Half life for adderall

I don’t have authorization to share this story, so some of the details will be missing. I’ve tried for the last quarter-century to convince the government to declassify the study files, but these days they don’t even acknowledge I was ever an employee.
My involvement began at twenty, way back in 1997 (I’ll spare you the math — I’m forty-seven). At the time, I was suffering from interminable lucid dreams. You might consider this a gift rather than a curse. Who doesn’t want to control their dream environments? Your subconscious grants you godhood for a brief snatch of time, when the membrane dividing the conscious and unconscious thins to a permeable boundary.
Only, mine extended far beyond the average length. Most experience a few minutes in which to indulge themselves, mostly spent flying, fornicating, or otherwise just meandering in awe. By the time I was a preteen, mine had sprawled across entire nights, subsuming every slumbering moment under lucidity.
You’d think a pubescent boy would know how to busy himself with such a sandbox, but after hour upon hour, night after night, month after month infused with these cosmic powers, I became despondent. Because of the curious time dilation that takes place within a lucid dream, most of my life took place in the lonely confines of my own subconscious. Waking life took on a surreal film and I struggled to engage.
Over the course of my teen years, I tried everything, from valerian root to psychotropics and transcendental meditation. Nothing stemmed the lucidity.
In my sophomore year of college, at the behest of my parents, I enrolled in a sleep study, which involved spending a night at a facility with about a thousand wires attached to my scalp and body. Not exactly the ideal circumstances for a good night’s rest, and yet I still managed to slip quickly into a state of deep sleep. I spent the hours in my false kingdom, populated with my own wild imaginings. A gilded cage for a feckless demigod.
I’ll never forget the look on the attendant’s face when he woke me up the following morning, as if I’d been revealed to him as an alien. Of course, he wasn’t permitted to share the results, so I waited two weeks before I could see the doctor. When I finally sat down with her, she very gently related to me that my brain waves exceeded her expertise — as well as every one of her colleagues.
However, my abnormal mind qualified me to participate in an advanced sleep study involving top scientists in the field. They sought twenty volunteers for their work. Without recourse and desperate to solve my sleep problem, I signed on the dotted line.
I had no idea what I’d just committed myself to.
The initial phase of the “study” involved a month at a desert facility in the remote New Mexican wilderness. I came only with a duffel full of clothes and a couple summer reads to finish before the fall semester. Cell phones were not widely adopted back in ‘97, to the facilitators’ benefit. Had their participants been in contact with the outside world, there surely would have been an information breach.
Despite the ominous location and the facility’s uninviting brutalism, it began with predictable and nonthreatening sleep observance. The uncomfortable helmet of wires was affixed to my scalp for the duration of my sleep, offering the stern researchers a glimpse at my atypical brain. In the mornings, they offered little more than half-hearted smiles and assurances that I was providing them “invaluable data.”
The changeup came during my second stay, when they presented the study subjects with the Pod. It was a hollow metal egg, essentially, that we were told to sleep in. Only, when I drifted off inside the confines of the Pod, my dreams began to mirror the outside world. Instead of visiting my imagined kingdom, I found myself hovering above the silver egg where my unconscious body lay. The shock of it startled me awake and it took the researchers the better part of an hour to calm me back down.
It was then that they finally revealed their intentions. The project sought to explore the connection between lucid dreamers and OBEs — out of body experiences. They believed that if they amplified certain brain waves within the lucid dreamer, they could induce such incorporeal mental projections. Despite the excitement of a new frontier for science and human experience, I rejected their aims, expressing my distrust and fear. In response to my hesitancy, they gently reminded me that I had signed certain documents which entitled them to my time. The tacit message, of course, was that I’d essentially become their prisoner.
Nevertheless, it behooved them to play nice. In exchange for my assistance, they promised they would also alleviate the dissociative effect of my lucid dreams with a drug cocktail they’d been assembling. Carrot and stick.
So we entered the Targeting Phase. Now that we had established OBEs as scientific fact with a series of basic tests that involved projectors reading notes in adjacent rooms, it was time for the next step. The researchers instructed us to stretch our abilities, reaching out into space. This was how I visited each of the planets in our solar system, learned of the submarine species beneath the ice sheets of Europa, the defunct alien outpost on Pluto, and, when my projection achieved intergalactic range, the advanced interstellar empires of the Andromeda galaxy.
But the researchers were conspicuously disinterested in these discoveries, logging them with the same dispassionate nonchalance as a report of a Jupiter storm.
During my third stay at the facility, the researchers held briefings on targets of interest — various points in distant space they wanted their projectors to visit. By then, we’d grown so accustomed to the practice of sending our consciousness at speeds vastly exceeding light into deep space that none of the volunteers questioned the mission.
At first, they sent us to various star clusters, dust clouds, black holes, interested whether we found alien presence in the vicinity. But I had the suspicion these were merely test runs to hone our accuracy in preparation for a more important target.
When they proposed a mission to the Boötes Void, there was an appreciable shift in tone. Despite performing all the same routine, I sensed a greater importance around this particular target.
I had my suspicions confirmed one night when the screams from the neighboring Pod severed my connection with NGC 1300, returning my perception to my body with an alarming jolt. I rose out of my egg to see a host of researchers crowding around the woman I knew only as Participant Twelve, since they barred us from sharing personally identifying information. She sat up in her Pod, eyes squeezed halfway out of her skull as though prodded from the inside. “It’s there!” she cried. “It’s there and it sees me! Oh God, it sees me!”
“What saw her?” I enquired. “Where did she go?”
None of the researchers paid me any attention, but P-14, scrubbing sleep from his eyes, answered, “Twelve was first to visit the supervoid.”
“God, he sees me and he won’t let go!”
Suddenly, her body went rigid, then convulsed. The researchers hauled her out of the Pod and carried her off to the medical wing. We never saw her again. Whenever we asked about her, the facilitators scolded us for seeking personal information. We weren’t trying to identify her. We just wanted to know if she was alright. If we were going to be alright.
They sent the projectors one at a time to the void, though each one came back having missed their target. That, of course, was a lie. They had intentionally misfired. We’d all heard what happened to P-12 and that scared the hell out of everyone.
When my turn came, the researchers warned they would punish me if I failed to accomplish my task. They knew I was more than capable, had shown myself to be a reliable projector for them, much to my chagrin.
As I dozed off, employing the tactics we had developed over the course of the program (which I will abstain from relaying to you, as it might engender an undesirable response from the study’s facilitators), I targeted a star system found on the border between the Ursa Major Supercluster and the Boötes Void.
As my consciousness materialized in the vacuum of space, I felt an ineffable sense of dread. As if experiencing the collective fear of a thousand vast, intergalactic empires crying out into oblivion. No, for oblivion. It’s difficult now to express, as when I hovered there on the verge of that immense nothing, I was joined with something, a consciousness much larger than my own. A sort of bubble enveloping the Boötes Void, a cognitive shield, a mental warning sign cautioning me not to trespass.
There was some communication that transpired between my own consciousness and that of the dome encasing the dark. In summary, I was told that within the void lurked an incomprehensible evil — or what I now translate as evil, because I think at the time the sensation of language transcended human invention, which lacked sufficient vocabulary to describe what occupied the Boötes Void.
There are seventy-three galaxies inside the supervoid, of which sixty have been discovered by earthbound astronomers. Each one of them is a facsimile of another, a replica. Among them is a perfect recreation of the Milky Way, complete with all its lifeforms. I was given this bit of information by the mind that enfolded the void. When asked for what purpose and by whom, it explained, “Its motives exceed your comprehension.”
At the conclusion of our dialogue, I peered into the darkness and sensed a great eye peeling open, holding me in its malicious gaze. Before I shrank away, I felt it reaching out for me, inviting me to stay.
I returned with enough material to spare me the researchers’ rebuke. They conducted three more expeditions to the Boötes Void, each using another participant, each ending as disastrously as Participant Twelve.
The last visitor returned mute, with black eyes. Within days, he lost all his hair, teeth, finger- and toenails. He refused to eat and spent his final hours using the keyboard he’d been given to communicate with to write a single line ad infinitum. “He is the prince who ate the king and all his subjects will invert themselves for all eternity.”
He died one night in his Pod when its wiring short circuited and plunged the entire facility into a fifteen-hour blackout.
The participants were sent home the following day and to my knowledge the facility closed down. The program dissolved and I received a meager compensation for my time as a projector. Two years later, after raising a stink, I received a prescription for a medication specially delivered to my local pharmacy that did finally put an end to my lucid dreams.
But in their place, I have nightmares, and lately they’ve gotten worse. Of a great eye’s malevolent gaze, watching, tirelessly watching. I have the terrible feeling that whatever we discovered in the Boötes Void wants now to ensnare us, and I fear it will, first in dreams, then for eternity. Which is why I’m telling you this now, because the government refuses to warn you. If you dream of a dark god reaching out for you, hide yourself.
Because he longs to invert you for all eternity.

Would like to know how the following violates the scary personal experience rule:
I don’t have authorization to share this story, so some of the details will be missing. I’ve tried for the last quarter-century to convince the government to declassify the study files, but these days they don’t even acknowledge I was ever an employee.
My involvement began at twenty, way back in 1997 (I’ll spare you the math — I’m forty-seven). At the time, I was suffering from interminable lucid dreams. You might consider this a gift rather than a curse. Who doesn’t want to control their dream environments? Your subconscious grants you godhood for a brief snatch of time, when the membrane dividing the conscious and unconscious thins to a permeable boundary.
Only, mine extended far beyond the average length. Most experience a few minutes in which to indulge themselves, mostly spent flying, fornicating, or otherwise just meandering in awe. By the time I was a preteen, mine had sprawled across entire nights, subsuming every slumbering moment under lucidity.
You’d think a pubescent boy would know how to busy himself with such a sandbox, but after hour upon hour, night after night, month after month infused with these cosmic powers, I became despondent. Because of the curious time dilation that takes place within a lucid dream, most of my life took place in the lonely confines of my own subconscious. Waking life took on a surreal film and I struggled to engage.
Over the course of my teen years, I tried everything, from valerian root to psychotropics and transcendental meditation. Nothing stemmed the lucidity.
In my sophomore year of college, at the behest of my parents, I enrolled in a sleep study, which involved spending a night at a facility with about a thousand wires attached to my scalp and body. Not exactly the ideal circumstances for a good night’s rest, and yet I still managed to slip quickly into a state of deep sleep. I spent the hours in my false kingdom, populated with my own wild imaginings. A gilded cage for a feckless demigod.
I’ll never forget the look on the attendant’s face when he woke me up the following morning, as if I’d been revealed to him as an alien. Of course, he wasn’t permitted to share the results, so I waited two weeks before I could see the doctor. When I finally sat down with her, she very gently related to me that my brain waves exceeded her expertise — as well as every one of her colleagues.
However, my abnormal mind qualified me to participate in an advanced sleep study involving top scientists in the field. They sought twenty volunteers for their work. Without recourse and desperate to solve my sleep problem, I signed on the dotted line.
I had no idea what I’d just committed myself to.
The initial phase of the “study” involved a month at a desert facility in the remote New Mexican wilderness. I came only with a duffel full of clothes and a couple summer reads to finish before the fall semester. Cell phones were not widely adopted back in ‘97, to the facilitators’ benefit. Had their participants been in contact with the outside world, there surely would have been an information breach.
Despite the ominous location and the facility’s uninviting brutalism, it began with predictable and nonthreatening sleep observance. The uncomfortable helmet of wires was affixed to my scalp for the duration of my sleep, offering the stern researchers a glimpse at my atypical brain. In the mornings, they offered little more than half-hearted smiles and assurances that I was providing them “invaluable data.”
The changeup came during my second stay, when they presented the study subjects with the Pod. It was a hollow metal egg, essentially, that we were told to sleep in. Only, when I drifted off inside the confines of the Pod, my dreams began to mirror the outside world. Instead of visiting my imagined kingdom, I found myself hovering above the silver egg where my unconscious body lay. The shock of it startled me awake and it took the researchers the better part of an hour to calm me back down.
It was then that they finally revealed their intentions. The project sought to explore the connection between lucid dreamers and OBEs — out of body experiences. They believed that if they amplified certain brain waves within the lucid dreamer, they could induce such incorporeal mental projections. Despite the excitement of a new frontier for science and human experience, I rejected their aims, expressing my distrust and fear. In response to my hesitancy, they gently reminded me that I had signed certain documents which entitled them to my time. The tacit message, of course, was that I’d essentially become their prisoner.
Nevertheless, it behooved them to play nice. In exchange for my assistance, they promised they would also alleviate the dissociative effect of my lucid dreams with a drug cocktail they’d been assembling. Carrot and stick.
So we entered the Targeting Phase. Now that we had established OBEs as scientific fact with a series of basic tests that involved projectors reading notes in adjacent rooms, it was time for the next step. The researchers instructed us to stretch our abilities, reaching out into space. This was how I visited each of the planets in our solar system, learned of the submarine species beneath the ice sheets of Europa, the defunct alien outpost on Pluto, and, when my projection achieved intergalactic range, the advanced interstellar empires of the Andromeda galaxy.
But the researchers were conspicuously disinterested in these discoveries, logging them with the same dispassionate nonchalance as a report of a Jupiter storm.
During my third stay at the facility, the researchers held briefings on targets of interest — various points in distant space they wanted their projectors to visit. By then, we’d grown so accustomed to the practice of sending our consciousness at speeds vastly exceeding light into deep space that none of the volunteers questioned the mission.
At first, they sent us to various star clusters, dust clouds, black holes, interested whether we found alien presence in the vicinity. But I had the suspicion these were merely test runs to hone our accuracy in preparation for a more important target.
When they proposed a mission to the Boötes Void, there was an appreciable shift in tone. Despite performing all the same routine, I sensed a greater importance around this particular target.
I had my suspicions confirmed one night when the screams from the neighboring Pod severed my connection with NGC 1300, returning my perception to my body with an alarming jolt. I rose out of my egg to see a host of researchers crowding around the woman I knew only as Participant Twelve, since they barred us from sharing personally identifying information. She sat up in her Pod, eyes squeezed halfway out of her skull as though prodded from the inside. “It’s there!” she cried. “It’s there and it sees me! Oh God, it sees me!”
“What saw her?” I enquired. “Where did she go?”
None of the researchers paid me any attention, but P-14, scrubbing sleep from his eyes, answered, “Twelve was first to visit the supervoid.”
“God, he sees me and he won’t let go!”
Suddenly, her body went rigid, then convulsed. The researchers hauled her out of the Pod and carried her off to the medical wing. We never saw her again. Whenever we asked about her, the facilitators scolded us for seeking personal information. We weren’t trying to identify her. We just wanted to know if she was alright. If we were going to be alright.
They sent the projectors one at a time to the void, though each one came back having missed their target. That, of course, was a lie. They had intentionally misfired. We’d all heard what happened to P-12 and that scared the hell out of everyone.
When my turn came, the researchers warned they would punish me if I failed to accomplish my task. They knew I was more than capable, had shown myself to be a reliable projector for them, much to my chagrin.
As I dozed off, employing the tactics we had developed over the course of the program (which I will abstain from relaying to you, as it might engender an undesirable response from the study’s facilitators), I targeted a star system found on the border between the Ursa Major Supercluster and the Boötes Void.
As my consciousness materialized in the vacuum of space, I felt an ineffable sense of dread. As if experiencing the collective fear of a thousand vast, intergalactic empires crying out into oblivion. No, for oblivion. It’s difficult now to express, as when I hovered there on the verge of that immense nothing, I was joined with something, a consciousness much larger than my own. A sort of bubble enveloping the Boötes Void, a cognitive shield, a mental warning sign cautioning me not to trespass.
There was some communication that transpired between my own consciousness and that of the dome encasing the dark. In summary, I was told that within the void lurked an incomprehensible evil — or what I now translate as evil, because I think at the time the sensation of language transcended human invention, which lacked sufficient vocabulary to describe what occupied the Boötes Void.
There are seventy-three galaxies inside the supervoid, of which sixty have been discovered by earthbound astronomers. Each one of them is a facsimile of another, a replica. Among them is a perfect recreation of the Milky Way, complete with all its lifeforms. I was given this bit of information by the mind that enfolded the void. When asked for what purpose and by whom, it explained, “Its motives exceed your comprehension.”
At the conclusion of our dialogue, I peered into the darkness and sensed a great eye peeling open, holding me in its malicious gaze. Before I shrank away, I felt it reaching out for me, inviting me to stay.
I returned with enough material to spare me the researchers’ rebuke. They conducted three more expeditions to the Boötes Void, each using another participant, each ending as disastrously as Participant Twelve.
The last visitor returned mute, with black eyes. Within days, he lost all his hair, teeth, finger- and toenails. He refused to eat and spent his final hours using the keyboard he’d been given to communicate with to write a single line ad infinitum. “He is the prince who ate the king and all his subjects will invert themselves for all eternity.”
He died one night in his Pod when its wiring short circuited and plunged the entire facility into a fifteen-hour blackout.
The participants were sent home the following day and to my knowledge the facility closed down. The program dissolved and I received a meager compensation for my time as a projector. Two years later, after raising a stink, I received a prescription for a medication specially delivered to my local pharmacy that did finally put an end to my lucid dreams.
But in their place, I have nightmares, and lately they’ve gotten worse. Of a great eye’s malevolent gaze, watching, tirelessly watching. I have the terrible feeling that whatever we discovered in the Boötes Void wants now to ensnare us, and I fear it will, first in dreams, then for eternity. Which is why I’m telling you this now, because the government refuses to warn you. If you dream of a dark god reaching out for you, hide yourself.
Because he longs to invert you for all eternity.

