So, Kaiser has been trying to push the William and Rose Hanbury affair story for years now, she's decided to go extra hard recently because Catherine (who would be the victim of the 'affair') now has cancer, so what better way to show how utterly devoid of any modicum of empathy you are by ramping up the absolute pathological levels of delusion and hatred, going in hard with not one but two different Rose centered articles in the space of a week.
The first story involved Rose being at the Badminton Horse Trials, which in itself is shocking departure from the norm for a member of the upper classes... oh wait 🤔 That's not all though folks! She was pictured with Camilla! Case for her being shunted in soon as a repliKate closed.
Although Charlotte Tilbury was also in the picture, so maybe its a throuple type situation and William is just in it for endless free supplies of Tilburys 'Hollywood flawless filter' illuminator so he too can appear as moisturized and well laid as his brother (as an aside, for someone having so many alleged affairs you would expect Wills to look 'well laid' too no?!)
Sadly things get less frivolous in the next post. Rose and her husband, David Rocksavage, the Marquess of Cholmondeley who is currently a permanent Lord-in-waiting in the court of King Charles, attended the Service of Dedication for the Order of the British Empire. Kinda of his job but whatever I guess. Kaiser states she has "no idea if Charles and Camilla have always been close to the Cholmondeley family or this association and friendship has warmed up in recent years"
All this despite the fact he was literally the former Lord Great Chamberlain for the Queen, you know mother of Charles, for 23 years a hugely prominent role in both parliamentary and monarchical functions, and present at countless public and private occasions where both he and Charles and Camilla were working closely together.
All of the boring work type facts aside, Kaiser uses this seemingly random post to drive home a particularly awful, false and nasty piece of not only baseless, but incredibly cruel conjecture "I know there are always paternity rumors about Rose’s kids, but all I’ll say is that when the stories first began circulating about Rose and Prince William (circa 2019), no one questioned the paternity of Rose’s sons."
The italics to emphasize 'sons' is all Kaisers, knowing that after their sons, Rose and David had a daughter, in 2016. And presumably by excluding that poor innocent 8 year old from the 'no one questioned the boys paternity' rhetoric she is allowing a clear conclusion to be drawn.
Kaiser never says the most truly awful things outright, she thinks she is too 'whipsmart' for that. Instead she drops disgusting 'hints' to let her rabid followers run wild and do the dirtiest of her dirty work for her.
We see you Kaiser and we know exactly what you are doing and it's vile. Where to start, suggesting that Rose Hanbury is lying about the paternity of one of her own children whilst effectively cuckolding her husband? Its ok though as Kaiser concedes "I do think Rose has an It Factor. She’s striking, she’s thin and leggy, and she really does have beautiful eyes." which oddly is usually everything Kaiser hates, but hey she might be having an affair with the husband of a mother of 3 young children who is currently undergoing debilitating treatment for cancer but had the audacity to hesitate before sharing a lipgloss with her new sister in law so surely deserves all of this and more.
Oh and let's also bring a child into this, who is a completely private individual, and only fucking 8 years old and put a nasty loaded comment on the internet about her where it will remain for all eternity. Because remember people 'escapism can be smart'

Hey, so I've been trying to move on for the last two months, I've written paragraphs, pages, letters, etc to let it all out. Literally did everything in my power to move on. He was my bestfriend, i had so many picture and videos of him(me bullying him in each of them), so many screenshots of our chats. My bestfriend, ayra, she insisted me to delete everything that reminded me of him. I did delete everything but she said she was gonna login in my account and delete my chats with him, I panicked and took as many screenshot as possible, of my memories with him. She eventually logged in and deleted all of the chats from both of his accounts, she did the same with my another account. Before you point at her, let me tell you that she couldn't see me any more miserable and literally had to take me out of my misery. I eventually broke down and had to delete all the screenshots I took. I have nothing of him left with me.
My little cousin was going through my gallery, she asked me while showing a photo of his (person I've been trying to move on from) child self asking who he is. I found myself almost getting sad, my other younger cousin, an elder sibling to the little cousin asked who the boy was in the picture, i mouthed her his name and she immediately skipped onto the next photo lol. Isn't she the best? Anyways that's the only photo I have of him.
Was i in the wrong to delete everything, did i make a wrong choice? I'll not lie here but I'm still holding out a hope that he'd come back, even though i know it won't happen.

I made these right before the Megalopolis reactions came out and if it's not looking so good (which it isn't...), these are going to be very different very soon
(In largely no order)
Best Picture:

• Sing Sing
• Parthenope
• Nickel Boys
• Blitz
• Conclave
• The Piano Lesson
• A Real Pain
• Dune Part Two
• Anora
• Megalopolis or Queer - Without Studio

Main alternates: Kinds of Kindness, His Three Daughters, The Fire Inside, Fancy Dance
Best Director:

• Greg Kwedar - Sing Sing
• Steve McQueen - Blitz
• Denis Villenueve - Dune 2
• Francis Ford Coppola - Megalopolis

Slot 5: Paolo Sorrentino (Parthenope), Edward Berger (Conclave), Luca Guadaningo (Queer)
Best Actor

• Colman Domingo - Sing Sing
• Ralph Fiennes - Conclave
• Jessie Eisenberg - A Real Pain
• Daniel Craig - Queer
• Cillian Murphy - Small Things Like These

Alternates: John David Washington (The Piano Lesson), Adam Driver (Megalopolis)
Best Actress

• Stefania Sandrelli - Parthenope
• Saorise Ronan - Blitz
• Carrie Coon - His Three Daughters
• Lily Gladstone - Fancy Dance
• Angelina Jolie - Maria

Alternates: Ryan Destiny (The Fire Inside), Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor (Nickel Boys), Mikey Madison (Anora), Zendaya (Challengers)
Best Supporting Actor

• Samuel L. Jackson (The Piano Lesson)
• Stanley Tucci (Conclave)
• Kieran Culkin (A Real Pain)
• Harris Dickinson (Blitz)
• Jason Schwartzmann (Queer)

Alternates: Brian Tyree Henry (The Fire Inside), John Lithgow (Conclave), Paul Raci (Sing Sing)
Best Supporting Actress

• Danielle Brooks (The Piano Lesson)
• Nathalie Emmanuel (Megalopolis)
• Luisa Ranieri (Parthenope)
• Lesley Manville (Queer)
• Elizabeth Olsen (His Three Daughters)

Alternates: Judy Greer (The Fire Inside)
Best Original Screenplay

• Sing Sing
• Blitz
• Parthenope
• A Real Pain
• Challengers

Best Adapted Screenplay

• Dune Part Two
• Conclave
• The Piano Lesson
• Queer
• Small Things Like These

I have BTL predictions too but they're all... eh....

