How to make hermione s yule ball dress

Boss and District Manager make me quit, costs them big time I'll start by saying that I never thought I would be on here, but after listening to SLASH, Am I The Jerk, and Ripe on Youtube I thought it time to tell my story.
For context, I (M 23) used to work at an electronics and entertainment store for three years and quit due to issues between workers and management. I had worked with a friend (M 36) at this place for a year or so. This friend was a good guy and great to hang out with when things weren't busy. He would find a job at another company and we would keep in touch as he would come in and chat occasionally. He would become a manager at one of these stores a small distance away. Each time he would try to sway me to come and work for him. I still liked what I was doing then and didn't think it was the right time to switch jobs. But again, due to management issues, I finally decided to quit and take up my friend's offer.
For the remainder of this story, my friend will be referred to as Dumb Boss. After a week or so I started at this new job I will not name, but they sell mattresses and rhyme with Jeep Hummer.
The first month of the job went very well as Dumb Boss trained me and another new employee, and the pay was very nice, and the work was nice with small amounts of actual labor. By the second month, things were doing okay as Dumb Boss continued to train me and the other employee more, but it started to change as my training would be halted in the process every time before I got to even finish. He would continue to do this every single time I was being trained, and stop it mid-session and start from scratch the next day I worked with him. I would never be able to even finish most of the day's training and only learn beginning things. I would say more about the training but it would say too much about where I am from and am.
A small time later I would get the news that my grandfather would pass and would wake up early to get the news. I would inform Dumb Boss later in the day before my shift of what had happened. My call would be very short as I told him of the passing and asked if there was any way I could call out that day. He would show some sympathy and tell me I could get the day, but after that, he didn't know. I would have to bring proof of the death and I would have the obituary already to show. He would go on to tell me the next day that I was in as I would only have that day to grieve that I would not be able to get any more days for my grandfather's death as grandparents weren't supposedly covered under bereavement as directed by him and Dumb District Manager (He'll be relevant later). On the day of my grandfather's funeral, I would have to work and Dumb Boss would have off. Me and the other employee I worked with, and is smarter than me when it comes to job things, talked about the situation of bereavement and who counted. She would ultimately look this information up for me and show me that grandparents were covered under bereavement and the information Dumb Boss and Dumb District Manager was not true. This made me upset and frustrated, enough to punch holes in walls, but I didn't. I would call Dumb Boss and tell him I was upset that the information he had given me was wrong and that I had missed my grandfather's funeral, something a person can't go back and do again. He apologized but looking back on it that phone call he showed little remorse or care. The next time I worked with him the same could be said in person. I would get no apology or communication from Dumb District Manager either about the situation. This was strike one.
Skipping some time to the next event I and everyone else were to attend a meeting for the whole district at a store about 100 miles from where I lived (Dumb Boss would have his own the day after ours). I was paid for the travel and had arrived at the store and worked with everyone that had shown up. Enter Dumb District Manager who was there for the meeting and mostly stayed on his computer the entire 8 hours we were all there. I thought everything went very well for my first meeting like this as we were being trained better than at our own stores. The next shift I worked with Dumb Boss and thought it would be a decent day, but would not be. I greet him and get ready as the store hasn't opened yet, him telling me he has to talk with me once I have finished. We talk and he tells me that even though the meeting/training went well Dumb District Manager and a couple of others had reported to Dumb Boss, as he had wanted them to, that I wasn't as good at the meeting as I thought. They had reported to him that I had been overly fidgety, barely worked with others, and was dressed like a cartoon. Please keep in mind, that I am no top-notch person. I make mistakes and like many other people no 100 percent good at a job. I do have issues with my legs that require them to move. I was nervous around people I had just met and did communicate with people in the training. Finally, I didn't understand why I would be dressed like a cartoon when I was the same as everyone else; in a shirt and tie. We talked about it then and throughout the day what went wrong and why, even though did my best, I was being treated like a negligent employee. This would go on Dumb Boss saying things like this to me and telling me I am not cut out for this and to just quit. This was strike two.
Strike three would happen two months or so later when the store would have a massive sale and pressure was on me and the other employee under Dumb Boss as he would press to make quotas that month or we are faced to be chewed out by him following his chew out by Dumb District Manager. The final day of the sale I would receive a nice old couple and when finishing up with them as I talked with them and the other employee talked with them they had purchased an item and had left to wait for it to arrive. Dumb Boss would walk over to me after they had left. Dumb Boss would tell me that I had a choice after they had left, either leave for the rest of the day and take disciplinary. The second choice was to stay and lose the commission on the sale I helped the elderly couple with. Now I did not know what he was going on about and he told me that because the couple I was working with had been talking with had talked with the other employee and she had left the floor and went to the back to collect herself. I would later find from her that she was just frustrated about the sale and trying to reach her quota and not because of what Dumb Boss was bringing up. I decided out of my own frustration and everything else that had been happening to just take the rest of the day and come back the next shift refreshed and able to talk to Dumb Boss with calm and collect. I would return and talk with Dumb Boss trying to keep a level head and would almost lose it as he told me that because I left he reported it to me being sent home to Dumb District Manager. After choosing the option to better help myself financially and leave and save my commission I would be given the third much later option of getting the commission taken away, losing the pay from the lost hours, and taking a disciplinary action regardless of what I did. This was the option that was forced on me after we talked and I knew this was it.
I was done and would put my notice in on the job about two weeks later and only need to give one week as Dumb Boss wanted to hire a new replacement and train them before the holidays. He even had the audacity to set up an interview for my replacement right in front of me. I was done like I said but I wasn't going out without a bit of a fight.
Something they had taught us throughout this job had been to say something if we see something. This was implied for any sort of ethics violations or issues that couldn't be brought up to management and be sent to an outside company they work with and their H.R. department. Remember that sale that we had at the store, well the sale was meant for friends and family only and no one else. Dumb District Manager told everyone to use the sale on anyone, he didn't care who and wanted the "coupons" we used gone, and if we didn't make the quota chewing would happen. This was considered an ethical no-no and Dumb District Manager and Dumb Boss didn't care as long as the coupons were gone. I would send in the ethics complaint stating what had been going on with the coupons. I know what some of you are thinking, I could have gotten Dumb Boss and Dumb District Manager on harassment, lies, etc. but unfortunately, two things happened. I am not as smart to put things like the lies and harassment on paper and turn it into H.R. The second is that I did send things to H.R regarding what had been going on via the ethics and how I was being treated but this went on deaf ears as Dumb Boss already told them crap to get out from this.
Basically, I left the last day with not even as much as a goodbye or good luck. I didn't need it though as I had pretty much left my own goodbye for him and Dumb District Manager with the ethics complaint.
I didn't hear much of what happened after I left, but after calling the other employee I worked with did I get more info. Turns out the ethics complaint actually went somewhere. She told me that Dumb Boss and Dumb District Manager were under investigation and that they were both getting their own write-ups for what they had pulled and lost the commissions not just for one sale but for the entirety of that month's commission totaling around 15,000 dollars.
If you can't hurt them where it counts, hurt their pocketbook.
P.S. Never doing another sales job ever again.

Hi there, I’m actively losing my mind over here and am desperate for help 😅
I keep having this reoccurring issue where I’ll be editing normally, things will be running just fine, then all of a sudden FCP just totally locks up and becomes unresponsive to any clicks, commands, any efforts to quit (outside of a force quit via a different window), nor will the top or bottom menu even appear. But it’s not a “crash”—the program will stay open and active indefinitely. Nor is it a traditional freeze—there is no beach ball and the program does not show “unresponsive”, nor does anything in the activity monitor look weird.
I have no rhyme or reason as to why or when it’ll happen, but more often than not it will randomly happen right as I’m pressing space to play after making basic edits. Most times it happens right after the video starts playing and the video will literally play as normal and KEEP playing as if nothing is wrong (play head will move and everything) despite the fact that, by all appearances, the program is totally locked up and not responding to anything I do. It’ll play and play (audio and all) until I command over to another window to force quit—no error messages, no crash, no beach ball, no “not responsive” in activity monitor / application menu, nothing. And only force quitting will close it.
It used to happen every now and then but recently, for whatever reason, it’s happening literally every 10-20 minutes, sometimes sooner, and I’m avoiding finishing projects like the plague bc of the frustration. It happened in my last project too, just not this much.
I’ve done everything I know how. I’ve deleted preferences (which has never actually solved anything for me in general lol). I’ve restarted. I’ve updated plugins. I’ve removed them and put them back in. I’ve swapped the project folder location to and from my internal and external storage (yes, it’s formatted correctly, and yes I have lots of space on both hard drives) and it happens the same regardless. I even downloaded the last update to MacOS just as a Hail Mary but it continued. I’ve not changed anything I can think of that would make this happen so often all of a sudden nor have I started using any new plugins recently. No, I don’t use Chrome, nor CleanMyMac.
I used ProRes proxy media in my last project thinking it would help since my camera footage is 4k h.265 (which apparently FCP doesn’t love) but it really didn’t change anything. This current project actually runs extremely smoothly so far even without proxy and my CPU/RAM usage are laughably small so it’s clearly not a matter of the computer working too hard. In fact, funnily enough, the project runs very smoothly set to “better quality” but somehow performs noticeably WORSE when “better performance” is selected which 😂😅 and regardless of which is used, this locking up issue still happens.
What could be causing this? And has anyone else experienced this? I can’t find anyone else online talking about it anywhere so I’m afraid I’m uniquely cursed 😅
I really appreciate anyone who reads this and gives me any insight in any way! 🙏🏻
Computer Details: 2021 MacBook Pro 16” M1 Max Chip 32GB of RAM 720GB of storage free out of 1TB macOS Sonoma 14.4.1 (happened on 14.3 too) Latest FCPX Version (10.7.1)

This one right here... https://www.reddit.com/martialarts/comments/1cm05tl/what_do_you_think_of_the_statement_bad_people_are/
It was fun so here's the long follow up. That bad advice that random older dudes kept giving me was the least worrying thing in those three hours of analyzing that church's security measures. I hit up a friend of mine that has a whole lot more security-specific training than I do just to see if I was overthinking things. Bro has taught me a lot, and I still try to make the trip once or twice a year to train with him. Between emails and a phone call I think I did a pretty good job of compiling our conversation. Most of the convo is also here but I'm not a shameless self-promoter on Tuesdays.
This isn't so much about martial arts or fighting or self-defense, but it probably is helpful and good discussion because a lot of you would hopefully give a crap about these same issues.
DC (Me): When I arrived I drove around the building and no one was posted at any of the 3 front entrances, at least not outside and visible. There was always someone at either of the 2 back entrances and the 1 north end entrance.
TF (The Friend): If someone is truly invested in safety they would have all doors covered, including the main entrance(s). Now maybe their thinking is the main entrance is where people come and go and it might be “uncomfortable” for visitors however we are talking about KEEPING PEOPLE ALIVE. To me that is worth the slight discomfort. And one way they could accomplish it without having to make it an uncomfortable experience is put “greeters” at the main entrance dressed in their Sunday best but they are actually part of the security response team. Those greeters need training in profiling, body language, situational awareness and of course the surface level expected things (firearm, hand to hand, situation specific training such as an active threat). Also does this place have security cameras? Security cameras need to monitor the entire property. And keep in mind people stake out places, plant things at places, etc during off hours. Cameras are a must. Want to make some money? Offer to install a system for them. I’ll help you.
DC: There was no mention to me of where first aid kits and AEDs are located in the building. I know where one AED is on the lower floor but it’s a 4-story building. Considering that I was outside the most heavily-traveled door, it would seem prudent for me to know where those are if I see someone get hit by a car or grab their chest and fall down.
TF: An emergency doesn’t always mean a violent situation. It could be someone suffering a heart attack, a child getting run over by a car driven by an 80 yr blind church goer or just a simple amputation of a finger because they are making sandwiches in the church kitchen. Every single floor needs to have multiple AEDs and COMPLETE first aid kits (that’s a whole class in itself – how to stock a first aid kit). I say multiples because you want quick easy access to one of those item no matter where you are at in the building. I don’t know how big the place is but even starting just by putting a complete first aid kit and AED at the N and S ends of the building is a good start along with training the congregation on CPR. You don’t need the piece of paper from a class, just get someone who knows how to come teach.
DC: Along the same line, no emergency action plans were provided. What to do if part of the building has to be evacuated for a fire or smoke? In case of severe weather or tornado threats what parts of the building should be evacuated and what are the safest areas to move people to until the danger passes? They might have these plans somewhere, but what’s the point if you don’t share them with the ones who would have to execute them.
TF: This is a mistake. There has to be an evacuation plan to remove as many people as possible from the building should something occur (fire, active threat, etc). If there are tornado shelters obviously that’s the safe spot for that specific situation. Many times the evacuation plan put in place can be used for multiple threats (active threat, fire, chemical spill, etc) because it’s about removing the people AWAY from the danger. And YES you are 1000% right those plans/routes need to be shared with EVERYONE in the congregation. When people do not know what to do or where to go there will be chaos, always. The people in charge might THINK they are going to be the go to person to provide guidance and manage the crowd but I will tell you when shit hits the fan no one is listening to them. People will be stepping on their own just to get out. With that being said, any evacuation plans that are created need to be drilled by the entire congregation. It could be done 10m before church for the next 6 Sundays to make sure EVERYONE knows the plan.
DC: It gets worse. There actually is no active shooter plan in place. Apparently some Lt. with the local police department will be doing an active shooter training in the future. I'll be in attendance with the lowest hopes in the room.
TF: This should be interesting and disappointing. My first question to him would be “What are your qualifications/experience to teach this? Have you experienced it first hand?”. Or is everyone looking at him because of his “label” which really means nothing other than that is his occupation that allows him to pay his electric bill. I have yet to see (other than myself) anyone put on a close to reality active shooter training session. Most people (law enforcement included) do powerpoint presentations. Unfortunately many “experts” teaching how to survive an active shooter situation think 4 hour Powerpoint presentations, statistics and cute acronyms are properly training people to survive one of the worst experiences a person could face. Powerpoint presentations do not save lives… ACTION saves lives! You know that though.
DC: Same with an active stabber, no plans there. Or at least no one could show me a plan.
TF: Same as the active shooter.
DC: Here's one you'll love. In the event of a person being violent, the directions I was given were to stay away, make a call over the radio, and let someone else come deal with it. They're also bringing in another security consultant (a former Navy SEAL, just like those three guys who all claim they killed bin Laden) to do de-escalation training at some point. I'm skipping that shit.
TF: I’ve always said if you can remove yourself from a situation that is the best way to increase your odds of staying alive. HOWEVER – there are some situations where immediate action is needed NOW! Especially if you are responsible for the safety of others the goal is to not only eliminate the threat but also minimize damage (limit the casualties). The other night we worked full blown knife attacks. I asked someone to demo with me. I slaughtered him with 20+ stabs/slashes in about 5 seconds and that was before he hit the ground and I mounted and continued. My point – the longer an event goes on the more damage innocents will experience. If you have time to go make a phone call then you have time to take effective action that works towards eliminating the threat and minimizing damage. Their suggestion to call someone else is so typical of people who have no concept of how violence really works (let someone else handle your problem…lol). No one cares for your life more than you do. It’s your responsibility. And regardless of what someone’s propaganda says about their label it still takes time to make a phone call, it takes time for someone to arrive and even when they arrive there is no guarantee they will even engage the threat. The overall goal for ALL VIOLENT ENCOUNTERS is to make the even AS SHORT AS POSSIBLE. The longer a violent event continues the odds of you leaving lessen and the odds increased causalities goes through the roof.
Poster's note: When he and I say we're going to train someone in knife attacks rather than knife defenses. The partner (the attacker) is going to be training on how to freaking stab you just as hard as you're training to resist being stabbed.. Rubber knife, protective gear and 100% stabbing vs 100% resistance, for advanced students, is a fun time. If you're wearing the pads you're going to get your ass kicked. He wasn't actually training his class how to go on stabbing sprees.
DC: This was one that’s not even related to fight skills or ability to engage a threat. There was not even a quick introductory rant on recognizing suspicious people or behavior. The more I talked to other volunteers the more I realized none of them had a clue.
TF: This is touched on in my answer to your first question. People who are determined to execute violent activity do not walk around with signs or flashing lights. It’s not always obvious like in the movies. They blend in and lay low until the moment to take action. These church people have no clue what they are doing. It’s all what I call “surface level thinking” meaning the basic stuff your average person who is inexperienced in the subject thinks of – “Get a police officer officer in our group to teach us something.” Teach you what? How to hand out traffic citations? “We have retired military this or that and retired law enforcement and a former rodeo clown who are packing heat during church.” Ok have they ever dealt with using their weapon when there is mass chaos and people screaming/running everywhere? Bullets only travel in a straight line and do not go around innocents if they are in the way. But just because someone has a firearm doesn’t mean they have the mindset to use it.
DC: You’ll love this one. 5 minutes before the church service let out we were told to call it quits for the day, before everyone in the building started filing out to the parking lot at one time.
TF: Do you mean the response team was training, etc and the church had you guys leave 5 minutes before the congregation got out? That ties exactly into my comment in question #1 about appearance/comfort level. Why hide it? Is there anyone in the church (or the world for that matter) that would disagree the world is getting more violent? Everyone knows it is… they’ve either experienced it or seen/heard news stories so why not put it out there that the church takes the safety and well being of their members SERIOUSLY? I have a saying I came up with once when I was talking to a place about active shooter training and they said it couldn’t be hands ons and they were hoping more for like a speaking engagement because their policy doesn’t allow physical contact. My response – “Until you put people before your policies, your people will continue to die.” And that’s just plain truth. Everyone is so worried about policy/comfort level they are putting that before the actual goal of saving people’s lives. If you are getting ready for a championship basketball game what should you do in practice? Play some damn basketball. Well if you are wanting to learn how to save your life/others in a violent situation what should you practice? VIOLENCE. Why would you do ANYTHING ELSE in practice than what you are preparing for? It’s not logical. I think the congregation would approve and love the idea that “their church cares”.
DC: On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate the building’s security measures? Is it fucked, or am I crazy and overthinking it because I am oddly OCD about details sometimes?
TF: I would give them a grade of 2 (at best) out of 10. You are 1000% on point on everything. You have training. You understand violent situations but you’ve been trained by someone and a group that has experienced it and knows how violence REALLY unfolds. The people who are in charge with this “security” policy at your church have ZERO experience and ZERO training. Imagine this - would you want a surgeon who has no education in operation and no experience to attempt to perform a life saving surgery on you? A question I would ask them is - "How SERIOUS are you about saving lives?"