Hi!
I am currently feeding my recently adopted dog this: https://www.chewy.com/natural-balance-limited-ingredient/dp/537302
Basically Natural Balance dry dog food. It says vegetarian but checks out as vegan. When my dog first got here (she's a husky) she showed no interested in the food, but was being hesitant to eat anything that wasn't super appealing in every way. She was nervous, I think, but she has since started eating the food.
I just can't shake the feeling that she doesn't actually enjoy it though based on her behavior when she eats it. I also know that just dry dog food isn't all that great but i am on a limited income and can't throw in a bunch of fruits and such to further entice her.
Because she wouldn't eat for like half a week, we got some Pedigree packets of wet food and mixed it in with her evening meal since I didn't want her to constantly be hungry and therefore miserable, though I think there's less animal death involved with the meat coming from just the packets. I worry that if we take those packets away, she will also be unhappy, as she looks forward to them a great deal.
My previous dogs were malamutes, and would eat just about everything, but I have only decided to feed my dog vegan this time around. She's much more to the carnivore side of omnivore though.
In your opinions, what vegan dog food tastes the best, and is there a significant difference? What can I do that is affordable to mimic those super cheap wet food packets in the evening if at all possible?
Just to preempt anyone thinking it, if you are going to argue that it doesn't matter if she is super into the food as long as she eats it because regular food kills animals, I have made a commitment to this dog now, and her well being and happiness are first on my list. I know not everyone will see things like that, but that particular issue isn't up for debate. I want to feed her vegan, but I want her quality of life to be exceptional, as well.
Currently, I am stretched thin with her food price, but could shuffle things around $10 pr $20 or so and still manage. I very much want to feed her vegan if at all possible.
Thanks in advance for being understanding and not quoting statistics at me to guilt me into just letting her be unhappy with her food, because I already know those statistics. If you never intended to do that, apologies, but I've seen that done a lot.

Need the opinion of random internet people: Am I being paranoid or am I getting ripped off?
Background stuff: 39/F, obese, non-smoker, non-drinker.
I was born with oligodontia. I have a total of 18 teeth, 8 on bottom and 10 on top. No wisdom teeth, no adult teeth lost (for any reason), never had a cavity. This is just how they grew in, lucky me. I am going through a provincial program to help pay for some things, such as an all-on-four implant on the mandible and possible other implants on the maxilla. I recently had a consultation with a periodontist to judge my jawbones and see if I will need any tissue/bone grafting (yes I will). They also did a cleaning and a root planing. The periodontist looked at gum recession and bone loss, and while my bone loss is significant, my gum recession is quite minimal, with one and two millimeters on all my teeth.
However, my perio is insisting that, to prevent more gum recession, I need to start coming in every 3 months to do a cleaning. And not only to start coming every 3 months, but to go to her office and not my local one. I live in a rural area, so it’s a 90 minute drive to get to the perio. My local dentist is 15 mins away. I apparently also need to go to the perio’s office, so they can monitor my progress- as opposed to getting the records from my local dentist, which I guess isn’t good enough.
To top it off, my insurance only covers one cleaning per year, so everything would be out of pocket. At least $300 every 3 months, plus driving/gas. Yes, money is an issue, you guys probably don’t care about the details.
So, insisting that I drive an hour and a half, to go specifically to her office when I have a dentist much closer. And that it has to be done every 3 months, when all my life I’ve gone 2-5 years between cleanings and I only have mild gum recession… seems excessive. Very good dental hygiene the last ~5 years, regular yearly cleanings.
Am I paranoid? Am I missing something? It sure as heck feels like I’m getting overcharged.