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


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

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

Hello! I'll start talking about myself, then about my boyfriend, then how our relationship went down and how we got back together. Sorry for my English in advance.
So. I'm Brazilian and a 20 year-old Law student. I'm very empathetic, and I came from a family with many challenges - financial and emotional. My parents marriage isn't the best, and I grew up in a pretty hostile environment (in the sense that my parents were very strict about grades, and my father is very aggressive in general). However, they did the best they could with what they had. Last year, I came to live in another state, 7 hours away from home by car, because I got into one of the best colleges in the country (currently second best at Law) and couldn't miss the opportunity. I've been learning how to be an adult more and more day by day. I've got a nice internship and work another job aside from that.
When I thought I was finally free from my mother's controlling behavior, I decided it was finally a good time to date someone. And so I began talking to this boy (at the time, a 22 year old) through the internet. He seemed wonderful. Spent three years in Romania to study (even tho he didn't get to graduate) and then came back to Brazil to pursue his true passion, International Relations. We hit it off pretty quickly and started officially dating after a month.
At that time, even thought he had dated multiple girls in the past, I was his first serious relationship. Even today, he says I'm the only girl he ever felt (and still feels) love for. I got to know later on that he had Bipolarity, depression and Borderline Personality Syndrome - all of those conditions that weren't being treated or medicated for months.
He had problems with money, problems with dates, problems with compromises, problems with his grades, problems with his addictions (cigarettes). He didn't know exactly how to make a girlfriend feel safe, he would often not include me in his routine, sometimes he wasn't careful with his wording... and many other things. Every time I talked about our problems, he would only say "sorry" "I can't guarantee I'll actually change" "maybe I'm not the one you're looking for". He followed a LOT of girls, and always told me "I don't check out Instagram anyways so it's nothing".
Then, after 7 months in the relationship, I went over to my mother's house for Christmas and New year. He also went to his dad's house at that time. We cried a lot when we had to part, because we did absolutely everything together.
Well. Once he got into his dad's house, he began to be more distant (if we chatted for 10 minutes a day, that was rare) and I was exhausted. I just wanted a conversation of some minutes, and I understand he wanted to be with his family, but a nice call at the end of the day or just a few texts wouldn't keep him from them. I talked about that with him and I ended up being the one apologizing for not being understanding.
Phew...
Then, after two weeks of vacation, it happened. A girl going to my DMs and exposing an intimate conversation she and my boyfriend had just a few minutes ago. I exploded. She was Spanish. She wasn't even Brazilian. She was an online friend. He sent messages talking about how he wanted to kiss her on her bed, about how he was horny, asking her for a fit check, and sending pictures of his underwear.
She checked his Instagram later just to find out my name in his bio. So she went over and sent me everything. Every screenshot.
I was betrayed. I never thought he would ever do this to me.
I talked to him. He said he was sorry, that he loved me, that he didn't get why he'd done that, that he was stressed, that he would never do it again, that I was wonderful, that I didn't do anything wrong and he didn't want to lose me...
I'll be honest, at that time, I didn't want to break up. But I HAD to.
So I broke up with him, but told him we could try again if he made an effort, and we should also talk in person about everything. Told him he should seek therapy and a psychiatrist. My condition was that he would tell me if he got together or flirted with another woman until I got back from vacations so we could have that talk.
It didn't take long for him to start telling me he was feeling numb. That he didn't think it was a good idea to get back together. However, he would send me good morning and good night texts every single day, and sometimes he would text me that he loved me. Weeks later, when he stopped texting as much, I found out he was flirting with other girls. So I cut off contact, and told him that I couldn't believe he didn't keep what he promised me (telling me if he flirted with someone else). He hid it from me, and I didn't even understand why.
Days later, I found out he slept with a prostitute, and even told his friends to gang b*ng her. My heart completely stopped. I was heartbroken.
My own depression came out of hiding. So I contacted a therapist, and tried to appreciate the other things in life other than him.
Later on, I came to know he was also working on himself, getting medicated and all.
2 months later, I come back to the state I studied in, where he already was. I come in peace, relaxed, and happy to be in another place full of opportunities. But my heart still weighed.
Then I went to have that talk to him. He apologized for everything. We had a long, long talk about things, and I felt a lot better. But then he started getting physical; hugging me for hours, caressing me, kissing my cheek, kissing my forehead, putting his hand on my thigh...
Before anything could get any more serious, I went back home alone.
Then, another day, he came to get gifts I had gotten for his family (it was his stepmom's birthday, whom I cherished, and on vacations it was his little brother's birthday). I wanted to go to the pharmacy after that, and he asked to accompany me. I accepted, as it was late and I didn't want to go alone.
After sometime, he started talking about how he missed me. How he missed my jokes, my humour, my personality, my presence in his life. He hugged me. I told him it was a bit late for that. That I had given him the chance to have me back, and he didn't appreciate it.
Then we went to talk in a park. We sat together, and he started to tell me even more things. That he would see my clothes and other things in his room and cry, wondering why he'd cheated on me, telling himself he was stupid for letting me go and disrespecting me. He would often miss his way from home and go to my place by mistake. That he'd never stopped loving me, and that he was just running away from conflict l.
Well. I couldn't help it. I missed him like hell and he told me everything I wanted to hear. I ended up kissing him.
We then got back together oficially after three months of going out and sorting things out. He's been wonderful, everything I asked for and more.
But it still hurts, as you might think.
Most of the times I feel insecure he comes running over to my place to make sure I'm not breaking up with him again.
He knows I know about the prostitute, btw.
I just don't get it. He says he regrets it, that he regretted before and after. Well, if he regretted before, he could have just not done it. I didn't get anything... I still couldn't accept why he'd done everything. I felt ugly, I felt like I was not enough...
Then he told me about his past with childhood trauma, which explained a lot to me in my head. I cried when he told me his story, and apologized for what they've done to him, because the person who did bad things to him him was his family and never apologized. He'd never told this story to anyone.
That alone explained a lot of things in my head. His hypersexuality, his tendency to deal with things alone, etc. But the prostitute thing still gets to me.
I keep wondering what she'd looked like. How was it. If he liked it. Why he'd done it.
He says he did it because he just wanted to forget everything, but it just didn't work. That he's here for me now, that he'll never do such thing again, that he'll be good to me from now on...
Idk what to do. I want to stop thinking about her, but idk how.

