coast with his ranger sidekick, righting the wrongs against the ‘little guy’ and taking the law into their own hands when needed. This partnership dissolved when he discovered that the ranger thought Coran was the sidekick. As if! Coran tried to correct the ranger, whose argument was, 'Really, man, if that outfit doesn't scream sidekick then I'm Elminster's twin brother.' The ranger was not related to Elminster and shared no resemblance.
“Kivan never was able to get his revenge on Tazok. Unbeknownst to him, that honor was taken by Gorion's Ward. His thirst for vengeance continued to eat away at him until he found himself in a bat infested cave in the wilderness. It was then he snapped. He turned the cave into his secret hideaway, put together a disguise and started wandering the sword coast looking for evil-doers to punish. He would leave his calling card wherever he saved the day, a token of a bat with longer ears like an elf. And bats already had rather long ears so these bat ears were almost comically obtrusive. Nevertheless, his deeds were generally appreciated and the people stared calling him Bat-elf. For a short spell, another elf tagged along with him and tried to help, but he was so flamboyantly dressed that one could pick his sidekick out of the shadows blindfolded. Kivan eventually had to send him on his way. Unfortunately, his vigilante crusade abruptly ended after receiving a cease and decist order from DC Comics. Kivan could fight both monster and marauder all day, but his 14 Constitution wouldn't hold up against a lawsuit for trademark infringement.”
“Skie was deeply affected by both the death of her brother and the assassination of her father. And yes, her father was actually murdered and didn't lol-jk back to life in some crappy DLC. In any event, through these traumas, she came to realize the puerility of what she thought was her brilliant criminal masterminding. Instead, she decided to settle down and live a more responsible life as an upstanding citizen of Baldur's Gate. She took the reins of her father's estate after his death and rose to prominence as one of the Grand Dukes of the city. She maintained her relationship with Eldoth for quite some time, inexplicably, as he refused to get a job because he didn't want to take attention from his band which he swore was going to make it. However, the bard spent most of the day either lounging at Skie’s estate or gambling away his allowance with games of three-dragon-ante at the Helm and Cloak. Eventually, inspired by the book “Men Are From Menzoberranzan, Women Are From Immilmar," she decided to call it quits with Eldoth and sent him packing. Shortly thereafter, she met a man who was nothing like Eldoth and they settled down together to start a family."
“Eldoth's dreams of being a world-famous musician fronting the greatest band in Faerun never reached fruition. This was partly because he didn't actually have a band and partly because he didn't have the talent to write music. Instead, he just had a lute he purchased at Lucky Aello's Discount Store that only had one A-string and was missing the E-string. Also, Eldoth could only play power chords and he couldn't really sing and play at the same time. Most of the time he would just strum a chord or two and then talk about what the song would do next, often describing a solo and half playing it on an ”air lute" (while he was still holding an actual lute, mind you) to give people the idea as to how the song would sound when it was finally written. Yeah, he was one of those guys. After Skie kicked him to the curb, he bounced between various barmaids who clearly had low self-esteem, but not low enough to keep him around for long. Eventually, he got one of them pregnant and was forced into a shotgun wedding by the barmaid's father. He now works in the kitchen at the same inn as his barmaid wife. She helps the customers up front and he cooks eggs in the back. Eldoth continues to tell himself that this experience will just provide inspiration for his music and that someday he was going to get the band back together."
“After being rescued by Gorion's Ward, Xan made his way to Baldur's Gate to regroup. He spent an inordinate amount of time beating himself up over his failures and trying to muster the gumption to continue his quest to unravel the political turmoil of the region. However, it took him months to get to this point, and by that time, Gorion's Ward already sorted out the problems in the region. Discovering this, he deemed himself a failure yet again and sunk into a deeper depression. He pulled himself out of it when he met a woman who lost most of her family to violent deaths during the iron crisis, yet she still kept herself together and became a local success in a few short years. Xan immediately fell in love with the recently single Skie Silvershield and began to court her. They eventually married and started a family. At Xan's insistence, and inspired by his wife's name, their two daughters were named Sunshine and Rainbow. Xan was a staunch supporter of his wife's career and stayed home to raise the kids. When they were older and needed less attending, he followed a new dream and became a motivational speaker.”
“Korgan had his revenge against his backstabbing crew and employer, but he felt...empty. It was done, but he felt no satisfaction. Disgruntled and disappointed, he decided to lose himself in his cups at the Copper Coronet. Even this did nothing to alleviate his malaise. One night, having passed out drunk in a peasant room at the Copper Coronet, he dreamt of that final fight but something was different. In the background of the battle, there was a glow coming from the door of a shack and he heard the whispering of a language that sounded like it was from Kara-Tur. When he woke the next morning, Korgan returned to the rooftop and found the shack from his dream. He knocked and was greeted by a priest of Illmater. Korgan told the priest of his dream and he was led into the backroom where he found a man from Kara-Tur infirm and huddled over a cup of tea. The priest explained that he had just reincarnated this man of the faith using a heart delivered by a passing adventurer. Korgan took this as a sign, converted to the faith, and the two paired up to help those in suffering as a result of the schemes of others. The tales of Korgan and Yoshimo were not only told in many of a tavern by the bards, but also collected in graphic serials that were popular among the children of Athkatla.”
“Ajantis' death sent him into an afterlife at Everwatch, the realm of Helm. For his honor and diligence, the devout knight was granted an audience with his patron. Ajantis then told Helm what utter bullshit the god was. I mean, c'mon, he's the god of protection, the Vigilant One, and he couldn't protect a group of knights from a dragon's cheap illusion spell that a mage even tried to dispel with True Sight? It was like Helm wasn't even trying. Helm was stunned by the confrontation but also had no valid defense. Ajantis called Helm to a trial that was mediated by Tyr. After careful deliberation, Tyr determined that Helm was sleeping on the job and the judgment was to demote him to a lesser deity. Now, Helm was the patron of guards, but not actual guards that ever see action, just the ceremonial ones whose weapons and armor are super shiny and probably not even real. Ajantis was then granted Helm's old portfolio and became a god that truly protected his followers.”
“Viconia left Athkatla's government district perplexed. She was rescued from burning at the stake by Gorion's Ward and then immediately dismissed. She found this to be unusual behavior for a male. She was accustomed to men either trying to bed her or kill her, but this casual indifference was completely new. Viconia came to be obsessed with Gorion's Ward from a distance. She spiraled into a fantasy where the two of them had a future together. It was pretty bad. There were some extremely embarrassing vision boards involved and that wasn't even the worst of it. When her mania reached critical mass, her obsession actually collapsed and she had an epiphany. She came to realize that she did not need this man, or any for that matter. She started on a journey of self discovery and took a moral inventory of her past relationships. She wrote about it in the book, “Men Are From Menzoberranzan, Women Are From Immilmar”. She then used the revenue from the book sales to open Athkatla's first feminist bookstore. In Her Words became a mecca for women, particularly those who felt trapped in bad relationships. The community that emerged here created the group, Friends of Galia, which strove to free women from abusive relationships. Eventually, the bookstore expanded to include an apartment block above that became a shelter for such women. Occasionally, the partners of these victims would come around to In Her Words in an attempt to drag their partners back home. You can probably guess how a confrontation between a drunken 0-level commoner and a Drow priestess of Shar ends."
“Faldorn was defeated by Jaheira in Trademeet and lost her title of Arch-Druid. In truth, she was relieved to be relieved of the position. Years of pushing forward the Shadow Druid agenda led Faldorn to realize that she had lost touch with the real Faldorn along the way. After some soul-searching, she reinvented herself as a lifestyle guru and developed an entire line of organic health and beauty products under the name, She-Wolf. Both her products and seminars were all the rage in Athkatla, specifically among noblewomen who clearly had too much free time. Faldorn eventually gave up her residence in natural environs for a lavish estate in Athkatla's government district. Her following soon pressured her to petition to join the Council of Six after the fall of the Cowled Wizards left the position open (aside from a short-term replacement). Her petition was a success and she soon found herself on the Council of Six. Under her leadership, she created created the FDAA, the Food and Drink Association of Athkatla. Now, instead of draconian rules governing magic in the city, equally restrictive rules and standards were applied to the food and drink that the people consumed.”
“Barely surviving being gravely wounded by Irenicus, Tiax left Spellhold for Athkatla where he intended to do what he did best: rule. Learning from his past campaign mistakes in Baldur's Gate, he changed his slogan from ”Tiax Rules!" to “Make Athkatla Great Again”. Of course, what he thought would make Athkatla great was putting himself in charge as a despotic leader. But, he toned down that aspect of his platform and instead focused on the history of scheming and backroom dealing of the Cowled Wizards (as if he was any less evil or scheming) and promised the people he would be different than all the other corrupt politicians. Miraculously, despite his obviously apparent character flaws, he succeeded in replacing the Cowled Wizards' representative on the Council of Six. He decided to take their stance on restrictive magic to the next level and banned magic entirely. Since he didn't study the arcane himself, it was no skin of his nose. This move undermined his support base leaving him with only the most backwards and ignorant followers. He was ultimately removed from his position when he insisted the city build a wall around the planar sphere and was expecting that the city's wizards would be the ones to pay for it. After his removal, his few remaining extreme supporters organized an invasion of the main government building under the guise of freedom of assembly. All nine of these “rebels” were rounded up, tried, and sent to prison. Tiax was convicted of treason and reincarnated in Spellhold, which was now just a common prison. After his eventual release, he was prohibited from seeking any position of power in Amn."
"Edwin Odesseiron continued to lay low with the Shadow Thieves for a while. The Cowled Wizards suffered a crippling blow as a side effect of the conflict between Gorion's Ward and Irenicus. Edwin decided to step in and finish the job. His thought was that he could wipe out the Cowled Wizard remnants and then take credit for their defeat, thereby gaining him more clout among the Red Wizards of Thay. After many conspicuous mage battles in the streets of Athkatla, he succeeded. However, the people who noticed his efforts the most were actually the people of Athkatla. They were tired of living under the Cowled Wizards' iron fist and Edwin was lauded as a liberator and hero. He even had a statue in his image raised in Waukeen's Promenade. Edwin was initially nonplussed over people finally giving him the credit he always felt he so rightfully deserved. But, he quickly came to accept their praise and bought in to being a champion for the people. Edwin continued his agenda of liberation when a clearly insane gnome who found his way on the Council of Six tried to ban magic entirely in the city. Edwin and his followers were primarily responsible for having the madman removed from his seat.
“Shar-Teel, Safana, Branwen, and Alora all happened to cross paths with each other at Elfsong one evening. Shar-Teel was looking to fight a man, Safana was looking to shag a man, Branwen was recently petrified by a man, and Alora was just excited to be somewhere new. The four got to talking with each other and, despite having wildly different personalities, seemed to hit it off. Shar-Teel was sarcastic and aggressive, Safana was self-absorbed and man-hungry, Alora was kind and sweet, and Branwen was the matriarch of the group. You wouldn't think this lot would get along, but they actually did, and their differences merely become the fuel for innocuous hi-jinks week after week.”
"With Gorion's Ward's help, Cernd was able to rescue his child that he then abandoned again at the druid grove near Trademeet. He promised that he would return to raise the child, he just needed to run to the general shop in Trademeet for some pipeweed. He never returned, but that was pretty obvious since he didn’t even smoke. Cernd continued to wander Faerun. It came to light in Cormyr that Cernd had actually married, and had children, with numerous women in Cormyr, Amn, the Sword Coast, Tethyr, Calimshan, Turmish, Halruaa, Icewind Dale, Chondath, Sembia, Impiltur, the Silver Marches, and even the Troll Hills (don't ask). Furthermore, it was discovered that Cernd was not actually a druid, just a werewolf that had a Ring of Goodberries. The druid con was so that he could have a reason to abandon his wives and children and move on to a new situation. You would be surprised at how many women could fall for a guy that can conjure an impromptu picnic in the park. Unfortunately for Cernd, Cormyr was not the kind of place to run afoul of the legal system. For the crime of bigamy, he was sentenced to life in prison. He never set foot near a druid grove again, but he was allowed to participate in a work-release program tending to the gardens of nobles.
“Kagain returned to his shop and grew even more bitter, but not over what the death of Entar Silvershield's son had done to his reputation and business. Instead, he resented that even the Enhanced Edition of the game didn't give him a remotely decent companion quest. By Moradin's hammer, Cernd even had a pretty involved companion quest and the story there both starts and ends with a deadbeat dad! Also, Kagain can regenerate! Korgan can't even do that. And another thing! He was sick of people confusing the two of them as if all dwarves look alike or something. Ok, granted, they're both old dwarves with greying beards, but Korgan's beard is tied while Kagain's beard is brushed out. Of course, none of this made sense to anyone, even to Kagain who never actually crossed paths with Cernd or Korgan. However, the dwarf had nothing to do with his time except stand in his shop, isolated and alone, until he was done in by insanity and plantar fasciitis.”
“The death of Khalid shook Jaheira to the core. She convinced herself that she could never love again, certainly not so soon after his death nor with anyone that would be a child in her eyes. That would be absurd and rather tacky. After her escape from Irenicus' prison and deposing Faldorn from the druid grove, she took over as Arch-Druid. Being a Harper just wouldn't be the same without Khalid. However, the grove would allow her to explore a new, but comfortingly familiar, phase of life. She had barely been installed as the Arch-Druid when Cernd dropped off his child and disappeared again. He did not even stay long enough to tell Jaheira the child's name. Knowing he would likely not return, she named the child Khalid after her lost love. Realizing there were other children our there without families to care for them, Jahaeira would send her subordinates to wander nearby lands and bring them to the grove for a better life. Perhaps not surprisingly, many of these children happened to be Cernd's. She eventually renamed the grove to Kinder Garden in honor of the grove's new purpose of giving these children a kinder upbringing. Jaheira's headstrong personality served her well with these lost children, who all loved her as they would any mother. The Kinder Garden became the most thriving druid grove in all of Faerun. Jaheira eventually died in 1547 DR, with hundreds of children haven been rescued in her lifetime, and a memorial was erected in her honor at the grove. The inscription read, 'Nature's Servant Awaits.'"
“After being freed from Irenicus' dungeon, Minsc put his boots on the ground at the Copper Coronet. Being the simple man that he was, he found himself unwittingly recruited into fighting in the gladiator pits (before Gorion's Ward was able to free the slaves). Yet again, Minsc took a blow to the head. But this time, its effects were something completely new. No longer was he the slow-witted evil-slaying ranger, armed to the teeth and packing a hamster. Instead, his intelligence and wisdom started to blossom and he explored, through dissertation, the impact of modern civilization on the overall ecosystem of Faerun. Indeed, before Minsc started his work, the people of Faerun didn't even have the concept of an ”ecosystem". He left Athkatla to pursue a residency at Jaheira's grove where he could study and work in peace. He published works like, “The Intersection of Geopolitics and Biodiversity: Living More but Dying Sooner”, “The Essential Symbiosis Between the Savage and Civilization”, and “Moral Urbanization: Seeking a More Comprehensive Prosperity”. Minsc continued his studies and writing and ultimately produced enough groundbreaking works to have his own annex in Candlekeep. It was shortly after the dedication of this annex that Minsc disappeared from Faerun, never to be seen again."
“Jan Jansen's fate was the most impressive of all as his endeavors shaped the very fabric of Faerun for centuries to come. His story truly serves as a moral lesson for everyone and we should heed its virtue quite seriously. Helping Lissa and Jaella planted a seed of regret in Lissa with regards to her marriage to Vaelag. Speaking of seeds, this reminds Jan of a time when he was helping his Uncle Scratchy with his turnip farm. However, Uncle Scratchy was hoodwinked and the seeds he received were actually purple carrot seeds. You can imagine Uncle Scratchy's surprise when they sprouted and he suddenly had a field of purple carrots. Well, as you probably know, you can't make turnip stew, or turnip casserole, or turnip pie with purple carrots. But it just so happened there was a mage tower nearby and the resident mage needed a vast number of carrots. Apparently, her plan was to animate them as a kind of vegetable army to combat a myconid infestation in cave system rather close to her tower. Of course, animated carrots are quite self-assured and were immune to myconoid's confusion spores. Anyway, Jan had a once-removed cousin, Bobil, that was lost in those caves when he was a young gnome. He had wandered so deep that he found himself in the den of a solitary xvart who was obsessed with a magic ring. Bobil happened to purloin that ring but it turned out to not be magic at all. However, it was still worth enough for Bobil to buy himself a nice cottage in Trademeet. He then started his own turnip farm and had better luck than Uncle Scratchy. Wait, what were we talking about, again?”
“Boo continued his mission to study the sentient life forms of Faerun and determine their potential impact on the metaverse. He preferred the continued company of Minsc due to the ranger's kindness and protectiveness. Boo found this to be quite valuable in his current miniaturized state. Even after Minsc's accident, where his intellect began to expand, Minsc never lost his good heart and inherent kindness and the two remained the best of friends. It was a number of years later that the term of Boo's mission was complete. A team of his fellow people arrived on a spelljammer to collect the giant miniaturized space hamster. Minsc (and Boo) were on a retreat in a remote part of the Neverwinter Wood when a vessel shaped like a giant acorn landed in a nearby clearing. A number of human-sized anthropomorphic hamster-like beings, who called themselves the Ysoki, emerged and met with Boo. One had a strange crystalline device which it used to restore Boo to his proper size. Minsc naturally remained composed while all this was happening. He and Boo talked often and he knew this day would be coming. Boo returned to the spelljammer with his brethren to debrief on the mission. The Ysoki wanted to bring a sample back to their homeworld for further learning and study. Boo offered Minsc for the task, as the exemplar human would fit in nicely with the Ysoki's advanced culture and society. Everyone was in agreement and made the offer to the ranger. Minsc felt like he had made every contribution he could to the people of Faerun, so he accepted and boarded the ship. Boo, excited to finally be on a spelljammer again, took the helm and plotted a course for his homeworld. At his side sat his friend and faithful companion, Minsc.”