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Patreon Official Subreddit Series Wiki Royal Road
Two items — a crystal ball, and a green leather-bound notebook — sat benignly and idly atop of the black-robed professor’s desk.
The camera lingered on them, giving them what most may see as an undeserved moment in the spotlight.
But to those that knew, to the parties invested in this controversy, this little pause and dramatic zoom-in was accompanied by a hair-raising excitement… along with an untempered nervousness for what was to come.
It definitely caused the investigative duo on the other side of the screen some pause for thought; prompting them to stand intently, pondering both the orb and the notebook.
Ilunor, as far as I could tell, was entranced by the green notebook in particular. Though it wasn’t a trance born out of any positive emotion, but instead, one of abject horror.
“Recommended Reading Materials for the Studious Student.” Sorecar announced with a steady breath, prompting Ilunor to visibly flinch in his seat, as the man reached a finger over to point at the hand-scrawled title of the leather-bound notebook. That finger soon found itself carefully manipulating its pages, opening the cover first, before turning over the internal dust-cover to reveal letters and symbols written in High Nexian, but arranged in a manner the EVI simply could not translate.
“Error: Unable to Translate. Cause: Unrecognized and/or unintelligible organization of local script-forms.”
Yet despite this, it seemed as if both Sorecar and the Apprentice were able to draw something from its otherwise senseless pages. As despite being written haphazardly, with letters and pictograms arranged in no meaningful order, they were able to still draw meaning where the EVI couldn’t.
“Within these pages lie materials for the studious student. Materials are to be found within The Library, and are to be retrieved with great haste. May you make swift work of their contents, and may those after you find only ash in your wake. Seek, unlearn, and remove from the grip of the eternal entity, that which was once a gift but is now a curse. Seek, unlearn, and remove; with the fires of your passion, oh studious student.” Sorecar read aloud, managing to read something verbatim from the nonsensical pages of the book.
Ilunor’s eyes were practically glazed over at this point, as he began bringing his cape over across his chest, tucking his legs towards his chin in the process.
“This is it.” The apprentice announced with a half-cracked smile. “Please, keep going. I’m certain your skills of appraisal far exceed my own, Professor.”
Sorecar obliged by flipping the page, turning over to two pages of complete gibberish, once again watermarked by the EVI’s error message; but proving no challenge at all for the ever-inquisitive professor.
“Section One, A Tainted Reality: A Wretched Collection of Historical Affidavits During the Reconciliation and Reformation of Otherwise Lost Realities.” Sorecar paused, before turning towards the apprentice. “It lists an entire section’s worth of books, in titles held within spatial positions with reference to their potentialities within the ever-evolving library.”
Thacea’s features visibly flinched at that revelation, but similar to the apprentice in the footage, she refused to comment. At least not for now. Her eyes however betrayed a look of mild distress, which subsided somewhat as the apprentice urged the armorer to continue.
Which he did, as he flipped from page to page across the relatively small notebook, only pausing to read in between what he interpreted to be different sections and ‘chapters’.
“Section Two. The Unspoken War and the Treacherous Alliance.”
“Section Three. All surviving works from Alaroy Rital.”
The apprentice cocked her head, as if trying to recall some familiarity in that name. “Alaroy Rital.” She repeated. “I don’t recall hearing of such a name before.”
“Well his full name, as far as I recall, and vastly aided by the book is as follows: Alaroy Rital, Lord-Mayor of the Township of the Two Rivers, Slayer of the Dragon of the Grey Canyon, Repeller of the Tainted Blight of the Orsin, Liberator of the Aether, and Grand Master of the Elusian Guild Hall of Adventurers.” Sorecar responded succinctly, prompting the apprentice to once more clench her eyes shut in deep thought, before finally letting out a sigh of defeat.
“The name is both familiar yet foreign at the same time.” She finally admitted.
“As far as I recall, and mind you, my memory of those years are far from perfect… the man was a local hero of sorts. Though his record was besmirched by some controversy or another.” Sorecar offered, prompting the apprentice to finally shrug, giving up on this particular subject matter entirely.
“There are more sections, yes?”
“Correct.”
“Then let’s move on.”
Sorecar nodded promptly at that, flipping the pages over until he hit the next section.
“Section Four. A Sordid Account of the Most Bizarre of Newrealmer Arrivals: A Death By Harmonization and the Ensuing Investigation.”
That immediately got my attention, causing me to jolt forwards, prompting the armor to quickly follow as it automatically switched from the currently active in-armor-postural-readjustment mode, and back into its active configuration.
“Section Five. The Unfortunate Procedures Against Unruly Realms and the Instances in Which Such Procedures Were Incurred.”
The armorer paused after that, not necessarily due to its contents, but as if puzzled by what lay ahead in the next few final pages. In fact, he flipped back and forth between the pages soon after that, treading and retreading what were effectively the last five pages of the book. “There is an appendix which includes titles not covered by these sections, however it will take some time to read through them.”
“That’s enough for now, professor.” The apprentice offered, prompting the man to quickly pull back, closing the notebook with an unsatisfying thump. “We have our glowing wand.” The apprentice surmised. “The oeuvre of works which are no doubt the subject of this grand controversy. Now all we need to find is the contract which ties everything together.”
“I’m assuming you haven’t forgotten about our second item of interest?” Sorecar gestured towards the crystal ball.
“Of course not, professor. However, the fact we’ve found that book implies that we must be close to its dependent article.” The apprentice responded with a renewed sense of urgency, as she began using that same ornate magnifying glass in an attempt to further pick apart each and every nook and cranny of Mal’tory’s desk.
Part of me wanted to make some joke about how this was every unpaid intern’s dream, to be rummaging through your boss’ stuff.
But that part of me was completely buried underneath the confusion and dread that came with the revelations from within that little green book.
I… honestly didn’t know what I was expecting, but I felt like I’d been suckerpunched, with the wind being knocked right out of me from the implications of exactly what had been selectively purged from the library.
It was a struggle to process it all, which more or less made me dull out the more eccentric aspects of the apprentice’s investigation; as she unlocked drawer after drawer, pulling out pile after pile of magical nicknacks and more documents than what was possible from that finite amount of space.
Sorecar was clearly of the same opinion as the rest of us right now however, as he continued obsessing over the book, his hands once more trailing over to inspect its cryptic pages. The man seemed transfixed on the second and third sections in particular, though his featureless visor made it difficult to really pin down what his reactions were.
Yet throughout all of this, it was clear the reactions on the homefront were much, much more animated, as Ilunor was just about ready to pass out from the stress, and Thacea seemed about ready to burst at the seams if her featureless facade was of any indication.
“That was the book.” Ilunor finally chimed out, just as the narration through the recording had died down during the more tepid phase of the apprentice’s investigation. “I know it.”
“I thought your memories when it came to the whole Mal’tory book burning situation was lost, Ilunor?” Thalmin countered.
“It was. I mean, it still is. But I remember parts of that room. I vaguely recall the emergence of a book that I was forced to…” The Vunerian trailed off, as if struggling to piece together words.
“... to sign?” Thalmin offered in a surprisingly helpful tone which stood at odds with how he earlier regarded the Vunerian.
“No. No you imbecil-” The Vunerian paused, realizing his misstep as he backtracked from what would’ve otherwise been an expected response. “That wasn’t a book of binding. It’s not comparable to the yearbook, if that was where your assumptions were leading to, Prince Thalmin.” Ilunor clarified, gripping the armrests of his seat tight between his fingers.
It was about this point in time that I expected Thacea to chime in, to elaborate on the nature of the book with her encyclopedic knowledge on seemingly every aspect of the magical world.
But she didn’t.
Instead, her eyes remained practically glued to the screen, as I realized that whatever had been revealed thus far had hit much, much harder than I could’ve imagined.
Ilunor, as if taking note of this silence, elected to fill in for Thacea. “The book… is an adjacent artifact. It is, as the apprentice has noted, an eclectic oeuvre of works, a list if you will, to be bound to and referenced by a contract and a spell of binding. The book itself isn’t the binding agent, moreso the reference material by which the contract is hinged upon.”
“So what’s with the illegible text? Are they ciphers or some magical equivalent of it?” I gestured once more at the bird’s eye view offered by the drone, and the pages of indecipherable text currently beneath Sorecar’s hands.
“Those are anchor runes, earthrelamer.” Ilunor answered with a frustrated sigh. “It is frustrating to see them for what they are not. Frankly, it’s as if your sight-seers and memory-shards were designed to mimic the world as it is seen through the eyes of a particularly weak-fielded commoner.” The Vunerian went off, venting his frustrations through a rant before finally calming down. “But I digress. Those runes are referred to as anchors for a reason. For tethered to them are akin to pages of text to be openly read and deciphered within the manastreams. Granted, this form of writing is not common; moreso used for the purposes of contracts and other such magical binds.”
“And on the topic of contracts. I’m assuming that the contract… your contract, is what the Apprentice is currently rummaging for?” I gestured towards the screen once more, at the apprentice who was now buried ankle-deep in piles upon piles of books, documents, and an assortment of scrolls that criss-crossed across the room’s mahogany and carpeted floors.
“Unless she’s a complete nitwit, then I’d imagine so, yes.” Ilunor responded with his signature cattiness. “In any case, the fact she’s even trying proves that she’s barely above a fool anyways.” The Vunerian shrugged. “And before you ask, earthrealmer, let me preempt your question. The contract, at least on the professor’s end, has more than likely suffered the same fate as my own. Namely, its existence is more than certain to be dubious at best. What the apprentice will surely find will be nothing more than ash at the bottom of that bottomless drawer. Which… given its sheer size and scale, and the potential inhabitants within its limitless confines, will more than likely result in even ash being difficult if not impossible to find.”
There was… more than one point I wanted to raise with Ilunor’s statements. However, before I could address any of them, the elf in question finally spoke up once more; now surrounded by an entire archive’s worth of documents and nicknacks.
“Nothing.” Larial spoke with a sullen breath, taking a moment to steady herself as she made a point of not sitting on Mal’tory’s chair. “At least nothing that’s relevant to our case.” She continued, resting her palms flat against the green suede of the desk.
“Were you really expecting anything different, Apprentice?” Sorecar countered, having since moved from pondering the pages of the book to now pondering the depths of the crystal ball.
“I’d assumed the damage to the man hadn’t been so severe.” Larial admitted, alluding to something else that drew all of our collective attention. “When I first saw him in the healing ward… he looked… intact. You couldn’t even tell there was anything wrong with him.”
“And yet they called you of all people, to aid in the ritual.” The armorer surmised, with a tone of voice that now more resembled that of a fully fledged Academy Professor. His happy go lucky persona had subsided completely, at least for now, as he addressed Larial in a manner more akin to what I’d expected of the Dean. “You have been around the Academy for long enough to understand that calling upon the aid of apprentices is unprecedented. Which means that despite how things may seem on the surface, that lurking beneath the seemingly calm waters, is a hydrostorm of epic proportions.”
“This entire situation is unprecedented, professor.” Larial countered meekly. “But you are correct. It… must have been desperate if they required the aid of apprentices. I just… cannot fathom the fact that the professors must have…” The apprentice trailed off, her face scrunching up and breaking eye contact with the armorer as if too skittish to broach the next point.
Sorecar didn’t reply, nor did he complete her sentence for her, simply allowing her to recuperate and reorganize her thoughts herself.
“... brought the man back from the brink.” She managed out, offering what was in effect a euphemism that didn’t seem to sit right with the armorer, if his immediate head cock was of any indication.
“That is the only way you can explain the complete loss of a contract.” Sorecar reasoned. “You were hoping to find it, despite knowing well that it, amongst the rest of his contracts, have more than likely gone up in flames.” It was around that point that he walked around behind the desk, and reached down into the drawer the apprentice had been searching in. His arm sank impossibly deep, deeper than what should have been physically possible inside of that small and limited space. After a few moments, the man finally brought his hand back up, holding within it what appeared to be fine specks of ash that he allowed to filter back down into the dark depths of the seemingly bottomless drawer. “And there you have it — ash. Most of it has no doubt already been consumed by the bottom-feeders. However, what remains is enough to account for what is perhaps more contracts than most would form in their lives.”
The man stood back up soon after, before once more taking his place at the front of the desk.
“Well, I believe that answers our prior speculations on Auris Ping’s potential relations, contractual or otherwise, with Professor Mal’tory.” Thalmin growled out, punctuating the moment of silence within the footage; which soon continued with a resonant sigh from the apprentice.
“I guess, in a way, I was trying to find the contract not so much because of my assigned task, but because I wanted to perhaps prove to myself that the situation wasn’t as dire as my intuition leads me to believe. The loss of all these contracts can only mean one thing.” Larial paused, once more trying to find the strength inside of her to face whatever facts were self-evident in this case. “The man was lost.” She finally managed out through a shaky breath. “His soul must have departed from his mortal coil. And yet…”
“... and yet he remains.” Sorecar surmised.
“They must have re-tethered it before I arrived that night.” The apprentice shot back. “But I felt nothing different when they asked me to aid in the mana-channeling processes. This whole situation is just…” She sighed, prompting Sorecar to cock his head.
“Unprecedented?”
“Yes.” The apprentice once more admitted, sinking her face into her hands and taking a moment to process it all, more or less falling into the same camp all of us were currently in. “Moreover, it brings up a very disturbing question.”
“Which is?”
“If his soul was truly untethered, even for a split second… how exactly were they able to retether it? Or more specifically, through what means are they using to permanently retether his soul to his mortal coil?”
This question seemed to cause some level of concern from Sorecar, as his answer soon demonstrated. “There are… ways of doing so that aren’t exclusive to being spellbound to armor.” The man offered under a dour breath. “Especially if the body is… fresh, in a manner of speaking. Though it requires the use of-” He stopped, halting himself from going down what was clearly a darkening path. “I apologize for prompting this rather… dark and dreary subject matter, Apprentice.” Sorecar offered, as that empathetic, kinder side of him returned without much prompting.
“It’s quite alright. It… it needed to be said, if we are to complete this investigation with any degree of professionalism.” The apprentice concluded with a small smile. “Whatever the case may be, it is clear that we are unable to procure the contract through which the perpetrator of the library’s burning was bound. We have, however, undeniable proof of Professor Mal’tory’s involvement with the scandal.” She pointed at the green notebook. “And of course, a potential interloper who may or may not have been a part of this conspiracy; thereby expanding this from a mere Academy matter, to one which could implicate others beyond its walls.” She pointed at the crystal ball. “Have you discovered anything from your observations thus far, Professor?” The apprentice inquired, prompting the man to nod, as he knelt down to eye-level, pondering the orb from desk-height.
“The inherent limitations of the Echovale make it so that it’s near impossible to transcribe anything following the cessation of a communique.” Sorecar began. “Though of course, you knew this, and hoped that because I am perhaps one of the greatest armorers to have ever lived, that I would be able to aid in this impossible endeavor, hmm?” The armorer’s tone of voice had more or less resumed that flighty, happy-go-lucky one I knew him for.
The apprentice, hearing this, could only smile awkwardly in response. “I wouldn’t have put it that… bluntly, professor. But I do indeed have faith in your ability to make the impossible, well… probable, at the least.”
“Hmph! Well, I couldn’t pin a face or a name, but I was able to pin a definite location if that helps.” The man offered.
“Any stray piece of information will help tremendously, professor.”
“The Crownlands.” He answered without a hint of hesitation, prompting the Apprentice to raise both of her brows up high.
“That’s as far as I am able to draw from the residual echoes within the vale.” He tapped at the ball, generating a series of satisfying clinks in the process.
“So the man wasn’t acting alone. Or rather, perhaps he was consulting someone.” The apprentice pondered. “Then again, that final communique could very well be with Lord Lartia—” The apprentice paused, before placing both palms softly across her throat. “—may his soul rest in peaceful slumber.” Following another moment of silence, the apprentice’s hands soon shifted towards the ball. “In any case, if it isn’t Lord Lartia, then who could it possibly be? Maybe we should…” The apprentice suddenly stopped; as if realizing the dangers of diving any deeper into this growing conspiracy. “No.” She quickly corrected herself. “Whatever the case may be, this is probably now completely out of my purview. I was assigned to collect any evidence I deemed to be relevant to recent happenings, and I believe this should suffice.”
“Whatever you believe is best, apprentice.” Sorecar acquiesced, prompting the apprentice to slowly, but surely, pack the archive’s worth of documents, books, and scrolls all back into the drawer using nothing but telekinetic spells.
This left just the crystal ball, and the little green book, both of which the apprentice promptly pocketed into a small pouch, before placing it somewhere beneath her cloak.
“Though on that note…” Sorecar began, pointing towards the apprentice’s cloak. “If I may ask, how do you plan on divvying up these finite pieces of evidence?”
This caught the apprentice off-guard, as her mouth opened, but no response came through.
“Moreover, are you even obligated to hand in this evidence? Or are you only expected to write a report to all parties involved?” Sorecar continued, pressing the matter further, causing the apprentice to stop mid-stride. “Because if primary evidence isn’t explicitly required, might I offer my services as a master forger?” The man spoke with a hint of mischievousness, the duality of the word perhaps translating equally well despite the language barrier.
“I may need to contact my superiors to ask if a… copy will be satisfactory to their needs. I believe not, but… we shall see. In any case, I am due to submit the evidence along with my report no later than the end of next week. As such, this should give me ample time to organize my findings, which is especially convenient given the roster of duties I am expected to cover over the next few days.” The apprentice took a moment to pinch the bridge of her nose, halting her rambles as she steadied herself with a sigh. “But I digress, I believe I will take you up on that offer, Professor Pliska.”
“It would be my pleasure to welcome you into my domain, apprentice.”
The rest of the footage consisted of small talk between the pair, with nothing in particular standing out as the topics being addressed soon turned from high-stakes espionage, and back into faculty banter.
Yet despite that, none of us broke the silence that now dominated the boring trip back. Not even as the footage came to a complete stop, and there was nothing more left to play.
I leaned back against the armor, eliciting a series of creaks from the couch below me, echoing across the high-ceilinged room and disrupting the tentative peace that came with this ominous silence.
“This explains… a lot.” Thalmin offered, finally breaking the silence with a tentative tone of voice. “It explains your contract, and its abrupt cessation.” He continued, turning towards Ilunor. “It explains Mal’tory, or at least, his current lack of public appearances. And it reveals to us exactly what he was trying to hide from you, Emma.” The lupinor eventually turned towards me. “And I think the sections of the library, selectively pruned, are self-explanatory as well.”
“Section four, and section five, at least.” I replied shortly thereafter. “I have no idea who or what Alaroy Rital has to hide in section three, and don’t even get me started on section two, let alone section one.” It was at that point that I turned towards Thacea, who let out a sharp exhale upon me bringing up section one.
“The removal of all information relevant to… and I quote — Tainted Realities — speaks volumes to the inherent fears of the Nexus. Though I know not what specifically they may fear from your discovery of its deep and now-lost lore.” Thacea offered through a pensive gaze. “There are many rumors, legends that come with the phrase Tainted Reality. Though most are mythical; epics of long lost eras that dwell between the blurry line that exists between history and legend. Perhaps the records within the library were pieces of irrefutable evidence that would’ve shed light on this nebulous subject matter. But even so… that begs the question… why? Why would they hide what is effectively a non-issue when it comes to your discovery of its lore? Taint, and more specifically, the concept of a Tainted Reality, is something that is inconsequential in the contemporary world. Its history, even if it proves to be true, is neither a disruptive political element, nor a practical tool for war, that could be used in countering the Nexus.” The avinor’s explanations were clear, concise, and yet they belied something personal that she clearly wasn’t broaching.
And I wasn’t about to dig either, not when this topic very clearly hit close to home for her.
“This leaves the second subject matter then.” I offered, giving the avinor an off-ramp towards a potentially more palatable topic.
“The Unspoken War and the Treacherous Alliance?”
“Correct.” I nodded.
“That… I have no knowledge of.” The avinor admitted, prompting me to turn to both the lupinor and the Vunerian for answers.
“Don’t look at me, earthrealmer, I’m the one who lost all memories on the subject, remember?” Ilunor countered.
“I’m afraid I’m as in the dark as you are on this one, Emma.” Thalmin replied with a loud huff, leaving me with perhaps more questions than answers at this point.
“Right then.” I nodded. “Well, regardless, as disquieting, confusing, and disturbing as these revelations have been, they are exactly that — revelations.” I took a moment to stand up, resting both hands on my hips, as if adopting Ilunor’s more theatrical approach to things. “We started today off with no intel on Mal’tory, with no idea how we were going to complete The Library’s Seekership questline, and no knowledge on exactly where we stood in this game. We’re ending today off with a firm grasp on exactly what we need to do, what exactly was scorched in the library, and a tentative understanding on Mal’tory’s fate. I’d say that’s an incredible step forward, even if the answers we now have are leading to even more questions.”
“Reality is often filled with disturbing truths, but only when we acknowledge them, can we act to change them.” Thacea offered.
“Here here!” Thalmin reaffirmed through a firm stomp, standing up tall and ready.
“While certain revelations come as disappointments… namely the survival of Professor Mal’tory… it is indeed somewhat satisfying to hear that the man is at the very least suffering for his actions.” The little thing spoke maliciously, as he too stood up. This prompted a look of worry to form amidst all three of us, but instead of reacting accordingly, he instead displayed an expression of confusion. “What? The man was a monster! He actively antagonized not only me, but this entire group! Surely you also feel at least some sense of satisfaction at the consequences of his actions catching up to him!”
“The delight in an enemy’s defeat, best comes from the resistance of the blade against his body. Not from the suffering incurred from happenstance.” Thalmin countered, whilst Thacea and I refused to entertain that line of thought, as I quickly placed a palm across my forehead, bonking it once again in the process.
“Right, well, here’s the game plan. We now have a clear target to complete our first objective — the notebook. We grab that, hand it in to the library, and presto, we accomplish the Seekership questline. Now comes the difficult part… how exactly do we do that?” I turned to the group, as offers and suggestions finally came flying in.
“Take advantage of your life debt?” Ilunor offered.
“I wouldn’t take advantage of that card just yet, Ilunor. Not if we have other options.” Thacea countered.
“What if we steal it?” Thalmin proposed.
“Thievery isn’t a diplomatic approach, Thalmin.” Thacea shot back with a glare.
“Well, Emma here was able to grapple her way, through manaless means, across the outside of the castle towards the apprentice whilst she was in the medical wing. I’m sure we can pull something else off in a similar capacity!” The lupinor countered.
“No, Thalmin. As much as I would like to try, I believe it might be best if we try a more diplomatic approach.” I offered, prompting the three to cock their heads.
“We could just ask, right?”
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(Author’s Note: And there we have it! The first step towards the completion of the Library's questline! We've found exactly what we were looking for, the list of books that were ordered to be put to the dragon flame by Mal'tory. With that being said however, a new series of questions arises... exactly why were these books targeted in particular? Moreover, what exactly was lost as a result? These questions and more will continue to linger in the back the gangs' minds as we push forward! Especially as we now find ourselves in the midst of another conundrum, exactly how are we going to get the book to the library! Regardless, this is still a massive step forward, and one that will surely bring Emma and Ilunor closer towards addressing the first phase of their intertwined fates with the library! I hope you guys enjoy! :D The next Two Chapters are already up on Patreon if you guys are interested in getting early access to future chapters!)
[If you guys want to help support me and these stories, here's my ko-fi ! And my Patreon for early chapter releases (Chapter 84 and Chapter 85 of this story is already out on there!)]