Forgive me for how bad this is because I'm awful at writing posts especially about myself but I'd love to meet some cool people and have some chilled chats about anything!
Here is some basic information about me if you're interested:
I'm Rory from the North Of Ireland and yes, I've got a weird accent
I currently work for the government, unfortunately I'm not a spy or anything exciting like that
I love music and I'm always going to gigs but my taste changes all the time, Some of my favourites lately are IDLES, Viagra Boys, The Smile, and Fleet Foxes. I also love sharing songs and playlists so feel free to send them my way
I'm a big traveller and love going on adventures especially to new places
I'm a bit of a gamer and play PS5/PC but I'm a bit of a loner in that department and would be down to play with some new people
I have a unhealthy addiction collecting vinyls
I'm constantly rewatching the same tv shows such as the office, it's always sunny in philadelphia, peep show, and the thick of it but I'm open for more recommendations
I enjoy reading books or watching documentaries on true crime and Irish history because I'm a loser
If none of the above interests you I have two dogs who are the best bois in the world and I can just provide pictures of them
I don't know else to say and feel like I've rambled on enough so hit me up if you'd like to! Have a good day! :)

Sorry this might be long and this is my 1 real post here. But basically my nephew we will call A (16M) has had a crappy hand felt to him over the last few years, and he now is just existing and not living. I have him in therapy, he refuses medication, he is a good size boy so I can’t really force him to do anything… he stands almost 6ft and over 200lbs, I am 5’3” and 165lbs… he is not fat by no means. But a big strong boy. Back story…. He was adopted at birth from my sister’s bff’s daughter. But was not told he was adopted until he was 13yo. He has known his birth mom and his bio family including 1/2 siblings his entire life. Then at 14 his Dad passed away suddenly, and then 16 months later his Mom died suddenly. She I his Aunt who he has never lived in the same state with got custody based on the parents wills. We have an ok relationship, considering we only have seen each other a few times a year, but I love him more than anything. I have been an empty nester for several years (my only child 38f). So after 2 months of figuring out how him & his 29M brother we will call him J could stay in his current state was determined it was not cost effective. J lives where I do many states away. So I packed him up and brought him home. J bought a house and A wanted to live with J and it is in the same city, so I agreed. While living with me he did not want to got to school fought him every morning, caused so much stress that my spouse was a jerk to him everyday. And A did nothing to help us, he did not do homework, slept played games, and argued about getting up and doing anything responsible, very disrespectful and absolutely shut down. I got him in Boxing as well to help him with a way to let out his aggression along with the counseling. But we are at our wits end. He is skipping school to the point today I called the SRO at school and had the officer come to his home to pick him up and take him, luckily by the time he got there he was up and in J’s car so J took him. He won’t pass his classes, doesn’t care if he fails, doesn’t care about getting a license, doesn’t care if we ground him take everything away he will just sleep. Won’t shower, change clothes. I am at a loss, J is ready to throw in the towel, I am not, he is too important to me to let him throw his life away. I know he has a lot going on and I know that until I came into the picture he was not allowed mental health because he mom thinks it is a weakness or a joke. But All I do is want to cry. I want to coddle him, but he is not the cuddly type and I cannnot reward his bad behavior.
HELP!!! Please Help!

I was craving to read this book from the start, when I first picked up Agatha Christie, but I wanted to read Poirot books in order, so I finally got there.
I think, Im kinda overwhelmed rn, and that's probably why i cant say for sure if I liked the book or not. It felt impressive and not impressive at the same time!
Also, my sister was talking bout this book, cause apparently there was 2017 adaptation that got really popular, and Im probably gonna watch it!
And so, obviously I didnt guess the killer. More like I couldn't have possibly guessed all of them. Or even if I was had suspects that I thought were killers, I couldnt explain them at all.
Im gonna reread the book for sure. Im sure Im gonna notice the fake stories and clues more clearly when I do. I didnt even think about there being SO many killers, yes, I thought maybe, just maybe there might be several people, but not freaking all of them! I was sitting with my jaw on the floor when Poirot kept calling them by their past jobs or roles in America.
There was a funny thing of me thinking the suspects(when I wasnt even close to the truth), and I wrote down bout 5 suspects and thought "nah, too much suspects, I should think bout fewer people", boy, i was so far away!
So, my biggest suspects were M.Bouc and the doctor. Idk, I kept waiting for Poirot to talk bout their alibis, cause they were least suspicious, but it never happened. Bad guess yeah, but Im not a smart person. Others were like the swiss woman and Elena, but as I said before I was right, but I didnt figure out how they couldve done it.
Phew, the book was entertaining and enjoyable for sure. I think for this many characters, I definitely need to watch the adaptations to have better picture, its like describtions werent enough, i NEEDED to see their faces.
The ending was ok. Im not a fan of AC fast endings where its only the little descriptions of the aftermath or them ending with some kinda quote. Well, really satisfying though. Victim deserved it, so its just pretty satisfying imagining him being a ghost somewhere and figuring out the whole train killed him and the detective, that didnt agree helping him earlier decided to hide the truth, cause thats what scumbags deserve!
But I feel like there being so many participants had so many potential? Cant really think bout the them though, maybe like them accusing Poirot of the murder with bunch of clies?
Welp, im done. This is the last book I bought for now. And... im short on money. Gonna have to wait to read another!