Nothing scandalous here, I just need to vent. I'm less than two months away from turning 30. I've never been in a relationship. I've never had sex. I've never seen a girl naked in person, been seen naked, felt up a girl, slept in a bed with a girl, or even cuddled. I did kiss a girl, but it was just a couple quick kisses on the lips. Hell, my first kiss was also when my last date was, over eight and half years ago. I feel like a failure, a weirdo, an outsider.
I know not everyone is out there having sex in high school, or hooking up in college. But I wanted to have those cliche experiences. Instead I just let my anxiety control me. I stay in my comfort zone and now it feels too late to get out. I know I'm still young, but after four years of therapy I don't feel I'm much different.
Sure, my therapist will say I've made dramatic improvements. I moved out of my parents house, I'm on meds, I got convinced to get on dating apps. I have a decent paying job, I'm reliable and always there, no student loan debt, no car debt, I have a 401k, I have friends, I'm smart, friendly, funny, and just in general a good person. But I still have low self-esteem and confidence. I built some up over the first two some years of therapy, I started to think I'd had a chance with women. I mean, I can actually have conversations without making it sexual and I'm respectful.
That's why my therapist was finally able to talk me into using dating apps. After a year I've had zero dates. In real life I still can't approach strangers in general so forget approaching a cute girl and trying to flirt or as her out. Hell, I don't even know where the hell people go to meet people. And now that I'm living on my own I'm lonely all the time. I come home to nobody. I eat dinner alone. I go to bed alone and wake up alone. And what's worse, I'm tired.
Just... tired. I work manual labor so I get home tired. I relax and I'm still tired. I tried exercising, still tired. I'm just tired of being tired. And I don't have the motivation to change anything not that I even know what to do to change. It's like I'm suffocating but I don't know how to get air, and if I did I don't have the energy to get it. I'm so tired I came the closest I'd been to suicide since high school. Probably the only reason I'm still here is I don't want to burden somebody else with the mess. Rope, gun, pills; somebody will find me and somebody will have to clean it up. Train, car, bridge; somebody will be traumatized and have to clean it up. I can't inconvenience somebody like that. I'm not sure if that means I'm thoughtful or so low on myself that I'm not worth the hassle.
So if this is how I feel after years of therapy, how many years until Im good enough to be in a healthy relationship? How will I even handle a relationship? How bad will I be at sex? How off put will women be by a 30+ year old guy who has never been in a relationship, dated, had sex, or even got to first base? How bad will I be living with somebody else? How long until I learn how to date or flirt or kiss? How long until I feel like I can really live?
I'm just torn. I want to live life. But I don't know how. There's things I want to do. But I'm too tired and too caught up in my own thoughts and anxiety.
So I turned to reddit. I met some wonderful people, they told me I'm cute, I'm kind, good at writing and conversing, that I'm a catch. A couple of them even talked about meeting and maybe seeing how we vibe and maybe having sex. Of course then they stop talking suddenly and I'm left to start over again. Finding someone you can just easily track to is so hard. Finding someone to talk to who isn't trying to sell you something is fucking hard and exhausting. And then you find them, put in energy and effort into cultivating that friendship, you see it start to blossom, and then one morning you come out and find out a deer ate the friendship down to the roots overnight. Now all you have left is a pot of dirt with what was something that made you smile. Something you looked forward to seeing.
I'm just tired of being tired. I'm tired of wanting to have a woman want me, desire me, want to hold and comfort me, wanting someone to choose to spend their time with me. I'm tired of wanting to have someone I can spoil, I can put my skills towards making happy, who I can hold and comfort and support. I'm tired of wanting to feel someone's embrace, their head on my chest and their arms around me, a simple kiss, moments of lust and passion, a simple touch on the arm or their fingers weaving with mine. I'm tired of not knowing what I want or what to do or what will make me happy. Im tired of not even being sad, just feeling tired.
I just don't know what to do, what to change, how to change. I wish I could just give up and live alone, happy to play video games and be alone. I always remember a quote from a TV show:
"The universe is a cruel, uncaring void. The key to being happy isn't the search for meaning; it's just to keep yourself busy with unimportant nonsense, and eventually, you'll be dead." - Mr. Peanutbutter