I’m really trying not to be a downer because I am very excited for the game but I keep going back and forth in my head about pre-ordering the game because I would like to show my support for the 40k community but I’m actually a little shook about Saber Interactive developing this one.
The thing about Saber is they’ve virtually never produced a game that rates above 7/10 and it’s basically a coin flip that they produce games of that caliber at all. A good portion of their library has middling reviews. Well, I’ve played a few in the mid 2000s and 2010s and looking at their development library as a whole the first word that comes to mind is “derivative”. They make games similar to other games of their time but worse, somehow riding on the backs of giants and producing an inferior product with the advantageous foreknowledge of good game design. That’s not a great sign.
Their only real claim to fame is working on the Halo CE Anniversary and Master Chief Collection which definitely were not fan favorites on release but did eventually get much better. How much of that can be attributed to Saber’s involvement, I don’t know because they were part of a larger collective development team working with Microsoft Studios and 343 Industries. In general, they seem to be a company like Rebellion that specializes in porting games over but when it comes to making original/ licensed IPs they make lukewarm games or just kind of drop the ball.
I can tell they’re using some variant of the World War Z engine to pump out large hoardes of Tyranids on screen at one time and while that looks cool I have to wonder how intelligent the AI actually are because the AI in WWZ was not impressive and the enemy variety was sorely lacking. How much of that is lack of creativity versus engine limitations is kind of what I’m curious and worried about. I’ve also noticed in the 30 minute gameplay demo video they posted that a large portion of the game is combat-interrupting cutscenes/ setpieces. It seems like 5 minutes of fighting consistently gets interrupted by 3 more minutes of cutscene dialogue or forcefully panning the camera over to a point of interest. I felt like SM1 did a pretty good job of letting the levels run their course and maybe having a cutscene or 2. Don’t get me wrong, SM2 looks absolutely gorgeous but I almost think the devs feel that forcing the player to stop and gawk at the marvel they’ve created is somehow enriching the gameplay. It feels a lot more like dopamine edging by having these intense playable moments and completely turning off the adrenaline by having Titus gaze at some large structure or ship overhead collapsing, or having the crew stop to converse with some besieged Guardsman unit. Leave it up to the individual agency of the players to stop and gaze in wild wonder if that’s something they appreciate but otherwise keep your foot on the gas I’d say. What makes games intense is that they often don’t let up. The demo was just a bunch of tension and release in quick succession and I honestly was hoping more for a game with pacing like DOOM Eternal/ WH40K Boltgun. I know this game is not a boomer shooter but I’d like there to be good rhythm and pacing. I’d trade high octane co-op gameplay over visually/ technically impressive sightseeing any day.
I also noticed the game seems to feature the same linearity of SM1, which if I have one gripe about SM1, it is definitely that the game is practically an “on-rails” experience. There is very little in the way of freedom of exploration and almost all the “hidden” servitors and ammo caches were in painfully obvious places because they were often in the only other place the game would allow you to explore. It would be nice to be able to take divergent paths in levels or have larger arena style combat areas with rewards and secrets strewn about. Put a gun in a far-off artillery crater or stash a mounted gun up in bunkers that you can rip off the mount like in SM1. Also I would like secrets to be a little more thought out and rewarding. SM1 rarely utilized using melee weapons to break away barricades exposing secret areas and never utilized switches or levers to open secret pathways. Verticality was also sparsely used not only in general but definitely for the sake of hiding a secret way up top somewhere. I don’t know exactly what I expect from this I just mean to say I would want the levels opened up a little bit, and for rewards to be in places for players willing to take the time to find them. It would also be nice to have narrative setpieces that tell a story in secret areas like the Fallout Universe does. Let a secret path lead us to a scene of carnage or a tragedy or maybe even an ambush. So far we haven’t seen any of that.
I’m not writing off the game just yet but I would really like to be proven wrong about some of the things I noticed from the gameplay video. It’s hard to be excited in the age of modern gaming especially when we talk about preorders. I’d honestly like them to talk more about the beta key distribution date. I don’t even necessarily need to play the beta personally, but it would be nice to see a little more gameplay in the form of a single complete mission from start to finish.
What are your guys’ thoughts? Am I just being a pessimist? What concerns do you have? Are you guys excited? Am I worrying about nothing? I’d love to hear your feedback.

~Neptori~
A party was indeed hosted, set up to surround the burning mass of grass that the second creature had been hidden inside, the two severed heads spiked on massive rose thorns high above the half acre of angry flame were eyeless and toothless. Trophies for the queen’s pet Faeries and Fairies.
Tori was half certain she had seen a demon amongst the deadly, fake-friendly, party goers. His eyes didn’t just reflect the fire, they were made from fire. Sparks flew and skittered over his high cheekbones as they made eye contact in passing. A chill went down her spine, a warning and a threat.
She followed quickly after the queen, her gown had been replaced with a shorter gown resembling a white iris flower, the shoes of course matching to look like the stem. High, high heels that didn’t even touch the ground. They hovered over the ground as she fluttered her wings to stay just above her people. A subtle band of wild roses sat on her brow, Neptori only wondered about the thorns and how a flower could be so pale and yet so brightly yellow. Fluffy and tiny, the roses faintly resembled the clouds as the sun fell to make way for darkness in night.
Someone, at some point, had made sunflowers grow twice as tall as they were. They lined the main scenes of the party, their strong, velvety leaves bore golden, burning lanterns. An ashy pink smoke filtered flower shaped holes in the circular… those weren’t lanterns- fairies were nocturnal! Those were burning herbs, were they to keep predators away from the party or to heighten the pixie magic warping the sizes of everything. She took a light whiff taking in the earthy smell, the note of citrine and then the smell of honey fresh from a beehive… she suddenly felt very light. Shaking her head to shake the feeling, she finally caught up to the queen's side. Wings would have been entirely advantageous in this situation, Tori would have to do with waiting till the queen had settled on her throne at hearing distance.
Around and around the party they went, Tori being shown off like a prized pony. The queen didn’t seem to be too hated by her people, it was strange that she had said so earlier. Neptori pinched her brow trying to keep her thoughts from derailing. No, play by her rules and she will have to let Tori go. That’s what she would have to do. So around and around she went some more. Fairies drenched her in new garments. As they were the fashion capital of the realm, they were exceedingly horrified by a poor woman’s rags. Neptori accepted their gifts, too afraid to offend to deny the strange things they put on her. Her coat had been torn from her at some point, her trousers had been replaced with a purple petticoat and a pink pearl corset. Her boots were gone and her feet cried out in pain as she felt the dirt and clovers underfoot. As her toes dug into the soft heaven that was nature. A giggle escaped her, a scraggly cry really. It hurt but it was amazing. She couldn’t remember the last time she had taken her boots off. Her smell was ripe and rank but she didn’t care, her toes weren’t cramped up!
she turned to see if the queen could see- but there was nobody. Just an empty field and those burning herbs finally burning up. The smoke was so thin it fell in scraggly whisps. The morning air seemed too crisp and clean and untamed. She burst into a sprint down the path of trampled grasses. Strange flowers and shrubs had grown underfoot but they were walked all over by what must’ve been an enormous crowd. Then a light, brighter than the awakening blue overhead, the sun. The first rays yawned over the land, sending a golden and blue contrast into the world. She had never felt so at peace. So at one with her surroundings. Her face was numb and cold with it, or maybe the reverse but she was only paying attention to the awakening surrounding her.
The bees and birds and the fairies… everyone began to stir awake as slowly as if time was blinking awake with them. She just stared with watering eyes, taking in the magic that thickened in the air. The scent of apple blossoms washing over her as the land was engulfed in golden hues of every color. Then it was green. The sky was alive with fluffy white clouds, scattered across that simple barrier of blue. It was all so beautiful and it thrummed around her, in her veins it pulsed.
Everything just felt so right, then a shadow fell around her. She turned her surely very glassy eyes to find the queen standing a wreck before her. “There you are pet.” She said with a crooked grin. Her eyes were bright red and brought out the earthy green hues within her irises. Her iris party dress was limp and her band of fluffy yellow roses was gone.
“Wha- “What happened?” Neptori cried out as her knees came crashing down to the dirt and rocks and ashes and… what had happened? “Your very first fairy party it seems.” She waved a hand and the perfect scene made way for the glowing petal walls of the fairy palace.

I (23f) have been with my (24m) boyfriend for almost 7 years. When I was a teen and up until I was around 20 I wore a lot of revealing clothes. Revealing to me being crop tops, cleavage, short skirts, tight pants, and 6 inch heels. While I still don’t dress “modestly”, I don’t really show off much skin nowadays. My boyfriend plays sports at a men’s league, so the team mostly consists of older men with the oldest being in his 60’s and my boyfriend being the youngest. Most range from 30-40. I enjoy going to his games and hanging out with him and his teammates drinking beers after. I’ve been going to his games since we got together in high school, and I have very rarely missed a game in all of those years because I want to be there to support him. Some of the guys who he plays with are a little flirty by telling me how pretty I am and how they love having me in the stands, but I always thought of it in a dad way because they are literally all old enough to be my dad. I have never reciprocated but have been friendly. The oldest out of the bunch calls me kitten now and although it’s a bit weird I have just brushed it off because I know he loves playing with these guys. There was one guy who made a blatant flirtatious comment in front of my boyfriend, but he didn’t say anything and just laughed so I did too. A few months ago I missed a game because I was out at a bar with my friends and was in a dress and black leather knee high boots that are around 6 inches tall and are like socks against my legs. On the way out of the bar I noticed that we were very close to the rink he was playing at and asked if they could drop me off on the way home. I wanted to surprise him because I had told him I wasn’t going to make it to that game. Surprised he was. When the game was over he told me that I looked great and he was happy I was there. His teammates were also glad I made it and kept telling me how great I looked. They LOVED the boots, and that mostly dominated the conversation for the night when we were all sitting in the parking lot having a few drinks. Apparently after this night he started to become uncomfortable with the attention I was getting from them, but never told me. Aside from that night I have never worn something “revealing” or “sexy” to any of his games. Most nights I go from work and am in my work clothes which normally range from a dress/skirt to sweat pants or leggings. He had another game tonight and I was wearing a jean skirt that touched the tips of my fingers if held by my sides, a long sleeve sweater, and pink knee high cowgirl boots. Not a revealing outfit in my opinion. He said that I shouldn’t wear the boots because they would draw too much attention from his friends and that I was showing too much skin. This made me upset because I have told him before that he does not control what I wear, nor does it matter what I am wearing I will always get their unwanted attention as I have been since he started on this team. He has never told me that his teammates comments make him uncomfortable or that he doesn’t want me to come. We got in an argument about how me wearing “flashy” and “extra” outfits makes the team stare at me and make comments like they do and it makes him uncomfortable. He would rather me just wear jeans instead of the skirt I was. I said it would be better if I didn’t come to this game. He said that he’s glad I won’t be coming tonight, and that really hurt me. I have spent so much time and effort trying to be there to support him and he just doesn’t care that I won’t be there? At the moment I’m considering just not going to his games again to avoid this situation all together, but that makes me sad because I do enjoy watching him play. Am I putting him in the situation where his teammates are staring at me? I feel like they are going to stare regardless of my outfit choices, but he wants me to “tone it down” because it makes him uncomfortable. I’m not going to break up with him over this but I also am not just going to wear jeans or sweat pants to every one of his games because he doesn’t want to say anything to them.
TLDR: My boyfriends teammates are old flirty men. They tell me I’m pretty and that makes my boyfriend uncomfortable so he doesn’t want me to wear certain clothes in front of them.

My gf’s (f17) parents are very conservative and christian. I’m (m17) going over to their house for dinner tomorrow and I am so fucking scared. Religion is apparently very important to them and my GF said she is not allowed to date non-Christian’s. I’m an atheist (she is too but they don’t know that) and I dress very “punk”. I’m going to dress normal for tomorrow of course but i doubt it’ll make up the fact that I have piercings and purple hair lmfao.
I could lie and say I’m a Christian but I don’t know how in depth they will want to talk about it and I’m scared I’ll mess something up and they’ll know I’m lying and it’ll be so much worse. I only know the basic stuff about Christianity so
She’s scared too, she says she knows they won’t approve of me. It sucks. I want to be accepted by them. My family is pretty shitty so I always kinda looked forward to atleast having a partners family to like me but that seems unlikely atp. Maybe I’m overthinking it. If anyone’s been through this or just has general tips for meeting parents PLEASE tell me im tweaking out man
I love her very much! I just want stuff to go well!
Also I feel like a fucking cartoon character with this situation
TL;DR: I do not fit my gfs parents standards for a boyfriend and I’m going to have to meet them tomorrow

My gf’s (f17) parents are very conservative and christian. I’m (m17) going over to their house for dinner tomorrow and I am so fucking scared. Religion is apparently very important to them and my GF said she is not allowed to date non-Christian’s. I’m an atheist (she is too but they don’t know that) and I dress very “punk”. I’m going to dress normal for tomorrow of course but i doubt it’ll make up the fact that I have piercings and purple hair lmfao.
I could lie and say I’m a Christian but I don’t know how in depth they will want to talk about it and I’m scared I’ll mess something up and they’ll know I’m lying and it’ll be so much worse. I only know the basic stuff about Christianity so
She’s scared too, she says she knows they won’t approve of me. It sucks. I want to be accepted by them. My family is pretty shitty so I always kinda looked forward to atleast having a partners family to like me but that seems unlikely atp. Maybe I’m overthinking it. If anyone’s been through this or just has general tips for meeting parents PLEASE tell me im tweaking out man
I love her very much! I just want stuff to go well!
Also I feel like a fucking cartoon character with this situation