I was dating this girl for two years. We were planning to get married with each other and we really thought each other were the one. We lived an hour away and I have really bad ADHD for context.
Fast forward to now, she broke up with me a month and a half ago. When I asked her the main reason, she said that in all of her relationships, she had to take care of her bf’s and wanted a man to take care of her and after I asked if she was saying if I wasn’t the right kind of man for her, she said yes.
My question is, there were a lot of times when she would tell me that I was not meeting certain needs like planning dates better or verbalizing compliments enough, but I truly feel like I was really getting better at that. I would send her special messages every night and tell her how much I loved and missed her a lot. I never once yelled at her or put her down, but when we would argue, she would be kind of mean and when she would communicate her needs, she would say them in a more accusing way, which I think made me defensive and made it hard for me to truly listen and hear what she needed.
She also told me I needed to lead more and say it felt like she was being led by a boy instead of a man. I can’t help but feel like I ruined everything by not fulfilling her needs after she would keep telling me, but I truly feel like I was really getting better, and I was still supportive in every other way I could be. I even painted her pictures and and made her paper flowers for valentines and Christmas.
I feel like it’s all my fault and I ruined the relationship, but I was really kind to her and I tried to show care in other ways, even if I was still bettering myself in the ways she asked for, even if she was sometimes mean. I would love to hear other opinions and thoughts because I cannot stop beating myself up over this.

Ivaxa has been well known for his high BPM stream plays along with his obscene singletapping skills over the course of a few weeks at the time of writing. His most notable achievement is his S rank on Deceit [pishi’s Extra] +DT (Score) (Replay). However there is some unusual behavior that Ivaxa has that should be looked into. This thread will look into quite a few cases of these weird findings.
As of the current date, May 16th, 2024, we have collected enough information to submit our public review of Ivaxa’s activity. We are asking the osu! staff and other independent researchers to validate our information and proof-check every single aspect of it. If our findings would be proven to be incorrect and/or not substantial - that's completely fine. Our goal is not to just blindly accuse but to establish the truth.
This document contains currently collected information about Ivaxa, his scores, profiles, and potential connections to other “alt” accounts in the game. We, as an independent team, are trying to establish the legitimacy or lack thereof of said player.
As always, harassment of any of the people mentioned/involved in the report is inappropriate. Please be civil when partaking in the discussion.
Replays, and VODs can be found in a google drive at the end of the thread so you can investigate and see moments listed in the thread yourself.
But first, here's a few things to consider:

1. Ivaxa’s mouse is a HyperX Pulsefire Haste 2, he allegedly plays on 800 DPI with a 0.62x sens multiplier on osu!. The only reason as to why it’s alleged is because of his recent streams, his sensitivity seems higher than it actually is.
2. He plays with a Sayu O3C keypad that runs at 8000hz (Peripheral information can be found from Ivaxa’s Twitch channel.)
3. He is able to singletap 191 BPM streams consistently.
4. Ivaxa used to be a DT aim player, not much of a stream player until recently.
5. The player does have skill, however he may be using some sort of outside assistance software-wise like aim assist or relax hacks.
6. All replays in this thread were inspected using Circleguard.
7. Most of the information down below was conducted in the empirical (perceived) sense, so take all of it with a grain of salt.

Section one: Replays

There are a few moments within Ivaxa’s recent replays that felt unusual or very strange; mostly unusual edge hits, but also weird UR bar behavior.
The Deceit +DT
There are a few things to mention about this score. The first is an unusual UR bar behavior from 91076 ms (~1 minute 31 seconds) to 93123 ms (~1 minute 33 seconds). The UR bar looks like this in the end. This type of UR bar behavior is often found in 125 hz keyboards with a map that has a BPM that is a multiple of 125 (125 BPM, 250 BPM, 375 BPM, etc.). However, Ivaxa doesn’t use a 125hz keyboard or keypad, he uses one that is rated at 8000hz. This is rather unusual since this type of UR is only found in this section of the map only. Also, if he were to play on a 125hz keyboard/keypad, the type of UR that was shown above would be all over the map since the Deceit with DT is mostly 375 BPM.
The second would be his aim, particularly at around 1885 combo, his cursor shakes at an abnormal magnitude from the rest of the map. This shake can be caused by nerves, tapping strain of the left hand, or a mix of both. But, Ivaxa’s alleged sensitivity is so low that the shake that has been shown in the replay is either really hard to do or impossible.
Gotta go Fast +DTSO
This score has one thing that is quite suspicious. at 47582 ms (~48 seconds) into the map, an awkward edge hit is found where he over-aimed and seemingly snapped back to the circle. This kind of edge hit is something that a normal osu! player wouldn’t be able to hit entirely, especially at the speed at which the map is being played at. Another edge hit can be found in the same map at 28852 ms (~29 seconds), where the cursor doesn’t naturally curve at the end, instead snapping to the edge of the circle. Both cases may allude to the usage of some sort of aim assist.
Metal Crusher +DT
There are two things to note about this score, the first is some unusual cursor movement at the ending section of the map. Ivaxa’s cursor slightly follows the slider at 59128 ms (~59 seconds), and another right after at 60400 ms (~one minute). Movement like this paired with the speed at which the map is being played at just seems unusual/suspicious.
There are also five edge hits within the map, four out of the five edge hits are at the very edge of a circle. The probability of hitting these types of edge hits is rather low, especially when there are four of them in one map.
Edge Hit #1: https://i.imgur.com/g3VlDoz.png
Edge Hit #2: https://i.imgur.com/vpTKuw7.png
Edge Hit #3: https://i.imgur.com/oQiEwVR.png
Edge Hit #4: https://i.imgur.com/nJyVbiq.png
Edge Hit #5: https://i.imgur.com/MN9MfwN.png
Sendan Life +DTHD
There is something to be said about some of the 100’s that Ivaxa is hitting. More specifically some 100’s within a few of the maps that have been observed so far are very near the barrier of being a 300 hit regardless of whether the note is early or late (https://i.imgur.com/cxFSdjf.png, https://i.imgur.com/bHLurZn.png). The sayu is precise enough to actually hit these types of 100’s, however it feels like these have occurred too often, so much so that this play has half of the 100’s in the map has these “edge 100’s,” for a lack of a better term. There are also two 100’s (100 #1 and 100 #2) that have been hit at exactly the same lateness/timing.
100 #1: https://i.imgur.com/KR4BhWe.png
100 #2: https://i.imgur.com/pzg7zMn.png
100 #3: https://i.imgur.com/z5qIocV.png
100 #4: https://i.imgur.com/pgEBsKK.png
100 #5: https://i.imgur.com/rQ50Uhs.png
100 #6: https://i.imgur.com/oMkQ3O5.png