Hi guys! Currently playing skyrim SE 1.6.1130 and when I am roaming around in towns I am having upwards of 15k draw calls! This lowers my (albeit high) fps from 120 to around 60 or less. I do understand I need to remove mods that add npcs or clutter, and I have removed mods like JK's skyrim recently to help (added at least 5 fps) I currently have mods like efps, Bethini, shadow boost. I was thinking it was my enb or maybe high poly npc overhaul but no fps increase when turned off... Any suggestions?
My specs are
CPU: Ryzen 7 5800x3d 8-core processor
GPU: NVIDIA GeForce RTX 4060 Ti 8gb vram
RAM: 32gb ddr4
SSD: M.2 2tb
Mod list is:
Skyrim.esm
Update.esm
Dawnguard.esm
HearthFires.esm
Dragonborn.esm
ccBGSSSE001-Fish.esm
ccQDRSSE001-SurvivalMode.esl
ccBGSSSE037-Curios.esl
ccBGSSSE025-AdvDSGS.esm
_ResourcePack.esl
RSkyrimChildren.esm
Unofficial Skyrim Special Edition Patch.esp
Skyrim Project Optimization - Full ESL Version.esm
Landscape and Water Fixes.esp
LegacyoftheDragonborn.esm
Occ_Skyrim_Tamriel.esp
Lightened Skyrim - merged.esp
RealisticWaterTwo - Resources.esm
Lux Orbis - Master plugin.esm
arnima.esm
Falskaar.esm
Better Dynamic Snow SE - DisableRefs.esm
Vigilant.esm
1NGarmor.esl
Experience.esl
Expressive Facegen Morphs.esl
Lux - Resources.esp
Lux Via.esp
Lux - Master plugin.esm
NorthernIce.esp
AHZmoreHUDInventory.esl
TheNewGentleman.esp
TrueHUD.esl
Wyrmstooth.esp
High Poly Head.esm
Particle Patch for ENB.esp
SkyUI_SE.esp
Audio Overhaul Skyrim.esp
SMIM-SE-Merged-All.esp
Better Dynamic Snow SE.esp
summersetisles.esp
High Poly NPC Overhaul - Resources.esp
High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition.esp
Beards of Power.esp
High Poly NPCs VHR_BOP.esp
Northern Roads.esp
Aspens Ablaze.esp
SummersetFixes.esp
COTN - Falkreath.esp
Weapons Armor Clothing & Clutter Fixes.esp
Lux Orbis.esp
Cutting Room Floor.esp
CollegeOfWinterholdImmersive.esp
fortdawnguardimmersive.esp
Landscape Fixes For Grass Mods.esp
COTN - Dawnstar.esp
Northern Roads - Lux Via patch.esp
COTN - Morthal.esp
COTN - Winterhold.esp
MysticismMagic.esp
NAT-ENB.esp
Lux Via - plugin.esp
Bandit War.esp
hearthfireextended.esp
HFE-CC Fishing Patch.esp
Dawn of Skyrim.esp
Helgen Reborn.esp
Embers XD.esp
SeranaDialogAddon.esp
Landscape and Water Fixes - Patch - LFfGM.esp
Lux Orbis - LotD patch.esp
Hothtrooper44_ArmorCompilation.esp
home.esp
Lux Orbis - Dawn of Skyrim patch.esp
Clockwork.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - AI Overhaul.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - Skyrim Revamped - Complete Enemy Overhaul.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - OBIS SE.esp
Immersive Weapons.esp
Morskom.esp
PrvtI_HeavyArmory.esp
Wintersun - Faiths of Skyrim.esp
Northern Roads - Lux Orbis Patch.esp
Run For Your Lives.esp
LustmordVampireArmor.esp
Lux Orbis - Morskom Estate patch.esp
SL01AmuletsSkyrim.esp
Lux Orbis - COTN Falkreath patch.esp
DBM_RelicNotifications.esp
WZOblivionArtifacts.esp
DBM_HelgenReborn_Patch.esp
DBM_AmuletsOfSkyrim_Patch.esp
DBM_OblivionArtifacts_Patch.esp
Northern Roads - Helgen Reborn patch.esp
Northern Roads - Vigilant patch.esp
BGCollectables.esp
Lux Orbis - Wintersun patch.esp
Northern Roads - COTN Falkreath Patch.esp
DBM_BGCollectables_Patch.esp
SexLab-AmorousAdventures.esp
DBM_IW_Patch.esp
DBM_Vigilant_Patch.esp
Lux Orbis - Cutting Room Floor patch.esp
Northern Roads No NR Bridge patch.esp
Occ_Skyrim_COTN-Falkreath_patch.esp
FDILOTDPatch.esp
DawnguardArsenal.esp
Reverb Interior Sounds Expansion.esp
AcousticTemplateFixes.esp
Lux Orbis - Helgen Reborn.esp
COTN Dawnstar - Morskom Estate Patch.esp
COTN Dawnstar - Embers XD Patch.esp
AdditionalHearthfireDolls.esp
PrvtIRoyalArmory.esp
Royal Armory Tweaks.esp
Lux Orbis - COTN Winterhold patch.esp
DBM_CRF_Patch.esp
Occ_Skyrim_COTN-Dawnstar_patch.esp
COTN Morthal - Embers XD Patch.esp
PaarthurnaxQuestExpansion.esp
ForgottenCity.esp
Northern Roads - Legacy of the Dragonborn patch.esp
COTN Morthal - LOTD Patch.esp
Occ_Skyrim_COTN-Morthal_patch.esp
Lux Orbis - Saints and Seducers patch.esp
Northern Roads - COTN Dawnstar Patch.esp
COTN Dawnstar - Legacy of the Dragonborn Patch.esp
AetheriumSwordsnArmor.esp
DBM_AetheriumWeapons_Patch.esp
DBM_RoyalArmory_Patch.esp
DBM_Wintersun_Patch.esp
DBM_Falskaar_Patch.esp
DBM_DawnofSkyrimDC_Patch.esp
GG's Impoverished Vanilla Whiterun.esp
Occ_Skyrim_Dawn-of-Skyrim_patch.esp
Lux Orbis - CC Fish patch.esp
LOTD_TCC_Wintersun.esp
DBM_ImmersiveCollegeofWinterhold_Patch.esp
Northern Roads - COTN Winterhold Patch.esp
icebladeofthemonarch.esp
DBM_IceBladeMonarch_Patch.esp
Lux Orbis - USSEP patch.esp
NRNRBP-Nothern Roads-Lux via Patch.esp
Lux Orbis - COTN Morthal patch.esp
Lux Orbis - Wyrmstooth.esp
DBM_Wyrmstooth_Patch.esp
Northern Roads - COTN Morthal Patch.esp
Northern Roads - COTN Morthal - Lux Orbis Patch.esp
Embers XD - Patch - Lux Via.esp
Lux Orbis - Embers XD patch.esp
Occ_Skyrim-Legacy_of_Dragonborn_patch.esp
COTN Winterhold - Embers XD [XD ESP] Patch.esp
COTN Winterhold - LOTD Patch.esp
ArtifactsOfBoethiah.esp
Lux Orbis - COTN Dawnstar patch.esp
Occ_Skyrim_Morskom-Estate_patch.esp
COTN Morthal - Clockwork Patch.esp
COTN Morthal - CC - Fishing Patch.esp
COTN Morthal - Landscape and Water Fixes Patch.esp
Lux Orbis - Immersive College patch.esp
COTN Dawnstar - Clockwork Patch.esp
DBM_ArtifactsofBoethiah_Patch.esp
DBM_Clockwork_Patch.esp
Apocalypse - Magic of Skyrim.esp
Kynreeve Armor.esp
The_Sinister_Seven.esp
lotd_luxorbis_stalkinglanternsfix.esp
Northern Roads - CC Saints and Seducers patch.esp
Occ_Skyrim_COTNDawnstar-MorskomEstate_patch.esp
Occ_Skyrim_Immersive-College-Winterhold_patch.esp
COTN Winterhold - Amulets of Skyrim Patch.esp
COTN Winterhold - BGCollectables Patch.esp
Lux Orbis - Immersive Fort Dawnguard patch.esp
Kozakowy1660Gown.esp
Grass FPS Booster - Folkvangr.esp.ghost
NorthernGrass.esp
Nature of the Wild Lands - Grass.esp
Cathedral - 3D Pine Grass.esp
Grass FPS Booster - NorthernGrass.esp
[ELLE] Abyss.esp
AcousticTemplateFixes_CC_Seducers.esp
AcousticTemplateFixes_ReverbInteriorSounds.esp
AnubAnimObj.esp
AnubAnimObjAdaptedFurniture.esp
SubsurfaceScatteringShader.esp
dD - Enhanced Blood Main.esp
Dynamic Impact - Slash Effects X.esp
Dynamic Impact - Slash Effects X-01EBT.esp
AOS_EBT Patch.esp
SLAL_AnimationByBakaFactory.esp
Bandit Lines Expansion.esp
BeastHHBB.esp
BetterArgonianHorns.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - Immersive Weapons.esp
Children of the Hist.esp
Dr_Bandolier.esp
BarenziahQuestMarkers.esp
Bears of the North.esp
BetterThirdPersonSelection.esp
SLALAnimObjBillyy.esp
BlackreachEerieAmbience.esp
DBM_BeyondReach_Patch.esp
CBBE 3BA Vanilla Outfits.esp
3BBB.esp
CBBE.esp
RaceMenu.esp
RaceMenuPlugin.esp
RaceMenuMorphsCBBE.esp
COTN Dawnstar - Amulets of Skyrim Patch.esp
COTN Dawnstar - Additional Hearthfire Dolls Patch.esp
COTN Dawnstar - ICOW Patch.esp
COTN Dawnstar - BGCollectables Patch.esp
COTN Dawnstar - Helgen Reborn Patch.esp
COTN Dawnstar - Wintersun Patch.esp
Cassandra Frost Witch.esp
COTN Morthal - Amulets of Skyrim Patch.esp
COTN Morthal - Additional Hearthfire Dolls Patch.esp
COTN Morthal - BGCollectables Patch.esp
COTN Morthal - Oblivion Artifacts Pack.esp
Civil War Lines Expansion.esp
CustomDifficultyUI.esp
DarkWitch.esp
DistantDragonRoars.esp
DiverseDragonsCollectionSE.esp
DragonbornShoutPerks.esp
DynamicDungeonLoot.esp
DVLaSS Skyrim Underside.esp
Elephant'sScriptLatencyTester.esp
Enhanced Enemy AI.esp
dD-Larger Drips.esp
dD-Medium Script Range.esp
FNIS.esp
FlickeringShadowsFix.esp
Forsworn and Thalmor Lines Expansion.esp
MCMHelper.esp
FEC.esp
ImGladYoureHere.esp
GDOS - Glorious Solitude Door - Rotation Fix.esp
GDOS - Splendid Mechanized Dwemer Door.esp
HappyLittleTrees.esp
PrvtI_HA_DraugrWeapons.esp
PrvtI_HeavyArmory_RareCurios_Patch.esp
PrvtI_HeavyArmory_WACCF_Patch.esp
PrvtI_HeavyArmory_USSEP_Patch.esp
ImTalkinHere.esp
Hothtrooper44_Armor_Ecksstra.esp
FDIDGArsenalPatch.esp
Insignificant Object Remover.esp
Jewelry limiter.esp
JustBlood.esp
Knight of The Village Set.esp
LazyBodyEdit.esp
DBM_AdditionalHFDolls_Patch.esp
DBM_ForgottenCity_Patch.esp
DBM_HearthfireExtended_Patch.esp
DBM_IA_Patch.esp
DBM_HA_Patch.esp
DBM_SinisterSeven_Patch.esp
DBM_DGA_Patch.esp
Volkihar Knight.esp
DBM_VolkiharKnight_Patch.esp
LOTD_TCC_AdditionalDolls.esp
LOTD_TCC_Aetherium.esp
LOTD_TCC_Amulets.esp
LOTD_TCC_Boethiah.esp
LOTD_TCC_Clockwork.esp
LOTD_TCC_DawnguardArsenal.esp
LOTD_TCC_Falskaar.esp
LOTD_TCC_Gremlins.esp
LOTD_TCC_HeavyArm.esp
LOTD_TCC_Helgen.esp
LOTD_TCC_ICOW.esp
LOTD_TCC_IceBlade.esp
LOTD_TCC_ImmArm.esp
LOTD_TCC_ImmWeap.esp
LOTD_TCC_OblivionArt.esp
LOTD_TCC_Royal.esp
LOTD_TCC_SinisterSeven.esp
LOTD_TCC_TFC.esp
LOTD_TCC_Vigilant.esp
LOTD_TCC_Volkihar.esp
LOTD_TCC_Wyrmstooth.esp
DBM_DDL_Patch.esp
DBM_RSChildren_Patch.esp
DBM_SMIM_Patch.esp
UnreadBooksGlow.esp
DBM_UnreadBooksGlow_Patch.esp
DBM_WACCF_Patch.esp
MurderOfSongbirds.esp
NibblesAnimObjects.esp
HIMBO.esp
Nordic Winds.esp
Motion Sensitive Fix SE.esp
MaximumCarnage.esp
OBody.esp
OStim.esp
OStimCommunityResource.esp
OCum.esp
PAN_Serana.esp
ExpertPierce.esp
Shout.esp
Simplicity of Snow.esp
AHZmoreHUD.esp
Precision.esp
RSChildren.esp
Random Emotions.esp
HagravenSkinShaders.esp
Relentless Sword SE - Johnskyrim.esp
ResplendentArmor.esp
ReturnToPelagiusMind.esp
RichMerchantsSkyrim_x10.esp
Reverb Interior Sounds Expansion_VolumeSlider_Rain.esp
Reverb Interior Sounds Expansion_VolumeSlider_Thunder.esp
Shaders of Solstheim.esp
ShowRaceMenuAlternative.esp
SDA GYH Patch.esp
SDA Lustmord Patch.esp
SDA Wintersun Patch.esp
SDA-AA Patch.esp
SimpleItemSpawner.esp
SkyHUD.esp
SkyrimOutfitSystem.esp
Skyshards.esp
Sonders_Keyword_Distribution.esp
SmoothCam.esp
TKDodge.esp
TheEyesOfBeauty.esp
TrueDirectionalMovement.esp
UIExtensions.esp
ValhallaCombat.esp
VampireSun.esp
VioLens SE.esp
WildwoodEchoes.esp
XPMSE.esp
RBT.esp
cheat room.esp
wilderness_witch.esp
icepenguinworldmapclassic.esp
AdditionalHFDollsPassivesPatch.esp
HearthfireMultiKid.esp
HearthfireMultiKid_LastName.esp
High Poly Head Vampire Fix.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - Cutting Room Floor.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - AI Overhaul - Cutting Room Floor.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - Immersive Weapons - AI Overhaul.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - Immersive Weapons - Cutting Room Floor.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - Immersive Weapons - AI Overhaul - Cutting Room Floor.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - LegacyoftheDragonborn.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - MLU.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - MLU - AI Overhaul.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - MLU - Cutting Room Floor.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - MLU - Skyrim Revamped - Complete Enemy Overhaul.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - Skyrim Revamped - Complete Enemy Overhaul - OBIS SE.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - Skyrim Revamped - Complete Enemy Overhaul - Immersive Weapons.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - OBIS SE - Immersive Weapons.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - Practical Pirate Outfit Distributed.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - Practical Pirate Outfit Distributed - Immersive Weapons.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - Practical Pirate Outfit Distributed - OBIS SE.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - Practical Pirate Outfit Distributed - Skyrim Revamped - Complete Enemy Overhaul.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - Skyrim Revamped - Complete Enemy Overhaul - Cutting Room Floor.esp
[xPatch] High Poly NPC Overhaul - Skyrim Special Edition - Skyrim Revamped - Complete Enemy Overhaul - OBIS SE - Immersive Weapons.esp
Complete Crafting Overhaul_Remastered.esp
DBM_CCOR_Patch.esp
Ordinator - Perks of Skyrim.esp
DragonbornShoutPerksOrdinator.esp
CWIOrdinatorPatchSSE.esp
nwsFollowerFramework.esp
SDA NFF Patch.esp
RealisticWaterTwo.esp
RealisticWaterTwo - Beyond Reach.esp
RealisticWaterTwo - Falskaar.esp
RealisticWaterTwo - Waves - Falskaar.esp
RealisticWaterTwo - Waves - Wyrmstooth.esp
Lux.esp
Lux - Falskaar patch.esp
Lux - Immersive Fort Dawnguard patch.esp
Lux - Vigilant patch.esp
Lux - Artifacts - The Ice Blade of the Monarch.esp
Lux - Artifacts - The Tournament of the Ten Bloods.esp
Lux - Legacy of the Dragonborn patch.esp
Lux x ICOW patch.esp
Lux - RWT Patch.esp
Lux - CC Fish patch.esp
Lux - COTN Dawnstar patch.esp
Lux - COTN Falkreath patch.esp
Lux - COTN Morthal patch.esp
Lux - COTN Winterhold patch.esp
Lux - Clockwork.esp
Lux - Cuting Room Floor.esp
Lux - USSEP patch.esp
Lux - Embers XD patch.esp
Lux - Forgotten City.esp
Lux - HelgenReborn.esp
Lux - Legacy of the Dragonborn - Artifacts of Boethiah.esp
Lux - Legacy of the Dragonborn - Aetherium Weapons.esp
Lux - Legacy of the Dragonborn - Royal Armoury patch.esp
Lux - Morskom Estate patch.esp
Lux - Oblivion Artifacts Pack patch.esp
Lux - Saints and Seducers patch.esp
Lux - Wintersun patch.esp
Lux - Wyrmstooth.esp
Lux - SLaWF patch.esp
Northern Roads - Lux patch.esp
Lux - Beyond Reach Patch.esp
Lux - Clockwork Patch.esp
Lux - Dawn of skyrim Patch.esp
Lux - HearthfireMultikid Patch.esp
Lux - Immersive College Of Winterhold Patch.esp
PAN_AIO_big.esp
PAN_NPCs.esp
PAN_NPCs_Males2.esp
PAN_NPCs_Males.esp
PAN_NPCs_Males3.esp
PAN_Brelyna.esp
PAN_MarvellousMiners.esp
PAN_DashingDefenders.esp
PAN_DevotedDames.esp
PAN_LethalLadies.esp
PAN_NPCs_DG.esp
PAN_Sovngarde.esp
PAN_WarriorWomen.esp
PAN_Valerica.esp
PAN_Shieldsisters.esp
PAN_WickedWitches.esp
PAN_BlackBriar.esp
PAN_Frea.esp
PAN_NPCs_DB.esp
NoGrassINCities.esp