We continue with the introductory remarks of the sixth chapter of John's Revelation.
John the Baptist, the apostles and Christ said:
"And they said: Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near"
Matt. 3:2
"From that time Jesus began to teach and say: Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."
Matt. 4:17
"And Peter said to them: Repent, and be baptized each of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of sins; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit;"
Acts 2:38
"Repent, therefore, and turn to be cleansed of your sins, so that the times of rest from the face of the Lord may come."
Acts 3:19
If the Jews had listened to what they were saying, another week would have passed and seven years would have passed and eternal justice would have come as it was prophesied.
"Whom, then, is heaven worthy to receive until the time when everything is restored, which God has spoken through the mouth of all his holy prophets since the creation of the world."
Acts 3:21
The Jews did not accept Christ, so instead of the last week of Daniel, the prophecy continues:
"The duke's people will come and destroy the city and the sanctuary; and its end will be with the flood, and there will be certain desolation until the end of the war" For Danilo this was the future and he did not know who it was about, but for us it is the past and we know that the Roman general Titus Vespasian came forty years after Christ death on the cross with the Roman army and destroyed Jerusalem and the temple.
We live today in this time, and certain desolation will be until the end of the war, and this time is actually a break between the sixty-ninth and seventieth weeks, and this time was a secret for Daniel and the other prophets.
God revealed this secret to the apostle Paul.
"To be told a secret by revelation; as I wrote briefly above, From whence can you read my known reason in the mystery of Christ, Which in other generations was not revealed to the sons of men, as it is now revealed to His holy apostles and prophets by the Holy Spirit"
Eph. 3:3-5
This break and this secret mean that God for a while "withdrew" from the nation of Israel and turned to his new creation, the "Church", based on the foundations of grace and to which all nations and peoples have access.
God first "rejected" the Gentiles:
"And since they don't want to know God, that's why God gave them over to a corrupt mind to do what is wrong,
To be filled with all injustice, fornication, wickedness, lewdness, wickedness; full of envy, murder, strife, cunning, malice; Whisperers, backsliders, haters of God, bullies, braggarts, proud, inventors of evil, disobedient to parents, Unreasonable, unbelieving, unloving, implacable, merciless. And some knowing the justice of God that those who do this deserve death, they not only do it, but also agree to it to those who do it"
Rom. 1:28-32
raised Israel and then "blinded" them:
"For, brothers, I will not hide this secret from you (so that you will not be proud), blindness will fall on Israel until the number of Gentiles come in"
Rom. 11:25
Therefore, God "inserted" a break in order to "build" his Church in the time of grace, which is not a continuation of Judaism, but something completely new. The beginning of the Church of Christ is on All Souls' Day, and God revealed this secret to the apostle Paul.
"And to him who can establish you according to my gospel and the preaching of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the secret which was hidden from the foundation of the world, and now appeared and was made known through the letters of the prophets, according to the commandment of the eternal God, for the obedience of faith among all the Gentiles, to the One to the all-wise God, through Jesus Christ, glory forever. Amen"
Rom. 16:25-27
Paul preached Christ according to the eternal secret among the Gentiles, and Peter preached Christ according to prophecy, and this is a unity but a difference because the Church was in the eternal plan of God, but it was not announced until the Apostle Paul.
The Church has its beginning on the day of the descent of the Holy Spirit and its end before the beginning of the seventieth week of Daniel's prophecy, and that is the future for us as well, because we are living in the time of this "secret". Here is what it says about the end of this period and the taking of the Church:
,, Here I am telling you a secret: because we will not all die, but we will all be transformed. Once, in the twinkling of an eye at the last trumpet; for the trumpet will sound and the dead will rise incorruptible, and we will be changed."
1 Cor.15:51-52
,, I will not deny you, brothers, for those who have died, that you do not mourn like the rest who have no hope;
Because if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, so God will also bring those who died in Jesus with Him.
Because we tell you this with the word of the Lord that we who live and remain for the coming of the Lord, will not threaten those who have died. Because the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a command, with the voice of the Archangel, and with the trumpet of God; and the dead in Christ will rise first; And then we who are alive, who are left, together with them will be taken up in the clouds to meet the Lord in heaven, and so we will always be with the Lord. So comfort each other with these words."
1 Thess. 4:13-18
In the Old Testament, the prophets did not speak about the taking of the Church, but about the coming of Christ to earth, but Paul says:
"Here I am telling you a secret..."
1 Cor.15:51
and this secret was difficult even for the apostle Peter, who preached Christ according to prophecy, so he said:
"And consider the suffering of our Lord as salvation; just as our kind brother Pavle writes to you according to the wisdom given to him. As he speaks about this and in all his epistles, in which they have some things difficult to understand, which the unlearned and uncertain twist, like the other letters, he perished on his own."
2 Peter 3:15-16
And when the Church is taken, the fulfillment of Daniel's prophecy follows.
"And he will establish a covenant with many for a week, and in the middle of the week he will abolish the sacrifice and offering; and with hateful wings, which make desolation, until the appointed end, it will be poured out on the desolation."
Daniel 9:27
and then God will again begin to "work" with Israel because this prophecy refers to Israel and it has not yet been fulfilled and this is also the future for us and it will begin to be fulfilled when the seals are opened in the sixth chapter of Revelation and the events of the sixth to the nineteenth chapter belong to the "last week of Daniel"
"And he will establish a covenant with many" it was written earlier that a duke will come and destroy Jerusalem, and we saw that it was a duke from the Roman Empire and he will make a covenant with "many" refers to Israel because the prophecy is for Israel and Jerusalem. So when when the Antichrist appears, he will establish a covenant with many.
We conclude that it is Antiristu based on the verses:
"Because the secret of iniquity is already being done, only until the one who is holding it back is removed. And then the lawless one will appear, whom the Lord Jesus will kill with the spirit of his mouth, and eradicate with the light of his coming;
2 Thess. 2:7-8
When the Church is taken, the Holy Spirit will also be removed (which now prevents the appearance of the Antichrist) and we read further that then the "lawless one" or the Antichrist will appear. it is seven years when they will promote a false peace (described in Revelation 6:2) they will allow them to build a temple and offer sacrifices. But this peace will last three and a half years because it says:
"and in the middle of the week they will abolish the sacrifice and the offering;" and it will be a war against the spiritual life in Israel because it is written,,, and with hateful wings, which make desolation, until the appointed end, they will pour out on the desolation"
And then the Antichrist will begin to terrorize and devastate Israel and the temple. This is what the Lord Jesus meant when he said:
"When you therefore see the abomination of desolation, spoken of by the prophet Daniel, where he stands in the holy place (who reads to understand):"
Matt. 24:15
"where he stands in the holy place (who reads to understand):" refers to the Antichrist and this is what he writes next:
"He who opposes and exalts above all that is called God or is honored, so that he will sit down in the church of God as God, showing himself to be God."
2 Thess. 2:4
This "in the church of God" is in the temple in Jerusalem, there the Antichrist will place a statue in the holy of holies where the "place of God's revelation" is, the "false prophet" will help him in this:
"And it would be given to her to give spirit to the icon of the beast, to make the icon of the beast speak, and to cause those who do not worship the icon of the beast to be killed."
Rev. 13:15
And only after this will arise the greatest troubles for Israel.
"Because there will be a great tribulation such as has not been since the creation of the world until now and will never be;"
Matt. 24:21
the prophet Isaiah also prophesied about this false peace:
"We caught faith with death, and made a pact with the grave;..."
Isa 28:15
in addition to this terror on the Israelis, the Antichrist will build a kind of "palace" on the Mount of Olives, but his end will be catastrophic.
"And he pitched the tents of his court among the seas on a beautiful holy mountain; and when he comes to his end, no one will help him."
Daniel 11:45
And when the seventieth week is over, the Antichrist, "full of arrogance and pride" will gather the "army of the whole world" to wage war against Christ, the Church and the angels.
but their end is "certain" and we read that the Antichrist and the false prophet end up in the Lake of Fire.
,,And I saw the beast and the kings of the earth and their soldiers gathered to fight with Him who sits on the horse and with His armies. And the beast was captured, and with it the false prophet who performed signs before it by which he deceived those who received the mark of the beast and who worshiped icon of hers: they would both be thrown alive into the lake of fire, which burns with brimstone"
Rev. 19:19-20
,, For the Lord will come forth, and will make war on the nations as he makes war on the day of battle.
And His feet will stand in that day on the Mount of Olives, which is towards Jerusalem from the east..."
Zechariah 14:4
And when Jesus comes and stands on the Mount of Olives, the details of this prophecy will be fulfilled.
,, to finish the transgression and to disappear the sin and to cleanse the iniquity and to bring eternal justice, and to seal the apparition and prophecy, and to anoint the Holy of Holies"
and that is the end of sin and eternal justice is established.
And this was an introduction to make it easier to understand where we are as a Church in prophecy and what happens in the "last week", which are the events described in Revelation from the sixth to the nineteenth chapter.

Hey guys so i think I’m in my villain era atp, I F(23) am together with my bf M(23) we have been together for 4 years, 2 years long distance 2 years living with each other. This whole story starts with me moving over to where he lives and moving away from my family to be closer to his school I ofc was fine with moving buuuutttt here’s the thing his family is 1hour away from us. Now some backstory I don’t really like his fam, literally only 3 people I actually like is his grandparents and youngest brother, his mom says comments that make me uncomfy and his dad doesn’t actually know me. Yes my bf defends me, and yes he wants me to like them but I just have a lot of stuff to deal with my own fam and right now I don’t need a second one atm. The reason why I say this is bc atm my parents are getting a divorce and currently my sisters are just bugging (I’m the youngest out of 3) so I’m always the one who always comes in last kind of tired of that. Sooo come back to 6/8/2024 let’s set the seem your at a BBQ with your bf other half of his fam you have never meet (so me having my mellow juice/and sky 💨 if you know what I mean) mad me less nervous and more chill so saying hi to everyone sitting down and just trying to chill not wanting to speak that much (bf mom reads a text) “oh no I’m nervous your brothers girlfriends mom just texted me saying when we FaceTime you for an event don’t say anything yet” (his brother is in Florida with his gf and her fam) so I start thinking automatically oh no something big is gonna happen (while his mom is freaking TF out) skip to the part where I text my bf sounds like a proposal is gonna happen (where texting each other because we’re still at the table with them) then replies “I know” I’m now getting mad because I’ve been wanting to get married and not a week passed by where we went to Tiffany’s (just saying this I wanted to go in there he did not say hey let’s go in there) so we check out rings cheap ones as in 1550 tbh I don’t consider this to be cheap I was actually looking for one under 600 (that’s my type of cheap) now I’ve sent him even second hand rings on Facebook market place. Now your probably thinking to yourself “well why do you want to get married now your so young” first the reason why he was my first everything second he has told me before he definitely sees me in his future third it’s because we both know that we want each other in our future (he is not a fuck boy or a cheater he’s just the second oldest and was always looked over because no one cares too much wat the second oldest does) but back to the topic so I responded to his txt with I’m gonna kill you he then tells me “it’s not me” (we’re still texting) and I said no I’m gonna kill you if it is a proposal. Your probs saying “wow this bitch sounds like a brat” and I will respond if wanting to be proposed to first instead of second then yes I am a brat. the reason why I say that is because my bf has had a great childhood and great career opportunities where he could be making some good money and he’s living independently in our own apartment. Literally his shit is together, while his brother who is proposing to his GF of 7 years where both his bro and GF is living in his fams house with paying a little amount of rent, also with debt in his name, and her being able to stay at home doing nothing she does not drive everyone has to drive her everywhere, she also is the type of girl where she’s timid shy and everyone wants to give her shit bc she is like tht (p.s she has had a stroke to where in her right eye the peripheral vision she is blind that’s why everyone has to drive her) just to tell you I understand that but just stating a fact right now I have epilepsy and I still drive my own car pay my bills and pay half the rent with my bf, so don’t judge me if I’m hating, telling you this is my villain era starting lol. But back to it, the FaceTime happens they all go into the garage I was eating brisket with mash potatoes and I’m drinking my mellow juice/sky 💨 so I’m like hey I’m not gonna join I’m hungry. They come out of the garage and they said he proposed, when I say I was feeling emotions god has never invented I swear my mellow juice turned into anger juice while my sky 💨 became cry/sadness 💨, I could not believe it was a combo in street fighter where my brain said nope. My bf then asks me am I ok in a text while me having mash in my mouth just trying not to cry. I respond telling him I told you I’m gonna kill you he then responds with “they have been together longer” I look at him spoiling his sky 💨 too. I walked to the bathroom cried a little then went to my bf car to puff the magic dragon to not cry when I go back inside my bf comes out and asks me if I’m fine i didn’t respond and walked back in with me just erasing my mind and chilling still a lil sad but just trying not to focus on it. His cousins start saying congrats for his bro and he says well we are gonna be the second thinking that made me happier. When we got home I apologized for being unreasonable and I apologized because I did say some mean things too. But when we talked and I apologized I told him I don’t want to know anything about the wedding, I don’t want to hear it, I don’t want to go to any family outings nothing until the wedding happens. He asked me why and I told him I’m the youngest out of my family I had all my sisters marriages thrown in my face why do I want someone else’s wedding thrown in my face when they literally have nothing to pay it with. Me and my bf do have our probs and Ik a marriage or wedding won’t fix it, but honestly we’re gonna have problems even after that it’s life, both my parents are sickly too and I’m the youngest and not married yet and I do want my father to be there before anything happens. So please tell me has my villain era started.
Hey Charlotte love your channel!!!