Section Two: Twitch Streams

The two pieces of information down below are more focused on his single tapping skills, along with some weird/suspicious moments during his stream.
Stream title: #18 #2PL we back boys PL/ENG
At 15:37, Ivaxa is seen to be double tapping 270 bpm streams even though he S ranked the Deceit with DT around three days after said stream (390 BPM). At 49:15 mins of the same stream: he is seen to singletap 191 BPM streams, probably because he was warm when playing at his point.
Stream title: #17 #2PL Yomi yori 3 mod pass happening right now wtf,
On March 31st, 2024, on the VOD where he S ranked The Deceit +DT, at the end of the VOD at 2:58:42 Ivaxa is seen singletapping a 390 BPM burst. After which he paused the game and blamed Steam notifications. Despite the bottom half of his monitor being visible on stream through the webcam, where no steam notifications or pop-ups are visible, he then opened Steam to "change notifications settings.'' After allegedly changing the settings, his cursor trajectory on the visible parts of the monitor on stream tells us that he moved the mouse from the top most left corner, while usually Steam settings are located in a pop-up window at the center of the screen. Afterwards His stream allegedly "crashed."
To see the moment, play the following .mp4 file: 20240331 #17 #2PL Yomi yori 3 mod pass happening right now wtf Part 3 and go to the near end.
Stream title: #9 #2PL if i want to i'll farm req closed
On April 7th, 2024 Ivaxa showed on the osu! Game discord server that he is able to singletap 191 BPM (better picture of the graph), however six days later after the message, on his stream on April 13th, 2024 Ivaxa showed that he was able to singletap PoNo’s Yomi Yori 220 BPM streams at the end. This type of BPM jump in such a short amount of time can only be reasoned with by hardware abuse via rapid trigger. Either that, or some sort of relax hack that assists the player in tapping.

Section Three: Multiaccounting

There are many pieces of information that suspect that Ivaxa is multiaccounting, however there is currently no concrete evidence on whether or not he is indeed multiaccounting. Please keep this in mind when reading this section of the thread.
The Mulitiaccount & Play Count Graphs
Pipecat is the suspected multiaccount. First of all, both Pipecat and Ivaxa are placed 1st and 2nd on the osu!mania leaderboard in Lower Silesian Voivodeship, Poland (This is done by using osu! subdivide nations). Both play count graphs also seem to compensate for each other as of 2024, April 4th (the graph for Ivaxa has been warped in order to have a better visualization).
Time-pp Scatter Chart & Best Performances
The same thing happens with their Best Performance Time-pp Scatter Chart from ameobea/osu!track (Pipecat's Mania Chart and Ivaxa's Mania Chart non warped). Both graphs seem to compensate for each other, especially at around the month of March, as of 2024, April 5th (again, Ivaxa's chart has been warped for better visualization of score submissions).
Speaking of pp, both accounts have similar maps in their best performances list (Ivaxa is on the left, Pipecat on the right). If you want to see more, just check their mania profiles.
This may ask the reason as to why Ivaxa hasn’t played any vsrg (Vertical Scrolling Rhythm Game), and yet his performance in mania is abnormal for his time played. As seen from the play count graph from above, Ivaxa would’ve most likely played mania first on the Pipecat account, and then proceeded to play mania again on the other.
Names/Naming Scheme & Last Seen
Their naming scheme can also be taken into account as, Ivaxa’s name was inspired by Vaxei, and Pipecat was inspired by Whitecat.
It is also worth noting that Ivaxa and Pipecat’s Last Seen times are near each other, being more or less one hour apart from each other.
https://i.imgur.com/uVucqXr.png
https://i.imgur.com/lYh4Gbb.png

Section Four: Misc, additional “facts,” and Speculations

This section is dedicated to the additional miscellaneous information and our speculation formed from the data we discovered during the process of the investigation. These entries are not verbosely written due to us not finding enough evidence/information to make them included in the previous sections.
For ease of understanding the entry's level of absurdity, we marked them with color tags. The marking process for each entry was completely subjective so even the most absurd ones could be a potential aid for independent investigators/osu! staff as an additional lead where we “hit the wall.”
Fact: Could be used as a potential lead
Fact + Assumption: Not substantial enough to be included in previous sections/Assumption
Pure Speculation: Completely speculative fact/information
Fact: BayOfEvil (Ivaxa’s old username), does have an osu!report on it, although the report isn’t very helpful. One of the thread's replies includes a Discord recording with Ivaxa playing as “proof” of him being legit. This should be investigated further (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cVQDdw1SSLs).
Fact: Ivaxa’s Mania score on Ne uchi +DT was set 22 days after his no-mod score.
Fact: In Pipecat's osu profile a discord server can be found (https://discord.gg/jkMydV3PTB), upon searching "Ivaxa" the only two mentions of the name is from the user Pipecat (https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/577365869949354025/1225631393820708914/image0.jpg?ex=6621d52f&is=660f602f&hm=e3589cb93e9ffb2b7c0ef7ffbdedcc3b09df919a7082d11468035ff4f4f6e65e&).
Fact: Guitar to Kodou to Aoi Hoshi: Edge hit at the very edge at 202358 ms (~3 minutes 22 seconds) (https://i.imgur.com/PAWsyh7.png) Similar to the edge hit on FUCK YOU.
Fact + Assumption: FUCK YOU: Very erratic cursor movement at 4485 ms (~4.5 seconds) (https://i.imgur.com/mkRw4Ki.png) combined with his sensitivity and the map’s speed, this is basically impossible. Also he's been under-aiming a lot in this map but that might just be me. There is also an edge hit at the very edge at 60301 ms (~1 min) (https://i.imgur.com/GFxZctS.png), which can be questioned.
Fact + Assumption: Gotta go Fast HDDTHR: The UR bar is acting the same way that was observed with the deceit score from above (Gotta go Fast: https://i.imgur.com/ywA8XAu.png, Deceit: https://imgur.com/cbUtzya). With both maps being 375 BPM with DT, Ivaxa may or may not have used the same method of cheating if he is.
Fact + Assumption: Stream title: #18 #2PL we back boys PL/ENG, at 15:37 mins, Ivaxa is seen to be double tapping 270 bpm streams even though he S ranked the Deceit with DT around three days after said stream (390 BPM).
Fact + Assumption: A Thread created by sampierat on twitter: https://vxtwitter.com/sampierat/status/1775216723743875457?s=20