Link to AO3
chapters 1&2
chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5
chapter 6
chapter 7
chapter 8
chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
The Academy looked normal enough from the distance but blew Gentry’s mind when she finally entered it. First of all, the way in lay through a massive winter garden full of the most luxurious botanical collection she’s ever seen. Not only that, but it seemed to be arranged in a way that offered spaces for hanging out as well as paths in and out. Here and there, G noticed little nooks with people’s voices coming from them and small murmuring streams gleamed in the sun that blazed through the transparent walls and roof. This place looked magical and invited to stay, enjoy the refreshing coolness and peace of mind. But Gentry had a good enough rest in her communal room the night before and was eager to start working on her first assignment that the System had spat out with a congratulating letter. Figuring out the controls of her new wristcomm was simple enough.
DEAR GENTRY!
WE ARE DELIGHTED TO INFORM YOU THAT YOU ARE THE FIRST CONTESTANT TO CLEAR ALL CHALLENGES AND OBTAIN THE STATUS OF AN ASHTAPADAN NEWCOMER! YOUR MEDICAL DATA HAS BEEN ANALYSED AND FOUND ACCEPTABLE.
IN THE ATTACHMENT TO THIS LETTER YOU WILL FIND A LIST OF RULES, RECOMMENDATIONS AND IDEAS THAT WILL DEFINITELY HELP YOU IN THE FIRST WEEKS IN OUR BEAUTIFUL CITY BUT WE STRONGLY RECOMMEND FINDING A BUDDY THAT WOULD BE YOUR MAIN GUIDE AND POTENTIALLY A NEW GREAT FRIEND! IT CAN BE ANY CITIZEN OR A MORE EXPERIENCED NEWCOMER.
YOUR CURRENT POINTS: 0
WHY NOT START EARNING SOME WITH YOUR FIRST ASSIGNMENT?
START ANY BEGINNER COURSE AT THE ACADEMY AND KEEP YOUR ATTENDANCE RATE OVER 80% — WORTH 50 POINTS
(OPTIONAL) FIND SOMEBODY WHO IS WILLING TO BECOME YOUR BUDDY — WORTH 20 POINTS
Without stopping to check if the vending machines offered anything good, G made her way through the dreamy garden and entered the inner yard that looked just like everything here: nothing too eye-catching at first glance but secrets hidden everywhere.
One thing she had already noticed was that most of the people had another piece of technology on their bodies besides the comm on their wrists: a sort of extendable visor that some of them kept engaged at all times. Those who were focused on the screen had a comical look on their faces, a thousand-mile stare, eyes wide even as they were talking to each other or going about their business. It was unclear yet why they would engage the screen for so long though. No one needed this much time to read a notification or check a map.
Take a group of young students by the fountain, for example. They seemed deep in conversation with each other yet their pupils didn’t focus on the person in front, but on the translucent screen over the top part of their faces. Was it some kind of virtual reality helmet?
If so, G needed one, too.
Perhaps she’d be able to make new friends this way.
There was something else that caught Gentry’s eye. Despite her initial disappointment about the severe lack of male hotness in the streets, people of both sexes seemed to really care about their appearance. Even those who probably weren’t naturally stunning were very interesting to look at not least because of the crazy fashion sense everyone here had. Never before had G seen so much variety in what everyone wore: countless variations on different national garments, some looking very traditional, like something one could see in a theatre, some — futuristic uniforms straight out of a sci-fi movie. It didn’t seem like anyone was concerned with gender norms here, too. At least in when it came to the outfits.
G hoped she didn’t look like a creepy stalker when her gaze lingered on a pair of very nicely shaped legs stretching from underneath a plaid skirt that belonged to a young man in the group sat by the edge of the water. A pair of snow-white knee-highs, flat loafers and neat raven hair with some blue streaks completed the image. His clothes fit him very well and weren’t inappropriate in the least: something an old money university student would wear.
A female student that is.
And he wasn’t alone. Here and there, among more conventionally dressed people, there were people wearing all sorts of things: a crazy mix of goth-like apparel but barefoot, men and women with heads covered with scarves, people in strange jewelery that looked like it weighed a ton and so on. Most importantly, no one seemed to care what the others looked like.
Was it paradise? Looks like the demo didn’t lie: it was heaven on earth.
The young man in the middle of the student gaggle caught her staring after all. With a dazzling smile, he waved in her direction as if they were great friends, and G waved back, face heating, hoping there wasn’t anyone behind her this tease was actually waving at. Thank god his shoes weren’t heeled, otherwise she would definitely have a heart attack right here, in the middle of the common area, on her first day.
Did he notice her ogling his legs? Judging by the giggles of his friend's entourage, they all did. The young flirt covered his mouth, eyes wide in mock indignation and pulled his knees in, as if hiding them from the improper attention, getting even more laughter from the rest of the company. G averted her eyes and tried to calm her breathing as she was on her way through the yard again, but before they all disappeared from her field of view, she noticed the coquette stretch his legs again and fall back on a friend of his, embracing the lucky man’s neck in an affectionate gesture, already forgetting G existed.
There was no way she wasn’t going to make some pretty boy do the same for her. Forget the assignment, put that in the list of her top priorities!
At first, Gentry was lost when she failed to find any kind of class schedule and there was no one to ask at the reception desk.
Why have a reception desk if nobody’s on duty?
Soon, however, it occurred to her that there was no schedule: each room within the wide marble corridors had a small display with a handwritten message scribbled on it.
Bachata for beginners
Product engineering (Tuesday class cancelled)
Colloidal chemistry (revision today)
None of these were the Communications course that Jey was talking about, but the variety definitely made G’s eyebrows go up.
Was she just supposed to barge into any class and sign up? Did she have to sign up later if she liked the subject? Was it ok to choose any?
After some wandering around, too scared to just walk in uninvited or ask others for directions, she finally stumbled across the door saying:
Communication & decision making course (Newcomers welcome)
With the desks arranged in a horseshoe and the people of various ages that were also apparently Newcomers, it all seemed comfortably casual. Everyone was chatting as she walked in, paying G no mind so she busied herself with the wristcomm that dinged at exactly the right time to save her the embarrassment of looking for a desk.
Would you like to enroll in this course? Scroll down to read the description.
Was this damn thing a spying device? Did it just know which room she was in? Jey didn’t joke when she said the little thing was going to be her primary aid!
“Are you looking for somewhere to sit?” called a young red-haired woman at one of the paired desks. “Here, this one is free.” She had the auglasses on, like everyone else, but they were off, showing her lively face and a pair of sharp green eyes.
“Thanks,” G said, gratefully taking the offer. “I’m new here, don’t know how things work yet.”
“It’s alright, the course is very engaging, you’ll love it.” — the woman held out a hand — “I’m Sereen, what’s your name?”
G shook the warm palm. “It’s Gentry. And by new I mean I’m new to Ashtapada, not just the course. Literally arrived yesterday.”
“Really?” — S looked surprised — “Everything must be very confusing!”
“You have no idea,” G smiled. “I’m glad someone understands. Everyone’s friendly but acts as if giant mechanical dogs in the streets and a moss garden in the lobby are the most normal things ever.”
“Don’t worry, I was just like you when I first arrived, you’ll get the hang of it soon.”
“Hope so! Is that the lecturer?”
“Shhh...”
Just like everything else in Ashtapada, the lecture started out normal enough only to unfold into something completely alien to how things were normally done.
Apparently, the Communications course involved learning rationality, debating, logic, etiquette and god knew what else. It was supposed to give the future citizens tools to, well, communicate. G was given a booklet with some ground rules for beginners that included entries that sounded like something Sun Tzu would say if he studied debating instead of warcraft.
“The purpose of any argument is not to win it and not to change the other disputant’s mind. It’s to find the truth.”
“Always argue in good faith.”
“Don’t attack your opponent.”
“If attacked, dismiss the attack as if it didn’t happen.”
Well, hopefully, it only meant verbal attacks! G knew too well that when it came to physical violence, it was hard to ignore it.
Most of the rules looked straightforward enough, some were confusing.
“Seek challenge to your convictions. Avoid echo chambers.”
“Don’t seek being right.”
“Be mindful of your audience including yourself.”
“Avoid “Empty arguments” that don’t bring everyone closer to the goal of finding the truth.”
The lecturer, a willowy man of about sixty that drowned in his tweed jacket, started the class with a bit of small talk with the regulars after distributing the booklets to all first-timers. He made sure to give it to G face down so that his photo under the “About the author” title didn’t go unnoticed. He also made most of the “talk” part himself.
“I never took part in a debate,” G told Sereen, who was patiently waiting for the class to begin. “And never seen anything like these rules. Is it actually useful?”
“Oh, believe me, professor Poe will be ecstatic to talk to you about them. He can’t not start discussing his subject at the slightest provocation. Look.” — she raised her hand — “Professor, how was your weekend?”
The man wearily smiled. “That might seem like a meaningless question, Sereen, but it’s actually very much related to the topic we are going to cover today.”
“See?” — S raised her eyebrows with a suppressed smile. G giggled. This promised to be interesting.
“Our friend Sereen is a very polite person, isn’t she?” — Poe smiled at the class but his eyes glided over everyone’s faces, gaze turned inwards like he was reading an invisible text written on the walls. “But as kind as she is, I don’t think she’s actually interested in how my weekend went. Small talk is just a social custom we engage in to strengthen our social relations. Why don’t we just start a day by saying “Hi! I value our relationship and would like to fulfill my societal role!” to everyone we know? I would definitely prefer THAT over the small talk! He-he!”
The audience laughed politely. The guy seemed alright.
“However, just as we use different tools to fulfill this role in different contexts, so can the context of a logical problem steer our thinking towards a rational, that is, right, and an irrational, that is, wrong, answer.”
“Well, that’s not a given,” Gentry mumbled under her breath but it went unnoticed by S, who was already immersed in the lecture.
“Consider the famous René Descartes’s quote "Cogito, ergo sum". Who can translate it from Latin?” — the board behind the thin, almost transparent man glowed, displaying the words.
“Is it really a Beginner’s course?” G asked Sereen in a low voice but her companion was already raising her hand, together with a dozen other students.
“I think, therefore I am,” she said after a curt nod of the lecturer’s permission.
“Very good,” he continued, pleased. “I taught you well. Those of you who attend my lectures regularly are familiar with the notion of solipsism, which states that the only thing we can be sure about is our own thoughts.”
Gentry looked at S with raised eyebrows.
If this is an introductory course, what was the advanced like?
Sereen didn’t seem to perplexed. She was fully following the thread.
“However,” professor Poe said. “I am going to challenge that notion by demonstrating that we can’t trust our own mind when it comes to perceiving reality.”
He looked at the audience with a quizzical eye, and pointed at Gentry with a long bony finger “You, new girl. I want you to close your eyes.”
Why her?
Gentry was only happy to hide behind her eyelids. No doubt the whole room was now staring at her.
Through the blood rushing in her ears, she heard the old man’s voice, “Who was sitting beside you before you closed your eyes?”
“My new friend Sereen,” G answered and heard a little gasp of appreciation from the woman.
“So you know she existed as long as you two were whispering behind my back. However, now that you can’t see or hear her. How do you know she exists?”
“Well, I can reach with my hand and touch her,” Gentry said, demonstrating.
“Yes, this is what most people answer,” Poe said. “You can open your eyes now. But let me ask you this: how would you know it was her, an not some other person that took her place?”
Gentry’s intuition was right: everyone was staring, as if waiting for her answer.
“Well, I suppose— ”
“Hush, it was a rhetorical question,” the professor cut her off. “The correct answer is that you can’t know that. We think we can trust our senses or at least our thoughts, but this is also false. Everyone, look out of the window.”
Everyone did.
The day was as fine as Gentry was annoyed.
What did this pops think of himself?
“I’d ask what you see, but I already know the answer,” he went on. “All of you would say “the sky”. And all of you would be wrong, because sky doesn’t exist. We only see the endless emptiness of the outer space, but perceive it as a blue dome. It’s an illusion, a phantom, born out of our collective unconscious.”
Sereen whispered, lost in the lecture, “Ah, yes, Carl Jung.”
What?
Was it supposed to be obvious?
“But listen to this,” he continued, voice booming like a demiurge’s in the completely silent room. “Listen to this. How many words is it? Listentothis. Our common sense says it’s three words while in reality it’s just a string of sounds I an producing with my mouth. I am literally making you hallucinate the spaces between the words I’m saying. With knowing that our perception is so flawed, how can we know that we even know how to think?”
“I’m sorry, professor, I disagr...” G started but got struck down by his serrated gaze.
“I’ll invite questions at the end, young miss,” he chopped out.
Sereen’s eyes were sympathetic. It looked like most if not all of professor Poe’s students had learned not to interrupt him.
He went on, “Anyway, the fact that you even understand what I am saying is in itself incredible and shouldn’t be possible.”
“But it IS possible, right?” G whispered to Sereen. “I mean, aren’t we understanding this as he speaks?”
“PLEASE refrain from talking unless asked!” professor Poe roared.
Impressive lung capacity for such a frail human being!
G begrudgingly did as she was told. The guy seemed to be enjoying this power trip a bit too much to her taste.
“Now, since most of you,” he put some emphasis on the word to shut up another pair of whispering students. “Most of you think you comprehend my words, you must know that there is a way to tell that something is real, even though we can’t rely on our senses for perception. I’m giving you a minute to discuss with your partners what it might be.”
G considered it. She and Sereen exchanged equally confused glances.
Like a dutiful student, S started summarising Poe’s arguments but Gentry listened with only half an ear. She felt that behind all this over-thinking was a clear and simple answer.
She watched the professor walk along the aisles, tuning into one or another conversation before leaving each with a smug head shake of disapproval.
What was there to think about? Even if they didn’t see the world precisely as it was, something was definitely real, right? The chair she felt under her buttocks, the air around, the low murmur of the students. The annoying professor that… looked a little too translucent.
Gentry waited for the man to approach their desks and tune into Sereen’s musings. As he came so near they could reach out and touch him, Gentry did just that.
To her utter shock, her hand went through the old jacket and sent a wave of static over the professor’s figure, his whole form glitching and flickering.
Professor Poe was a hologram!
Unable to help herself, Gentry said, “No wonder you don’t think anything is real, Professor, you are hardly real yourself!”
The whole roomful of people stared, transfixed, at the surreal scene of a student’s arm disappearing into the teacher’s abdomen.
Gentry looked back at Sereen in search of support.
Was it laughter in her eyes?
Poe’s blood drained from his face, the mouth slacked open, twitching as if trying to form some words, but none came out.
Sereen chimed in, “You never told us you were a simulation, Professor.”
“Out!” Poe gritted lowly so that no one really heard him.
“I’m sorry?” G asked, innocently.
“Out of my class!” he exploded, jumping out of Gentry’s reach with an enraged grimace. “I am as real as you are!”
G stood up and looked at her hand then back at Professor Poe.
How much rage could storm in those watery eyes?
Then, she winked at her new friend.
“Let’s go then, shall we?” she said.
Sereen looked lost for a second, her eyes darting pack and forth between Gentry and Poe. Then, her gaze seemed to cloud a little, as if she retreated into her own head, but when she resurfaced, she nodded with a mischievous smile.
Both young women left the room, the classmates’ sympathetic silence and Poe’s angry seething seeing them off.
***
“What a way to start my first day,” Gentry said. “My hands are still trembling a bit.”
She and S were calming their nerves in the green winter garden, the soothing sound of the little running streamlet at their feet a welcome distraction.
“Believe it or not, his course is actually quite useful,” Sereen laughed. “Who would have thought the old Poe is actually not human? I guess we never thought of poking him in the stomach before. This is going to be the talk of the Academy for the next month or so!”
“Is it? I feel bad now. I guess I’m not getting any points for attending this lecture, right?” — Gentry checked her wristcomm — “It says “zero progress” and something else… ad.. Honi… adhonim…”
Sereen laughed, “Yeah, you adhominem’ed good old Poe, no wonder you got zero credit!”
“What does it mean?”
“You’ve seen the rules of learning and discourse, right?” S said. “There are no-nos, things that aren’t allowed, especially when it comes to Rationality classes and the like. Ad Hominem means an attack on the speaker, not their argument. It isn’t exactly what you did, but I guess it’s the closest thing!”
“Ad Hominem, huh,” G said. “Well, I guess I deserve it then. Thanks for standing by me.”
If it wasn’t for Sereen, G wasn’t sure she would be going to return to the Academy any time soon!
“You just chose a wrong course as your first class, G,” — no doubt about that! — “But another lecturer who works here is much more open-minded and he also teaches Rationality. I think you’ll enjoy him more than our old Poe. His next class is in a couple of days. Wanna come?”
***
DEAR GENTRY!
CONGRATULATIONS ON COMPLETING AN OPTIONAL ASSIGNMENT! 20 POINTS HAVE BEEN ADDED TO YOUR STATUS COUNTER.