Mother’s Day was terrible. I don’t know why I’m updating this. Maybe it’s for the few people can sympathize.
A lot of the prior comments made untrue, horrible accusations about my wife.
My wife was never abusive or even mean, not in any state. It makes it so much harder to understand why our daughter would be so cold to her own mother.
My wife’s mental state before the accident had regressed into childlike behavior, which is concerning but not the cause of my daughter’s coldness. My wife would spit food out back into her plate, bluntly say it tasted bad and the wipe her nose with her sleeve like a child. I made the error of thinking she was having a midlife crisis because she bought an expensive dress because it was soft. She would forget to do things, her responsibilities.
Mother and daughter clashed because she would tell stories with no beginning and end, just rambling. She would ask the same questions over and over. She would promise to pick her up or bring something and forget. Things that would annoy a teenage girl.
The tumor were concentrated in the back of the head. When she got into the car accident, it made everything worse. She needed to relearn everything. She is still disabled.
We had high expectations for our daughter but she set them higher for herself. She had a dream school, where she wanted to go since she was 12. It meant that I had to chauffeur to so many activities throughout high school and sacrifice a lot to make sure she got the opportunities she wanted.
It meant leaving my disabled wife in a longer term care facility to hopefully recover. It was Covid so there were long stretches where we didn’t visit her.
When she came home, my wife was still largely nonverbal and wheelchair bound. She needed help with everything from eating to going to the bathroom. I earned a little as a caregiver on top of my regular job.
My daughter was so cruel and cold to her mother at that time. She would hate if her mother came outside with her and would later blame it on the wheelchair, saying it was bulky and attracted attention. She would ignore her mother and moved away to distance herself physically. I ended up getting a call from the school because a classmate had overheard what she said about her mother and reported it as ableism. I don’t know what she said. All I know is that she was very cruel to her mother.
I had her in individual therapy and we did therapy as father and daughter. It was her choice to stop.
My daughter ended up getting into her dream college. They had an accepted students weekend and she demanded that her mother stay home even though parents were invited. By that time my wife had made leaps and bounds in progress and was disappointed to stay home. I went and tried to be a proud father. At least she let her mother go to graduation.
My daughter came home a few days ago. Her exams were earlier. She informed us that she earned a research position with a professor for the summer. My wife was overjoyed, writing a card all on her own about how proud she was and she wished she saw her daughter grow into accomplished young woman. How proud she was to share this moment. My daughter looked sick with guilt. I know what that looks like.
On Mother’s Day, I made a comment that she couldn’t ignore her mother today. She told me to stop saying that. I made another comment about how proud her mother was of her and how much she loved her. I was doing it on purpose. It ended up with her saying she regretted what she did. I always had my suspicions. I interrogated her until she tearfully admitted she hated what her mother had turned into and she hit her mother once and she was ashamed to be around her because of what people thought. We got into a shouting match and she yelled at me that I was so focused on everyone else’s behavior because I regretted my own.
It’s true in a lot of ways. Because of Covid, there were limited visiting hours. But I still didn’t visit as much as I should have. I left my wife in a facility to focus on our daughter but also so that it would be easier for me. There are no siblings, no grandparents to help. I didn’t visit as much because I hated how much my wife would sob when I had to leave.
I started feeling guiltier when I read a news article about a nurse being sentenced for assaulting a woman in a coma. I thought about my wife. She was nonverbal, had limited short term memory, and wheelchair bound. I wouldn’t know what would happen. I tried to convince myself that it was fine but all I did was find more and more news articles about abuse at care facilities. I would have nightmares.
I pulled my wife out. I took months of work. I finally got her home. She was taken care of but not like I would have. There were a few knots in her hair, bruising, sores.
I won’t lie, the care was brutal. Now I had to juggle taking care of my wife and making sure my daughter was supported and able to reach her dreams. And it was hard seeing my wife like that. She was accomplished and intelligent and now couldn’t do a puzzle or eat on her own or go to the bathroom by herself. There was a huge learning curve and they assigned a nurse to come see my wife every few days.
My wife is so sweet. I attend a caregivers support group and I feel guilty because my wife doesn’t have the fits of temper or the rage or the depression that others did. I felt guilty for being tired. Some had it a lot harder than I did.
She got better and over time it was like she was almost back to her old self. And she never lost love for either of us. it hurts that she blames herself for how our daughter treated her. Maybe I shouldn’t have let my daughter focus on prestige and appearance so much, maybe I should’ve realized the signs early on and exposed her to others.
My daughter and aren’t speaking. My wife just wanted a happy family. I’m looking for therapy for us as a family.

I accidentally posted this to my username instead of my subreddit so here is is:
The Mortgage, Part 3
“Fuck,” I said as I drove to work in the old beater that only started on the fourth try because it could tell that I was pissed off. Ray’s case started at two o’clock, and I was heading to the office to get ready. “Fuck fuck fuckity fucking fuck. Fuck.” I’d wanted to tell Angela about Ray’s case, and how I was sorry that I hadn’t wanted to help him, but now I would, I would help him, and I would win, but then I’d gotten her all riled up on something else, something totally different, something way more serious.
My wife had given me a triple ultimatum: fix things up with her father, save idiot Ray from Sy-Co Corp., and somehow find a downpayment for the place she wanted to buy, in the little townhouse infill project in Bixity. It was like demanding I do a double bank shot, and then run over to the baseball diamond and hit a home run after first pointing to where it would land, Babe Ruth style.
Angela was mad at me, seriously mad. She’d slipped out that morning before I was even awake, sliding quietly past me on the couch. I didn’t realize she was gone until I heard the faint click of the front door closing. I jumped up, tripped over a blanket, and by the time I got up and my robe on, the elevator down the hall dinged, and Angela was gone before I opened the apartment door.
I swore at myself some more and pounded the steering wheel, “I fucked up,” I said, several times as I hit the wheel over and over again, until I accidentally honked it, and then looked all sheepish when the guy in front of me gave me the finger. I reached my office without further incident, but instead of walking in the front door, I went further down the hall, and into the office of Mark Cecil-Rowe, Barrister, LL.D, the man with the finest speaking voice I ever heard. When I entered his office I forgot for a minute about Angela and her father and sleeping on the couch the night before. I forget about everything, except the reason that I had come to Cecil-Rowe’s office: to stump him with a legal problem that I had solved, but which I was pretty sure he could not. In other words, I had come to preen and to brag and to boast. No one likes a showoff, and I had come to show off. I put my hand on the door and turned the knob. After a brief pause, I flung open the door.
“I’m a goddamn genius,” I said as I strolled into the older man’s office.
I noticed the echo of a hastily closed desk drawer hanging in the air. In Aaron’s office, where I rented space, a sudden act of concealment implied cocaine, but with Cecil-Rowe, the item in question was probably a mickey of vodka. I had the sense that he’d been drinking a bit before I arrived, but his powers of observation were unimpaired, and when he looked into my face, his expression showed sympathy, and actual pain.
“What have you done now?” he said, as set the papers before him to one side, and readied himself to hear my latest tale of legal brilliance.
“I’m a genius,” I said.
“Oh dear. Have a seat.”
“No really, I am. I’m a genius. I got this case that everyone says you can’t win, but I’m gonna win it, and when I do, I’m gonna look like a genius.” Cecil-Rowe gave me a sad indulgent smile.
“Whenever you tell me you’re a genius, I am always concerned about what is to follow. When you get wrapped up in what you call your genius, you tend to ignore the more mundane things we lawyers have to do to win a case. You think you’re going to win by genius alone.”
“Let me tell you why I’m a goddamn genius.” With effort I wiped the smug, self-satisfied expression that was on my face.
“Tell me why you’re a genius,” Cecil-Rowe said, “while I pour us a coffee.” He heaved his bulky body up from his chair and shuffled over to a counter. He picked up a carafe of hot coffee sitting on a hot plate, and poured two cups. “Speak,” he said, handing me one. I took a sip of the coffee, and told Cecil-Rowe the tale of Cousin Ray: his purchase of a franchise from Sy-Co Corp, its swift demise, the crash and burn in Commercial Court, the Minutes of Settlement, the seventy-one kilometer limit, and lastly, Sy-Co’s motion scheduled for two p.m. that very day, seeking an interim injunction shutting down Ray’s place.
Cecil-Rowe absorbed all this without the need to take notes. Instead, he sat back while he eyed me, taking the occasional sip of coffee, and smiling at the extravagant flourishes and details that brought out Ray’s story to full effect.
“Obviously Ray is dead on arrival,” he said, “but I guess this is the part where you tell me how you’re going to win.”
So I told him how I was going to win, but it didn’t have the desired effect. “I told ya I’m a genius, Mr. C,” cueing him to applaud, to admit what a brilliant lawyer I was. But there was no applause from Mark Cecil-Rowe. He looked at me without so much as a smile.
“You can cling to that genius notion as a consolation prize, after you get whipped this afternoon in court.”
“No way,” I said, “not a chance. I got this thing won hands down. I’m gonna kick ass in court today and--”
“And how exactly do you plan to do that, if you don’t have evidence?”
“What?”
“Evidence, Calledinthe9os. It’s what lawyers like me use to beat geniuses like you.”
“But I’m gonna win without proof. I don’t need proof. The argument I’m gonna make, relies on simple facts that are totally obvious, so the judge is gonna--” Cecil-Rowe stuck up his hand.
“Stop right there. I know what’s coming. You’re going to ask the judge to take *judicial notice.”
And he was right. That was exactly what I was going to do.
There are some things so obvious that you didn’t have to prove them, things that everyone knew. You didn’t have to prove that water froze at zero degrees and boiled at a hundred, or that Bixity was between West Bay and East Bay.
“You got it,” I said, “judicial notice all the way.”
“You’re going to tell the judge that the centerpiece of your argument, the lynchpin of your case is a fact known to pretty well everyone, and so you don’t need proof.”
“Exactly,” I said. Cecil-Rowe took another sip of his coffee, and left me hanging in the silence for a while before he spoke.
“If that’s true, then why does coming up with that argument make you a genius?”
“Oh, I said,”I didn’t think of that.”
“It is acceptable to rely on judicial notice for minor, ancillary points. But you never should walk into court thinking that the court will take judicial notice of your entire defence. It’s just too risky.”
“But how am I going to rustle up a witness in time for this afternoon?”
“Worry about that after you leave my office. I can’t help you with that. What I want to know, is why you’re doing this at the last minute.”
“What makes you think I’m doing this at the last minute?”
“Because you never would have resorted to judicial notice if you were properly prepared. If you’d opened this case a bit earlier, you’ve have everything lined up. But you got to work on it late, and so you want to rely on judicial notice. You’ve messed up, Calledinthe90s, and you know what my rule is when you mess up.” Cecil-Rowe didn’t extend aid to me, until I admitted the error of my ways. It was infuriating, but he was inflexible. So I fessed up.
“My idiot cousin Ray’s been trying to retain me for almost two weeks, but I was putting him off because I was mad at him. So now my wife’s mad at me, and if I don’t win this case, I’m dead. Plus her dad’s mad at me too and --” My brain roared into overdrive, a mess of family and law and fear, and at the centre of it, thoughts of Angela’s anger and her father. My mind took off, and then came to an instant halt at a helpful destination.
“Yes?” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Sorry. I just realized how to solve the evidence problem. Look, can I ask you about the thing I actually came here to ask you about?”
“You have a problem that’s worse than having no evidence? What could be worse than -- oh. You don’t have a retainer. Your client doesn't have any money.”
“Exactly. How do I get paid? That’s the problem.” I explained that Ray had no money, as in none, and that if he did have money, he wouldn’t spend it on me. Instead, he’d go back downtown and throw his cash at some big firm, who would take on his case, and proceed to lose it in a calm, careful, sober manner, ending in a reporting letter to Ray telling him that he’d lost.
“Now that’s a problem I can solve,” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Really? ‘Cause I can’t see a way around it. I think I’m gonna have to do this for free, and that really pisses me off.” Cecil-Rowe shook his head.
“You may or may not get paid, but you can set things up so that if you win, you’ll win pretty good.”
“How? Ray’s a deadbeat. Tapped out.”
“But is he desperate?”
“Totally. The first time he failed, he lost his own money, but if he goes under this time, he’s taking family money with him, and he’ll be the black sheep forever.”
“And he’s using family to emotionally blackmail you into helping him?’
“Like no shit. That’s the part that pisses me off the most. I’m like a goddamn slave, being forced to work for free.”
“Never fear, young apprentice. I have just the thing in mind.” He reached into a drawer, and pulled out a form. “Fill in the blanks, and have him sign.”
I looked it over, and saw that the document was a retainer agreement. I whistled. “Holy shit. If he signs this, he’s almost my slave.”
“Close, but not quite” Cecil-Rowe said, “the Latin term for this is "contractus pro venditione animae"”. It’s the ultimate retainer agreement. Once Ray signs that, you own any cause of action he has against the person suing him. You can settle the case on any terms you like, and you get to keep whatever proceeds there are.” Cecil-Rowe placed the folder back in a drawer, and from his manner you could tell that the interview was over.
“Awesome, Mr. C. I’ll call you from Commercial Court when we’re done.”
“Commercial Court?” he said.
“Yeah, Commercial Court.”
“This just keeps getting worse. Take notes, Calledinthe90s, while I school you on Commercial Court. Commercial Court is a jungle, and without preparation, you’ll get savaged.”
“That’s what happened to Ray when--”
“Take notes, young apprentice,” he said, tossing me a pad and a pen. He started to lecture, and I took notes that I have with me to this day, in a safe deposit box downstairs in the vault at Mega Bank Main Branch.
* * *
By the time Cecil-Rowe finished schooling me, it was close to ten, and the case started at two. I didn’t have much time. I ran down the hall to my office, and called Ray’s restaurant. No answer. Then I called Ray’s house. I expected to get Ray’s wife, but the man himself answered.
“You’re not at work. Why aren’t you at work?”
“Sy-Co Corp served all my employees with a cease and desist letter. They all got scared and took off. The place is shut down.”
“You gotta fax machine at home?” He did, and asked why.
“I’m taking your case, but only if you sign the paper I’m about to send and fax it back.” I sent the fax, and five minutes later it came back signed, and it was official: Ray had sold me his legal soul.
I went out to the parking lot, got into my beater and drove fast. In less than thirty minutes I reached my destination. I knocked on the door, and when it opened, my diminutive mother-in-law poked out her head. “What a pleasant surprise,” she said.
“Sorry, Mrs. M, but I’m in a super hurry. I gotta rush to get to court to help Ray. But first, I gotta speak to Dr. M.”
“He’s not here,” she said.
“Not here?”
“He’s on his way to his bridge game. He left just a few minutes ago.”
“Where’s the club?”
“He’s walking there,” she said, and pointed down the street.
“Thanks.” I got into my car and headed where Mrs. M had pointed, passing big houses and new project with an “Opening Soon” sign. And walking past it was the figure of Dr. M.
“Hey, Dr. M,” I called out the window. He stopped and looked around, startled. But he didn’t see me, not at first.
“It’s me, Dr. M. Me, Calledin90s.” He leaned forward as if to see me better. I got out of the car.
“Is something wrong with Angela? Or the baby?”
“No, no not at all, sorry to scare you, it’s nothing like that. I need your help.”
“Oh.” He started walking again, and now it was my turn to be a bit stunned, watching my father-in-law walk away from me. I caught up with him in a few quick strides.
“Listen, I really need your help.”
“And I really need to get to a bridge game.”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about Ray.” That brought him to a halt. He turned to me, angrier even than he’d been the night before.
“Did you drive all the way out here just to make fun of me? To remind me of how you won, distracting me with nonsense about Ray’s case?”
“I mean it,” I said, “I can win Ray’s case. I can prove it in a few words.”
“Prove it, then.” So I did. I spoke words, only a few words, but they were the right words to speak to Dr. M, for the words I spoke were in his language, words that he understood perfectly.
“I understand,” he said, “you’ve come to boast some more, to prove that you were right after all.”
“I want to win Ray’s case, but I don’t have any proof of what I’m saying.”
“You don’t need to prove that two plus two is four.”
“This, I gotta prove, and I need you to help me prove it. I need you to come to court with me, as my witness.”
“I can’t do that. I didn’t witness anything.”
“As my witness. My expert witness.” Unlike a normal witness, an expert witness can give an opinion. An expert is there not to advocate, I explained to Dr. M but to instruct, to teach.
“My bridge partner won’t be very happy,” he said.
“But Ray will, and so will Mrs. M and Angela and--”
“Very well. Do you have a cell phone? We can call the bridge club from my car.”
* * *
We were on the highway getting close to the downtown exit, when my wife called my cell phone. Back then cell phone service was super expensive and my wife only used it for emergencies. Or when she was really angry. I picked up the phone, wondering which it would be.
“I’m so happy that you made things up with my father,” she said.
“How did you know?”
“My mother called. She says you took him with you, that you went out together.”
“He’s with me right now,” I said.
“Where are you going?”
“To court. Going to court to win Ray’s case for him.”
“And you brought my father with you to watch?” She was so happy, I could hear in her voice that she was smiling. “That’s a great way to bond with him, Calledinthe90s. Look, I’m sorry I got so mad at you earlier, I really am. My dad’s a bit too sensitive and--”
“Sorry, Angela, your dad’s not coming to watch me.”
“Why is he with you, then?”
“He’s my witness,” I said.
“What?”
“His expert witness,” Dr. M said, loudly enough for Angela to hear.
My wife’s anger exploded into the phone. She wanted to know how I could expose her elderly, vulnerable father to the stress of a court case. I tried to tell her how I needed him, how there was literally no one else I could turn to, that her father was an expert, a true expert, and the judge was legally bound to believe him, but Angela heard none of this.
“Look,’ I said, “I promise you that--” And then I lowered the phone and pushed the red button, terminating the call. I’d learned that the best way to hang up on someone, was to do it when I was doing the talking. That way it looked like the call had dropped.
“I’m going to steal that move,” Dr. M said.
We rolled into the parking lot. I grabbed the cloth bag out of the back of my car, the bag that held my law robes and shirt and tabs, plus the other stuff I needed for court. It was one-thirty, still thirty minutes to go, not a lot of time to get robed and ready for court. It was just past one-forty five when I, with Dr. M in tow, opened the door to a courtroom on the eighth floor of an old insurance building that had been converted into a courthouse, the home of Commercial Court.
“Commercial Court is an exclusive club,” Cecil-Rowe had explained to me earlier that day, “the legal playground of the rich and powerful. They’ll know instantly that you’re not one of them.” And he was right. It was clear from the moment I walked in that I did not belong, for I was the only lawyer in robes. Everyone else was wearing a suit, and not some cheap thing off the rack like I wore.
There were a half-dozen lawyers present, and after they saw me, they exchanged knowing looks about the stranger amongst them. I ignored them, and walked up to the Registrar. I told him the case I was on, and he signed me in.
“First time in Commercial Court?” he said, eyeing my robes. “You know you don’t have to be robed in Commercial Court.” In other Superior Courts, you always had to bring your robes and get all dressed up. But Commercial Court had its own set of rules, and in the court for rich people, their lawyers did not have to wear robes.
“You’re here on the Sy-Co case?” a young woman asked. She was a junior like me, give a year or two either way. She was dressed in the finest downtown counsel fashion, some designer thing that Angela would know if she saw it.
“Just got retained,” I said.
“You know there’s no adjournments, right? We don’t do adjournments in Commercial Court. I’m just trying to be helpful, because I don’t think you've been here before. You know you don’t have to be robed, right?
“So I heard.”
“So where’s your material? You haven’t served anything, so how do you plan to argue your case?”
“I gotta witness,” I said.
She smiled. “There’s no viva voce evidence, either. Affidavit only.”
“We’ll see what the judge says.” There was a knock from the other side of the door to the judge’s chambers, and then the man himself entered.
I was amazed to see that even the judge wasn’t wearing a robe; instead, he was wearing a light coloured suit and a bright blue bow tie. He was dressed as good as the lawyers, all part of the downtown Commercial Court club, the playground of the richest and most powerful corporations in the City.
“Commercial Court’s not like other courts,” Cecil-Rowe told me earlier that day, explaining that most cases were over in fifteen minutes or less. A plaintiff showed up with some papers, and had a short consultation with the judge. The judge signed an order granting an injunction, or taking away a man’s business, or freezing his money. Commercial Court is where you went to get quick and simple court orders that eviscerated your opponent before the case even got going.
Defendants would appear sometimes in Commercial Court, Cecil-Rowe explained, but it was usually their last time up. Defendants always died a quick death in Commercial Court.
The judge took his seat, and then looked over the lawyers before him. His eyes moved along, and then stopped when they reached me, the one lawyer who was not like the others.
“You don’t need robes in Commercial Court,” the judge said to me.
“I’ll remember that for next time,” I said.
“What case are you on?”
I told him.
“He’s filed no responding materials,” my opponent said, “nothing at all.”
“I’m just vetting the list,” the judge said, “I’ll circle back to you two in a few minutes.” I listend while the judge vetted the rest of the afternoon list: a Mareva, plus a Norwich order, with counsel on those cases sent away in a matter of minutes.
Now the courtroom was almost empty, just the judge, two lawyers, the registrar and my star witness and father-in-law, Dr. M, who sat in the back of the courtroom dressed in an old business suit, put on hastily at his place two hours earlier, when I urged him to hurry it up, to not waste so much time on picking a suit.
“Back to you,” the judge said, addressing my opponent, “I thought this was an uncontested matter. That’s what your confirmation sheet said.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honour, but I didn’t know until I got here that the case was defended.”
“I got retained at the last minute,” I said, “barely three hours ago, the day after I read the papers. But I’m ready to go, ready to argue the case on the merits, so long as you grant me an indulgence, and let me call my witness, to let him testify in person instead of by affidavit, there being no time for me to draft anything.”
Opposing counsel was on her feet. “That’s not how things are done in Commercial Court,” she said, “or any court that I know of, for that matter. My friend (that’s what they make lawyers call each other in court, ‘my friend,’ even though you might hate the other guy’s guts),” the lawyer said, “my friend should have served his responding materials and filed them with the court. Instead, he’s taken us totally by surprise.”
“I’m sorry my friend is surprised by opposition,” I said, “but then consider, it’s my client’s livelihood that’s at stake. If my friend gets her injunction, Ray Telewu’s business is dead, and he loses everything. So yes, my client opposes the injunction, and yes, I’d like to call evidence.”
The judge didn’t consult the papers before him nor the books, but instead, he looked up at the big white clock on the courtroom wall. Its hands said two-fifteen.
“How long will your witness take, counsel?”
“In chief, ten minutes.” I’d practiced with Dr. M on the way in, and I was pretty sure he could do it in five, but I gave him a bit of extra time, just in case.
“We’ve got about two hours,” the judge said, “but I want to be fair to you and your client. Let’s take a fifteen minute recess so you can get instructions. Either we go ahead today with viva voce evidence, or we adjourn, and that will give Calledinthe90s time to file responding materials.”
When everyone came back, the junior’s boss was there, Senior Counsel, a heavy weight, one of those big guys downtown. Plus they brought this guy from Sy-Co Corp, the head of some bullshit division, with some bullshit title, Head of whatever, so that’s the title I’ll give him here. He was The Head. He was the man, the big cheese, the signer of the affidavit on which Sy-Co relied that day.
“What’s he doing here?” I asked Senior Counsel.
He stared at me, all lean and steel grey, looking every inch the hard hitting lawyer that commanded the biggest fees. “If you’re calling a live witness, then so can we. The Head will give evidence today, in advance of your client, so that the judge hears it from him first.” His junior smirked at me, and the two of them sat down, delighted that they’d thought of a way to one up me.
Except that they’d done it by exposing their client to cross-examination. The judge came in, allowed the Head to testify, and when he was done, I stood up.
“Just a few questions,” I said. Senior Counsel was stunned for an instant, and then he stood.
“This serves no purpose, Your Honour. The witness has confirmed the simple facts of his affidavit, and there’s no disputing it. Ray Telewu opened a restaurant less than seventy-one kilometres from Bixity City Hall, and that’s in breach of the Minutes of Settlement he signed.”
I did not bother to respond. Instead, I just stood, and I started to ask questions.
“Have a look at that map in your affidavit,” I said, and he did. I picked up my copy, and tore the map out of it. I passed it up to him.
“What do you notice about this map?”
“That it’s accurate,” the Head said, repeating his evidence in chief, amplifying it, talking about how the map contained perfect measurement.
“You will notice that the map is flat,” I said, laying it on the witness box before him.
“Of course it’s flat. That’s what maps are. Maps are flat.”
“But the earth is round,” I said, “or more properly, a sphere.” Senior Counsel was on his feet in an instant.
“What difference does that make?” he said.
“What you’ll hear from my expert witness, is that a flat map cannot accurately show Earth’s curves. A flat map distorts distances, and in this case, reduces them.”
“But that can’t be by very much.”
“In this case, by just over twenty meters,” Dr. M said from the back of the court.
“That’s my expert witness, the esteemed Dr. M.” I didn’t actually say Dr. M. Instead, I said his real name. But I’m not going to use the real names of my family here, so I’ll just keep calling him Dr. M. “Dr. M was a professor of Physics at the University of Bixity for almost thirty years. He has published numerous papers on particle physics, and is the first Canadian winner of the Wolf Prize for physics.”