• https://imgur.com/pC3DBMq

Pure Speculation: During a congregation, several people have noted/proposed that Ivaxa may or may not be using three keys in order to stream higher bpm’s, using a software that alternates the middle key (since he plays ring-index) between key 1 and key 2 to insure that nothing is suspicious with his tapping count.
Pure Speculation: We condone an anonymous survey inside the mania community, including some of the top players, regular 4k, 7k, and 8k players, and some tournament organizers. Most of the participants agree that Ivaxa’s progression and improvement curve is abnormal.
Pure Speculation: Stream title: #18 #2PL we back boys PL/ENG, within the first hour of the stream, Ivaxa is seen to have completely lost his aim (44:46 min), even though he nearly fc'd Brazil on Fiery's Extreme with HDHRDT ten days prior to the stream. Although this evidence may not be as substantial as the others because of retry spamming Brazil.
Pure Speculation: The earliest known screenshots of Ivaxa grinding The Deceit Pishi's Extra, was on 2023, December 22nd (https://twitter.com/Ivaxaosu/status/1738245663631024453, https://twitter.com/Ivaxaosu/status/1738268599129632811, He later achieved an S rank on 2024, March 31st. He would've grinded the map for the past 3 months, however his play count seems to not reflect the grind, only having 237 plays as of 2024, April 5th (https://i.imgur.com/dg4HdSl.png).
Pure Speculation: https://youtu.be/Isp233epRAA the hands, and tapping technique may be similar to Ivaxa.
Pure Speculation: Potential lead/connection between Ivaxa and Pipecat could be found via steam accounts.
Ivaxa’s has two steam accounts (Both Steam profiles were sent to aknzx at one point):

• Main account https://steamcommunity.com/profiles/76561199027517248
• Alt (thanks for Ivaxa posting it on one of the discord servers) https://steamcommunity.com/profiles/76561199081700184
  • Has a VAC ban on it
• Pipecat’s steam account:
  • “Main account” https://steamcommunity.com/profiles/76561199389486073

Pure Speculation: Additional platforms related to Pipecat:

• Their youtube channel https://www.youtube.com/@pipe_cat (We tried to use it compare Ivaxa’s voice and Pipecat’s voices already, not enough information)
• Their GD (GeometryDash) profile: https://gdbrowser.comNotPipeCat

Pure Speculation: Pipecat’s Windows username https://imgur.com/a/DCgtC82 (from this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNTTpSl1hHo ) If it could be proven that Ivaxa’s real name is Krzys, it could be a potential lead (despite it being a very popular name in Poland).
Pure Speculation: Pipecat is recording videos on his Youtube channel using both a PC and a Laptop. The PC is running Windows 11, and the Laptop is running Windows 10. This Could be a potential lead.

Verdict

Ivaxa’s single tapping speed is very abnormal, especially considering that he was able to stream 220 BPM in just six days, starting from 191 BPM, all singletapped. His aim on some maps feels weird, and some edge hits are questionable in terms of legitimacy. The incident on his stream on March 31st of this year also felt suspicious and weirdly timed, as if he was covering something up. And Pipecat’s graphs line up in such a way that it seemingly compensated for Ivaxa’s play count, and pp-scatter chart. From the information that was gathered about Ivaxa, there is a likelihood that the player is cheating, via aim assist, partial relax, or a mix of both.
It is suggested/encouraged that you look into this yourself.

Files and Documents

For Ivaxa stream mp4’s, each “part” is in one hour segments (because untwitch). So part 1 would be the first hour of a stream, part 2 would be the second hour of a stream, etc. There are some parts where it didn’t download the full hour, so be aware of that.
We’ve also included one of the “VOD analyzer” test result files, which includes cursor positions from an analyzed stream segment (#11 #2PL 1.3k pp achieved). It was a completely custom-coded solution that analyzed the video frame by frame but it wasn’t used during the investigation, so we are unsure about the accuracy of the cursor detection.
Input data:
Approximate osu! playfield area on a 1920x1080 monitor:

-Top left of playfield area: (384, 126) -Bottom right of playfield area: (1536, 990) 

Ivaxa's Approximate playfield area on stream:

-Top left of playfield area: (329, 120) -Bottom right of playfield area: (1283, 835) 

Analyzed segment: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1UOceGo6udbGH0p7jbZKvst4wqsIVWIWF/view?usp=drive_link
Google Drive: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1LTDABXcFHSJnk5KNfHWdH1XPJwcdf4S1?usp=sharing
Streams Timeline

Date	Stream Title	VOD Links
March 20th 2024	we back boys	https://drive.google.com/drive5/folders/1xFtwoU82d_qAKPyp7qEm2v4JVd8m-PDF
March 31st 2024	Yomi Yori 3 mod pass	https://drive.google.com/drive5/folders/1PJQOhrao4CFsaeLg4wcwFPtBybdocAnB
March 31st 2024	1.3k pp achieved	https://drive.google.com/file/d/1UOceGo6udbGH0p7jbZKvst4wqsIVWIWF/view
April 1st 2024	play game and then deceit farming	https://drive.google.com/drive5/folders/1TsTmiNzDRIMpFn4lmUzwzS6n3AjyE3rY
April 9th 2024	Yomi Yori DT Farming Right now	N/A
April 13th 2024	singletap practice	N/A

One of our best friends was passed down a beautiful watch from her mother when she turned 18. It's a great story and is one of her most valued possessions. I'd love to do the same with my twins (boy and girl), but if I'm buying a watch that needs to last 18 years for them to reach adulthood, and then last throughout their lives too, I want to buy something good.
My budget is really anything around the $1-2k range per watch. But my brain keeps fixating on a Cartier Panthere and an Omega Speedmaster which are ridiculously out of that price range lol. I'm looking for recommendations on buying these used (still, I know, double my budget) and then recommendations for similar types of watches.
The second question: If I were to buy watches and let them sit for 18 years before gifting them to the kids, I'm assuming that's going to require servicing over the years to keep them working well. Am I better off just buying them watches when they turn 18? I have this idealist picture in my head of my kid seeing me wearing a Speedy their entire life then being surprised when it's passed down to them, but I'm hesitating. Someone give me a reality check: is this a dumb idea? Should I just buy them a watch that they pick out when they turn 18?