Genocide looked to the sky. He thought of his mentor. The one who had saved him. He remembered his childhood. How powerless he was. He remembered the anger. He never wanted to hurt anybody. He thought of all the times he showed compassion. How much they hurt him for it. He saw the world before him, a graveyard. Humans. People that were supposed to be made in the image of some divine creator. They were but maggots feasting upon his remains. They ate away at his very being until nothing human remained. His thoughts were no longer his own. He had no joys in life that mattered. He hated humanity more than he could love anything about himself. He remember his first killing spree. Being gunned down by police. Left for dead. He remembered a hooded figure moving towards him. Getting closer the more he neared his death. He saw its pale face. Its impossibly black eyes. It was a man. This figure in question appeared to be of Japanese nationality with long, straight, loose hair. It emanated extreme malice. It offered him a choice. A purpose. Power. He thought the figure a reaper but it identified itself as Amakusa Masataka. Masataka guided him on how to kill and gave him specific locations to kill people in. In a sense, he became a hitman for quotas of people. He inquired what Masataka was. The presence of evil, his ability to appear and disappear at will, how he could control what people could see him and what people couldn't. While vague, years of killing for this being offered some insight. Amakusa Masataka belonged to a group of people not of this world. His people had been corrupted by a dark force long ago and had aligned themselves with the warlord who had subjugated their version of Japan. Their dark high priest assisted the warlord along with two others. These four rulers in turn served a larger order. The four were tasked with bringing about the end of the current world as an act of retribution for some fallen deity. Masataka's people acted as covert operatives for this empire. They were feared across the land and were collectively referred to as "Shinigami". An agent of the coming apocalypse, a servant of evil possessed by the will of those gods of death, Genocide would walk the earth.
Genocide stepped toward the station. A police cruiser rammed into him. He pulled out a knife and stabbed the hood of the car. The inhuman force of the knife created sparks which burst the engine into flames. The car crashed into a streetlight and exploded. A second cruiser neared the scene. No way a man could have done this. Yet still, out of the fires Genocide strode forth. It set upon the second vehicle, shooting out it's tires while jumping 9 feet into the air. The car tries to reverse but crashes into a wall. Genocide lands on the hood and kicks through the front window. Glass shatters under its boot, blinding the two officers inside. Genocide shoots one of the officers with a shotgun, killing him. The second officer in the passenger seat readies his pistol and takes aim. Only two shots fired, both directed at Genocide's head. It casually cocks its neck to avoid them. Then it grabs the officer's arm, breaking it. Genocide uses its free hand to grab the officer's head and bangs it into the dashboard no less than 5 times. The skull is shattered on the final impact. Genocide jumps off the car and continues on his mission.
Detective Evans speaks through a megaphone," This is your first and final warning. Stand down or we will use any and all means at our disposal to put you down." Genocide dropped its shotgun and raised its hands. A group of five SWAT team members rushed out the station, surrounding Genocide with riot shields. An officer accompanies them, edging behind the figure to apply handcuffs. Suddenly, Genocide springs to life , grabbing the officer behind him. He flips the officer over his head, slamming him into the pavement at his feet. Then Genocide stomps his head causing it to burst. Genocide drops a flash bomb from his coat sleeve, blinding the SWAT team as he draws his knife. He drives it into one SWAT member, the knife puncturing the shield and piercing his chest. Genocide kicks the corpse away withdrawing his knife. He goes to another, this time using the end of his boot toe in a rising kick to disarm their shield. He grabs them by the throat and drives the knife slowly into their eye socket. Another is tackled to the ground and beaten to death despite still being under the shield. Another is picked up and thrown into the fires still burning from the first auto incident. In no time, Genocide stood before an indistinguishable mass of gore, blood streaking across his black leather outfit. He laughed" So this is all you can give me. I'm not entertained." Officers took aim from the station windows, and snipers did so from other rooftops. Genocide laughed maniacally as he was rained down upon from all sides by a hailstorm of bullets. His body convulsed, but he did not fall. Moments more and he was on his knees. Still though, their efforts were futile. Gracia looked out and saw a black mist coalescing around the man in black. His blood. Blood erupted from his body only to transform into this dark mist that reentered his wounds. Genocide screamed. No. It was just an elevated pitch in his laughter. Optimism failed everyone yet again. Gracia saw Genocide holding something in his right hand. She could only make out a beeping red light. Genocide pushed the button triggering the carefully concealed explosives he laid in preparation for this event. C4 explosives went off in all the places he saw fit. The sniping posts he couldn't reach. The assault of lead lightened. Then Genocide drew an RPG from...somewhere. He collected himself and fired at the station's entrance. The explosion shook the station. From inside, the lights began to flicker. Communications were down on all fronts. Had he modified the rocket with some type of EMP? Not good. Amisdst the confusion Genocide entered using smoke bombs to mask his presence. Moving like a shadow, he killed everyone in the lobby silently with his knife. He made his way to the holding cells. Still they chanted. Still they praised. Still they raved for the arrival of genocide. Genocide shot the lock opening the cell. Jim Jimenez walked out and bowed before his master. Genocide smiled. He couldn't have imagined how proficient he had gotten with possession. Well, not quite possession. He had known of the Shinigami's ability to share their thoughts and emotions with humans. Shinigami like his mentor were ancient. They had so many years of memories, such strong a hatred for life that they overwhelmed the personality of the victim. The victim sees themselves as one of them. Shinigami can't force the will of the victim, so they find those who are already similar to them in some way. Genocide found the collective universal distrust of police to be a prime sentiment to capitalize on. He armed the inmates, infecting them with samples of his own dark essence.One particular inmate caught Genocide's eye. He knew the man's work. An arsonist. The one whom he recalls was responsible for blowing up his first car way back in high school. Rather than a standard firearm, Genocide gave the man a random assortment of grenades containing a special surprise. Genocide showed them visions of anarchy, of sending a message to a society that used and disregarded them. While this was also true of how he felt, years of living in darkness had changed him. He needed no purpose. No end goal. No justification. He just wanted to watch the world burn.
Genocide's small army broke off to engage several different wings of the station. Genocide went to the security room. He found Wayne, his informant, playing some FPS on one of the monitors. Wayne took of his headphones and asked," You kill everyone yet?" Genocide responded," No. You should get going before that happens. Your life becomes fair game if I run out of pigs to cook." Wayne clapped his hands, "Aight, GC my man, say less." He packed his things and left. Genocide drew a twin pair of handguns and laid waste to the station. He followed a group that took cover in the men's restroom. Kicking open multiple stalls he was surprised to find...nothing. Where had they gone? He turned around and saw his mentor, Masataka, smiling at him. It looked like him. Long, dark hair, black clothing, and soulless, empty eyes. But it wasn't. It was Genocide's own reflection in the mirror. Genocide smiled. He didn't notice the changes at first. They must have happened gradually. Subconsciously. From the final stall, an officer sprung into action, rushing Genocide, hitting him point blank with a shockgun round. Genocide felt the tingling sensation electrifying his body and grew numb. In spite of the pain, he took a single step. Then, another. He came within striking range of the officer and snatched the shockgun. Two more officers erupted from another stall, battering him with baton strikes. Genocide felt nothing. He clutched the shockgun in his hand like a bat and went to work pulverizing his attackers. An officer kicked in the bathroom door, a woman holding a pistol. She fired multiple times to no effect. Genocide stood covered in blood. He even let her reload. Twice. He wanted to see her despair. Her hopelessness. He walked towards her, shrugging off bullets as they pierced his body. His wounds healed nigh instantly due to the dark essence he had been imbued with. He held her face with both hands, lifting her body off the ground. As she screamed, he used her head to shatter the restroom mirror, running down the full length of it while smashing her into it at several points. He dropped the remains of what he held, washed his hands with soap, dried them, then exited the restroom.
The inmates that rallied for the cause of genocide attacked the station. Fortunately, they were nowhere near Genocide in terms of power and only carried one type of firearm each. They shared his healing ability but could be killed quite easily. Gracia encountered a sniper on the end or a west wing hallway. Other officers waited behind corners unable to get close. Gracia noticed the faulty lighting. In this hallway, the lights flickered in intervals of 3 seconds. Finding a pattern and timing her movements, she rushed the sniper at the exact moment the lights went out. Running the length of the hall, Gracia zigzagged, dodging the sniper inmate's bullets. She jumped on a wall, ran 3 feet on it, then kicked off it, pouncing on the assailant. She fired five shots into him, making sure to hit the brain and the heart. Two severe injuries that were impossible for Shinigami essence to heal simultaneously. Elsewhere, Evans took on another escaped inmate. A vehicular arsonist named Carson. Carson had a bag filled with an assortment of different grenades and was happily giving them out like candy on Halloween. "A flash bang here, a bit of tear gas there. Oh. Wait! Was that an ice grenade? Did the explosion freeze your leg to the floor? Whoops. Maybe a fire grenade will melt that for you. Hold on let me get one fore you," Carson rambled gleefully. Evans looked at the carnage before him. Officers burning. Officers partially frozen in blocks of ice. He took a breath and aimed his wristgun. He steadied his right forearm. Carson readied to throw a random grenade. Evans shot it the moment it left Carson's hand. The grenade exploded directly in front of Carson. Both Evans and Carson looked at each other in shock. Confetti. A party grenade? Carson quickly fumbled for another but was tackled and restrained by several officers. Meanwhile in the South wing, Lary had some colleagues set a trap for another shotgun toting inmate. He had them bait the inmate and flee. Giving chase he turned a corner and ran straight into Lary's fist. The inmate recovered and motioned to shoot Lary. "Let's tango. " Lary gave the code word. Nearby officers activated a device. A signal jammer of sorts. The inmate shoved the barrel of his gun into Lary's gut and pulled the trigger. Nothing. The special signal jammer in question was designed for firearms. It was a last resort as it left officers just as defenseless. Lary was having fun. He boxed the inmate in hand to hand combat. Despite the inmate's enhanced strength, Lary's technique pulled through. Lary ducked under one of the inmate's wide punches and did some type of rising uppercut where he jumped off the ground while spinning. One of the other officers whispered" The rising dragon." Lary smiled giving a thumbs up" Yeah, it was a rising dragon uppercut. Saw it in one O my kid's vidya games. Thought I'd try it out while I'm jacked on adrenaline".
Jim Jimenez looked long and hard at himself in the mirror. He was in the women's restroom. Some brainless woman had broken the men's restroom mirror with her face. For the first time in a long while Jim could think clearly. He was becoming sane. At the least he was no longer a raving lunatic. The life essence of the dark gods had healed the wounds to both his body and his mind. He saw his face, his scraggly dirty beard. He found a razor and shaved. He trimmed his beard somewhat. He liked it. He washed his hair. It fell down his face like silk, no longer greasy. His bloodshot eyes once burning with crazed intensity had cooled. He blinked. Just for a second, he saw the man known as Genocide. The man that attacked him. The one that killed him and gave him new life. The drug dealers. The police. They were all the same in his eyes now. They were all to blame for the world being what it is. Jim wanted to hate them. He wanted to take revenge, but he felt nothing. It didn't matter. He knew he was wronged, could logically justify acting against them, but he just didn't care anymore. About anything. He was finally free. Sensing his presence was no longer needed here, Jim vanished into the night. He needed to find someone who had had the answers he needed. Himself. Who had he been? Who was he now? Who could he become? Where was he going? So many questions to ponder indefinitely. So much time left in the rest of his life.
Genocide ran down the station's halls raining hailstorms of bullets upon its occupants. He had a handgun in each hand as well as a wristgun on each wrist. This effectively gave him 4 separate firearms that he could use simultaneously. Lary regrouped with Gracia, Evans, and a handful of others. They radioed all surviving officers near Genocide to flee to the roof. This plan had been set in motion days before the assault and had been kept hidden from most of the force. The plan involved scheduling flights for several helicopters to arrive at some point after Genocide arrived. There would be no way for him to prepare for them and pre-scheduling their arrival ensured they arrived regardless of if they were called or not. Lary and the others set about preparing the second jamming device. Genocide stood among a hallway of bodies. He saw one man clinging to life trying to crawl away. He decided on trying that other thing he saw his master do. He grabbed the dying man and pinned him to the wall. Slowly he drove a knife into his chest. As the man's life slipped away, something else entered his body. Genocide channeled a small amount of his essence into the vessel. He had steadily done this with other casualties around the station whose bodies were somewhat salvageable. He dropped the body he was holding and looked upon the others. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his eyed were black, both sclera and iris. The scene before him changed. Genocide had a vision. He saw a dead gray wasteland littered with bodies. These people however weren't cops and wore traditional Japanese attire. In his hand wasn't a gun or knife but a short sickle akin to a farming tool. He heard a dark voice call out to him. Slowly, the corpses around him began to rise, now mere puppets bound eternally to their master's whim. The bodies sold to the reaper who had claimed their lives. Genocide's vision ended. His eyes had returned normal. Around him, dead cops began to rise. His dark essence had entered their bodies and reanimated them. He sent his dead army to attack the officers fleeing to the roof of the station. These zombies swarmed the stairwell giving chase to the few survivors. There were five of them. They had two flights of stairs to climb and a horde of their former colleagues close behind them. One officer tripped and was set upon by the horde. The zombies didn't bite them but held them firmly in place. The other four officers stared down wondering what to do. They could hear Genocide chuckling. They could hear humming. They could feel the temperature rising. Their colleague and the two zombies holding him were hit by an enormous green fireball. Genocide had fired a Magnum Opus and had charged the bullet to level 3. The Magnum Opus was simply a magnum that shot fireballs, with bullets that could be charged by holding down the trigger. It had three levels of charges. Level 1 was a small reddish ball of plasma. Level 2 was slightly larger and yellow. Level 3 was the maximum charge and resulted in a large slow moving green blast of energy. The officer was ignited and Genocide watched gleefully as the force of the blast sent him flying through a wall. The four officers continued up firing occasionally to slow down the zombies. Soon they made it to a door leading to the roof. Before one officer could reach it, he was sniped by Genocide, a bullet to the head killing him instantly. The remaining three made it out. They regrouped with the others already there, 12 in total, including Lary, Evans, and Gracia. This would be their final stand. They just had to hold out until Genocide made it up there. They just had to keep Genocide occupied until the helicopters arrived. Genocide slowly ascended the stairs behind his horde. On the roof, the remaining survivors faced off against waves of the undead. Evans recognized the attackers. These zombies were being controlled by nanomachines. He heard the stories of several weapons encountered by soldiers on the battlefield. These creatures were called Metaldeads as they were reanimated via machines. They had been officially banned by most of the worlds' governments for being unethical. However, this did not stop the technology from being spread still between shady organizations, terrorists, etc. Evans wondered how Genocide got this form of nanotechnology. Evans long speculated that the dark essence used by most of the killers they encountered was a a form of nanotech however it was different from anything else he had seen or heard about. The dark essence seemed to be an amalgamation of other types of nanotech. Evans had to save his inquiries for later. He reloaded his wristgun and took aim at the approaching group of Metaldeads. Gracia steadied her handgun and shot two Metaldeads in the head. From the single door countless arms seemed to spill forth from the darkness. The other officers took turns firing in intervals. this allowed them to create a steady stream of fire where no more that three guns needed to be reloaded at once. The horde seemed to thin out over time as if they were making progress. In actuality, the Metaldeads were just making room for Genocide to enter. Genocide exploded in a sprint from the door. Everyone fired upon the killer. Genocide had now chosen a wrist mounted mini flamethrower to use as his weapon. He stormed past the oncoming bullets taking some damage, but refused to slow down. He unleashed a stream of fire that caught five of the officers in one fell swoop. Gracia fired five rounds into Genocide's face. He stumbled back. Lary took the chance to fire several mine gun bullets at Genocide's feet. The mines quickly detected his movement and exploded. In seconds, Genocide was on his back.
Staring at the night sky Genocide saw the moon. He reached for it. He called for the darkness to give him more power. His wounds began healing. In the sky he could hear the whirl of propellers. There were six helicopters in total. The first two had evacuated the survivors while the others stayed to engage Genocide. Genocide got up and unstrapped the sniper rifle from his back. He stood before the searchlights as a black silhouette, cornered but unwilling to back down. Lary stared down at him smiling. "Okay!" He shouted, "Let's Tango!" Upon this declaration the second jamming device was activated. Now, isolated on the roof, Genocide's guns couldn't be fired and the helicopters were out of range of the device. Now Genocide stood like a sitting duck. A helicopter fired a rocket. Genocide side stepped and grabbed it. He turned his body redirecting the rocket to hit another helicopter. As it exploded Genocide drew his knife and threw it at another helicopter. Behind the knife was such force that it shattered the helicopter window's glass, embedding itself in the pilot. This helicopter too went down where it exploded. "Holy clucknuggets!Did you see that!?" Lary said dumbfounded. Evans looked out the helicopter door he was in jaw open in shock. "There's no way." He collected himself quickly and radioed the remaining two helicopters to keep moving and to use their machineguns as much as possible. The helicopters reigned down upon Genocide tearing apart his body. Shreds of leather and darkened blood sprayed across the pavement of the roof. Gracia watched as Genocide's body was destroyed repeatedly as it tried to heal. Surely he had to stop at some point. After 10 minutes the helicopters had exhausted their cache of ammunition and soldiers opted to fire their own rifles and occasionally throw grenades. After about six minutes, they too had run out of bullets. Genocide stood unfazed. He had long since healed himself and now appeared intangible with gunfire seeming to pass through his body. His coat once ripped , now appeared whole though on closer inspection seemed to writhe. Gracia looked in horror as she remembered the tales her adopted father had told her. Tales he had in turn heard from his predecessors. Every so often officers had reported encounters with ghost like beings cloaked in a cloud of living dark mist. The beings were rumored to be responsible for the deaths of multiple people ranging from scientists, veterans, mafia, politicians, etc. They were seen near such crime scenes and even more shockingly appeared around several sites where suicides were committed. These beings were reportedly impervious to bullets and filled anyone who got near with an impending sense of dread. If Genocide was connected to them or somehow turning into one , there was little chance they would be able to defeat him. Gracia's fears were confirmed when she saw that Genocide's leather coat had been destroyed and he had replaced it with the dark mist coalescing from his own spilled blood. The dark mist, swirling, grew larger and several tendrils sprouted out from it. Gracia could briefly make out a figure standing next to Genocide. A hooded figure cloaked in the same black substance. The figure stared up at her with soulless, blackened eyes which seemed to beckon her to jump from the aircraft she was standing in. Compelling her to give in to the death that plagued the earth. Genocide kneeled to his master. The Shinigami, Masataka stared down at his disciple. "You have done a great service to us. Even now the sealed god stirs in its slumber. Its...Awakening will soon be upon us. It calls out for war. It begs for famine. It longs to continue its conquest. We are the death it so desires. The death that is necessary for this civilization to grow. Use the power that I have bestowed upon you. Finish the mission as you see fit." The Shinigami vanished and Genocide stood.Genocide stared at his hands. He remembered the first killing spree. He was on a bus. It stopped. A woman got on the bus and walked to the back smiling as she passed him. Something about her eyes unnerved him. They were so bright but something dark reflected inside them. He ignored the thought and put in his headphones. In minutes he had dozed off. He jumped awake. He looked around and froze in panic. All around him, everyone had been hacked to pieces. He saw the driver, actively being stabbed by a masked assailant. The mask, painted white with black eyeholes, stared back at him. It raised a finger over where its lips would be. Even under the expressionless visage, he could feel that same smile. He ran home that morning. He went to his room to find it destroyed. His posters, his computer, his tv, everything, had been ruined. He turned around and saw a man at the end of the hallway holding a sledge hammer. "The hell you been, boy?", his stepdad sneered. The man dropped his hammer and walked closer, veins pulsing with rage. He tried to explain how his car had caught fire forcing him to walk 4 miles to the nearest bus stop, but the man's fist was faster than his words. "Boy!Answer me when I talk to you!!" the man says as he backhands the taste out of the would be Genocide's mouth. He took that beating for several minutes before being left to stare at his ransacked room. He hated how his stepdad went out of his way to destroy the things he loved. Soon, another set of footsteps could be heard. It was his mother standing behind his locked door. She didn't knock, or say anything. She just stood there, doing nothing as always. He never knew if she came to talk to him or apologize. All he knew was that she could never bring herself to speak to or even acknowledge him. Maybe out of guilt or perhaps shame. A year or two later after he had had enough he ran away from home. Living out on the streets alone, without friends, or family, he would embark on countless killing sprees. These killings weren't of his own volition however. He was coerced by some corrupt officers from The Unit. They made him kill on their behalf. Sometimes they were protesters, sometimes they were drug dealers, other times, petty criminals they couldn't be bothered to process. It was routine for him to be used to kill entire houses of drug riddled addicts. During one such venture he entered a drug den, killing the dealer as instructed. He took out several junkies before turning to leave. A woman who survived her injuries clung to his heel begging him to stop. Looking down he aimed the handgun he was carrying at her head of long disheveled brown hair and fired. Feeling nothing, he kicked her body aside like trash when it hit him. Her face. This woman had been his mother. What was she doing in a place like this? He felt a shock of emotion. He wondered if she had always been like this, or had she changed after he left. He never made amends, but decided to stop killing from then on. The unit did not like that. Once it became apparent that he was no longer of use to them they started a manhunt to apprehend him with lethal force. They found him. They killed him. But he survived.
He remembered the girl on the bus. He remembered her eyes. Those of a sadistic killer. Still there was something else inside them. Something faint but deeper. So. Much. Sadness. Just like him. He felt the hatred begin to spread. His purpose, he decided, was to make all humans rot in the hell they created for him.
These people, he thought to himself, these living diseases, all needed to die. Their struggles, their problems, they spread like cancer to others. The only cure for humanity's sin, its collective wrongdoings, was genocide.
Around him, dark tendrils continued to form and expand, spinning in a vortex. Genocide pulled out two pistols. He squeezed the triggers to no effect. "As I see fit, huh? Hehe." He squeezed both guns in his hands, breaking them into pieces. He concentrated. In his hands, two more guns materialized now completely black due to being forged from the dark essence. Forged by his will. Immune to the jamming device that shut down conventional firearms. He raised his arms at each remaining helicopter and opened fire. Countless tendrils whipped out and slashed at his targets joining the dark essence bullets. It was chaos. Dark tendrils and bullets tore through every direction as Genocide spun and swirled around in 360 degrees firing randomly with purpose. A tendril pierced Gracia's right arm, another, her abdomen. She was however, fortunate, as the other passengers of her helicopter were dismembered. She barely had time to jump from the vehicle before it crashed. She fell 2 yards onto solid concrete. She felt immense pain as her right shoulder shattered on impact. She looked up to see Genocide's blade like appendages ripping through the other escape helicopters. She rolled onto her back and tried to steady herself. Within seconds her body began to repair itself. The nanocells inside her had saved her life but were now depleted. She would need another supplement lest she receive another fatal injury. The standard nanocells she and the others had were much less potent than those of the killers they faced. In truth, they had only minimal strength boosts being able to lift 5-8 more pounds than before and healing being limited to one or two fatal injuries so long as death didn't occur instantly. Gracia blacked out. She awoke the next morning in a hospital. There the doctors refilled her nanocells. She learned that the station had been left in ruins. Genocide had detonated some type of minature nuke following his rampage. He always blew up the stations as if to send a message. Gracia looked out the window thinking about why she became a cop. Twice her family had been murdered by them. Her biological family had been killed in an on record drug raid committed by a group of corrupt officers called The Unit. She had been adopted by another officer that arrived at the scene who found her as a child hiding in a closed. Sadly, he too was killed for trying to expose the activities of The Unit. Gracia joined the force to avenge both losses and bring justice to the killers that disguised themselves as normal people. Law enforcement was neither good, nor bad. It depended upon the people that made it up. In the dying corrupt world Gracia lived in, she vowed to be a beacon of light. Evans laid in a bed adjacent to Lary. "That damn Genocide's somethin else in' he?Like the stories you told us were understatements. That man could legit not die at this point in the story. Like he has friggin plot armor or somthin.'' Evans cut him off" I get it. We all got our asses handed to us. But did you see that ..thing that appeared next to him. Right before he created that black vortex that wiped us out. That must have something to do with his power. Maybe there's a still a way to stop him."Lary chimed in," That fella looked like he was on the way to a black metal concert wit all the black facepaint he was wearin' Creeped me out to be honest." As the survivors mulled over their predicament, the cycle of evil continued to spread elsewhere.
Budley flips through the pages of a magazine. He checks his watch. He looks around the gas station and doesn't see any customers. Seizing the opportunity, he puts in his headphones and begins playing an imaginary guitar as he jams to a progressive deathcore album. Oblivious to the screams coming from outside, the store clerk moves on to thumping two candy bars on the counter to simulate drums. Budley sees that his shift has ended and begins locking up the store. He sweeps the aisles and jumps as a shadow appears behind him. He turns and sees a well groomed bearded man dressed in a black hoodie, black shirt, and black and gray camo pants. The man holds out his hand and smiles. Budley rings up the pack of nicotine substitute gum. "Tryin to kick the habit huh?" Budley asks. The man replies, "Somethin like that. Gotta get my priorities back in check. Focus on the things that really matter. That damn KonCreep's a hell of a band aren't they?" He nods to the playlist on Budley's phone. "Yeah, they're killer. just got into them a month back." Budley answers. "You know, I'm something of a musician myself. Maybe you'll hear of me on the news someday." Jim Jimenez says as he sees himself out. He walks to the back of the building and passes an ominous form of graffiti. A woman lays unmoving and above her, written on concrete in red is a message that simply says "Genocide Reigns".