I was isolated as a child/teen. I faced racism alone and did not have supportive/loving parents. It was so severe that I self harmed and attempted suicide multiples times. I don't know how to cope with it and looking for any advice/support from anyone who was able to overcome it.
Childhood
I had an older half brother and sister that were 20+ years older. I grew up in my household as a single child. I was close with my family and hung out with friends everyday. Although I was not able to stay for dinner, attend sleepovers, or go on trips with friends I was still content. I was involved in activities such as violin, piano, and writing. I wasn't allowed to join sports although I desperately wanted to join basketball or softball. If i asked, it resulted in a fight. I found it weird that I did not have my own bedroom when friends came over and asked where my room was. I had slept in my parents bedroom up until 4th grade. One day I just started sleeping in the spare room which aggravated my parents. They assumed I wanted my own space to hide secrets from them. I still find this disturbing and strange to this day.
Junior Year
My mom began to lash out on me. I was expected to immediately shower, change into pajamas, and begin studying after school. I was not allowed to see friends or even speak to them on the phone. If i wasn't studying I was expected to clean. If I asked where the vacuum was, pass the salt, or even ask what the weather was I would get screamed at. I was told at a young age how stupid I was, not smart enough, ugly, too fat, and how my priorities were wrong that I don't need friends. They began to go through my belongings including my journal and trash. They threw out pictures of friends or anything they did not approve of. I cried everyday. My brother tried to help by taking me out of the house to see movies or go to the mall. Even that was a battle to convince them to go out with my brother. We would secretly bring a friend so I could spent some time with them out of school. Even under my brothers supervision we were timed. I was never out for more than 2-3 hours.I tried out for Cheerleading secretly and forged their signature to join. I was terrified to break the news that I had made the team. I was punished and even physically abused. I would try to cover the bruises by covering my face with my hair or buying cheap foundation. I had to lie and say that it would go against me if I quit the team. I went as far as printing a fake letter stating that if I quit the team it would go against my record. That was the only way they allowed me to stay on the team. I began cutting by the end of 7th grade. They were aware and ignored it.
High School - My darkest days
This was it for me. I was not allowed to join cheerleading again. No friends at all. A junior took interest in me and would call me after school. That was destroyed immediately and strict rules were set in place where I could not speak to any boys. They considered everyone an enemy. I would tell them I wanted a normal life like other students. They would scream and tell me not to compare myself to the way white people live. I began to fall behind in classes, I quit violin, and stopped taking care of myself. I had lost interest in everything that made me happy including writing, art, and music. Like a caged animal I started spiraling out. Drinking, partaking in sexual activities, experimenting with drugs, developing an eating disorder, and sneaking out of school. I was so isolated that the only way I could do all of this was by sneaking out of the house.
They loosened up in my junior year and let me see friends but they were never allowed at the house. Same rules applied where I could not attend sleepovers and be home by sundown. They were never happy with me seeing friends though. Sometimes I debated staying home instead of seeing friends to avoid an argument. Once they found marijuana it was the end for me. I was beaten, thrown to the ground and strangled. They called the police on me stating I was on drugs and hitting them. I was arrested and drug tested. Results were clean. I was brought to the courthouse where DCF spoke to me and told me my parents were willing to forgive me and take me home. In this moment I said I would not go home. What changed my mind was that they said I would be taken to a foster home where I would not be allowed to have contact with anyone including my brother and sister. I was ready to leave all my belongings behind if it meant getting away from my parents but it scared me that I would lose contact with my siblings. Ultimately I went home but my mom was not allowed to be in the house or contact me for 3 months.
My mom returned home and I thought things would be better. She had called everyone in my phone book and told my friends parents I was on drugs and confronted them for selling it to me. Some of the people in my phone book I wasn't even close with but they literally called EVERYONE. Ultimately every parent cut the cord with me along with their kids. Gossip spread and I was labeled the bad kid by parents and the snitch/traitor by all students. I was now labeled the crazy chink with the psycho parents. People would leave me hate messages telling me to go back to China even though i'm filipino. They told everyone in the family including other states/countries that I was a terrible teen who has a drug and alcohol addict. They went as far to say that I abuse them. It was my darkest time. I had no friends in a predominantly white neighborhood facing racism, parents who wanted to destroy my life, and now an entire family that hated me. They had accomplished their goal of isolating me and making everyone hate me. I was truly alone. To this day it haunts me.
Things became progressively worse. I was uncomfortable at school and at home. I did not feel safe anywhere. My suicidal thoughts grew stronger everyday. My weight plummeted to 88 lbs where I was still called fat. The only thing that kept me alive was my dog which they ended up placing in a shelter while I was at school. I cried holding a knife to my neck screaming that they had ripped everything away from me and that I would rather be dead. This was the only time they let me seek help. We went to 7 different therapists. Each one only lasted 2 sessions. 1st session was me alone. 2nd session would include my parents which always ended in the same result. Therapists telling them there was nothing wrong with me, that I needed to remain being social, avoid isolation, keep active/exercise, and that there needed to be better communication within the family. My parents never agreed with the end result and kept passing me around hoping to get a different answer. The answer they wanted is that it was all my fault and I was a bad person.
I was placed in a mental ward with other troubled teens when I tried to run away. They threw my in the car and had me put there. I was in and out after one night. I will never forget the people who worked there. They all agreed that I did not belong there and what happened was a mistake. They shed some light and told me that one day this was all be behind me and to move forward the best I can by flying under my parents radar.
I ended up going to a Christian school my senior year due to bullying at school (including my old friends). Even teachers looked at me differently because everyone thought I was a terrible human in some way. One teacher actually approached me asking if I told my parents he sold me drugs (did my parents contact teachers too?). Moving to a Christian school ended up appeasing my parents but once I turned 18 I left the house for good.
Current
In my 30s I still face mental and manipulative abuse. I am straight edge and try to live life normal. I've had terrible relationships which lasted longer than they should have. I stayed with them knowing if I didn't I would have to run back to my abusive parents. Ultimately I've had too and I was blamed for my ex boyfriends flaws. It was always my fault and not theirs even if they abused me. They always side with men. I have tried to talk to them but the result is always the same. Yelling and scapegoating. They will branch and change the subject stating "I am tired", "I fell today", "you are killing me", "you are ungrateful" "you are crazy". I became a psych RN to help people because I don’t want people who suffer with mental illness to go through it alone like I did.
Due to my past I have trouble socializing, a bad temper, trusting others, and expressing my feelings. I also still deal with body dysmorphia. I feel like I was robbed of any potential in life. To this day I wonder if my AP truly ever cared. What confuses me is that I was spoiled growing up but it was always used against me. I would've rather been poor and had friends/family.

Look, I know this a absolute copium, but I've been into the Xbox leaks and rumours since the Fable + Perfect Dark leak back in 2018. Everything "leaked'/rumoured about TI's PD shares something with PDC (the cancelled sequel) and the similarities are suspicious.
Prepare for some Perfect Darked copium.
Here some details we know about PDC that are confirmed, leaked and rumoured for TI's PD:

1. Mature take on Joanna Dark: yes.
   
2. Parkour mechanics: there are leaked footage of PDC on the internet showing parkour and TI's PD is supposed to have parkour like Mirror's Edge, or some sort of climbing mechanic like that. Also, Crytal Dynamics is involved in PD, that is confirmed and CD develops the Tomb Raider games.
   
3. Echo Sci Fi: "The world is in chaos". That is part of the plot of the cancelled sequel/s, and what we see in the 2020's reveal trailer? Mhm, gardens around and inside the dataDyne's assaulted bulding. Chris Seavor, and old 'Rare' guy, (you guys sure know him cuz he is Conker's voice) shared info about PDC and also shared, from what I think it is, a PowerPoint presentation of what the game would have been.
   
4. The Cairo: well, the first mission of PDC was The Cairo, and guess what... TI's PD reveal trailer was set IN The Cairo.
   
5. Episodic game (I don't believe in this one but still a similarity between both games): PDC was meant to be a Episodic Game because of Half-Life 2, according to Seavor, and a few days or months after TI's PD reveal in TGA (The Game Awards 2020) a rumour about TI's PD having episodes appeared. The rumour mentioned to be similar to how 'Black Mirror' is.
   

Here the slides: https://www.raregamer.co.uk/games/perfect-dark-core/
Here the 2020's reveal trailer: https://youtu.be/S--lFTxAVs8?si=2LAmwVIvHvLX2OOj
Here the Developer's Interview of the new game: https://youtu.be/Iy3VdNSMk7Q?si=Z67Bj1v6HNhx0t0l
Extra but exciting similarities:

• One of these PowerPoint (? slides mentions "The Garden Palace". Interesting... a BIG garden appears in the 2020's reveal trailer.
  
• A freakin satellite or "Orbital HQ" in the space in one of the PowerPoint slides like the satellite, and maaaaybe Orbital HQ, the 2020's reveal trailer has in the first seconds!!!!!
  

If you have a question, joke or anything that I can use to know I'm just ultra copium let me know.
Sorry if the english is not on point.
My main language is Spanish, amigos.
Adiós.
(If you find more details let us know) enjoy the Xbox Showcase, and, likely, The Initiative's Perfect Dark.
Also, please be kind lol.
My bet of the game's year release is 2025. 2025 is Perfect Dark's 25th anniversary and Perfect Dark Zero's 20th anniversary. Every 5 years we have Perfect Dark news or new game. 2000: Perfect Dark, 2005: Perfect Dark Zero, 2010: Perfect Dark XBLA, 2015: Rare Replay's Perfect Darked games, 2020: The Initiative's Perfect Dark... 2025: Perfect Dark. 2025 is also Joanna Dark's birthday number 25. My favourite number is actually 25 LMFAO.
And if you are a Fable fan. Fable: The Lost Chapters 20th anniversary is 2025 so yes, Playground's Fable is 2025.