So Long story short I stumbled onto a Post by u/pigsonbroadway talking about their take on The Mollusk. and in that thread was a very rad post by u/alwayspolite1999 where they spun a very interesting full story to go with the album that really inspired me. I spent the last 3 hours typing up this response but i think the thread is locked because it wont let me comment. I will post my long thoughts about it here for anyone that might appreciate it. Stay cool yall.
Hey hey, I know I'm nearly 7 years late on this, but thank you for giving me a framework for a very rad hour long relaxing daydream. I changed a few things in my head from this plot but i think it's safe to say you've irrevocably altered this entire album for me. Well done mate.
I wanna share my take on it, just in case you're feeling it or someone else likes it.
I'm imagining a story a lot like yours, about a man growing up and dealing with processing trauma, finding love, and ultimately watching his child leave. I kinda cut the Narrator character and replaced him with a thematic recurring violent masculinity "character" of sorts, like no one character is to blame for the protagonist's continued trauma and misfortune. I couldn't help but also imagine it as a play, so here goes.

1. Dancing in the show tonight: A montage of sorts, with a young boy being raised by a mother and father, as the father slowly loses interest, neglects the child, and displays acts of violence, that are sometimes seen, but sometimes obfuscated from the boy by his mother. Eventually he experiences it directly at his father's hand. Blood/Violence, and subsequently the boy's traumatic thoughts, would be depicted with swirling red ribbons around him, fabric dancing about, etc, and these moments are all intrinsically tied to the ocean/beachside, where they live. By the end of the song, the boy's father gets on a boat and leaves the two on the beach, establishing a dreadful feeling for the viewer and character tied to the ocean. These events don't exactly suit the tone of DitST but that's part of the experience and ties into the ending.
   
2. The Mollusk: The boy, slightly older, finds a little mollusk, seeding some type of positive connection with the ocean that could counteract his trauma, and perhaps (foreshadowing ;) ) represent his ultimate positive reconciliation with the ocean. He is desperate for a father figure and finds himself spending time around a few these untrustworthy and unsavory seamen. Perhaps they are mocking the boy by the end, tossing the mollusk around. The boy gets the mollusk back eventually and takes it back to the beach and lets it go. I hate that the whimsical nature of The Mollusk lends itself so well to a dissonance like this. In a vacuum The Mollusk is a very peaceful lovely song.
   
3. Polka Dot Tail: The boy comes close to experiencing another traumatic situation, involving one of these drunken sailor men, but as you wrote, escapes and runs, trailed by the telltale red cloth setting in place further a lifelong discomfort/trauma response to the ocean. He returns home to his mother, who packs up everything and they move far away from the ocean, leaving their traumatic past behind, running somewhere.
   
4. Jonny on the Spot: A Montage of the boy, now older, working hard, helping his mother, exhausted, a young man but already turning to getting wasted, staying out late, and associating with the wrong people, filling a hole somewhere in his heart. Eventually he does crash his car, stumbling out onto the beach, anxious, and running into a nearby bar, looking back at his fucked up Chevy.
   
5. Mutilated Lips: A chaotic bar scene, surrounded my men, most outfits incorporating the color red somewhere. The Boy haunted by his pervasive trauma in this place. Until, while he's downing glasses, a waitress brushes his hand and sees his scratches, and meets his gaze. The drunkenness of course paints the scene as a merpeople atlantis ass underwater scene, bringing back ocean imagery to tie to the Boy's pain. The waitress has got some type of trauma as well, a cloth or ribbon or light effect (how do stage shows do mental effects like this? lol.) in her own color, let's say blue. They share a long passionate loving night together in her beachside shack, understand each other's pain and loneliness in a way the typical crowd at this seaside bar dont. They symbolize this my giving each other a piece of that fabric, trading blue for red. The blue and red cloth tangles and mingles in a new way and they're draped in purple, finding a peace.
   
6. The Blarney Stone: They return to the bar and the girl he met gets pulled into song and obnoxious drunken partying, the two young protagonists submerged in a loud, crass scene. She plays her usual role in this, though can't help but glance over at her new love. He starts to see her as part of this world, untouchable, so closely associated with this oceanic world of pain for him that he can't handle it. He panics and tries to leave, starting up his messed up car. She runs out to try to stop him but almost lashes out at her, realizing his aversion to this place and these people brings up too much agony, and associating her with that would be unfair to her, and he leaves. Realistically you dont fall in love with someone and run away in one night but it makes a good play.
   
7. It's Gonna be Alright: The Boy wanders out, into a warped undersea version of the previous beach scene with his crashed car. He kinda hits an emotional rock bottom after experiencing the first thing he could consider love or companionship and fucking it up, assumedly. He feels broken, and stares out over a deep dark chasm of fish and kelp and shit as he tries to convince himself he did the right thing, staying there all night. Meanwhile, throughout the song, the Girl goes back to her shack, looks at an old ring she keeps in a box, and by the end of the song, while Boy finds himself in the darkest place, she takes the ring and goes out to the beach, seeing a ship approach as she holds it.
   
8. The Golden Eel: A majestic Golden Eel appears to the Boy, it comes to him in... a vision? A mental realization? a spiritual awakening? He's face to face with this beautiful creature. Slowly all his red cloth is taken from him. It's wound up by the eel and wrapped around him, turning to his new outfit, the red effect that represents the trauma replaced by a strengthened gold cloth resolve that now accompanies him. The Eel swims away. He wakes up on the beach (we drop the underwater imagery here) and finds the Girl's blue scarf tucked into his jacket, and jumps up and starts running back. (mirroring the scene earlier with him as a child running away on the beach, but this time he's in control, running towards something.) He gets back to the bar and the owners point out to a boat leaving, sailing away. He's just missed her.
   
9. Cold Blows the Wind: Meanwhile, we go to the flashback to the Girl, (back to the aquatic imagery from here on out until She Wanted to Leave.) before her facial disfiguration, a montage of her being courted by some other fish sailor man. He's wearing bright cobalt blue. They're sailing together with a crew, and they're very close, eventually him proposing and giving her a ring. Immediately after, their ship gets hit by a cannonball and there's a big battle with another ship. Everything's on fire, she gets injured, and her love dies, as he hands her his bloodstained blue scarf. Later, she makes him a grave, and is wearing the ring still, eventually finding that same seaside bar. She starts working there, all the men there draped in blue fabric, reminding her of her pain. Present day, we see her on a boat, holding the Red scarf. She takes the ring and throws it into the water.
   
10. Pink Eye: The Boy, renewed with zest and energy to go find the Girl, works on his "Car", making a wild looking boat. He says goodbye to his mother then he just starts sailing.
    