I had a dream probably 12 years ago that I’ve never forgotten, during one of the darkest times in my life when I was scared I’d fail in life
The dream began in a volcanic Ashland where I was traveling with a ragtag band of refugees trying to escape some horrible volcanic event or maybe even super volcanic event, so we were all journeying through this grey valley flanked by ashen mountains with a few distant volcanoes, I was the leader of this group and they were depending on me to hopefully guide them to survival.
We came to a huge obsidian temple structure and it was built onto the valley wall so we had to climb it to ascend out of the valley, so we entered. But the building had an ominous energy like something dark was sleeping inside of it.
Part of the way up, a young boy in my group was running ahead even though I told him to wait and tried to run after him, but as happens in dreams my legs were like lead and I couldn’t keep up. I had this growing sense of dread.
Then the boy slipped off the edge over an overhang and as I looked down after him he plunged into a lava pool, burning to death. My sense of dread didn’t go away it only increased. Somehow I knew (maybe because it was a dream made by my own mind) that that wasn’t the only horror that awaited us in here, this place wanted all of us not just the boy.
That dread manifested as the boy came clawing his way out from the lava pit and let out a horrifying cry like a nazgul or a ghoulish undead, with his flesh bubbling and dripping off of his bones in places he began sprinting with inhuman speed back towards the entrance of the obsidian temple he had fallen from, right back into the entrance.
My band of refugees began panicking, torn between the anguish of watching the boy die and the horror dawning on them of what he had become- a monster- and why he would come sprinting back into the temple some floors below us.
We all heard the inhuman commotion as his undead body slammed into corners, so great was his speed, and we all realized rather abruptly that he was closing in on our group.
I urged the group to begin climbing the stairwells that wrapped around the precipices of this obsidian temple, up towards the valley wall. We had only one possible escape: somehow reaching the top and whatever salvation waited for us up there from the desolate volcanic wasteland and the undead monster that had once been a little boy. So we all begun to sprint, but we were slow.
some of the refugees had bags, some were elderly men and women, it began to dawn on me that we had no hope to escape as i heard the monster closing in from below. I turned to confront him, readying to fight with no weapons.
When he emerged he looked at me with his ghastly skull shining through his melted off face and he spoke and said "You did this to me so I will punish you by making you live while your people die." And he ran past me with superhuman speed and tore into my group, beginning to butcher these weak powerless refugees even as I tried to fight him, plead with him, even as I tried to urge them to keep running, he eventually killed every last one of them with his long ghoul clawed skeletal hands.
"Im sorry." i said to him. "Im sorry i let you become a monster." and he just smiled back at me and stepped off the ledge, plunging again into the lava, this time to rest eternal, but the carnage of my mangled people now lay all around me, and still the black obsidian stairway beckoned, leading up into the tallest passes of the ashen mountains where smoke and fog obscured the path, I had nobody left and nowhere to go but up.
So i went up. Up, up, up through winding valley corridors of sheer black jagged rockfaces, ascending thousands of steps until the atmosphere seemed thin and the night stars shone from above, the distant red glow of the lava flows fading to a dull reminder of the carnage i was leaving behind me.
eventually the climb slowed but the path continued and the stairs began to turn downwards, the rock walls opened up into a dusty grey plain of old ash that had blown here from distant eruptions in the ashlands below, but it was cold up here and dark, and the fog parted and i saw in the distance a structure, not ominous and unnatural like the obsidian temple but a human structure, a distant farmhouse, but I had a feeling when i looked down the winding stairs at this house like i was looking into the blackness of a night that has a rapidly approaching tornado, totally invisible, the sight of this farmhouse gave me a sense of existential dread greater than even the obsidian temple had inspired. But i knew i had to keep going forward anyways. So, with despair in every step, i put one foot infront of the next and kept walking.
As i approached the house I realized its scale, it was not some small farmhouse, more of a manse, and the stairs on this path led straight to its roof where the stairs that had once led down from its top were gone. There was only a gaping black hole in the roof, my only way forward was into this abandoned structure, so with a heart full of fear i lowered myself down into pitch blackness.
I found myself in an ash flooded attic full of furniture like old spinning wheels and some misshapen objects with soot stained sheets over them, the room was so very cluttered with dillapidated old stuff that i could hardly navigate it. I kept bumping stuff then I froze, because on thr far side of the room i saw a sillouhette standing motionless. A feminine sillouhette that seemed like it moved slightly as I brushed against an old desk, causing a noise.
As she reacted, she turned towards me and I saw her face, and her mouth hung open, her jaw split in two, one half dangling and the other holding a malicious grimace.
She moved like a squid striking out from inky blackness at its prey, lifting up off her feet and drifting rapidly to me, her mangled jaw soon centering around my field of view as her face filled my vision and she grabbed the sides of my head, talking to me
"You have to pay for what he did to us, you have to see it all"
And she entered me, i just remember at this point in my dream my vision was full of motion, like she had possessed me and was flying me through the pages of her own history book, in a misty ashen blur of colors and shapes i found myself chopping wood in a dark forest with green leaves around, when a rage filled every fiber of my being and i turned towards a tent, gripping my axe as i swung it through the fabric, turning it on my first wife (in my dream i understood this to be the vision of the woman's husband when he murdered her with his axe) and splitting her jaw and head open rather than any log
I was crying abd begging to be left alone and allowed to leave when we swirled back into the attic, and the ghost was standing right there with inhuman stillness, i couldnt look away from her mangled face as she said "now you know what he did to me…" and she slowly disappeared into a small mist
I was deeply disturbed and crying and disoriented as i looked around the attic and saw a small wooden panel with some grey filtered light showing through it and i went that way, but as i did another ghost of a different women, her neck angled violently screamed at me and grabbed me and possessed me, now I was her husband, the same man with his second wife wringing her neck as she turbed blue
In this manner a series of murdered women ghosts possessed me, forcing me to witness their deaths from the poijt of view of their killer, all killed by the same horrible man in different violent ways, in total 7 stories of 7 murders of 7 dead wives, and each one whisming me to another part of this forsaken farmhouse where they had lurked waiting for whichever man was unlucky enough to enter this cursed homestead
My experience dreaming this was mostly an unsettling amount of vertigo during the dream and images of violence and these ghastly faces of ghosts filling my vision before flying me to another room where another ghost would stand motionless waiting to possess me, the entire time i felt like i was crying and falling from a very extreme height
Eventually though the last ghost released me from her possession and i stood in the kitchen room where she stood with me, her face blue from drowning in a bath tub, and she smiled at mr and spoke more gently than thr others had, she reached to take my hand but when i flinched and screamed she dropped her arm back down to her side and just smiled sadly at me
"Thank you"
And she and all other ghosts were gone and it was just me alone in this forsaken manse's kitchen, and i heard a sound i never expected, trickling water. So i walked towards it and found a back door on the ground level which opened easily, and i stepped outside and saw some white, ash-filtered sunlight and a sight that took my breath away, about 300 yards away was a running river with lush green trees and plants and a thundering waterfall, and i knew that my trials had passed as i walked out towards the end of the ashlands with my boots squishing in fertile muddy soil, and i woke up completely drenched in a puddle of my own sweat