When we were kids, my best friend and I were wells of creativity. We didn’t even get it, we weren’t trying to be artists or “content creators” back then, we were just having fun.
Andy kept making up stories, I’d illustrate the characters and make comics out of some of them. Actually, I drew and painted a lot all my life, easily and without much thought. That was when it worked the best. It would always become harder when some expectation was put upon me, like “draw something for your aunt’s birthday.” Too deliberate. Thinking always blocked me.
The same went for Andy, his stories were the best when done spontaneously.
Back when we didn’t think about how we needed to be creative or productive, or that anything we did had any value or that we had a talent or needed to achieve anything with it. We just did it, and people around us would respond.
Then came university, then work, Andy got a wife and a kid. Slowly, and without any drama, we drifted apart.
I didn’t draw in a long time. It’s hard when you work 5 days a week, you’re tired in the evening and recovering during the weekend. Suddenly the idea of myself as an artist started to matter more and more, and with it it became less and less obtainable. It started to matter because I needed something to hold on to that would represent a side of me outside of this absurd routine I was now stuck in. And I didn’t have my own family, I was free after work, not that I managed to do much with it aside from finishing a lot of shows, games, movies and books and drinking a bit too much.
By then, it’s been years since I saw Andy, but at one point we ran into each other, promised we’d grab a beer, surprisingly lived up to the promise, and realized that, despite all this time, we were still friends.
We started hanging out more often, we didn’t even live that far. His wife just had their second kid, and the whole thing seemed overwhelming to me, but it seemed he was managing just fine. One time I asked him if he was still writing anything. In retrospect, I could recognize that he had a serious gift, endless ideas, unique style, even as a kid. Hell, he even studied literature, although he was in finance now. “Sometimes,” he said. “I don’t have that much time, and I often start on some stories only to realize they’re dumb and give up.”
He told me his dream is still to write a book, but finding the motivation to write is difficult as is, and finding the right moment and atmosphere even more so. But 10 years ago, he wrote a short story/novel, still in the draft stage. I managed to convince him to let me read it, and I was amazed. The story was short, but it was so good and imaginative. The ending felt a bit rushed, and some plot elements could be fine-tuned, but the writing itself was genius. I could feel the characters, the atmosphere around them, the original ideas and believable dialogues…I told him honestly, with a not-insignificant effort to repress my jealousy, that he needed to keep on writing.
He laughed and asked me what about my drawing. I showed him a few things I made throughout the years, and he appeared genuinely impressed. Except there was so little to show. He asked me about one of the more recent drawings, which turned out pretty cool. I told him I actually made it in about half an hour, in a pissed-off mood after losing my job. Most of it was like that. The flash of inspiration is something I can’t summon or plan. “I envy the people who can get anywhere through pure discipline,” I said. “For me, it’s all completely outside of my control.”
This resonated with Andy. “When I wrote my story, at the moment the most complete work in my life, my mother died. That was the worst year of my life. I didn’t care about anything, the only thing I could do was write.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It seems to me that the best works I’ve made came from the moments where I had the least desire to live”
“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” he confessed.
“I’ve been trying so hard to get that drive back. I tried to write drunk, I tried to write sober, I tried to write when I’m on leave, I tried to write after my leave, I tried to write after work, I tried to write weekends, I tried to write during work because it’s more peaceful than at home…during big live events, or tried to wait for things to get more peaceful, break the routine, write desperately, write calmly, force it, not force it….in the end, nothing works. Except maybe a tragedy.” he laughed.
“Eh, at least you have an excuse. You have a wife, two kids, a demanding job… I’m just lazy.” I tried to cheer him up. I didn’t envy his lifestyle. But it was a good life, the life he wanted.
“I know this sounds awful, but to have children, a family, that’s nice and I love them but I can’t say it’s that fulfilling. Or that it’s the meaning of life for me. Ultimately, they’re here to have their own lives and I’m still me, and I wonder what I really accomplished - creating someone else to take a shot at making something interesting? No, kids aren’t what I want to leave as my mark on this world. And now I feel that this is it, there’s no more that infinitely long future filled with possibilities in front of us.”
We were both in some kind of depression, an identity crisis. In my 20s I was so lost and wanted some stability, and now I was choked by the regularness of life. Maybe it was the awareness that things could continue like this - every day the same, and then you die - that seemed terrifying at times. Especially at night, with the next day gaping in front of me like a black hole, waiting for me to fall in.
Some people have a strong feeling of purpose from which nothing can pull them away. I have some talent, but I find it so monumentally hard to give it any dedication.
After that day, this became our regular topic we always seemed to come back to. Is it better to try to force yourself to do something, or wait for the inspiration to hit you, but what when it’s simply not happening? We’d occasionally read some self-help advice, although we were always a bad audience for this kind of thing, constantly trying to identify what it was that was blocking us. We’d share our observations. Andy would come up with some cool ideas for stories, but it wouldn’t go anywhere. I’d try to sketch or do something “crazy” and it would just come off as forced and fake.
Slowly, Andy started working on a theory that, with time, became more and more concrete and ritualistic. He started from that simple, and not too original observation that he can only create when going through a loss. “The suffering artist” or something. He started to believe that there is some balance in life, that he was trying to maintain too many things, and that some kind of “hole” was needed that could be filled with creation.
We’d had some beers when he was going on about it again. “See, I always avoided big responsibilities, serious relationships, a family… I was always stingy about my time and how much I could give to others. And yet I have the same problem.”
He waved me off, drunker than I was. “We all have different capacities. Although I have more obligations, you are equally balanced by yours, as small as you think they seem in comparison. And even that's the wrong way of looking at it. I’m not talking about free time or energy, because I realized that’s not the issue, just an excuse. I’m talking on a much more… metasiphyc level.”
Metasiphyc. I remember that. I found it hilarious at the time.
But he kept on with his idea of equilibrium, balancing the things you want in life, with an increasingly elaborate approach to the topic. From a general idea that comes down to that all aspects of your life can’t be at their highest at the same time, to the idea that everyone has an average and when you want to rise above it in any way, you need to sacrifice something else.
“Well of course, everyone says you need to sacrifice to achieve greatness. Sacrifice means hard work, dedicating your time to it, shit like that. Except that this approach doesn’t really lead to success for either of us.” I challenged the theory.
He wasn’t discouraged. “No, because that’s not a sacrifice for you. In theory, you’re fine with spending 5 hours sitting down and working on something, you just don’t know what it is.” “No, sacrifice is… a sacrifice. It has to be something you care about. I’ve been studying the topic,” he’d start lecturing. “Humanity always had sacrificial rituals, and they make perfect sense.”
I’d usually laugh it off at this stage, but I think that, even then. I started to notice it was all becoming way too concrete and obsessive. We had more of those conversations, but the more of a thing it became for him, the less committal I was about agreeing with his philosophy. At one point I started seriously suspecting that he was losing it and becoming a fanatic.
One night he called me crying and telling me he took it too far, killed his cat so that he could write, and that he was a total idiot who deserved to die. I could tell he was drunk as fuck. After that incident, he suddenly stopped and calmed down. He was no longer talking about his book, sacrifices, equilibrums and metaphysics. Just normal shit, politics, exercise routine, work issues, family and all. Mostly about trying to drink less and work on his marriage. It seems he re-embraced normal life, avoided the topic of what happened that night, or turned it into a deeper discussion about alcoholism and getting his shit together. I didn’t push, maybe I was relieved if a bit bored by this change.
Then his youngest son died. Accidental suffocation with the blanket. Apparently it happens more often than you’d think.
Look, I’m not a writer, you can see where this is going. But as clear as it may seem here, put together in a linear recount of events, it certainly didn’t cross my mind that Andy had anything to do with it. It’s easy to look back now and connect all the elements, but to accept the possibility is much more bizarre. I just felt bad for him and had no idea what to say.
I was a weak friend at the time. I thought he needed some space and time with his family, and I needed a reason not to awkwardly interact with someone going through things I can’t possibly understand, so after a cliche message expressing my condolences, which took me a day and the help of ChatGPT to draft (I think the result was the eloquent “ Andy, I’m so sorry for your loss, no idea what to say. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”) I kind of stepped back.
A few months have passed. I’m not proud of it, but I rarely actively miss people. Then, he reached out to me and asked me to get together for some beers.
I started with another unconvincing expression of condolences, but luckily he accepted it without any protest and lucidly started talking about how he was doing, the terrible state his wife was in and how confused and lost his little girl was. He said his home was a terribly depressing place, and that writing was now his only escape.
It wasn’t exactly a cheerful declaration, but a few weeks after he sent me a book draft. It was excellent. I loved it. I instantly felt a pang of jealousy. A short while later he managed to publish it.
The book kept getting some traction, slowly but surely, and soon enough I was truly jealous and I started to avoid him again. He didn't share my problem anymore. He created something, it was good, and people started to recognize it. Even if it never gets huge, it will always remain as something he can feel proud of. That was better than anything I was doing. Then again, being jealous of the man who lost his child was brutal, but I was and I didn’t feel like seeing him.
One day he invited me for some drinks while his wife and daughter were away to see her parents. He insisted I come.
This time, he was beaming. It seemed that he was waiting for me to say something until he couldn’t wait anymore. “Can you see that it’s working now? “ he asked.
I gave a confused look.
“The sacrifice”
He told me, to my great discomfort, that he went for all or nothing. That the cat worked just enough to confirm his suspicions, but he knew he needed something big. He had to do something drastic or forever resign to mediocrity. And how his son’s death instantly removed that barrier inside of him and gave him focus. “Of course, it hurt” he toned it down. “Without the pain, the sacrifice wouldn’t be worth anything”
“But your son, was that not an accident?” Happy accident, I thought.”Or?”
“Or” he replied flatly.
He continued. “Look, I don’t care, I know you won't say anything to anyone, at least not seriously. And if you did, who’d believe you, you can’t prove anything and you’re way too lazy to get into any drama and risk looking stupid.”
He was right.
“And maybe you also know there’s truth in it. Maybe you get it. The reason why I am telling you all this is because you’re my friend, maybe the only true friend I have, and because I want to help you. But your problem is that you avoid having anything to lose. That’s why you’re in your equilibrium where you can’t create.”
“What, I should find a girl and make a kid so I had something to sacrifice for my artistic masterpiece?” I asked him in some combination of shock and numbness of disbelief.
He shrugged. “This method is more concrete than you think, and it works. My problem is that I need to keep at it, the success made me happy and again, I’m balanced. In fact, as much as it hurts to lose my son, and as disgusting as this is to say, I can live without him. It was much more painful to watch my wife and daughter despair, that was truly… painful, and horrible. The guilt made me create. And now, I’m finally leaving my mark on this world and my marriage is falling apart,” he took a big sip.
“You sacrificed,” I said.
As time passed, my friend got a divorce, lost his beloved sister and her family in a tragic gas leak accident, wrote another book and became semi-famous in an increasingly broader circle. I didn’t read the book.
We don’t see each other often. I judge him, but I feel like a hypocrite. The truth is, I am consumed with envy, while the advice he gave me is stuck in my head. Meanwhile, time keeps on passing and I still achieved nothing.
“You need to open up a hole in your equilibrium and then fill it in with what you want. It’s a swap. Humanity always understood the concept. A deal with the devil, a sacrifice, same principle.”
Maybe I should stop him before anyone else is sacrificed. I know how much he loves his daughter, I think about it sometimes. But it all sounds too insane. Like some dumb fiction. Besides, he was right, wasn’t he? His way worked and I’m jealous because I have nothing to sacrifice.
It would be better to work on my own life rather than try to ruin his. He’s right, I never built anything so I’d have nothing to lose. We all have our reasons and fears. Maybe I should face mine. Finally, allow myself some closeness, stop pushing aside every girl I start to like. Meet someone, invest in the relationship, put my time and effort towards building something.
And then, perhaps, I’ll be able to find my creative drive.