• * * *

It went downhill after that for Sy-Co Corp. My father-in-law testified, explaining in simple language, language that even a child could understand, that the Earth was a sphere, that the shortest distance between two points on Earth was a curve, not a straight line. He summarized his calculations in plain English, dumbing down the math, so that everyone present imagined, if only for the moment, that they shared his understanding of a difficult mathematical equation.
Senior Counsel tried to cross-examine Dr. M, but it did not go well, my father-in-law indulging him, gently chiding him, continuing his explanations until the lawyer sat down, defeated by Dr. M’s mastery of the subject,his own lack of preparation and his inability to improvise. When counsel said that he had no further questions, the judge addressed us all.
“I’m not going to reserve, and I don’t think I need to tell everyone why. I think it will take about a minute for me to write a decision saying that the Earth is not flat. I’ll give you some more time after that, but after fifteen minutes, I”ll be back to render my decision.” He rose, everyone bowed, and he disappeared behind the door to judge’s chambers.
I pulled a piece of paper out of my file, and slammed it on the desk before Senior Counsel and his junior. “Fill in the blanks, and sign,” I said.
Dr. M’s head shot up at the commotion, and he shuffled over to see what was going on.
“What’s this?” Senior Counsel said, picking up the paper I gave him..
“Minutes of Settlement. You fill in a number, a big number, for the costs you gotta pay me. Your client signs, and then we’re done.” Senior Counsel opened his mouth to bargain, but I overrode him.
“You know your client’s going to lose; the judge made that obvious. Hurry up if you want to settle; we don’t have much time.”
At the end of most Canadian court cases, the loser has to pay at least part of the winner’s legal fees. That’s the way it’s been since forever, and I think it’s a good rule. Sy-Co Corp had lost, so it had to pay a good chunk of Ray’s costs, and Ray’s costs were somewhere between whatever bullshit figure I claimed they were, and where they actually ought to be. Senior Counsel took the paper over to his client. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back, with the form signed, and a number written in the blank space.
I’ll give it to Sy-Co Corp and their lawyer. It wasn’t a bullshit number, a low ball number. They gave me a real number, a number more like something I’d actually accept, a number that made sense to pay me in costs, in light of the success I’d had, and how I got it. It was a respectful number, a common sense number, and I appreciated it an awful lot.
I tossed the paper back at them.
“Add a zero,” I said, continuing on when Senior Counsel blanched, and his junior retreated a step. “I know what’s going on here. Your client sold mine a bullshit franchise, one with a history of failing.” The franchise had opened up again under a new owner not long after Ray had lost it and then it promptly failed again. Like I said at the start of this story, it’s an old story. It’s how some franchise companies make money. “Your client makes more money selling bullshit franchises doomed to fail, then it does from the honest ones that make money. So add a zero to that number, or Ray’s gonna sue you, class action and all that, for all the people you’ve fucked.”
The Head stepped forward from the benches and spoke to me.
“We get threats like that all the time, but no one follows through. They don’t have the money to fight us, and neither does your client. So go ahead and sue.”
“It’s true that Ray doesn’t have jack shit,” I said, “not a pot to piss in, but he’s my cousin, Ray is, and even if he doesn’t have money, he’s got me. Ray’s family, and for Ray, I’ll sue you guys for free. Hell, I’ll even pay the expenses. Plus I’m gonna put a jury notice in, too, come to think of it, ‘cause juries--”
Senior Counsel cut me off, and moved his client to the back of the courtroom. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back. I watched as Senior Counsel wrote a single digit on the Minutes, a zero, written right where I wanted it.
“You’ll have to initial the change,” I said to the Head of Sy-C0, and it gave me great satisfaction to watch him sign.
“Don’t forget,” I said the moment his pen stopped moving, “for the settlement to be valid, I need to get the money today. Right now.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” the Head said.
“Not if you want the settlement to stay in place. I’ll follow you back to your office, and you can put a cheque in my hands.”

• * * *

“What’s this?” my wife said when I entered the apartment later that day, after I’d driven Dr. M home, stopping first at a local pub for beers.
“It’s an absurdly expensive bunch of flowers,” I said, “although no flowers, however beautiful, however expensive, could expiate my--”
She took the flowers, and gave a kiss.
“My mom called. She told me what happened. You fixed things with my dad.”
“Yup,” I said. I had certainly done that. I’d made Dr. M a professor again, if only for a few minutes. Not only a professor, but an expert witness. The judge had declared him an expert in plain terms and Dr.M had beamed when he’d heard those words.
“And you won Ray’s case, too. But my mom didn’t know how, and I don’t know how you did it either.”
“I’ll tell you over dinner tonight,” I said.
“But we agreed no more dinners out; we have to save money, now that a baby’s coming.”
I passed her the envelope that I’d received a few hours before. She opened it, and took out a cheque, a cheque drawn up for an amount I specified, made payable to Mr. and Mrs. Calledinthe90s.
The moment I got that cheque, all I could think about was how my wife would react when I put it into her hands. I could not wait to see her eyes bulge, to hear her voice say “oh my god,” to hear her laugh.
She did none of these things. Instead, she cried.
“Does this mean we can buy a house?” The money wouldn’t be enough to buy a house, not nowadays, with prices being so crazy. But things were different back then in the 90s. Sure, the internet was barely a thing and cell phones were super expensive and a lot of things sucked, but I’ll give the nineties one thing: houses were cheap.
“I think so,” I said.

O.J. Simpson is gone-dead from cancer earlier this year. Rewind back to the 90's. O.J, or not O.J. depending on who you ask, stabbed his ex-wife and her boyfriend to death in Los Angeles. The whole country was subsequently held hostage with round the clock O.J. coverage in the wake of the murders*. Its all anyone talked about and there was no way to escape it. There weren't thousands of channels to flick to, or dozens of streaming services available to seek refuge-in far away from the insanity.
However, after his acquittal he seemed to simply fade from public view-absorbed back into the stained fabric of American society. That was of course before he was locked up for nine years in 2008 for attempting to rob his own memorabilia at gunpoint. So what was he doing with his freedom in the years prior?
Nothing. Well, almost nothing. In 2006, executive producer Rick Mahr, famous for the highly-cerebral Backyard Wrestling series, decided it would be a good idea to tap into the reality show boom with an MTV Punk'd themed prank show featuring O.J. Simpson.
It was a one-hour special that featured O.J. himself engaging in a series of pranks ranging from dressing in rags while selling oranges on the side of a highway, to him serving and insulting fat customers in a fast-food drive thru. At the end of the gig, he'd come clean and tell the victim with a smile "you just got Juiced!" Most of the pranks fell flat on their face: people sometimes didn't recognize O.J. or didn't understand the prank, or the whole idea was just too damn stupid.
But the icing on the cake was the skit where O.J. attempted to sell a replica of his white Ford Bronco, which incidentally was discontinued for years after the murders (but that's another story, you can see below for a few more details). The Bronco even sported a real bullet hole, which The Juice himself signed right above it.
O.J. seems to reflect on the whole Bronco chase as simply comical. Is this some dark type of new-age therapy? "It has great escapability!" he keeps informing customers. Does he admit that there was a dead body in the car? Was it him who placed it there? I have never heard O.J speak so candidly about details from the aftermath of the murders.
Here are some exchanges between O.J. and potential 'customers' as reported in the NPR This American Life episode 564-Too Soon?:

Man: Is there $10,000 in here?
O.J: Nope, Nope. No $10,000,
Man: ...You were carrying it, you know?
O.J: Naw, naw. They say that, I was carrying about $3.
Man: $3?
O.J: Yeah, that's why they never brought it up in court.

In another exchange:

O.J: It was good for me.
Man: Yeah?
O.J: Got me out of harm's way.
Man: ...Ok, I'll sit in it...there was a dead body in there.
O.J: Yeah. Well, um, hopefully there's no bodies in this thing. And I can guarantee you, the car has escape-ability. I mean, if you're ever getting into some trouble, and you've got to get away, it has escape-ability.
Man: (Laughing)

He'd be locked up soon after this aired. Apparently only about 100 DVDs ever sold, and there are no other details about the profits made from the pay per view event, or O.J.'s fee for appearing in the special.
All in all, it was a completely ill-conceived idea with even worse execution that somehow was spewed into existence. It reeks of a desperation for money from all parties involved, none of whom seemed capable of creating any well-written gags for the camera. However, it is memorable in the shock-value of seeing an accused murderer making light of the truck he rode in after he supposedly stabbed his wife and her boyfriend to death.
Most humans will live a rich, full life never knowing this even exists. For the woeful few who do see it, you can't help but leave with an overwhelming feeling that O.J. was a twisted and broken man at this point, straining to grasp at even the the slightest hint of his former celebrity and adoration.
\To most people born post 1980s, OJ Simpson was a famous athlete accused, then acquitted of murder who'd later serve time for a completely unrelated crime.*
But to the rest of us, OJ is the single most infamous athlete name of our lifetimes--the shockwave that was sent through the country when it was announced that his ex-wife and her boyfriend had been murdered in Los Angeles, was unprecedented.
Its impossible to recreate the magnitude of this mono-cultural event that was the OJ Trial, and words don't begin to describe the fall from grace of one of the most beloved sports stars ever.
We'll never be able to forget the image of the low-speed white Ford Bronco chase with dozens of police cars in not so hot pursuit, or the inhumanly long trial that fractured the country along racial lines, or the glove that don't fit (so you must acquit!).
To the younger generation: try to imagine waking up to read that one of the Manning brothers had been accused of bumping off their significant other. Maybe that serves to illustrate the disbelief that we were all hit with that one night in June, 1994.
After the 8 month murder trial (yeah, how many of you had forgotten it lasted that long?), OJ was a free man. Images of him happily golfing sent waves of anger through white America, who felt like justice was cheated by a slick defense team that highlighted the racist tactics of the LA police department. On the heels of the Rodney King video and subsequent riots, this was not only a brilliant strategy, but one rooted in a great deal of truth.
A civil lawsuit followed in which OJ was found responsible for the death of Ron Goldman and ordered to pay his family $33 million. To my knowledge, they never received a cent.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uOEcsIghRpg

I’ve been wanting to start this conversation with you for days. I just didn’t know how to utter the words to start. So I’m writing it cause that’s what I’m good at. I don’t know where your head is at when it comes to our relationship. All I know is your actions have put me in a space that I don’t want to be in. I’m lonely and I feel like we are roommates. I don’t feel like I have a husband. We don’t talk, we don’t touch each other, we aren’t kissing. I just feel the distance. I don’t know where we go from here. I don’t want to keep begging for what i feel are little things in this marriage. A part of me feels like you don’t care about me or my feelings. I wish i could get you to understand how small you make me feel at times. The insecurities that are in me when it comes to this relationship. I keep telling myself it’s my weight, it’s because i snore, maybe i need to dress cuter, maybe he wants me to get into makeup. I don’t want to do that in my marriage. I want you to want me and you are showing me that you don’t. That’s how i feel. I don’t want to feel like this. I’m trying to figure out if this is the hard part of marriage or is this the end.