I am not The OOP, OOP is u/throwawayhidden123
Me [27F] with my boyfriend [29M] of two years. He took nude pictures of me with a hidden camera in our bathroom.
TRIGGER WARNING: invasion of privacy, mentions of addiction, abusive behavior and stalking
Original Post Oct 20, 2014
I’ve [27F] been with my boyfriend [29M] for just over two years, and up until a couple of weeks ago, I thought everything was going great. We’ve been living together for over a year. We had disagreements about minor things like every couple (me being indecisive about what restaurant to go to, him leaving his dirty clothes outside the hamper, stuff like that) , but for the most part we always got along really well. We share multiple hobbies, and have pretty much spent every day we had off together for the last two years.
A few weeks ago, I was home while he was at work. I needed to work on a project for work that would be much easier to complete on his desktop computer rather than my little cramped laptop, so I texted him and asked if it would be ok for me to use his desktop. He said sure, and texted me the password.
About 30 minutes later I got a little bored and decided to check my facebook. When the site came up, the email and password were already filled out, with an email address I had never seen before. I knew about other email addresses my boyfriend had but had never seen this one. I’m not proud to admit it, but something about the email address that I had never seen after two years together gave me a funny feeling and I snooped.
As soon as I opened it, I realized why he had kept this email account under wraps. The inbox was full of messages from a website for specifically for people looking to have affairs. I opened one up and it allowed me to view his account information. This mysterious inbox was also filled with porn, mostly still images. Now, I like porn. I watch it myself, he knows that, and knows I have no problem with it. But this was something different. There were some pictures of porn stars, but mostly pictures of girls in swimsuits, people we know that looked like they’d been taken from facebook, including some of my really close friends. There were pictures of girls he had taken on the bus surreptitiously looking down their shirts. There were naked pictures of me that I didn’t know he had taken, pictures of me in the shower and in our bedroom. Finally, there were pictures of a female friend of his that had visited for a few days that clearly had been taken in our bathroom – the shower curtain and other items in the picture were recognizable. It was apparent that the pictures had been taken without her knowledge.
At this point I felt completely sick and betrayed. When I confronted him that night he told me it was some kind of addictive problem and he’s been saving pictures of women for years. I confronted him about everything I had seen, especially the account on the cheating site, the naked pictures of his friend that had been taken in our bathroom, and the naked pictures of me that I hadn’t consented to him taking. As it turns out, he admitted that he had a hidden camera in our bathroom for weeks. It was disguised as a flash drive, and he had left it on the counter pointed at the shower and toilet. Apparently it was motion sensitive and would take pictures whenever someone moved in front of it. He said he didn’t have any other pictures from it other than what I had seen, and just compulsively saves pictures he takes by sending them to this email address that I had found, and never looks at them again.
What is this? Is it a fetish? Is it curable? He said he would get help and start going to SLAA meetings but he only went to three and hasn’t been back. I feel violated and sick thinking about this, and welcome any advice or input from anyone who has been in a similar situation.
EDIT: To those saying I should report him to the police - He deleted all of the pictures and the email address the first night that I confronted him about it, and I destroyed the camera (rage overcomes logic sometimes). I'm not planning to file any report to the police and even if I did there would be no evidence. However, I appreciate your comments and for reinforcing how serious this is.
tl;dr: My boyfriend took pictures of me with a hidden camera. Has this happened to anyone else? How, or should, I move forward with our relationship?
RELEVANT COMMENTS
SlimShanny

Why would you want to stay? You can't trust him. Did you delete the photos of you? Was he cheating the entire relationship? Not that it would have any impact on you staying or leaving. I'd leave regardless. Just curious if he's been doing this the entire time.