When we were kids, my best friend and I were wells of creativity. We didn’t even get it, we weren’t trying to be artists or “content creators” back then, we were just having fun.
Andy kept making up stories, I’d illustrate the characters and make comics out of some of them. Actually, I drew and painted a lot all my life, easily and without much thought. That was when it worked the best. It would always become harder when some expectation was put upon me, like “draw something for your aunt’s birthday.” Too deliberate. Thinking always blocked me.
The same went for Andy, his stories were the best when done spontaneously.
Back when we didn’t think about how we needed to be creative or productive, or that anything we did had any value or that we had a talent or needed to achieve anything with it. We just did it, and people around us would respond.
Then came university, then work, Andy got a wife and a kid. Slowly, and without any drama, we drifted apart.
I didn’t draw in a long time. It’s hard when you work 5 days a week, you’re tired in the evening and recovering during the weekend. Suddenly the idea of myself as an artist started to matter more and more, and with it it became less and less obtainable. It started to matter because I needed something to hold on to that would represent a side of me outside of this absurd routine I was now stuck in. And I didn’t have my own family, I was free after work, not that I managed to do much with it aside from finishing a lot of shows, games, movies and books and drinking a bit too much.
By then, it’s been years since I saw Andy, but at one point we ran into each other, promised we’d grab a beer, surprisingly lived up to the promise, and realized that, despite all this time, we were still friends.
We started hanging out more often, we didn’t even live that far. His wife just had their second kid, and the whole thing seemed overwhelming to me, but it seemed he was managing just fine. One time I asked him if he was still writing anything. In retrospect, I could recognize that he had a serious gift, endless ideas, unique style, even as a kid. Hell, he even studied literature, although he was in finance now. “Sometimes,” he said. “I don’t have that much time, and I often start on some stories only to realize they’re dumb and give up.”
He told me his dream is still to write a book, but finding the motivation to write is difficult as is, and finding the right moment and atmosphere even more so. But 10 years ago, he wrote a short story/novel, still in the draft stage. I managed to convince him to let me read it, and I was amazed. The story was short, but it was so good and imaginative. The ending felt a bit rushed, and some plot elements could be fine-tuned, but the writing itself was genius. I could feel the characters, the atmosphere around them, the original ideas and believable dialogues…I told him honestly, with a not-insignificant effort to repress my jealousy, that he needed to keep on writing.
He laughed and asked me what about my drawing. I showed him a few things I made throughout the years, and he appeared genuinely impressed. Except there was so little to show. He asked me about one of the more recent drawings, which turned out pretty cool. I told him I actually made it in about half an hour, in a pissed-off mood after losing my job. Most of it was like that. The flash of inspiration is something I can’t summon or plan. “I envy the people who can get anywhere through pure discipline,” I said. “For me, it’s all completely outside of my control.”
This resonated with Andy. “When I wrote my story, at the moment the most complete work in my life, my mother died. That was the worst year of my life. I didn’t care about anything, the only thing I could do was write.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It seems to me that the best works I’ve made came from the moments where I had the least desire to live”
“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” he confessed.
“I’ve been trying so hard to get that drive back. I tried to write drunk, I tried to write sober, I tried to write when I’m on leave, I tried to write after my leave, I tried to write after work, I tried to write weekends, I tried to write during work because it’s more peaceful than at home…during big live events, or tried to wait for things to get more peaceful, break the routine, write desperately, write calmly, force it, not force it….in the end, nothing works. Except maybe a tragedy.” he laughed.
“Eh, at least you have an excuse. You have a wife, two kids, a demanding job… I’m just lazy.” I tried to cheer him up. I didn’t envy his lifestyle. But it was a good life, the life he wanted.
“I know this sounds awful, but to have children, a family, that’s nice and I love them but I can’t say it’s that fulfilling. Or that it’s the meaning of life for me. Ultimately, they’re here to have their own lives and I’m still me, and I wonder what I really accomplished - creating someone else to take a shot at making something interesting? No, kids aren’t what I want to leave as my mark on this world. And now I feel that this is it, there’s no more that infinitely long future filled with possibilities in front of us.”
We were both in some kind of depression, an identity crisis. In my 20s I was so lost and wanted some stability, and now I was choked by the regularness of life. Maybe it was the awareness that things could continue like this - every day the same, and then you die - that seemed terrifying at times. Especially at night, with the next day gaping in front of me like a black hole, waiting for me to fall in.
Some people have a strong feeling of purpose from which nothing can pull them away. I have some talent, but I find it so monumentally hard to give it any dedication.
After that day, this became our regular topic we always seemed to come back to. Is it better to try to force yourself to do something, or wait for the inspiration to hit you, but what when it’s simply not happening? We’d occasionally read some self-help advice, although we were always a bad audience for this kind of thing, constantly trying to identify what it was that was blocking us. We’d share our observations. Andy would come up with some cool ideas for stories, but it wouldn’t go anywhere. I’d try to sketch or do something “crazy” and it would just come off as forced and fake.
Slowly, Andy started working on a theory that, with time, became more and more concrete and ritualistic. He started from that simple, and not too original observation that he can only create when going through a loss. “The suffering artist” or something. He started to believe that there is some balance in life, that he was trying to maintain too many things, and that some kind of “hole” was needed that could be filled with creation.
We’d had some beers when he was going on about it again. “See, I always avoided big responsibilities, serious relationships, a family… I was always stingy about my time and how much I could give to others. And yet I have the same problem.”
He waved me off, drunker than I was. “We all have different capacities. Although I have more obligations, you are equally balanced by yours, as small as you think they seem in comparison. And even that's the wrong way of looking at it. I’m not talking about free time or energy, because I realized that’s not the issue, just an excuse. I’m talking on a much more… metasiphyc level.”
Metasiphyc. I remember that. I found it hilarious at the time.
But he kept on with his idea of equilibrium, balancing the things you want in life, with an increasingly elaborate approach to the topic. From a general idea that comes down to that all aspects of your life can’t be at their highest at the same time, to the idea that everyone has an average and when you want to rise above it in any way, you need to sacrifice something else.
“Well of course, everyone says you need to sacrifice to achieve greatness. Sacrifice means hard work, dedicating your time to it, shit like that. Except that this approach doesn’t really lead to success for either of us.” I challenged the theory.
He wasn’t discouraged. “No, because that’s not a sacrifice for you. In theory, you’re fine with spending 5 hours sitting down and working on something, you just don’t know what it is.” “No, sacrifice is… a sacrifice. It has to be something you care about. I’ve been studying the topic,” he’d start lecturing. “Humanity always had sacrificial rituals, and they make perfect sense.”
I’d usually laugh it off at this stage, but I think that, even then. I started to notice it was all becoming way too concrete and obsessive. We had more of those conversations, but the more of a thing it became for him, the less committal I was about agreeing with his philosophy. At one point I started seriously suspecting that he was losing it and becoming a fanatic.
One night he called me crying and telling me he took it too far, killed his cat so that he could write, and that he was a total idiot who deserved to die. I could tell he was drunk as fuck. After that incident, he suddenly stopped and calmed down. He was no longer talking about his book, sacrifices, equilibrums and metaphysics. Just normal shit, politics, exercise routine, work issues, family and all. Mostly about trying to drink less and work on his marriage. It seems he re-embraced normal life, avoided the topic of what happened that night, or turned it into a deeper discussion about alcoholism and getting his shit together. I didn’t push, maybe I was relieved if a bit bored by this change.
Then his youngest son died. Accidental suffocation with the blanket. Apparently it happens more often than you’d think.
Look, I’m not a writer, you can see where this is going. But as clear as it may seem here, put together in a linear recount of events, it certainly didn’t cross my mind that Andy had anything to do with it. It’s easy to look back now and connect all the elements, but to accept the possibility is much more bizarre. I just felt bad for him and had no idea what to say.
I was a weak friend at the time. I thought he needed some space and time with his family, and I needed a reason not to awkwardly interact with someone going through things I can’t possibly understand, so after a cliche message expressing my condolences, which took me a day and the help of ChatGPT to draft (I think the result was the eloquent “ Andy, I’m so sorry for your loss, no idea what to say. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”) I kind of stepped back.
A few months have passed. I’m not proud of it, but I rarely actively miss people. Then, he reached out to me and asked me to get together for some beers.
I started with another unconvincing expression of condolences, but luckily he accepted it without any protest and lucidly started talking about how he was doing, the terrible state his wife was in and how confused and lost his little girl was. He said his home was a terribly depressing place, and that writing was now his only escape.
It wasn’t exactly a cheerful declaration, but a few weeks after he sent me a book draft. It was excellent. I loved it. I instantly felt a pang of jealousy. A short while later he managed to publish it.
The book kept getting some traction, slowly but surely, and soon enough I was truly jealous and I started to avoid him again. He didn't share my problem anymore. He created something, it was good, and people started to recognize it. Even if it never gets huge, it will always remain as something he can feel proud of. That was better than anything I was doing. Then again, being jealous of the man who lost his child was brutal, but I was and I didn’t feel like seeing him.
One day he invited me for some drinks while his wife and daughter were away to see her parents. He insisted I come.
This time, he was beaming. It seemed that he was waiting for me to say something until he couldn’t wait anymore. “Can you see that it’s working now? “ he asked.
I gave a confused look.
“The sacrifice”
He told me, to my great discomfort, that he went for all or nothing. That the cat worked just enough to confirm his suspicions, but he knew he needed something big. He had to do something drastic or forever resign to mediocrity. And how his son’s death instantly removed that barrier inside of him and gave him focus. “Of course, it hurt” he toned it down. “Without the pain, the sacrifice wouldn’t be worth anything”
“But your son, was that not an accident?” Happy accident, I thought.”Or?”
“Or” he replied flatly.
He continued. “Look, I don’t care, I know you won't say anything to anyone, at least not seriously. And if you did, who’d believe you, you can’t prove anything and you’re way too lazy to get into any drama and risk looking stupid.”
He was right.
“And maybe you also know there’s truth in it. Maybe you get it. The reason why I am telling you all this is because you’re my friend, maybe the only true friend I have, and because I want to help you. But your problem is that you avoid having anything to lose. That’s why you’re in your equilibrium where you can’t create.”
“What, I should find a girl and make a kid so I had something to sacrifice for my artistic masterpiece?” I asked him in some combination of shock and numbness of disbelief.
He shrugged. “This method is more concrete than you think, and it works. My problem is that I need to keep at it, the success made me happy and again, I’m balanced. In fact, as much as it hurts to lose my son, and as disgusting as this is to say, I can live without him. It was much more painful to watch my wife and daughter despair, that was truly… painful, and horrible. The guilt made me create. And now, I’m finally leaving my mark on this world and my marriage is falling apart,” he took a big sip.
“You sacrificed," I said.
As time passed, my friend got a divorce, lost his beloved sister and her family in a tragic gas leak accident, wrote another book and became semi-famous in an increasingly broader circle. I didn’t read the book.
We don’t see each other often. I judge him, but I feel like a hypocrite. The truth is, I am consumed with envy, while the advice he gave me is stuck in my head. Meanwhile, time keeps on passing and I still achieved nothing.
“You need to open up a hole in your equilibrium and then fill it in with what you want. It’s a swap. Humanity always understood the concept. A deal with the devil, a sacrifice, same principle.”
Maybe I should stop him before anyone else is sacrificed. I know how much he loves his daughter, I think about it sometimes. But it all sounds too insane. Like some dumb fiction. Besides, he was right, wasn’t he? His way worked and I’m jealous because I have nothing to sacrifice.
It would be better to work on my own life rather than try to ruin his. He’s right, I never built anything so I’d have nothing to lose. We all have our reasons and fears. Maybe I should face mine. Finally, allow myself some closeness, stop pushing aside every girl I start to like. Meet someone, invest in the relationship, put my time and effort towards building something.
And then, perhaps, I’ll be able to find my creative drive.

i kicked my exroommate out because she hadn’t paid rent in months, & then i found out she lied to me about her entire identity. it’s important to note i’m 24f & autistic. a lot of this story is built upon the back of her lying to me? so for brevity sake im stating what I think is the most pertinent information for this. i wont get too deep into all the intricacies of the lies because they are big ones that im still unpacking in therapy, just looking for legal advice because im tapped on funds & would’ve sought an attorneys advice otherwise.
long story short, she avoided signing a lease or anything until after we moved in back in november because “life” kept getting in the way of her coming to the appointment for it. I learned my lesson here. I know I shouldn’t have let her move in without signing a sublease or getting a background check. she kept canceling our appt to get it signed, & eventually I became too overwhelmed with school & work that I forgot about it until I needed it. but I have all our financial agreement stuff in written form (text) im just not sure if that’s enough.
anyway, the apartment was in my name only. she paid sorta consistently. a day late here, a week late there. I was okay with it for the beginning because I am a student & had enough in savings from my loans to cover it in the beginning SO LONG as she paid me back. & she did. I also was working 35 hours a week on top of an 18 credit hour load, so i’m barely home save to sleep or eat. february is when she lost her job due to allegedly calling off & lying about it to her boss. (I only found that out after a coworker of hers reached out to me. my roommate was allegedly lying about me to people.) it’s important to note I didn’t know she lost her job. she didn’t tell me she got fired, instead said she was wanting to leave & was lowering her hours there while finding other work. I told her I just would like to be paid back on time & she said she would. spoiler, she didn’t.
in march we had a huge argument because she hadn’t paid me back for february rent or utilities & I had learned at that point a lot of her personal history that she had shared with me had been a lie. I looked into publicly available records about her & found out the following:

• she claimed she was an orphan, she was not, both parents are alive. she told me a graphic story of finding her parents dead & later changed the story. this is want prompted me to look up obituaries for them. found none. instead just found active social media profiles.
• she said her sister slept with her ex fiancé, that never happened & the girl wasn’t even her sister & the fiancé was only a boyfriend. also turned out the girl was the “fiancés” cousin.
• she had a criminal background, including a couple felonies for stealing a lot of money from both her previous places of employment & former roommate of hers.
• she claimed she worked for a preschool & they hadn’t paid ANYONE in a whole month. but bc of her felony, she actually didn’t work there at all.
• she claimed she was pregnant when she wasn’t, this story also included a story of an abortion that went wrong?? she told me graphic & gruesome details but i’ll spare you.
• she claimed to take financial care of her 17 year old brother. she didn’t? her mom is still alive.
• she claimed to have brain cancer to several of our mutual friends (not me though bc my moms in the medical field & I would’ve asked her questions regarding it) she never had brain cancer lol.

she comes clean about all of that during the confrontation in march. she cries, I cry, I thought all was getting resolved financially because she promised. (I roll my eyes now thinking about it) & she was enrolling herself in therapy. she pays me for the rent & utilities of february but not rent for march. she said she would get it to me with her next paycheck. I had some faith in her still because she was my friend or so I thought.
I also ended up enrolling in therapy shortly after this conversation bc it was traumatizing how much she lied to me.
regardless, i covered her half of rent during march & April, albeit very begrudgingly. i gave her extension after extension but started to look for another roommate during the end of april just in case she didn’t pay in may. the reason I did this is because I only had enough in savings to cover my portion of rent for june. obviously may came around & she didn’t pay, but she was able to go spend about $400 at the grocery store ?? & she also bought a new stanley cup (she had a collection & each one rubes around 48 usd) & a whole bunch of new make up, press on nails, toiletries such as shampoo & conditioner & three new candles!!
seeing her come home with all that that was my breaking point. I had been rationing off my food, my own toiletries, & my own “luxury” items just so I could afford to keep a roof over our heads.
so I found a new roommate very quickly, & got them ACTUALLY VETTED WITH BACKGROUND CHECK & CREDIT CHECK BY THE APARTMENT COMPLEX ITSELF. yes I learned from my mistake. no I will never repeat it again.
I told my ex roommate on May 6th, one week after she came home with all those new expensive items, that she needed to pay me all 3.453.35 that she owed me for rent/utilities or she would be kicked out. she asked me for an extension, she claimed she needed to May 10th to get her funds. I said no, she had already had two months & four full paycheck cycles to figure it out. she said she took out a personal loan & was waiting on it to be approved & deposited. I again reaffirmed that no, she could not stay here. I told her she had twenty minutes to pack up a bag but she needed to leave her furniture as collateral that she would pay me back. she agreed to this. all of this is in text form & I have her agreeing to it there. after she left, i told her she had thirty full days to pay me back or her items would be considered abandoned. thus, giving her an additional & final deadline. that deadline is Monday, June 10th, at 5 pm.
on June 3rd, after hearing nothing from her for weeks, she said she would pay me by the evening of the 7th. I told her that was fine, but if she didn’t pay then the original deadline of june 10th at 5 pm would still stand.
june 7th came & went. no payment. & june 10th is tomorrow. & idk what to do with her stuff or if I should give her more time?? i’m not sure how to proceed forward & wanna make sure i’m protected.
anyway, that’s the shortened version of it. any advice is welcome. I don’t need people telling me i’m stupid for the sublease thing bc I know & am well aware. I learned my lesson on that & my new roommate is on the lease & our financials are split evenly now so i’m good on that.
I just don’t know what to do with her items or even really,,,her. do I just need to suck it up, grab my credit card & get an attorney? I just dunno what to do :/ thank you in advance

This morning, while trying to whip up a quick breakfast, I had an unexpected encounter with the concepts of heuristics and mental models. My half-awake brain was on auto-pilot, reaching for the bread and butter without much thought. While spreading the butter, I found myself thinking about how much to spread and how evenly to distribute it. It seemed like a lot of unnecessary effort for just a piece of toast.
Then it hit me. I was using a heuristic, or a sort of mental shortcut that helps me make decisions quickly. It told me that evenly spread butter tastes the best. I didn’t have to taste-test various pieces of toast with different butter distributions to know this.
However, as I sipped my coffee, I realized that my toast-buttering process was actually influenced by a mental model. As an avid fan of cooking shows, I've unconsciously formed a mental model about the perfect toast: It should be evenly golden-brown, and the butter should be spread uniformly, covering all the corners. This model filtered my perception and shaped the way I interacted with my toast.
So, in the end, both heuristic and mental model were at play in the seemingly mundane task of buttering a toast. The heuristic provided a quick decision-making shortcut, while the mental model influenced my overall understanding of what makes a perfect toast. And, believe it or not, my toast tasted amazing!
P.S: Believe it or not, all of this happened in my head while I was just sitting and staring at my toast. Maybe making and eating toast isn't as simple as I thought? Or maybe I just think too much, huh? Anyway, hope you got a slice of how mental models can sneak into your daily life, even at the breakfast table! So, remember, the next time you spread butter on your toast, you're doing more than breakfast. You're using mental models. Bon Appétit!

we’ve dated for half a year. they initiated the break up, reason being that their feelings towards me wasn’t as strong as mine, coupled with on-going stressful situations in their life. And they told me i should be with someone that is sure of me.
while things ended cordially, i removed them from all my social media and deleted our picture. As much as i missed them, i probably grieved during the relationship, hence i wasn’t as devastated as i thought i would be.
2 days later, Today, they’ve sent me a message saying how they realised part of them was missing due to my absence. i thought that it was pretty impulsive of them, and decided to just stay as friends for now. I have never been friends with an ex, and i’m honestly unsure of how i should go about this, and whether i made the right choice. i know that this is pretty vague, but i would like an realistic honest opinion from you guys with much more experience in relationships than i do. thank you!