11. Waving my Dick in the Wind: Fun upbeat montage. He sails around, showing people the scarf, and every time he meets some new wild sea person, they point, as if they're slowly leading him to her. He grows a beard, becomes a captain, slowly picking up a colorful crew of people helping him. By this point he's fully embraced the red, but wears that blue scarf everywhere. He sails his wild Chevy boat around. Song culminates in ol "Jimmy Wilson" doing a crazy tap dance, and at the end, informing the Boy about the woman, and showing him a picture of her and her Child (without and eye).
    
12. Buckingham Green: (This is my favorite song on the album) We go back to the girl being born, living with her mother somewhere. Lets say the child is missing one eye rather than both, half her face disfigured. Her mother tries to protect her, perhaps too much from judgmental eyes, telling her stories, raising her kindly, but one day she opens her (supposedly) missing eye and it shines gold, and they decide to hide it. Meanwhile, The Boy braves a fierce storm, following a golden glow on the horizon towards where the Girl and the Child are, even helped through the worst of the storm by the Mollusk (Hell yeah). Eventually he arrives and meets the child, and there's a big dramatic ass reunion scene with the Boy, the Girl and the mollusk and all the fish people. The Boy and the Girl wrap their scarves together and put them around the girl, and the scarves transform into a golden one, symbolizing the Boy's commitment to love his child and break a cycle of neglect, and the Girl's closure, being able to move on from her lost love and onto this new family. (or something, idk) The girl opens that other eye and it glows gold again. and The Golden Eel bursts out of the Mollusk as everyone celebrates. The Boy and Girl get their new Opalescent Mollusk outfits and everyone gets hype. Bring in Boy's mom too, fuck it. How all this is supposed to happen in 3:18 i dont know but that's for the director to figure out.
    
13. Ocean man: Exactly as you described. No fucking notes. Hype ending. Maybe this part starts with the Eel haha.
    
14. She Wanted to leave: Now the girl is older. The story of course takes a somber turn where, a tale as old as time, a sailor comes along and woos the young lady. The Boy dips back into his trauma a little bit, swearing revenge, practically begging his girl to stay, going through the throes of a parent watching his child grow up and leave him behind. She obviously refuses, following her new life and her new path, apart from him. Not as heartlessly as he'd like to imagine though. Its melodramatic.
    

14b. Dancing in the Show reprise: This time though, instead of being alone in his pain, his mother and wife can be there to hold his hand, pick him up, and wave goodbye to the sailors' ship together as it leaves for sea. She waves back happily from the deck. Its a sad departure but doesn't have to be a hopeless goodbye like the ones the characters felt in their youth. It can end with the three of them sitting on the beach together and then settling back into their home, the red and blue and gold scarves are hung up somewhere on the roof of something as the sea breeze blows through them.
I don't know who you are but I'm really glad your interpretation touched me in the way that it did. Whoever you are I hope you're having a good life, and rock on.

Admittedly I’ve never been a huge fan of when the FMC is obsessed with the MMC. I’m more into the opposite. And Violet has been one of the worst. Her obsession with Xaden really turns me off. I’m about 65% through Fourth Wing right now. Does she stay like this? Does it continue into the next book? I can’t stop picturing her as a middle school girl with a crush on the older boy.
My apologies to anyone this question might offend. I’m enjoying every other aspect of this book!

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

Hi All,
This is a very long story, so thanks in advance for reading and letting me vent about the last week.
I had my baby boy on 5/7 at 38+2 via c section for breech presentation after being diagnosed with cholestasis. I ended up developing postpartum preeclampsia and required magnesium drip x 24 hours which prolonged my hospital stay to 6 days.
My SIL is a labor and delivery nurse at the hospital I was at. The night before the section, she asked if she could be present in the OR. She is making us a baby book and wanted to take pictures. She also said she could offer support during the spinal until my husband was allowed in. She offered to be “stork” which is where the nurse takes the babies weight, VS, etc. I said no to everything except that it would be okay for her to present for pictures only. Well, she ended up doing everything. She held him first, she did the weight, VS, and was taking pictures with him in the OR. Meanwhile, I was not tolerating things well and didn’t get to hold my baby until I got to the PACU. I realize this is common for a c section, but it gives me a weird feeling that she was the first one to hold him.
My SIL then went on to be my RN overnight 3 times during my stay. She fought with other nurses to be able to do that. Multiple nurses said to me I could say no, but I know that would cause drama with her and probably my MIL. She took my son overnight while my husband and I slept. She continued to take pictures with him and of him and held him all night long except when she was tending to another patient. She pushed me to give him formula when my preference was to do donor milk until my milk came in. Then, she came into work while not on shift and slept in an empty patient room and took him all night and again was taking more pictures with him and him. I know this because there is a shared album. There is one picture of her laying in bed with him almost looking like his mother about to breastfeed….
I was so out of because of the stress of developing preeclampsia after having no issues during my pregnancy and of course because of the magnesium drip. If you’ve ever had to do that, then you know what I’m talking about. I feel like I wasn’t in a good place to consent to my SILs heavy involvement in my medical care. My husband is not very confrontational and I believe he was so desperate for sleep after needing to be primary care taker since I could barely pick my son up.
Now that I am home, I am reflecting on the last week and becoming uncomfortable. My SIL keeps offering to sleep at our house and my MIL says “you should take her up on the offer”. My SIL and MIL come over and they stay for 8 hours and hold him the entire time. They completely take over the care of my son and continue to push me to go lay down or tell my husband and I to go out to eat. They want to FaceTime and my SIL is constantly asking for updates about how baby is doing and how is doctors appointments are. The night we got home from the hospital, SIL offered to stay over and said my son “needed her”. This was really upsetting for me and insulting. This morning, she texted my husband and asked to sleep over so she can hang out with baby….
I am not very confrontational, but I am at the point of telling her off. My husband respectfully said she can visit, but no sleepovers. My MIL is constantly offering to come over and watch him. Then she stays for 8 hours and just holds him the entire time. We took her up on the offer yesterday while I went to the OB and she gave him formula instead of my pumped breast milk after we showed her how to use the warmer…
I just feel so uncomfortable and not respected. Are my feelings valid or are my hormones making me crazy?? A lot of times my SIL is really great and helpful, but I feel like it’s getting weird.
Thanks for reading.