My wife and I have been married for almost ten years and we have three kids together (8m, 6f and 5f). Since April last year my wife has experienced severe pain, nausea and cramps that has gotten steadily worse as time passed. At the moment she’s effectively bedridden for more than 12 hours a day and when she’s able to be up she can’t do much more than sit. She can’t walk more than halfway around the block before she’s in agony and can’t go further. She was recently diagnosed with PCOS, adenomyosis and endometriosis and will get a hysterectomy around the end of June, along with a colonoscopy and endoscopy in a couple of weeks.
I do all the meal prep, pet care, cooking, washing and cleaning for the five of us. I manage our kids full time on the weekends. On weekdays I start at 630 when the kids wake up and I get them dressed, eating, make school lunches with them, check their bags to make sure they have everything. I wake my wife up at 730 just before I leave for work and I’m there from 830-430. The moment I get home my wife goes to our room to rest while I make sure the kids’ bags and lunchboxes are packed up, make the house tidy, do the rest of their homework with them and cook dinner for them. After that I handle their bathroom routine, get them dressed and if there’s time read a bedtime story. Once they’re in bed I prep dinner for my wife and I and once it’s ready wake her up so we can eat together. After dinner I tidy things away and we talk or watch TV and try to relax. If chores and other jobs need to be done (bins, recycling, dishes, folding etc) I do those while she rests. After that we wash up and are usually in bed by 11 or so.
I chose to take this routine on, because I love my family and right now my wife physically can’t no matter how much she wants to help. I know things will be different after she recovers from surgery, but that won’t be until at least August and if surgery doesn’t get all the endometriosis there’ll be followup surgeries after that. The last week we haven’t been able to touch her without her twitching in pain and every night I’ve stared at the ceiling unable to sleep while she whimpers, knowing I can’t comfort her at all without making her suffering worse. I know it’s only an emotional reaction, but I feel rejected when I try and hold her while I’m asleep and wake up to her nearly screaming and pushing me away. Our intimate life is incredibly spotty and on the rare days where she’s not too bad we try and be together but even then I feel like I need to reassure her that she’s still loved and desired, it’s primarily to emotionally support her.
I don’t rest, or have time to socialise or exercise. The brief moments I have to play games are quickly losing all enjoyment for me. I’ve struggled with depression in the past and I worry that I’m going to end up back in that hole. I don’t know what to do.

Okay I know how this sounds, but hear me out first. Buckle in it’s gonna be a long one. My boyfriend, R (23M) and I, CK (24F) been together a little over a year and a half although it certainly hasn’t always been easy, we get along pretty well. My only complaint is that he is nice, too nice. He always bends over backwards for people who don’t deserve it AKA, his family.
My boyfriend is in college, drives a beater car, and works part time and a convenience shop, so to say he is broke is kind of an understatement. That doesn’t matter to me though, because I love him madly. This relationship is the most constructive and healthy connection I have ever been in. Anyway, we both live at home because rent prices, among other things are way too expensive. My boyfriend loves his family. It’s one of the qualities that really attracted me to him, because I do not have a good relationship with my own family. Although it was endearing at the start, I now think they are taking advantage of him.
He is a personal chauffeur to his unappreciative little sister. He is constantly cutting our time short to go take her to hair appointments that he pays for, work, school, shopping, and anywhere else she wants to go without any notice for FREE. I don’t think I have ever heard her say thank you to him. Half of the time we are together when she calls him so he has to use my car to take her places. More of the same with his parents, when they call he magically transforms into an InstaCart shopper or a DoorDasher before my eyes (cue eye roll.) They also think we spend too much time together, so they have recently enacted a curfew which I think is outrageous considering he is a 23 year old MAN and he does so much for them. All they do is command him to do things, and he does it no questions asked.
His birthday was last week right before Mother’s Day. Unsurprisingly, no one in his household bought him a present for his birthday. I, of course, got him a gift and a mini cake for his birthday to make him feel special and appreciated since he does a lot for me and my son. He took it home and placed in the fridge and jokingly said “I hope no one eats it.” When he said that it absolutely ticked me off, and of course a day later before he could even have a piece, they demolished it. I know it may seems minor but, his family has a habit of taking things from him without permission. For context, one Christmas I bought him a set of cologne and planned the two of us a trip for new years. We had an amazing time together and it really solidified that this is what I wanted in a relationship. Long story short, we came back from our trip, he went into his room to see that the very expensive cologne I bought him was now missing. My heart sank when he told me this. I told him straight up he needs to stand up for himself and if this continues he is allowing them to continue this behavior. But as always he turned it into a joke.
Anyway, we had plans today. We were both off work, which is rare. We haven’t really had much time to celebrate his birthday from last week because like I said previously he works at a convenience store and has crazy hours, while I work a 9-5 as well as caring for my son who is in Pre-K. We have both been raving about a posh little restaurant downtown that we have wanted to go to for quite some time now. I wanted to make a reservation for lunch because I knew for sure his sister and my son would be in school, so we were completely free for a little while. I mean it sounds like it would all work out right? WRONG. It never does.
His sister typically gets out of school at 3:30 PM then she goes home to get dressed for work and needs to be dropped off there around 4:00-5:00 PM. Keeping this in mind I set our reservation for 12:30 PM. Anyway we get there a bit late, but we were still able to be seated and our lunch went well. We were near a mall with time to spare, so we decided we would stop by to window shop. We walked around for a bit and the time flies by. Suddenly it was 2:30 PM his sister goes absolutely crazy and blows his phone completely up. I asked him was everything okay and did we need to leave since we drove my car there together. He insisted everything was fine and we continued our shopping. I curiously asked him what time he planned to leave and he said we would go at 3:00 which was fine with me.
We lost track of time and we ended up leaving later than intended at about 3:15 PM, but we were only about 20 minutes away and we wouldn’t have her waiting very long. As we’re driving she is still going crazy blowing his phone up constantly asking where he was as he was driving. I was getting annoyed because we were going to go and get her in my car, when she’s so unappreciative of her brother and his efforts to keep her happy and to help her. I held my tongue though because I could hear the agitation increase within his voice as they spoke and I felt as if I would only make things worse. My boyfriend is very sweet and it isn’t often that he gets angry, so she was really pushing his buttons.
She called him a whopping 10 times during a 20 minute drive, and at one point they had a screaming match on the phone and he told her, “You knew I was busy and not at home, why didn’t you ask one of our parents to get you if you wanted to be picked up without having to wait?” Their house is only 8 minutes away from the school so I was beyond ticked off and annoyed at this point. When we finally arrived at her school admittedly a little late, she is nowhere to be found. We waited for a while for her and he called to see where she was, apparently she caught a ride from a friend to be dropped off at her aunts house. The rage I felt in that moment was unparalleled. If they could take you to your aunts house why didn’t they take you home?!
Anyway within the commotion I asked him to swing by my son's school so we could pick him up. I then asked him which one would “come first” purely referring to the geographic location of each person considering I didn’t want him to waste any more of my own gas. I guess I used the wrong choice of words.
He replied to me with something that stung me down to the core. He said, “My sister and my family will always come first.” He saw the surprised and hurt look on my face and quickly added, “but this is your car we can go get him first.” I was taken aback by that statement. I understand that family is blood related, but these people do not respect your time, privacy, hell even your freedom. After he said that the rest of the car ride was a blur and I truly felt like I was overreacting at first. We planned to take my son to the park after we dropped his sister off but I ended up telling him I didn’t feel well and we had to cancel. I’m at a loss here guys. Do I have any right to feel hurt by what he said to me? I mean this is the man I planned on creating a family with, becoming old with. Now I’m not so sure. Help me out here and lmk if I am the A-Hole.

I (31F) and my husband (34M) have been together for 7 years now and 7 months ago we had a kid and I gave birth to our daughter.
It took 16 hours and I can for sure say that it was the worst pain and discomfort I have ever felt in my life. Pretty much right after I gave birth to her he asked the doctor how long it would take before I could have sex again which is probably a red flag I should have seen sooner. When we came home he was pretty withdrawn but I thought that maybe being a dad was just new to him and that he would be back to normal soon.
After 2 days of him acting like this he sat me down and said that we needed to talk about something. He told me that just because I can’t have sex doesn’t mean that he should have to suffer because of it and that we should have an open relationship. I think that if he did this before in the relationship I would have broken up with him instantly but because of the fact that we just had our daughter and because I didn’t want her to grow up with divorced parents like I did I said yes to it.
Not even a few days later he started going out with a coworker who I have questioned him about having a crush on earlier. The only thing that I did for 6 months was pretty much taking care of our daughter and crying. I was a complete mess and the only thing that was keeping me alive was my beautiful daughter. It was at this time when his coworker broke things off with him after she got back with her ex. I was pretty happy about this because it meant that he would be more involved in our daughters life so that I would have less stress.
Since he was home most of the time now I decided to get on dating apps so that I could have a break from dealing with all the stress of being home all the time and raising a baby. I was pretty surprised by the amount of matches I got especially when my husband had complained to me earlier about how he basically had no matches on dating apps. I found a pretty handsome guy on there who was 41 and we agreed to go on a date. I didn’t tell my husband about this until the night of the date when he asked me why I was dressing up.
I told him about the date and he became hysterical. He told me that I was cheating on him and that I never loved him if I did this to him. I pointed out to him how stupid he was acting because of the fact that he was the one who suggested an open relationship in the first place. He was just shouting at me not to go but I went regardless and I had a great time on the date. Since then for a month I have been going out with him and my husband has been begging me to end this and to get back into a closed relationship.
I feel kind of bad for making him feel like this but at the same time I feel like he is only getting some deserved karma so that’s why I am looking for advice here. So AITAH here?

Okay so. Hi. I’ve posted on these types of subreddits on and off for a minute and the results have been pretty good. Truth be told I’ve met some of my bestest pals online and I love knowing I’m like a click away from someone I can chat with. I love sending and receiving snail mail but maybe we can start with some chats and see how that goes and maybe move to Snapchat or something idk.
Anyways. Me. Well, I’m 38, from BC, Canada close to Vancouver. I work as a clinician in healthcare and have worked in healthcare for 14 years. Previous to that I got my BA in English. I’m a published writer and poet - nothing crazy like novels but a few short stories and articles here and there. I’m also an avid photographer and got my start on the high school yearbook where I was free to be the weird girl dressed in all black lugging around a camera.
On the subject of black clothes, I consider myself a recovering goth. I’d probably fit in with an alternative label but I don’t truthfully see myself that way anymore. I’ve got tattoos but so does just about everyone now a days so whatever - I don’t feel they’re particularly interesting. Same thing with piercings etc
I’ve had people say I’m death obsessed and maybe that’s true. I’ve seen a lotta people die and I think about it a lot. I’m very interested in antiques and vintage items and consider a hobby of mine to be thrifting and I’m on a first name basis with the ladies at a few thrift shops. I’m definitely an aesthete. I love home decor and fashion. I make a lot of clothing and other items. I definitely have a “how hard can it be attitude?”
I’m into animals and have two cats who are useless shitbags who probably should get jobs but they haven’t yet so I’m stuck paying the bills.
I own my own home, I don’t drink any alcohol and haven’t for something like 12 years now. I don’t use any substances recreational or otherwise. If I’m feeling wild and out of control I might share a menthol cigarette with a friend outside a dive bar just for the drama of it all.
I’m an Aquarius, INTJ, if any of that is meaningful to you.
I go through phases and hyperfixations, and some current ones are:

1. High altitude mountaineering. Not that I’d ever do this myself but I love reading about and listening to information about Mt Everest.
   
2. The Chris Watts murder case
   
3. Tudor England
   
4. 1700s France
   
5. Olive Oatman
   
6. How dementia is addressed across cultures
   
7. Why Tom Hiddleston looks like a sickly Victorian chimney sweep
   

Anyways there’s probably more but this post is plenty long. If any of this seems interesting please send me a message.
On and btw, I’m attaching a selfie idk
me on some Flannery o‘Connor shit