So for some context about exactly a year ago my ex girlfriend started working at a new job. It was a small locally owned job with not many workers, things were fine but eventually a guy started working there, we’ll call him Jeff. So they start working together and over time as a guy myself I am able to see when I think a guy is into my girl or doing things that catch my eye, for example he gets her phone number and starts light texting her, comes in on his day off with his dogs (shes the only one working) and they chat for a bit, starts talking about his life and past relationship. etc etc So I tell my girlfriend at the time “hey look I think this guys into you, I know you have to work with him so just keep that in mind” she would say things like “not everyones into me” “hes just friendly” and stuff like that So then I noticed she starts texting him back and she starts telling me how he skateboarded with lil peeps friend (she loves lil peep) and like I said he skateboards, and draws, and is a spiritual type of guy, and this is basically the vibe of my girlfriend.(not really me at all) So with that being said I start worrying because I told her this guy likes her and now they see each other everyday and shes engaging in text conversation with him. So for her work she doesnt work with him during a shift but she will work from 9-3 then he comes in at 3-close. So thats when I check her location at 3 and always see her still there until atleast 3:30 sometimes until 4 and I get immense anxiety just knowing theyre jusr chattin it up. So fast forward a week I talk to her about this tell her how its bothering me, she reassures me and all is good, but then she hangs out with her friend, they wore dresses and she ends up going on her day off to the workplace where just he is working. She said she just went to use the bathroom but ended up staying for up to an hour. Thats where I was losing it I was going crazy and anxiety filled inside of me. Later that night I pick her up and tell her everything Im feeling and crying to her (at this point we have been dating for a year and a half) She says she only wants me and we will be together forever etc. So basically Im just being manipulated and gaslit Because after about another week me and her are going to a concert. She has to switch with Jeff to be able to go so during her shift she asks and tells him about the concert and small talk stuff. So I ask if she mentioned she was going with me. Of course not to my surprise she said no and didnt mention me and it would be weird. She also followed him and he followed her and said he wont unfollow him because hes a good kid and they work together. She also has PCOS and apparently Jeffs ex had PCOS so he started sending her guides for PCOS via Instagram DMs and she would say he does things she wishes I did and that one stung.. Also a quick backstory me and her met at our other job and she had a boyfriend at the time! she ended up breaking up with him and we got together she would tell me how she would sneak to the bathroom to snap me back, she would say how she would try not to mention her boyfriend at the time to me essentially hiding him because the only reason I found out is beause our other coworker we were with asked about him. So with that being said guess what happens next, we are hanging out one night and I just have anxiety for days over all this stuff, she goes to the bathroom like 3-4 times in the past hour or two, so when she comes back I ask can i see your phone? she like gives me an evil smile and I look and to my surprise 5m ago Jeff so they were texting. This set me off and I cried due to the betrayal I felt and I knew I was right. This is getting long and I missed a lot still but her side to why she did this was because I wasnt a good boyfriend and granted I had my mistakes. I liked girls posts right in front of her and genuninely didnt have any meaning behind it I just like every post on my instagram feed. Also I had nudes far down in my camera roll but I never even knew they were there I never go in my camera roll and just go through it but I definitely see how these things can upset her. Also her dad is her main person she didnt grow up with a mom and her dad has been overdosing since 2019 so her mental health is extremely bad so she will constantly blame stuff on her mental health. So i would bring up this stuff with Jeff that happened a lot because it hurt me throughout the remainder of our relationship, she would say stuff like that was a year ago you need to get over it. And she told me how she was indeed wondering he would be a better boyfriend at the time so in the end I was right she manipulated and gaslit me and made me develop trust issues but I was right So now we break up and guess what? She follows him, she fckin follows him and now Im like wtf. So I confront her and she says she has been freaking out lately and my snap score has been going up fast and it never does (when I just started snapping friends and doing streaks) so she followed him. So I am wondering why he is her goto? and how its such a bad look like after all has happened and you let this one guy ruin my relationship, you follow him fresh out of our breakup? that is so disgusting. like why him? what possesses you to do that. and she says how Im a hypocrite because she follows one guy and I start snapping people but its like, its not one random guy? we know the history of this guy, you literally told me you were wondering if he potentionally would be a better boyfriend for you? you snuck to the bathroom to text him? oh yeah when that concert happened we went to, they were talking about it after and he said something like “Oh yeah I know that artist tell him i said wassup” (like a joke) and she goes “i actually crowd surfed and said do you know THE (the guys name) like on some flirting shit, so disgusting. the dude I got trust issues from, anxiety, couldnt eat thats who you followed. She also said a month ago over text if we broke up she would need time to heal and wouldnt pursue him or anyone. But here she is following him, pursuing him… Can I hear your opinion below on everything? I was treated so badly in this relationship, granted I made mistakes in the beginning but she literally let another guy thinking he has a chance, and follows him after we break up…

So for some context about exactly a year ago my ex girlfriend started working at a new job. It was a small locally owned job with not many workers, things were fine but eventually a guy started working there, we’ll call him Jeff. So they start working together and over time as a guy myself I am able to see when I think a guy is into my girl or doing things that catch my eye, for example he gets her phone number and starts light texting her, comes in on his day off with his dogs (shes the only one working) and they chat for a bit, starts talking about his life and past relationship. etc etc So I tell my girlfriend at the time “hey look I think this guys into you, I know you have to work with him so just keep that in mind” she would say things like “not everyones into me” “hes just friendly” and stuff like that So then I noticed she starts texting him back and she starts telling me how he skateboarded with lil peeps friend (she loves lil peep) and like I said he skateboards, and draws, and is a spiritual type of guy, and this is basically the vibe of my girlfriend.(not really me at all) So with that being said I start worrying because I told her this guy likes her and now they see each other everyday and shes engaging in text conversation with him. So for her work she doesnt work with him during a shift but she will work from 9-3 then he comes in at 3-close. So thats when I check her location at 3 and always see her still there until atleast 3:30 sometimes until 4 and I get immense anxiety just knowing theyre jusr chattin it up. So fast forward a week I talk to her about this tell her how its bothering me, she reassures me and all is good, but then she hangs out with her friend, they wore dresses and she ends up going on her day off to the workplace where just he is working. She said she just went to use the bathroom but ended up staying for up to an hour. Thats where I was losing it I was going crazy and anxiety filled inside of me. Later that night I pick her up and tell her everything Im feeling and crying to her (at this point we have been dating for a year and a half) She says she only wants me and we will be together forever etc. So basically Im just being manipulated and gaslit Because after about another week me and her are going to a concert. She has to switch with Jeff to be able to go so during her shift she asks and tells him about the concert and small talk stuff. So I ask if she mentioned she was going with me. Of course not to my surprise she said no and didnt mention me and it would be weird. She also followed him and he followed her and said he wont unfollow him because hes a good kid and they work together. She also has PCOS and apparently Jeffs ex had PCOS so he started sending her guides for PCOS via Instagram DMs and she would say he does things she wishes I did and that one stung.. Also a quick backstory me and her met at our other job and she had a boyfriend at the time! she ended up breaking up with him and we got together she would tell me how she would sneak to the bathroom to snap me back, she would say how she would try not to mention her boyfriend at the time to me essentially hiding him because the only reason I found out is beause our other coworker we were with asked about him. So with that being said guess what happens next, we are hanging out one night and I just have anxiety for days over all this stuff, she goes to the bathroom like 3-4 times in the past hour or two, so when she comes back I ask can i see your phone? she like gives me an evil smile and I look and to my surprise *5m ago Jeff* so they were texting. This set me off and I cried due to the betrayal I felt and I knew I was right. This is getting long and I missed a lot still but her side to why she did this was because I wasnt a good boyfriend and granted I had my mistakes. I liked girls posts right in front of her and genuninely didnt have any meaning behind it I just like every post on my instagram feed. Also I had nudes far down in my camera roll but I never even knew they were there I never go in my camera roll and just go through it but I definitely see how these things can upset her. Also her dad is her main person she didnt grow up with a mom and her dad has been overdosing since 2019 so her mental health is extremely bad so she will constantly blame stuff on her mental health. So i would bring up this stuff with Jeff that happened a lot because it hurt me throughout the remainder of our relationship, she would say stuff like that was a year ago you need to get over it. And she told me how she was indeed wondering he would be a better boyfriend at the time so in the end I was right she manipulated and gaslit me and made me develop trust issues but I was right So now we break up and guess what? She follows him, she fckin follows him and now Im like wtf. So I confront her and she says she has been freaking out lately and my snap score has been going up fast and it never does (when I just started snapping friends and doing streaks) so she followed him. So I am wondering why he is her goto? and how its such a bad look like after all has happened and you let this one guy ruin my relationship, you follow him fresh out of our breakup? that is so disgusting. like why him? what possesses you to do that. and she says how Im a hypocrite because she follows one guy and I start snapping people but its like, its not one random guy? we know the history of this guy, you literally told me you were wondering if he potentionally would be a better boyfriend for you? you snuck to the bathroom to text him? oh yeah when that concert happened we went to, they were talking about it after and he said something like “Oh yeah I know that artist tell him i said wassup” (like a joke) and she goes “i actually crowd surfed and said do you know THE (the guys name) like on some flirting shit, so disgusting. the dude I got trust issues from, anxiety, couldnt eat thats who you followed. She also said a month ago over text if we broke up she would need time to heal and wouldnt pursue him or anyone. But here she is following him, pursuing him… Can I hear your opinion below on everything? I was treated so badly in this relationship, granted I made mistakes in the beginning but she literally let another guy thinking he has a chance, and follows him after we break up… 

I woke up groggily one Sunday morning, my brain foggy and uncooperative. I decided to whip up some breakfast to kick start my day. Now, here's the thing about me - I'm no Gordon Ramsay. Yet, my stomach demanded an omelette, so I wandered into the kitchen, rolled up my sleeves, and embarked on my culinary adventure.
The first choice presented to me - how many eggs to crack. I was still half asleep, not in the mood for complex calculations. So, I used a heuristic, or a mental shortcut. In my past experiences, two eggs always proved to be a satisfactory portion - enough to satiate my hunger, but not too filling. Based on my previous encounters with eggs and hunger, I defaulted to two eggs without further thought. The heuristic simplified my decision-making process, reducing mental strain.
But as I contemplated the contents of my fridge, I was faced with another decision - what to put in my omelette? I had a veritable plethora of ingredients - cheese, bell peppers, mushrooms, onions, tomatoes, spinach… Here, I resorted to a mental simulation. I mentally ran through each potential combination, trying to envision the overall taste and texture. I imagined the crunch of the bell peppers, the creaminess of the cheese, the tartness of the tomatoes. This mental model helped me arrive at the optimal omelette composition - cheese, bell peppers, and onions.
Thus, my breakfast journey showcased two critical cognitive strategies - heuristics and mental simulations. A heuristic to decide the number of eggs and a mental simulation to pick the perfect ingredients. As I devoured my perfectly cooked omelette, a sense of accomplishment washed over me. Who said cognition and cooking didn't mix?
P.S.: This was a hypothetical story, gentlemen and ladies. I'm more of a cereal-for-breakfast guy. But, hey, who's to say you can't put your brain to work in the kitchen? You see, mental models can be quite handy in daily life. And hey, if you can mentally whip up the perfect omelette, surely life's bigger decisions are a piece of cake... or omelette, as it were. Happy cooking, and happy thinking!

I'm in my mid 50's, with a salary in the mid $200K's, very minimal living costs, and a FICO in the 840's. I have a Capital One savings, checking, Venture X and Miles card. The latter is an ancient product no longer offered and I never realized when I set it up that it's actually a business card--I never had a business. I opened the Venture X back in September of '23, so more than half a year ago.
I've not played the points game in my life and have a lifetime of unused points on the random cards I collected over the decades, but having done reading about points more recently I decided to start accumulating them strategically (and using them to actually travel!). So I chose the Venture X and SavorOne duo to maximize my points haul. So far I've collected the Venture X.
When I check which cards Capital One has me pre-approved for, SavorOne doesn't show up on the list. Instead, my options are limited to QuickSilver Secured Rewards and Platinum Secured.
Given my lifetime of timely payments and unblemished responsible credit usage history, I am baffled as to why this bank is treating me like a teenager they don't know with no job or credit file, but here's my question: Do I need to switch gears to the Chase Sapphire Reserve trifecta at this point, which I don't mind doing for the extra $150 in fees or so but with 50% better points value rates and better travel insurance, or is the pre-approval site just not working and in reality I'll easily get approved for a SavorOne card if I formally apply outside of the pre-approval site?
Thanks in advance for any insight into how this all works.

Wondering about step parent adoption however the situation is somewhat complicated. Please forgive the weird language around the children- I don’t want to provide identifying information such as age and gender.
I have two children and one of them the bio dad is not at all involved. The father of my second child is and we share 50/50 with both kids.
Since the father of my second child has had both kids 50/50 he has proposed he keeps our child fully and I keep my child from previous relationship fully multiple times. I don’t think this is right and we’ve had a long drawn out custody and everything else battle. We are slated for trial next year.
Unfortunately- my ex has not treated the kids equally in many respects- however both kids love him and the non bio child is understandably confused about certain things- as ex says things and then doesn’t do those things or talks poorly about me and boyfriend- I have sheltered my kids from this as best as possible
My boyfriend who has been involved/taken on a father role for about two years- is considering adopting my first born- to be very clear this is not to take child away from my ex- we will still of course support a relationship there and ensure they continue a relationship and have time- but likely not 50/50 except in summers or when child requests.
Unfortunately my ex has tried to alienate both kids against me and my partner but since the older one is old enough to question things it’s not worked but it has added confusion and my younger is quite young they sometimes repeat things my ex has said but are confused when I ask about it.
Due to this my eldest seems to be struggling with feeling secure with my boyfriend. Even said things like well you already got divorced so you’re probably going to get divorced again.
It really breaks my heart because he has really stepped up for both my kids and loves them like they are his own. Anytime something comes up and ex is like no I’m not paying for that or you can do it but again not paying or refusing to take the children to things that would certainly bolster their self confidence and growth. These are issues that will be addressed in trial next year-but I feel like my child knowing that my boyfriend is committed to being a parent and that they will be a permanent fixture in their life so it’s safe for them to continue to grow an attachment.
I also feel that maybe things will calm down if my ex is no longer financially responsible for non bio child- to also clarify this was something my ex was adamant about and I declined but after less than a year he decided to pay none or whatever he feels like he does receive half of child benefits etc
I understand that due to my eldest age they would need to consent to be adoption- I’m just wondering if having trial coming up would interfere or cause issues? My ex has demonstrated numerous times he does not prioritize eldest well being but again the point is not to remove ex from child’s life- just to best support the kids.