OOP

I'm having a hard time writing this in a way that doesn't make me sound pathetic and weak, because logically I completely agree with you. It's hard to me to reconcile the person that I thought I knew for two years and have shared many good times and made lots of memories with, with the person that would do something like this, even though obviously they are one and the same. To answer your other question, he has had the email address and has been saving pictures for years, long before I met him. However, it appeared that all of the pictures up until about 6 months ago were from porn sites, and he only started saving pictures of people that he took more recently.

OOP on if she will ever get the whole truth

Thanks for your comment. As for "the whole truth," at first when I confronted him he told me that he had already gotten rid of the camera. However, once he described it to me, I remembered seeing it in a closet and went and got it - he hadn't gotten rid of it after all. He already showed that he's definitely capable of lying to try to protect himself.

How long since she found the camara
OOP

Two weeks.

spotH3D

Thanks for the response.
Given the horrible red flags, why not immediately dump him? That is what I'm curious about.
I don't know you any better than what you've posted, but you're better than this OP.

OOP

I know you're right. It's tough because we live together, so there's a whole life we have to tear apart from a logistical standpoint (even though it's already been torn apart in a different way). I expect that you will be appalled by this response, but the thought of coming home to this apartment without him here has been unbearably sad to me. I guess I'm not really grieving the loss of this guy, more like the loss of the relationship I thought we had before I found all this out, if that makes any sense. I need to stop making excuses and just get him out of here.

Update Nov 2014
Link to original post
First of all, thank you to everyone who replied to my original post. Some of you came down pretty hard on me but I needed to hear it. Some of you were incredibly kind and I needed that too.
I finally broke down and told my closest friend what had happened. I used my original post to help me do it, since I was having a tough time explaining it aloud. She read the story, and said many of the same things I was told in the comments on my original thread. Most of all, she supported me and validated my feelings that this was a really big deal and not something that could be swept under the rug and forgotten. It was a huge relief to tell her - you know that trite thing people say about a "huge weight lifted off your shoulders?" I know how that feels now.
Before I made my post I had already been talking with my then-BF about how I wasn't sure if our relationship could recover after what he had done, and I had told him that I wanted him to move out to give me space. After my post, and after finally opening up to my friend, I told him that he should plan on the move and breakup being permanent. Up until then I had been a little vague about "taking a break" and "seeing what happens down the road" but once I faced down my emotions about what he had done I realized that I was just trying to soften the blow and the best thing to do was to live in reality and just move forward.
As of two days ago, he is officially moved out. I told my family that the relationship was over, and my parents have been incredibly supportive and are even going to help me pay to keep living in my current apartment so I can take my time finding another place to live and not have to deal with moving right now.
Here's the part you guys probably won't be thrilled about. I'm not going to report him to the police. I did, however, reach out to his friend, the one who was an unknowing victim of this, via facebook (I know, I hate facebook as a means of communication too, but it's the only way I have to contact her). She has not replied to me, and I don't know if she will, but I gave her my contact info and asked her to call me so we could talk. I honestly can't say whether I hope she calls or not, because I absolutely dread having that conversation with her, but guys, if I'm able to get in touch, I will suck it up and tell her. I also told my ex-BF, before he left, that I thought he should tell her himself, but that I planned to, so he may have spoken to her already (though I sincerely doubt it).
I wish for my ex-BF to get well, and to continue attending meetings and get into the recovery process to the point that he is able to live a productive life. It's been a sad, painful path for me to realize the fact that that life will not include me as a part of it, but despite how hard this is in this moment, I believe the ends justify the means.
tl;dr: It's over, he's gone. /relationships, you helped me, and I'm grateful.
RELEVANT COMMENTS
Lokismoke

I'm glad to see the update and that you rid yourself of him.
I'm very disappointed that you didn't file a police report. He will do it again, and by not reporting him, you're allowing someone else to get hurt the same way you were.

[deleted]

Crime victims are not morally obligated to press charges in order to prevent future victims. The only person responsible for his deplorable behavior is her ex boyfriend.

OOP

Thank you... People really latched on to the police involvement issue in this thread and while I think it's probably the right thing for other people in similar situations, it's absolutely not the right thing for me right now. I hope other people who have been in a situation like this read your comment too because I think it's spot on but it's easy to forget that.

THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT THE OOP
DO NOT CONTACT THE OOP's OR COMMENT ON LINKED POSTS, REMEMBER - RULE 7

If I hadn’t drunk an entire gallon of tea back at the hotel, maybe none of this would’ve happened.
Well, maybe if we hadn’t gotten kicked out of the hotel, none of this would’ve happened.
It had been just the two of us in the small car, but with the animosity heavy on the air, it felt overcrowded. I don’t know what had been worse, the hour of arguing, the two hours of silence afterwards, or the burgeoning realization that maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.
I studied him out of the corner of my eye. We'd been together for several months, but the recent experience left me wondering if I had ever even met the real Brian – who he truly was on the inside.
It had been our very first trip together.
We'd saved up for one of those super fancy hotels and had been having a great time – until, of course, Brian decided to attempt a five-finger discount in the jewelry store in the lobby.
He'd told me when we first started dating that he'd had some run-ins with the law in the past – when he was young and that was the only way to put food on the table, and I'd understood.
But this wasn't the same. It wasn't for survival, it was just greed.
We’d both spent the rest of our vacation money and then some, paying for that $1,800 watch so no charges would be pressed.
They still kicked us out. I don’t blame them.
Asking him to stop at the next place we came across was the first thing I'd said to him in hours, and he nodded, solemnly.
My discomfort was escalating to the point where I was considering asking him to pull over on the side of the road – rain be damned – when we saw the dim sign flickering in the distance.
The small store was out of place on the quiet, tree lined mountain road. We’d been deep in a tunnel of trees and hadn’t seen so much of a hint of the lights in the distance – it seemed to just appear into view as we went around the bend. I didn't recall seeing it on the way to the hotel, so it was a pleasant surprise.
I felt a flood of relief wash over me.
It stuck out in the otherwise beautiful mountain landscape – windows so dirty that the light inside barely reached us through them – several letters on the sign lit up in such a way that the only word we could even see was a blood red '- MART' flickering.
Any relief I'd managed to feel was short-lived.
When we walked in, we both froze as we took in the interior.
I instantly wished we’d just stopped by the side of the road after all. I looked at Brian and could tell he felt it too – he was fiddling with his new watch and took off his glasses, cleaned them on his shirt, and put them back on, as if that would make what he was seeing make more sense.
There were no other customers, no employees visible, it was just the two of us.
Ceiling tiles hung askew, and the floor was filthy – we had to step over a drain in the floor with grimy stains circling it, to walk in.
If it weren’t for the lights, gentle hum of the AC, and grinding sounds floating from down the long hallway at the back, I’d have thought the place was abandoned.
It was humid inside, and the smell coming from the old coolers that lined the back walls hit me as soon as we walked in. It reminded me of the summer my dad had decided to dabble in taxidermy in our basement.
The slight hint of rot that lingered on the damp air indicated poorly done taxidermy, at that.
As I darted towards the back towards the restroom sign, a placard dangling off it caught my eye, informed me the restroom was for paying customers only.
I quickly perused the shelves for something to buy. The aisles were tall, nearly to the ceiling, and despite the store being somewhat small, I felt the panicked sense of being cornered and trapped in an endless maze – at risk of becoming lost in there forever. The food on the shelves resembled nothing like the usual chips and candy these types of stores carried – there were rows upon rows of soft looking mystery items in plastic wrap, some of them leaked a red-brown residue down the shelves – none of it looked remotely appealing.
I passed by a section with a stained placard that said ‘handcrafted from local artists’ that was filled with eclectic items, none of which seemed to go together.
There were torn shirts with random logos – nothing related to the town or area we were in, stained with mud, grass, and god knows what else. Dried ropy things formed small and delicate sculptures of animals unlike any I’d seen before. I reached for a bracelet with intricately carved white beads but nearly dropped it when I realized the band was made up of woven human hair. It left a residue on my hand, and I noticed then that the same sour-rot smell was coming from the collection of items, too.
I opted for a flat and lukewarm Dr. Pepper instead, and placed two $2 dollar coins on the glass counter in front of the hand scrawled ‘shoplifters will be processed’ sign near the register.
I figured I misread it, after all it, looked like it had been written by a hand unused to holding a pen.
Brian had grabbed an armful of those unnerving plastic-wrapped packages but hovered at the counter a bit too long. I could hear the scrape of him retrieving the coins on the glass, the sound of him dropping them into his pocket.
He gave me a pointed stare as he did so.
I sighed, so tired of arguing that I just walked away from him and down the hallway. I figured I’d pay (again) after he got back in the car.
No sooner had I closed the door to the women’s room behind me, than I could hear him talking to someone.
His voice rose until he was nearly yelling. Mortified and trying to delay being involved in another incident that day, I splashed water on my face while trying to drown out what appeared to be a one-sided argument.
I kept trying to wash the grimy feeling that had lingered on my hands after picking up the bracelet, but no matter how I scrubbed, I couldn’t get it off – it kept getting worse.
I felt nauseous when I realized the greasy residue was coming from the pale-yellow bar of soap. I decided I’d scrub my hands raw at our next stop, and stepped out into the hall and back to the store.
Brian wasn’t there.
I called out for him, but all I heard in answer was that same vague whirring and drilling sound coming from further down the long hallway.
I double-backed to the car, but found it empty.
I circled the store, my frustration turning to panic as I shouted his name and still got no response.
I called his phone, it just rang, and rang before going to voicemail.
The car was locked and he had the keys, I couldn’t help but feel nervous, standing out there in the rain. We were still in the middle of the deep woods and with clouds obscuring the light of the moon and stars, the area was blanketed in darkness. I reluctantly headed back inside.
Somehow, the smell had managed to become even worse – I gagged when the wet, disgusting air hit my nose again. It was so strong I could nearly taste it, putrid on my tongue.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was always someone just behind me as I walked quickly through the tall aisles, but whenever I looked over my shoulder, there was never anything there.
I called his phone, wondering how I’d managed to lose him in such a small store when I finally heard it ringing – it was echoing from down that long hallway.
As I headed towards it, I heard someone moving on the other side of the floor-to-ceiling aisle, placing something onto the shelf with a sickening wet thud, before weaving lithely through the aisles behind me.
“Brian?” I called out softly, trying to convince myself that everything was fine – trying to disguise my fear.
I knew it wasn’t him – I don’t know how, but I knew it. Have you ever had the feeling that if you look closely enough at something, if you truly see it, you’ll never be able to close your eyes again without it haunting you? That feeling of being in close proximity to something that your fragile mind was never meant to know existed?
I forced myself to turn around anyways.
Once again, whoever or whatever had been there was gone by the time I rounded the aisle, but I heard a gentle clinking sound, and saw a trail of red-pink droplets.
I followed it back to that section – handcrafted from local artists, there was something new hanging from a hook near the shelves – wet, glistening strips dangled from along what looked to be a curved bone with bits of gristle still attached. From one of them hung an expensive men’s wristwatch, another was tied around a shattered, thick glasses lens. Yet another sagged under the weight of car keys. They gently swayed with the motion of having been recently placed. Fluid continued to drip from the still wet viscera and mingled with the mud on my shoes.
Shoplifters will be processed
I didn’t need to see the items down the other aisles to figure out what I was looking at, what must have happened.
I could already tell that we’d never have another argument, ever again.
I heard a door open and close in the back, soft footsteps approaching from down that hallway.
I realized that in my distraction, I'd forgotten to put money back on the counter.
I choked up, but knew there was nothing I could do for him. So, I tossed the first bills I found in my purse onto the floor, frantically untangled the car keys, and in shock, I drove myself the remaining four-hour drive home.
Every so often, along the quiet country roads – those I could've sworn were empty on the drive up – I’d see that grimy building, the sign, '-MART' flashing in the distance.
I didn’t stop once.
I've been home for a week now.
A few nights ago, something triggered a motion alert on my video doorbell, but there was no one there when I checked the footage.
The next morning, I found a cardboard box on my porch – with no stamp or return address.
In it was a torn t-shirt, and several of those now-familiar wrapped packages, putrid fluid leaking out of them through the bottom of the soggy cardboard.
I've received a similar box every night, since.
I don't know if it's meant as a threat, or if due to some sort of twisted interpretation – I’m now a 'paying customer’ – he's slowly being returned to me.
Either way, it turns out that I've gotten to see who Brian was on the inside, after all.
JFR