Blachowicz here.
Kept yah’ waiting, huh? Heh, sorry about that one, but I can explain. As we all know… we lost a few good men the last few months.
That’s the brutal part of a hybrid war like ours: We’re fighting a foe unconventional, with half our arsenal tied down because those who grant us authorization are either in disbelief of the true facts, or scared… or already assimilated. That being said our momentum recently was a change not seen in years, and because of that… despite the losses we have garnered, we were close through a breakthrough. One last night Krol pulls myself and other two must trusted squad leads into the back of our COP. There is one of our equipment cages, surrounded by m-bitter radios, tripods, and several hundred thousand dollars of equipment he brought us around a simple worn table. Before us he laid a map of eastern poland… red markings indicating cells that seemed to dot the countryside like a pestilence, or used to… as deep gashes of advance from raids had trisected their lines, even if ones did pop up in the interior.
It was a back and forth; an outside virus infecting Polska at it’s heart, and we were the antibodies sent to drive them out. To which… Major Krol points to one of the largest symbol on the map: a dark red diamond, the NATO symbol for an enemy unit, deep inside of an untouched wooded area, adjacent to a mountain ridge. Several jagged lines indicated entrenchment, with red horizontal lines indicating possible enemy control… or our contested control, for over 20kms surrounding it. Letting us all look, the Major lit himself a cigarette.
“Sir, you sure it’s wise to smoke in here with the dive tanks just behind us” 1st Squad’s lead quipped. “Fuck off” Krol dryly said.
“Alright… this is it… this is the one we’ve been searching for for years, this is the nucleus my predecessor commander died trying to find” he says, pointing to it. Not far from Zamosc, it was almost touching the border with Belarus, the contested area indicating the Strigoi did operate over it… indicating one of the largest spill through points. “-It’s an old soviet bunker, made during their 1960s initiative it was designed to hold the munitions and manpower of several units in the event of a NATO first strike” Krol explained. “It’s gotta be massive then…” I said gazing at the map; “Didn’t the army demolish all of the old soviet hulks near Belarus to prevent any infiltrations?” 3rd Squad’s lead asked. “National Police took the effort over… and by extension, the Strigoi. It was halfway demo’ed before they burrowed into it and have been using it as a bridgehead ever since. This is it…” Krol said. He looked around at all of us, a sense of certainty I had never seen before as he blew smoke from his nostrils; “We’ve been fucking around in the dark for so long, it’s hard to believe we’ve made any progress, but this is it. With this gone, this will set them back over a decade and the momentum will finally shift into our favor… into Poland’s… -Europe’s”.
I swear there was almost a flash of joy, of pride in his eyes and a phantom of a smirk before reality set back in “That being said… we can’t leave this to chance, especially not something as important as this. We’re going to have to go there ourselves… clear through every inch of that place, and tear it all down, piece by piece. I will be straight with you all… when we go, there will be some of us that aren’t coming back. -but we are going… a whole generation is counting on us, and unborn billions rely on us to succeed”. We all nodded, a silent agreement washing over us as we took this upon ourselves. Echo-1 spoke up: “So… They’re authorizing a raid? How big?”. “We’re rolling in as a hard target, armor, explosives, and air support” Krol answered, taking a drag off his cigarette. “Aviation? How the hell did we get that approved, we’ve gotten attempts shot down four times due to those leeches” I said in disbelief. “There’s too much evidence here pointing to the human trafficking tied to their actions… We’ve finally got too much weight pinning them down, to keep the hammer from slamming into their necks” Krol chuckled. He looked around “Any questions?”. “When?” Echo-3 asked. “Three hours. We’re hitting them in the dead of night, only time we could get the birds authorized. Get your boys ready. We’re rolling out” Krol said, dying the cigarette bud out on the table. I can’t begin to tell you the euphoria we felt leaving that cage, as our men started arriving, they did so a lot quicker, and with their heads a lot higher than they had in weeks. As Second Squad’s lead we were going to be one of the main arms of attack into the bunker, thus I made sure we had a breacher loaded with enough thermite, charges, and tools to cut through anything. Our shield bearer we ready to go, as was our assaulters, grenadiers, and machine gunner. I double checked each and everyone of their weapons; ensuring the feeder paws of our squad’s belt fed were intact, making sure every breach charge we had was properly set and packed. There was going to be no mistakes, no slip ups. The margin of error needed to be the smallest it had ever been for us tonight if we were going to make the gore spilt worth it.
Finally… there on the outside of the building, the bright LED lights kept the darkness of the ensuing night at bay as the roar of our MRAPs could be heard. It was said once that war is 99% peace, and 1% chaos, they were right. The slow periods where the blood slowed and the doubt creeped in was the worst… yet we all kept it at bay. We needed to, there was going to be no backing down tonight. All three squads were up, all of us ready to go… we circled up… short stares and shaky nods telling us one things: We were in this together, till the end… the finish line so many before us had been searching for, we were being granted tonight.
A single set of footsteps could be heard as we turned, Major Krol stepping into the center. He took the last drag of a cigarette, throwing it down to the ground and stamping it out onto the damp concrete. He looked around… his chin strap blowing in the weak air as he met everyone of our gazes… then mine… then looked around. “I want you to remember every detail of tonight, as you have every other night… when you are situationally aware, scanning for the enemy, liberating the subjugated, I want you to remember the sting of anxiety, the shake of adrenaline, the chill of the bunker, the heat of your weapon as it cuts them down… because tonight we are going to write every fine detail of our victory, their defeat, in history…” Krol’s words echoed deep into our souls. He paused for a moment, staring around he looked down… a small pause before he said “When you are ruthless in combat, remember to be patient, and reserved in victory. This conflict is for our existence… a lot of innocents have bled due to the mistakes of those who failed to listen, a lot of our brothers are now laid under because we had to bridge the gap of uncertainty with their lives. We remember them now… but in an hour? We forget them… when we raise our barrels, when we cut into those foes, and we liberate Polska!! This does not end tonight, but history puts everything in it’s place, and patience is the companion of the victor… All of our hard work will be cemented, no matter the obstacles we face in that darkness… no matter the demons, the blood, no matter what incomprehensible horrors, we will make them comprehend that to invade our land, to bleed our people, the justice will be paid in full… Load up. It’s time*”*.
The purpose in our steps was heavy as we climbed the back ramps of the MRAPS; Four of the heavily armored vehicles, one for each squad with an additional for attached personnel including our JTAC, the term means Joint Terminal Attack Controllers. With air support requisitioned to us for this operations, there needs to be a definite liaison on the ground who can directly communicate to the birds, and coordinate their fire and progress. I’d worked with many of them in the past, resourceful guys, quick thinking though I guess that comes with the position they hold of needing to quickly figure out what bombs to drop, on which target, at what precise points, whilst taking contact. He loaded in the lead vehicle with Major Krol… and soon, our convoy kicked off.
The drive was several hours as myself and my squad sat in the back of that forty ton goliath, the rumbling of the engine keeping us awake as the crap heater fought to keep the cold from the outside frost from setting in. I looked around to each of them, some were catching some sleep because even with the circumstances… better to get all the energy you can, than to stay awake for nothing. Others were checking their weapons… My gunner locked eyes with me, the same one from the village extraction… many of these men I had trained with for a while now, fought with for months.
We may have met on unconventional circumstances but those in JW Grom thrive on austere chance and create opportunity from scratch. I was pulled from my thought by the sound of a transmission, my peltors were set up for dual comms so I could both receive information from the Major and other leads, whilst communicating with my team.
Krol himself sent out: [“Approximately 10 minutes from enemy AO…”]. As the rest of the squads acknowledged, I quickly sent out [“Echo-2 Copies”], before kicking the boots of any of them sleeping: “Look alive, we’re here”. Through the exterior net armor of the MRAPS, and the bars protecting the small reinforced windows, we could barely see jack shit. I reached up, turning off the overhead light as we all looked through our nods to scan the outside. A dark wall of dense trees was shown before us, making it difficult to see… in addition to night vision capabilities we had also requisitioned ourselves some thermals… when mounted onto rifles they were bulky, made it a pain to aim down quickly, but considering the supernatural capabilities of spotting our foes we needed every advantage necessary.
I flipped out one of my tubes… scanning the outside with my scope. I looked over to one of my assaulters who had been assigned to man the turret of the MRAP, seated near the view screen as he controlled the 50. Cal. Each of the vehicle turrets had been assigned a direction to cover… we took the 9 o’clock, the left flank. “See anything?” I asked. He shook his head; “Negative… wait… I’ve got two cold signatures, front left heading to our rear”.
I quickly scanned the far tree line, at approximately 60 meters off our left were two cold signatures… followed by a third heading to our front… then another. They were surrounding us, moving at speeds so fast I could barely keep my reticle on them. Is this what the National Police saw? What they faced at that lodge without the benefit of a foot of heavy armor protecting them on all sides. Then… suddenly. Something slammed into the side of our MRAP so hard, it caused it to shake. From over the leader comms, Echo-3 quickly shouted [“Contact right!! 4 hostiles!!”].
One of the Strigoi… so bold, had charged and slammed into the side of our MRAP. I quickly looked to see the figure, a dark blue mass of cold energy through my thermal, back away without so much as a stagger… as they tried to flee into the woods, the white hot justice of Echo-3’s gun fired at them, cutting them down. “Blachowicz I’ve got a few breaking for our vic” my man on the turret called out, I spun around, spotting out the window.
Just then, Major Krol announced [“weapons free, watch and shoot for targets of opportunity…”]. I turned to him… “take those fuckers out-”. Without hesitation my vic’s turret began to quickly target them, and through the darkness I saw a stream of outgoing fire bisect one of them, the ISR of the black blood freaking out the optic so badly it didn’t know what temperature to register it as… but it did register it. As another was cut down, one broke through the tree line and latched onto the side of our MRAP. The thing tore at one of the outer net armor panels, usually made to stop RPGs. It grabbed at the bars near the windows, tearing one off… I lowered my rifle as we locked eyes through the reinforced window.
The thing… the Strigoi looked at me, skin cracked as putrefied muscle fibers seemed to leak through dead flesh. It’s teeth were corroded and worn down to sharp fragments, alongside newly mutated fangs that messily protrude from the jaws. Even through the thick walls of the MRAP I could hear it’s roar, as it then tried to punch it’s way through… it cracked the outer coating of the vehicle… but it wasn’t getting anywhere near. My machine gunner, seated next to me, seemed to chuckle at the sight, quippily saying “Yeah… fuck you too”. It’s then our vehicle lurched upwards, as we began to climb the small incline of the bunker. I knew the layout, mapped it in our head, the main entrance was built into the rocky side of an old cliff meaning we could easily set up a defensive perimeter around it, a horseshoe. Krol’s vehicle was first, taking to the right as Echo-3’s MRAP followed. My vehicle, third, left the incline and took a left and… that’s where things got complicated.
We’re still trying to work out what happened but… from what Joakim says his drone captured. Right when the MRAP turned, several of the monsters quickly slammed into the side of the vehicle, as another more bulkier one, pushed at it’s undercarriage. The result.. Was the 40 ton armored vehicle tipped over. It wasn’t uncommon, hell in some cases a well placed IED, a good shot with a recoilless rifle, have been known to tip over Oshkoshs and Maxpros all the time. But this beast? Needless to say we barely had a second to comprehend it as it leaned to the left; “Grab on to something-” is all I had time to shout. A mess of gear and men spilled onto one side of the vehicle as it slammed into the old gravel and dirt.
Several of my assaulters, my grenadier planted right ontop of myself and the others as we came to a stop. Someone’s knee slammed directly into the side of my skull, causing me to dazily bob in and out of consciousness as my face was smushed against the glass of one of the windows.
Through my peltors, the other squads were erratic;
[“Echo-2’s vehicle is down!!”].
[“Echo-3 to Echo-2… Echo-3 to Echo-2…”].
Krol’s voice came through the comms;
[“Echo-Lead to Echo-2… Fuc-... Echo-1 secure Echo 2’s flank, Echo-3”].
[“Echo-3 to other units, they’re spilling through, I’ve got several enemy combatants converging on Echo-2’s vehicle”].
I pushed the legs of my grenadier off my head as I fought to my hands and knees, unfucking my nods as I looked around… “Fuck it… we’re going lights on, shield your eyes” I muttered as I reached for the overhead lights and flipped them on. The bright LEDs bathed the inside of the vehicle as we all gained our bearings, a mess of multicam, gear, and weapons as we quickly pushed each other off. My gunner caught as he fought to realign his promask, from what I gathered one of the assaulters had landed directly into his gun, pushing it directly into his jugular, as pulled back at the rubber and coughed, freeing up his esophagus. We didn’t have time to think however… the sound of bending metal caught our attention… as the back ramp door of the MRAP was ripped clean off. I could barely believe it but as the white light of the MRAP’s interior poured to the outside, a hulking mass leaned in, the dead flesh on it’s face nearly fallen off as the hideous Strigoi leaned inside.
Without hesitation I aimed took aim, yelling “Keep to the deck!!” to any of those inbetween myself and the invader as I opened fire. A burst of full auto fire tore through it’s collar and neck, my men quickly clung to either sides of the fallen MRAP as a few more fired out. As the thing backed up, a blast of .50 cal fire quickly tore it to shreds, along with several others as I realized they were fuckin swarming over the outside of our vehicle. Echo-3’s vehicle continued to carefully fire on the Strigoi on the outside, the sounds of .50 cal ricocheting off the outside of our armor was enough to make the pucker factor set in.
[“Echo-3 to Echo-2”].
[“This is Echo-2, we’re green on ammo, equipment, men”].
[“Roger, we’re shifting fire, exit the vehicle”].
“Hurry up let’s go!!” I barked to my men, leading the way as I staggered out. I turned on my peq, taking aim at silhouettes in the brush as I began to fire. The sounds of machine guns lighting up the brush, as a sea of growls, howls, and incomprehensible roars fired back at us was the ambient noise of the night. My men quickly exited, my gunner being the last as he and I pulled back to the rest of the defensive perimeter. I set in my men to take up the frontal security, as 3rd squad took the right flank, 1st squad to the left. Major Krol and the JTAC were bickering with each other; “How far out are the birds”. “They’re entering airspace now…” Joakim said, already scanning his smart book.
I asked “What’ve we got?”. He then flipped through… to the NATO combined arms segment, quippily saying; “Apaches…”. This caused me to pause as Echo-3 turned their head whilst directing their squad’s fire “The hell… where did we get apaches from?”. “The Americans… they volunteered” Krol said dismissively as he took aim at the darkness, firing off a controlled trio. “Volunteered? They’re aware of what’s going on?” I asked.
Krol seemed to stop, glancing back at me before returning his focus “There’s a lot more going on than you realize, Blachowicz… Prep the breach, you and 1st are going on”.
I quickly pulled my breacher off the line, securing some thermite as the reinforced bunker door wasn’t going to go as easily as a conventional door breach would. 1st Squad pulled back, stacking up and preparing themselves to be the first in. All the while… Joakim gave his firing solution; “Alpha Hotel Two Five Nine, This is Bravo-4…… Type 2….”.
I snapped to my right, watching as a Strigoi managed to dark across the clear gravel field, only to be cut down by my gunner, the peq’s laser marking the burst as it tore through the beasts’ hips, as it hit the ground and still continued to claw, another GROM operator took aim and fired into it’s skull. Joakim popped up to his feet…. “Marking laser, high power…”. He then pulled out a target marking laser… if you’ve watched night operations, you’ve probably seen them.
The green laser than as it says on the label, marks targets. The pattern of which can vary… if it’s a point target, it’ll usually lasso an area, or remain on target until the target is removed with extreme prejudice. If its close air support, then it’ll be a line of the general area… and Joakim damn near marked the entire perimeter around us. He quickly pocketed the tool, turning back to Krol; “Don’t go past 20 meters unless you want to be liquidated”.
With that… 2nd and 1st stacked up at the door as 3rd squad took up the perimeter security. As Major Krol went over to Echo-1… I saw them. A single blinking IR strobe from the beasts as they moved on the far off horizon, converging from several angles… and fired. The sound of the Apache’s main gun, the M230, truly sounds like the hammer of god… the 30mm cannon shot through the dark sky, lighting it up as we saw three incoming streams tear up the woods. Only then as the sound broke did we start to hear their rotors as they broke and began to circle, firing again… then… Joakim dipped his head and looked to Krol; [“Foxtrot Mike, hang onto your teeth…”]. One of the Apaches fired off a AGM-114… a Hellfire. I barely saw it out of the corner of my eye as the Apache from our right flank fired off at a target approximately 200 meters off. A fireball lit up the forest as the horrendous roar echoed throughout… then went silent.
Echo-3 scanned the horizon carefully;
[“Echo-3 to Echo-Lead, enemy contact is starting to die down”].
[“Maintain perimeter, Close Air is to maintain fire mission until we are boots up, Break…”].
[“Echo-Lead to Echo-1, condition white has been met. Proceeds”]. I saw Echo-1 and his men quickly stack up close to the wall and gesture to me; Breaching. I quickly pulled my stack back against the wall as his and mine breacher quickly hit their actuators. Now under normal circumstances, it doesn’t take much for thermite to melt the locks off of a metal surface, in fact it’s a more precise took as alternative means get real medieval like saws, pry bars… we weren’t in the mood for precision, we need to breach their little lair, and drag them out. The sound of several pounds of hellfire burning through the metal could be heard around the corner as a sea of white and red sparks flew out… after several seconds, two of our men tossed a fragmentation grenade and a nine-bang through the opening… a series of concussive blasts and a large explosion rang out.
Echo-1 and his men maneuvered. 1st Squad quickly converged as we followed them in.
Stepping through the black wall of smoke, the dark abyss of the interior was illuminated in a white light as entered barrels raised. Shots rang out as several of the beasts near the entrance were cut down, though not immediately, rounds disconnected the shoulder of one of them, leading to their arm hanging limply by a single tendon as they roared… another series of rounds putting them down. What greeted us was a messy concrete hell of rust and debris, fecal matter, trash, and all kinds of obstacles laid in our way, our boots sticking to the floor. I thank every god we had promasks that night. I called my shield bearer up, 2nd squad leapfrogging ahead to take the next corridor as 1st squad checked their weapons.
One of my men mule kicked the metal door ahead, twice, finally the latch gave away as we tossed in a grenade. A horrifying roar was cut off as an M67 shook the walls of the ancient soviet mausoleum, frag and spall kicked off the walls as I moved in right behind my shield man. The cramped russian design meant there was barely enough space for three people, and that’s three normal people, not in 50kgs of kit, moving slowly and maneuvering against creatures of the dark. Still… we moved forward, my shield bearer and I pushing the pace as two stacked of either squad formed on either wall.
As we passed doorways they flowed in… “Door Left!!”, “Door Right!!”. “Move!!”.
Two men entered each side, no gunshots, we moved up, a roar came.
“Door left!!-”. A series of gunshots came out as we continued to push forward.
“Two down!!”. “Confirm them” Krol commanded, as a series of gunshots run out in response. From one of the doorways, a Strigoi emerged… a female… clumps of hair had been ripped from her decaying skull, as her blooded eyes locked on myself and my shieldman. The skin on her hands had been tore down to the point where barely her bones and tendons remain… looking like huge talons as she roared and lunged at us. He fired off his pistol, though the rounds did little to stop her as she pushed against our stack.
“Fuck!!” he muttered, somehow her strength caused him to stagnate, holding up the advance… fuck that. I shoved the muzzle of my MK18 into her ribcage, flipping the weapon to auto as I fired of round after round. The 5.56 salvo disconnecting her spinal column, causing her to fall as I continued to fire, along with a man to our right and left as the stacks reformed as we pushed to the end of the hall. I fell back, dropping the magazine and loading a fresh one, like clockwork a GROM Operator from 1st squad took my place. Krol was beside me as we approached the end of the hall.
[“-Prep an entry”] I radioed to my breacher, a comrade handed him one of the charges from his back panel as he took to the door, quickly securing it. We all moved as far back as we could, look away, exhale. The blast knocked metal and wood in all directions, scrapping against our uniforms and kit as we made our way in and what laid before us was… it used to be the center atrium of one of these bunkers. Soviet’s loved their grandiose designs, the complex was supposed to be a circular room around a central planning table… instead. It had been turned into some sort of church. Runes and old eastern Romuva pagan symbols written in black ink and blood across the walls, old rotten filing cabinets, long receipt terminals. In the center… several of the Strigoi were kneeling before the table where someone had been tied down, flayed, and… shared amongst the group. They rose to their feet, we aimed our barrels…
The ladder amongst turned to us… his skin wasn’t cracked, or flayed, it was smooth… it still looked dead as the body on the table but it seemed more… accustomed to it. I don’t know… evolved? Under the surface however I could see it’s darkened veins pumping whatever cursed blood ran through them as it locked two blood red eyes onto each of us. It’s nose had long since been turn off, exposing boney nostrils to the open air as it seemed to smirk. All across it’s body were the same symbols on the walls, in every cell… markings of death, of rebirth, of assimilation… From behind this seemingly Alpha emerges another figure I had never seemed before… dressed in a white cloak with a deer head.
"So they've followed the trail... they're too late" the Deer headed individual spoke, definitely not from here, a dialect similar to an Americans but... aristocratic? Each word was drawn out, assurance as if they had everything mapped down to our actions. They didn’t sound like they were from Poland or the east.
“Doesn’t matter…” the Alpha growled… and then, it lunged at us. Quickly breaking from their ground it slammed into my shield man knocking both him and myself at the ground as it displayed an intense feat of strength. Around us I could see several of the Strigoi leap at our comrades… though to no fruitful endeavor as I could see one GROM operator cut two down, as another got into a hand to hand confrontation… my breacher, crafty as they were, reached back and slammed one of the prybars of his kit into the skull of the beast.
The Alpha however was not content as it threw away the 90lb shield, sending it flying across the room as it grabbed my comrade by the skull. I quickly kicked up at it, firing my MK18 into it’s body as the rounds pierced it’s gray and rune covered flesh. The thing simply seemed to chuckle… that was until Major Krol blasted away at the side of it’s head, the alpha turned… and it’s smirk turned to a scowl when face to face with the major. A knowing pause almost like they had done this dance before…
The creature lunged, locking up with Major Krol as it swung and slammed railing. Krol didn’t back down however as he pushed against the creature, hiptossing it to the ground even as it tore at his armor and gear. But the beast pulled, both of them rolled and the Major was on his back as the thing reached for his neck. I fought to a kneel, firing into the creature messily with my MK18, trying not to hit my commander… then…
Click. A sound sends a chill up the spine of every warfighter during a firefight.
My gun ran dry. I dropped the magazine, looking to load another, but the thing came up and with one of it’s claws, sliced deep into my cheek, through the pro mask. I could feel my own blood go flying through the air as I landed hard on my back plate, spitting out red iron as I quickly tried to adjust my mask. Through my fogged up, blood covered lense… I saw my shield man raise his pistol, firing into the skull of the thing staggering it with a roar. Krol came from behind, drawing his knife he sunk it deep into the neck of it…. I reached for my rifle, forcing a new magazine in and damn near punching the bold release. ““Sir, down!!” I shouted, Krol rolled away, back to his own rifle as I fired. So did my comrade as he continued to fire his pistol… so did the Major as he fired his rifle. All of us chewing through that apex predator of darkness, that beast… the leader that had been preying on our people for so long. Layer by layer, muscle group by bone… eventually… the alpha landed on whatever was left of his back.
The silence of the fight died down as all of us checked our surroundings, GROM Operators putting controlled pairs in the heads and nerve stems of any Strigoi laying around… I flicked my weapon onto safe, letting it hang as I pulled off my mask. I dared not touch the wound on my face… the pain nearly crippling me if it wasn’t sheer will pushing me through, and adrenaline doing all it could to subdue it. The sound of the apaches continuing to lay hate drew us from our moment of contemplation as the Major went back to work; [“Confiscate any info, burn the rest…”]. He turned back to me as I shoved my damaged M50 mask back into it’s bag, chuckling as he looked at the sight; “You need a medevac, Blachowicz?” he quipped.
I shook my head, barely able to speak as I muttered; “Negative sir…”. The two of us scanned the room as my shield bearer went to collect his defense implement turned 90lb projectile, we scanned the center of the room, checking and confirming bodies, until we got to the last one alive. His white gown was soaked in red crimson and black ooze, as his dear head was mangled from bullet fire and impact from falling on it. I swear… the way his blood poured out of it though made me wonder if it was a mask. I gave it no second thoughts as he looked to Krol; “You… you can’t stop this, they’ve already-”.
The Major was in no mood for communication as his rifle snapped up and fired off three rounds to the body, four the head. The violent yet quick salvo ending the cultists life, I looked down at it, then to him as he remarked; “Have your squad drag him out to the front, burn the rest”. I stood alongside him, looking down as the sight of it’s deer head was both captivating and horrifying… the curiosity in me wanting to look closer at it fighting the primal instinct I had to burn the thing to ash. “-Haven’t seen one of those before…” I muttered, thinking the Major had an answer.
He didn’t. Krol saying “Neither have I…” shortly before he walked away, was what truly shook my soul about that entire night. Victory stood firm in our hearts that night as we stood outside of the bunker. The night sky burning with fire and white phosphorus as we watched the ruin burn from the inside from the other side of the lot. In the distance, the Apaches continued to scan and circle the forests, no longer firing…. Which meant they had driven any or turned to glass any enemy combatants within a four miles, probably both, more than likely the latter. Echo-1 patted me on the shoulder as we stood there, soaking it all in, though Krol looked none to pleased. “In the time it took us to take this one down, they’ll be trying to set up three more cells… that being established…” he said, looking to either of us, then to Echo-3. “-Hell of a thing we did tonight, been waiting for this one for a decade, cleanly, maybe more… but no time to rest on our laurels… we’ll have another task for us as soon as we’re boots down back home” he said, to which his eyes followed mine, the body of whatever cultist that was zipped up in a black body bag beside the wheel of one of the MRAPs. The fire from the bunker casting an orange hue over it’s shiny jet black outside, something didn’t sit right with me… “That wasn’t a Strigoi…” I said to Krol.
“That’s very clear…” the Major said, shoving his mask under his arm and lighting a cigarette. “So… someone’s helping them?” I asked. The meer notion of it shook me to my core, sickened me. This parasite was already badly infecting Europa, Polska… if it was spread like this throughout the world. Krol settled my nerves: “We’ll be ready… It’s not just us anymore”. As he said that, I realized what he meant… my eyes looking to the Apaches as they started to form up, leaving the areas as their thunderous propellers melted into the night’s calm, unnerving ambience.
It’s been a couple of weeks since then, Echo Detachment has been busy. We’ve gained good ground against the enemy and honestly I think in a few years, we might see a much larger change. For now… we must keep going, that being said the Strigoi aren’t the only ones we’ve been combating. Recently we’ve made contact with of some sort of extermination coalition, they’ve known about the Strigoi, and others plaguing the world, the level of corruption and corrosion on society goes deep. Regardless a lot of the units we’ve been working with are apart of NATO, such as this “4th Special Forces Group” of the American Military. I don’t know where the road from here leads, but we’ve gotten momentum on our side, finally. Just remember… these things are out there, in every town, every city, every nation… preying and waiting for you to be alone, vulnerable, so they can take you and replace you.
Watch your back, and stay safe.
For now, Blachowicz signing out. Until next time

“As you know, each mech is programmed to its operator's DNA,” Hector walked through the armor vault with a small group of green-boots trailing behind him. “Once linked, nobody else can operate your armor without command authority override.”
The armor vault was ten stories high, the distant ceiling crisscrossed with the immense cranes and rails used to move the powered-down mechs in and out of the bays. Crossing from one side to the other took ten minutes at a brisk walk. Every inch of the place was filled with twenty-foot-tall mechs mounted in their bays, and all of the gear and machinery required to repair and optimize them for battle.
Hector used to feel shame for lying to the newbies and had dulled that terrible ache at the bottom of a bottle. Orders were orders.
These days, he was rather numb to it, resigned to the fact that 90% of the raw recruits that came through his orientation would be compost within a year. Perhaps less.
He stopped, turned and clasped his hands behind his back. The green-boots stopped with him.
They were young, baby’s in uniform, their battle dress crisply pressed and boots polished to a mirror shine. The room continued to spin for Hector, and he covered his sudden loss of balance by leaning against an armor bay strut and casually pointing up at the mech. “See that prismatic shine over the armor?”
The recruits nodded, craning their faces to peer up at the mech.
“Know what that is?”
“Stealth coating, sir,” an eager young woman with short-cropped black hair and skin nearly as dark raised her hand and spoke.
“Very good,” he said, pleased that his words weren’t slurred even a little. “That coating is a retrofit. The Nek’s can’t see through it.” He met each fresh young gaze, and all he saw were corpses. All he spoke was lies. “Makes us ghosts on the battlefield.” Not exactly a lie, but misleading for sure.
“How does it work, sir?” A young man with fiery hair and just enough fuzz on his face to warrant the purchase of a razor asked from the rear.
“Shit if I know, son,” Hector had to piss, bad. Time to wrap this up. “All I know is the casualty rates dropped to 1% of pre-retrofit high.” Another lie. He forced on a confident and reassuring smile. Wise and fatherly, he fancied. “And our kill ratio of the enemy climbed 165%.” Lie.
He needed a shot of bourbon. Fuck he had to piss.
“Each of you will go to your assigned armor bay for encoding once this tour is done. There, your op officer will walk you through the armor initialization process. Then, you will be assigned to your units. With any luck, you’ll be out there killing Nek’s within a week.” He beamed his gigawatt smile. “Any questions?” Wonder if they have that imported scotch in the officer’s lounge tonight?
Hector’s eyes wandered across the bay to the door leading out of the vault to the hallway that would carry him across the base to his comfort waiting in a bottle.
“How many kills you got, sir?”
Hector swallowed back his longing, squeezed his bladder shut so he didn’t piss down his leg, and fastened hard eyes on the fool who’d asked the question. He put his face an inch from the asshole’s nose. The kid’s eyes went wide and fearful. He instinctively snapped to attention.
“Never ask that question. Ever.” Hector saw flecks of saliva pepper the kid’s face, but he didn’t care. Fucking fool. Everyone knows it’s bad luck to ask a man that. “Understand, shit for brains?”
The kid swallowed hard. Hector realized the rest of the recruits were at attention, too. He waded back from the battering waves of his anger, fought himself back to calm.
“Bad luck,” he said to the kid. “All of you, you’re dismissed.”
They did an about-face and hurried off to their respective bays, some muttering and glancing back over their shoulders. Fuck’em. He didn’t care. This time next month, half would be dead or laid up in some battlefield infirmary with grievous wounds. He couldn’t afford to care.
Not anymore.
Damn he needed a drink. He smacked his mouth and pulled a hand down his face. Why was he here? Why him? He watched the new recruits fade off into the distance and for a heartbeat, he hoped they would survive the coming horrors. Hoped to see them again, at least a few.
Memory stirred.
Fire and blood and death on a distant world with no name, flickered around the edge of his thoughts. He growled and forced it away. Why him and not them?
Fuck it.
He sighed, hardened his heart and turned toward the latrine. If he waited any longer he’d spring a leak. Hope they have that imported scotch. So smooth. Have to piss. Why me?
Tonight, he’d pay the price for a full bottle.
Tonight, he hoped to wake from this nightmare.

Okay so. Hi. I’ve posted on these types of subreddits on and off for a minute and the results have been pretty good. Truth be told I’ve met some of my bestest pals online and I love knowing I’m like a click away from someone I can chat with. I love sending and receiving snail mail but maybe we can start with some chats and see how that goes and maybe move to Snapchat or something idk.
Anyways. Me. Well, I’m 38, from BC, Canada close to Vancouver. I work as a clinician in healthcare and have worked in healthcare for 14 years. Previous to that I got my BA in English. I’m a published writer and poet - nothing crazy like novels but a few short stories and articles here and there. I’m also an avid photographer and got my start on the high school yearbook where I was free to be the weird girl dressed in all black lugging around a camera.
On the subject of black clothes, I consider myself a recovering goth. I’d probably fit in with an alternative label but I don’t truthfully see myself that way anymore. I’ve got tattoos but so does just about everyone now a days so whatever - I don’t feel they’re particularly interesting. Same thing with piercings etc
I’ve had people say I’m death obsessed and maybe that’s true. I’ve seen a lotta people die and I think about it a lot. I’m very interested in antiques and vintage items and consider a hobby of mine to be thrifting and I’m on a first name basis with the ladies at a few thrift shops. I’m definitely an aesthete. I love home decor and fashion. I make a lot of clothing and other items. I definitely have a “how hard can it be attitude?”
I’m into animals and have two cats who are useless shitbags who probably should get jobs but they haven’t yet so I’m stuck paying the bills.
I own my own home, I don’t drink any alcohol and haven’t for something like 12 years now. I don’t use any substances recreational or otherwise. If I’m feeling wild and out of control I might share a menthol cigarette with a friend outside a dive bar just for the drama of it all.
I’m an Aquarius, INTJ, if any of that is meaningful to you.
I go through phases and hyperfixations, and some current ones are:

1. High altitude mountaineering. Not that I’d ever do this myself but I love reading about and listening to information about Mt Everest.
   
2. The Chris Watts murder case
   
3. Tudor England
   
4. 1700s France
   
5. Olive Oatman
   
6. How dementia is addressed across cultures
   
7. Why Tom Hiddleston looks like a sickly Victorian chimney sweep
   

Anyways there’s probably more but this post is plenty long. If any of this seems interesting please send me a message.
On and btw, I’m attaching a selfie idk
me on some Flannery o‘Connor shit

Fallout 4 and Fallout 76 both allow us to craft our own bases. While 76's C.A.M.P. is a mobile base establishment, Fallout 4's settlements were a mixed bag.
On one hand, you got to build multiple towns of your own and settle the Commonwealth. On the other hand however...

• There were 37 Settlements for Fallout 4, which is honestly beyond a few too many.
• Plenty of settlements had sub-par build areas or locations that were not great for people to actually settle in as a moderately safe place to live.
• The constant management of these many settlements was admittedly overwhelming.

I think that if Fallout 5 were to bring this system back, there would need to be some changes. For starters, reducing the number of Settlements down in the base game from 30 down to a much more manageable number of 15.
By making less settlements across the map, you increase the actual challenge of the game a tad while also allowing the devs to focus on making sure that each Settlement is actually satisfactory and ideal for the construction of structures with ease. An issue that Fallout 4 faced was that since there were so many settlements, well over half of them were on terrible terrain or were placed in locations that left a lot to be desired. Mods had to be employed to ensure that just about every settlement was actually to a likeable state of being. With a focus on only 15 settlements in the base-game, it will allow these player-made towns to be more scattered across the map evenly and ensure that each one is designed with quality in mind. No one wants another Hangman's Alley settlement.
Secondly, I think that there should be another restriction put in place. Allow the player to freely explore the landscape and establish 10 settlements without the need of joining a faction - 5 of which will be freely given to the player for exploration and 5 of which will be available to players after completing a simple quest.
However, by siding with a faction; there will be a settlement unlocked in which they want you to venture out and scout a location for them. Say for example, you side with the Brotherhood of Steel. They want you to secure for them a foundry so that they can smelt metal from scrap in order to more easily forge materials for repairs and production. In turn, the collapsed warehouse nearby becomes an ideal location to establish a small town of sorts for the BoS to have commerce while you get a settlement out of the deal.
Don't get me wrong, I am not asking for faction-specific settlements. Merely I am asking for there to be a faction-war system of sorts. After securing the Foundry for the BoS; you can then take up quests to wrest control from the other factions in the wasteland and gain the remainder of the settlements. For example - If I were to side with the local Coalition of Organized Survivors (CoS), I would have been instructed to capture a Parking Garage in order to convert it to be a prison for the raiders and bandits that have wracked havoc on the region. Or by siding with the BoS, they want me to then take this Parking Garage as their second major establishment and turn it into a barracks for them. Either faction I settle with, the player will get the rooftop level of the parking garage to make an easily defendable settlement out of.
Ergo, there are 5 settlements that are faction quest locked from the player. It doesn't really matter what faction you side with in order to settle the place. BUT choosing factions will net you new design aesthetics to build your towns with and some actual bonuses. For example - a BoS settlement will have someone always dressed in Power Armor on the defense of the settlement and weapons shops will net you a discount on energy weapons and repairs. Siding with Raiders will net the player with Raider aesthetics to build the settlement with, unusual chems to purchase, and cause Raiders in the wild to be less likely to aggro to the player unless from a rival raider gang.
Bonus. Recall the player-housing at the Home Plate of Diamond City? Why not replicate that at the 'capital' towns of every faction you can join? Do some favors for the BoS and you earn a deluxe bunk of your own at their HQ. Help out the local Coalition and receive a luxuary house that is surprisingly intact despite the bombs falling. Be a key part in helping the Ghouls clear hostile mutants out of a few places they can call home and they point you to a lead-lined bunker in their capital for you to call home.
I think this would be the best way to improve the settlement system for use in Fallout 5.

• Give us fewer settlements but guarantee the quality of said settlement locations.
  • 5 Freely Given Settlements
  • 5 Quest Reward Settlements
  • 5 Settlements that require the joining of a major faction to utilize
  • 5 Small-to-Medium Player Homes at the pre-established cities.
• Factions we team up with will provide some bonuses and new design aesthetics for settlement building.
• Factions will utilize the settlement locations in different ways, making the world feel more dynamic as repeat playthroughs will alter the very places we call home.

This is how I think Fallout 5 should improve upon the Settlement System at a basic level. Sure, there are other things that need to be addressed but if Fallout 5 brings back Settlements, they really need to get rid of the factor of many locations being disappointments.

and i do too, as a result i guess. (this is gonna be a long one, sorry guys.)
growing up, and still now, i’ve always been the ugly younger sister to my older sister. in middle/ highschool, guys would come up to me telling ME to tell my sister that they thought she looked beautiful that day. i also got asked out as a joke up even in my SENIOR YEAR of highschool bruh 😭. everyone around us would constantly compare me to her, since we’re only a year and a half apart and had the same neighborhood friend group. i’ve had multiple guys tell me that they would like me better if i were more like my sister (and i obviously know it’s because of our looks), point out my flaws, and call me ugly to my face. she constantly gets compliments from family and strangers coming up to talk to her while i’m just…there lol. she was also my dad’s favorite child so she got better treatment too, so i’ve just always felt incompetent compared to her since its all anyone has ever made me feel (i always felt like he only liked her better since she looked better too bc she got into a lot more bs than i did 🫢…yet i was the one always getting punished). my mom and my sister bond over how many guys want them and try to talk to them and i just feel so out of place. overall, people are just naturally drawn to her and deter from me and it makes me just want to hide and honestly kms.
everyone thinks highly of her even though she really isn’t that great of a person. i don’t mean to get too bitter but she’s really judgmental and rude, even to me as her younger sister. she would make fun of my looks just as those kids at school would, so i’ve never been secure in my looks or felt pretty. and because everyone around us was so receptive to her, they would tag along and do it too (especially my cousins). its one thing to be made fun of by dumb kids at school, and a complete other thing when its your family members that you have to go home to—i never had an escape and still deal w this when i come home from college breaks. i dont know why she STILL does it, i guess to reinforce that she’s better than me since everyone puts her on a high horse?? i never felt like she was there for me as an older sister should be, but that’s another story.
anyway, i’m just so tired of everything. i hate being the way that i am. all my parents ask about is my love life since, in their eyes, i guess i’ve satisfied them in every other way. i don’t drink or party or have sex (obviously) or fool around with guys— i just focus on school while i’m away at college. i’m ‘pure’ but not voluntarily. i’ve just never had any opportunities to really do these things bc of my looks and mental illness. the only thing i have going for me is my smarts ngl i am very proud of that 💪🏽💪🏽. i graduated highschool 2 years early and have always been pretty good at school without rlly trying? i just have good memory i think, which is probably trauma induced.
all anyone asks me about is if i have a bf and it just seems like they’re mocking me. and they just try to make it seem like i’m turning down guys and that i actually have ppl interested in me and that i just have high standards. but when i say nobody wants me, i mean NOBODY. i’ve never been approached or anything, only made fun of and laughed at. and they try to bring up that bs abt being ‘intimidating’.
i’ve gone through phases of hyperfocusing on my looks and trying hyperfemme styles to appeal to men, trying to have a bubblie extroverted personality, or even dumbing myself down and it has never worked. no matter what i do, nobody will love me in a romantic sense (or even a friendship sense, i’ve been feeling lately), so now i just dress in a more masc/ tomboy-esque style so i feel more comfortable, but my mom tells me that i probably wont get a bf dressing like a boy lol.
nobody could ever love me as i am, nobody could ever be interested in me truly without just settling for me. i naturally isolate myself bc i love alone time, but also bc i just don’t deserve to take up space and nobody cares about me anyways. its already difficult for me to make friends, so a bf just seems out of the equation for me.
i’m trying to learn to be okay with my looks and the fact that i am not appealing to men, but it’s so hard when everyone only cares about how you look and how you’re with. all i’ve ever wanted was to be like my sister. the only thing ppl compliment me on is my smarts and i’m only used for my assignment answers, but really none of that matters if you’re pretty. ppl will naturally listen to you and pay attention to you and treat you decently if you’re pretty— they don’t even care if you’re insufferable as a person or anything.
and i hate it when ppl who have only ever felt loved and appreciated their whole lives try to tell those of us who’ve been less lucky that we should just love ourselves and not speak down to ourselves by calling ourselves undesirable or unattractive. like of course its going to be easy for you to understand and believe that you’re lovable and attractive and desirable when you have had proof of it— we can’t just get rid of the things we’ve heard growing up and forget them, they literally shape how we think about ourselves naturally. and i think it’s better to just be honest about the way that i look and the way that i am, i am just never going to be that pretty girl like my sister. i’m never going to have that coming-of-age movie life. it hurts but i can learn to live with it.
i hate this so much i don’t know how much longer i can keep doing this. but imma thug this shit out and embrace my strangeness and peculiarity 🙂‍↕️.
so sorry for this gargantuan passage and i hope it actually makes sense.
TLDR: i’m angry and bitter

I’ve been typed in MBTI but as a multitude of different types, and only once by Socionicists before (is that a word?), but was in a very unhealthy mental place then and I’m not sure it was accurate. I've filled out the questionnaire and tried to be thorough, although I think it comes across as rather muddled in some points, so I'm happy to clarify any bits. Thanks in advance for any help or input!
What do you study or do for a living? How did you come to do that? What do you like or dislike about it?

• I study medieval languages and literature and folklore at a PhD level. I came into this somewhat accidentally - I’ve always been interested in history (not solely medieval), but began to specialise a bit more and found I had a knack for picking up several dead languages quite quickly. I always say I came to it by accident, but that sort of downplays how much I love it, and how I’ve been obsessed with history since I was a child.
• I love getting perspectives from the past and thinking about different belief systems, how perspectives on the world have changed diachronically and vary geographically. I want to understand the people of the past, sort of as an example of innate archetypical humanity in incredibly varied contexts. Reading these texts helps me understand people I know, myself, and humanity as a whole better. I also love how varied my day can be - I go to new places each year, I work on different projects each month, and I solve different problems each day.
• I dislike some of the instability surrounding future jobs - although I’m in one of the best departments in the world for this topic, it can be very difficult to get a job post-PhD in academia, something that remains a worry despite not being an imminent problem to solve.

What else do you do on a daily basis? What are your interests and hobbies? Why do you do them?

• I work a lot and my partner says I don’t know how to relax. So a lot of my “hobbies” are doing things like learning extra languages (I recently started German), specifically languages that will be useful for my future studies/work.
• I work out pretty consistently, a mix of strength-training and cardio. I try to keep it even (although I read somewhere that a 60/40 split is optimal, 50/50 is close enough). I do this for a mix of health benefits, stress-relief (possibly could be considered a health benefit) and vanity. I will drop workouts when work becomes too busy though (it’s not priority number one)
• I like rock-climbing and hiking when I can, but I don’t do this daily.
• I plan future travels and work, and I also really like organising social events, but most of that is centred around organising and helping run departmental events at the moment. Despite this, I can be a bit of a shut-in on a day-to-day basis.
• I also play video games as stress relief, if I’ve completed enough stuff in the day. Games like Skyrim, Ghost of Tsushima, etc.
• I also spend a lot of time on reddit reading about various topics related to fantasy novels or videogames, mythology, psychology and psychiatry, various personality-typing systems, true crime (although less into this one than the others) also watch youtube videos about such things.

What are your values, and why?

• I value determination, grit, and intelligence in friends quite a bit, and a sort of “can-do” optimism
• I value inclusivity, I dislike cliquish behaviour.
• I sort of don’t know how to describe this, but I find it annoying when people try to interfere in my work to suit their agenda - I value a sort of friendly “live and let live” mentality.
• Following on that, I value approaching people with an understanding rather than judgmental mindset

Describe your relationships with family and friends. What do you like and dislike about them?

• I am not super hands on with my family - I live on the other side of the world from them - but I do like them, and keep connected electronically and through weekly or fortnightly Skype calls. I sometimes feel that they don’t really understand my interests, but they do care and try to pay attention regardless, and I know they see me as somewhat distant, but they see that as a personality quirk rather than indicative of lack of affection.
• I don’t have a super large friend group at the moment but have in the past. I’m focussing on quality over quantity at the moment, after spending a lot of time working in nightlife earlier in my life and having the massive social circles.
• I appreciate that my friends are intelligent, passionate, well-travelled and ambitious people.
• I struggle sometimes when friends don’t take me into account when I have done so for them, and I also sometimes find people a bit too caught up in their own worldviews and concerns without seeing what (to me) is the bigger community picture. I also really dislike when people try to apply moral pressure on me (that I have to care about a cause or I’m a bad person, etc.). I also find it frustrating when I’m the sole organiser of events or meet-ups.

What do you look for in friends? In romantic relationships?

• This was somewhat answered above, but I also enjoy outgoing and warm people, and people who I think I can rely upon. I try to take people as they come, though, and have had all sorts of friends.
• In romantic relationships, I like when people are ambitious, determined, and intelligent but also kind and passionate people. I like them to have a level of overlapping interests with me (my partner is also a medieval scholar, but works more with artefacts and museum work).

What conflicts have you encountered recently with other people? Why did they happen? Which kinds seem to happen on a regular basis?

• I can be accidentally rude at times without realising, and also can be a bit dismissive of views I think are dumb, sometimes hastily so.
• I can over-explain or simply talk too much or over-theorise
• I can be a bit of a people-pleaser
• A recent conflict was my trying to organise a departmental event and the other graduate students not contributing or seeing the larger picture of how that would help our department as a community, which I got very frustrated by.

What are your strengths? What do people like about you? What do you like about yourself?

• I work really hard
• I try to create opportunities not just for myself but for those around me. I think we (not the whole world, obviously, but those around me) can all succeed.
• I am thorough in everything and don’t really half-ass stuff.
• I am pretty friendly and always up for a chat or to be a shoulder to cry on, and am pretty nonjudgmental (one friend says I always try to attribute other’s actions to a positive motive)

What are your weaknesses? What criticism do you often face from others? What do you dislike about yourself?

• I can be impatient and don’t know how to relax/wait for things.
• Sometimes I can come across as weird or intense, and I wish I was better at toning that down and relating to people
• I get pretty insecure about what people think of me at times, and wish I was a little better or more confident there.
• I take on too much work - I have been called an “arbeidsoptimist” before
• Sometimes I can be overly conflict-avoidant - I’ll get frustrated by people, but try to work around that.
• I can be a bit hesitant about making decisions
• I have a moderately murky sense of self - hence the need for a typing questionnaire and struggles with self-typing
• When stressed, I catastrophise a lot, and can have quite a lot of anxiety about not living up to my potential or failing at the things I am working on.

In what areas of life can you manage well on your own? In what areas of your life would you like help?

• I am good at keeping myself on task and working towards goals, I don’t really struggle with motivation or such.
• I’m pretty good at building connections and friendships with professors and other people and maintaining a sort of warm, friendly atmosphere in workplaces.
• I need help at times figuring which information is important and which can be left out. My work tends to spiral outwards and things like page-counts in papers or time-limits in presentations seem horrendously oppressive.
• I need help with taxes.
• I sometimes need help figuring out why I’m upset about things.
• I would like help figuring out my socionics type ;)

What things do you dislike doing? What things do you enjoy more than others?

• I dislike cooking (it just doesn’t interest me, although I enjoy tasting different kinds of food, I am also happy eating the same thing everyday, which I do when I live on my own).
• I dislike things like taxes.
• I am struggling with this question. I guess I dislike when I cannot plan and have to wait and see about more information (not strictly a “dislike doing” answer). Unresolved problems or conflicts give me a lot of anxiety.
• I enjoy going to museums, climbing, exercise (while listening to a podcast about an interest, preferably in another language), analysing medieval literature, planning initiatives, theorising and brainstorming with professors and some friends.

What goals, aspirations, or plans do you have for the future, and why?

• I want to publish more articles in and outside of my field. I have a couple I’m working on now, which range from 19th century literature (recently accepted as a journal article!) to niche folklore topics (recently presented at a conference) to medieval travel literature (readying for publication), so that is my immediate term, along with some travel for language-study later in the summer.
• Long term, I want to finish my PhD and become a professor in my field at a research-heavy (R1 or the equivalent) university
• I hope to master more languages (I need working competency in 5 to even pass my PhD qualifying exams), and to do so, I plan to travel (and acquire funding for that).
• I also want to be a little closer to my family, and take care of my partner and eventually marry.

What kinds of things do you do to manage and/or beautify your environment (your room, your house, etc.)?

• I have a lot of trinkets, artifacts, candles, and pieces of artwork up in my room. They are pretty varied, from statues (a bronze buddha from Sri Lanka, a basalt Horus from Egypt, and so forth) to artwork (Dante’s inferno by Botticelli, a Dali painting is up too at the moment), to some tibetan prayer flags, etc. Basically just stuff I’ve gotten from travels or as gifts.
• I’m pretty clean, in all honesty. I don’t mind clutter, but I don’t like when things are dirty.

If you won the lottery and didn't have to work anymore, what would you do?

• Exactly what I am doing, but I’d have a nicer place to live and worry a little less. I acquire external funding for a lot of my travels, etc., so that stuff wouldn’t really change.

What traits do you find endearing that others might dislike? What traits are considered positive/neutral by others but tend to annoy you?

• I find it somewhat endearing when people talk a lot about their own interests. I can usually relate it to things I am interested in without needing them to do that for me, and I also usually just find those things interesting.
• I find it endearing when
• I sometimes find it difficult when people leave all decision-making up to me, even if they’re trying to be flexible/easy. I can make the decisions, but don’t always like to.

How do you behave around strangers?

• I am very polite, but don’t really engage with strangers that often. I can be a bit shy, and used to have a decent amount of social anxiety, but lately I’m just not interested in interacting with strangers.

How do you react to conflict? What do you do if somebody insults or attacks you?

• Conflict really causes me a lot of anxiety if it’s with someone I know or have to see in the future. In those instances, I usually just don’t end up in conflict with them: I’m pretty friendly and try to see people’s perspectives.
• If not, and it’s with a stranger, I kind of just ignore them.

Would you ever be interested in starting a business? Why or why not? What role would you play in it? What kind of business would it be?

• Not sure. I kind of prefer doing what I’m doing now - the research and teaching aspects. I don’t really know what sort of value I’d be adding to the world with a business, but I suppose if I could find something that was both interesting for me and seemed to fill a needed niche, sure.
• I like the business Facsimile finder, they make medieval manuscript reproductions. Perhaps something like that, or creating a sort of community centre/third place (I used to think about owning a pub, back in my bartending days).

How do you dress or manage your appearance?

• I keep things pretty simple, and try to stick to classic clothes (rather than trendy). Timeless and simple, more or less. That being said, I enjoy colours, and try to model my wardrobe a bit off of an autumnal palate (I got really into colour season theory a couple of months ago briefly, and was “typing” all of my friends and myself, now I just use it when thrifting for new clothes).
• I pretty much exclusively get clothes either as gifts or through thrift stores. I sort of really dislike shopping otherwise.
• I take care of myself physically, and keep a simple but effective skincare routine and eat moderately healthy. It stresses me out when things like skincare have too many steps, though.

Do you like kids? Why or why not?

• Yeah, I think kids are nice. I appreciate how much potential they have and how good-hearted and imaginative they usually are. That being said, I don’t always find them particularly interesting, so I guess more of a generally benevolent ambivalence from my end.

In what situations or times in your life did you feel most fulfilled, and why?

• I’m pretty fulfilled right now, in all honesty. I have work that challenges me but is super interesting and allows (and pays) for lots of travel, I have a loving partner, I have a relatively secure future for the remainder of my PhD programme (minimum four more years).
• I do wish I had a better social circle right now though, but I honestly haven’t put enough effort in to build one (I have two social circles but we’re all busy/inconsistent).