I’m 17F my mom is on meth I think it’s her goal to make sure that I know she don’t love me as much as my other 2 sisters she’s mean to me, I try to talk to her and she’ll completely ignore me , my older sister is 29 she stays in our seller bc she don’t have a house she’s also on meth and don’t pay rent or anything since I was little mom has always made it obvious that my older sister is her favorite, I pay water bill and give my mom money bc if I don’t she’ll be all mad my older sister don’t pay anything and got her kids takin from her and don’t want them back yet my mom praises her , my mom is mean to me and does stuff to get under my skin like I’ll tell her I’m going to take a shower and she will sit on the restroom for hours with music blaring till I have to go to bed so I have to go to work dirty the next morning, for my 17th birthday my mom got me clothes from good will and dad got me a beer I cried more that day than I did in my whole life, I got paid 2 days later so I bought myself a cake and candle and ate it in my closet, my mom always made my sisters birthdays so fun I always try to make my mom happy for her birthday day I bought her 100$ shoes a cake and cards and shirts no one called her to tell her happy birthday I came home with all this stuff and she said thank you and gave the cake to my 29 yr old sister bc she didn’t want it , idk why I disappoint her so much but it hurts she used to not always be this way I know I shouldn’t expect anything from her but even for her to look at me and make me feel like she cares would mean the world my dad is a asshole he’s on drugs too and he steals my money a new phone I had bought, he will say he’s tired of me and shut the fuck up and fuck you he’s only nice when he wants money or something life sucks I think I’ll be happier when I’m older and move out but I think even then I’ll seek approval and love from them I don’t know

We got married Friday the 10th of May!
On the day, everything that could go wrong in the morning, went wrong. My HUSBAND had to take our dog to a dog hotel to spend the night, he calls me from the car almost in tears that he didn't like dropping him off. He was supposed to stay there one night cause we were sleeping at the venue. We agreed, he turned back to pick him up.
My hair ended up not being exactly what I wanted but make up was on point!
My husband had to drop the cake off at the venue and calls me again, that our pillars and vases for the ceremony had not been delivered.. Call the company and it got delivered. My friend did our flowers and they were INSANELY BEAUTIFUL!
When I arrived at the venue to finish getting ready/take getting ready pics, they were still cleaning it... Room was lovely, photographer was already there cause I was late...
The little cakes that were supposed to be served with the cake/coffee and wine when guests arrived were not there... Call my mom, who was still at the hotel, to bring them from the bakery nearby.
She came and brought the cakes. Everything was ok... I thought.
We got ready and had some lovely pics. 30 minutes before the ceremony, my husband calls me, "I can't find my shoes. Did we bring them?". We slept at his parents the night before and had brought all our stuff there.. I was like "shit, I think they're still in the closet at home". He then had to drive home cause everyone was already at the venue. We live close by but it's spring and here in our province in the Netherlands, there is a lot of water and people sail a lot. So of course every bridge was open.. I sent down one of my bridesmaids to tell the officiant that he was late.
Finally, he's there (15 min late) and we can get started.
At this point I was sweating.. Music started and the bridesmaids start crying. They walk out and I'm getting ready to walk out and then it hits me.. Shit, it's happening!
I walk out (we got married outside on the water).. Everyone is looking, sun is shining, husband is crying, EVERYONE is crying actually and everyone and everything looks so gorgeous. I start crying.
Ceremony was so sweet. Our 2 year old was walking around during. Sat between us inbetween her little shenanigans and honestly it was so cute. Everyone loved it, including us.
After the ceremony was toasts and cake and pics. The venue was perfect. A beautiful renovated farm with grass and water all around. The boys played football and the girls on the swings. Couldn't have asked for a more perfect location. So family friendly and that was our main priority. Celebrating with our whole families.
Dinner was incredible and the "afterparty" was out of this world.
Everything went wrong but nobody noticed. Everyone loved it so much. People still messaging me saying how they are still on cloud 9 after the wedding.
A lot of things went wrong, it was not "perfect" but it was perfect for us.
Everyone says the day goes by fast and oh my god is that true. When we were welcoming the evening guests, I was like "what the fuck, it's already almost over". I loved and enjoyed every damn moment. Wish I could relive the whole thing.
Our photographer already sent a few sneakpeaks and the pics look incredible. I can't wait to see the rest.
I'm leaving the sub! Thanks for all the good advice. Good luck to everyone with wedding planning and ENJOY THE DAY CAUSE IT'S OVER IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE!

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SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS NUMEROLOGY DECODE

Since we all know exactly who and what Spongebob is, I am going to do a Numerology decode.
When it comes to Numerology, there are many different things you can look into. I am going to look into the letters, patterns, and Numerology personality numbers.
SPONGEBOB has a personality #6. 6 is the number of compassion, work ethic, criticism, cleanliness, and productivity. In the funny show, we see that Spongebob is a workaholic. He has a 5 destiny number which shapes who you are overall. 5 is connected to youthfulness which explains the silliness of the Spongebob character. He is always laughing and doing things funny. The 5 energy indicates this. 5 also points to people, places, and things that are unique. He has an 8 soul urge which explains his undying ambition and creativity.
We can see that SPONGEBOB has 2 O's which has the numeric energy of 15 and numeric value of 6. 15 is the creative use of energy for productivity. Again, 6 is the number of routine, work ethic and productivity goes with this. This energy is not only his personality number, but also it is within his name. It's really in him.
SPONGEBOB HAS DOUBLE NUMERIC VALUES IN HIS NAME WHICH ARE, 7,6,5, AND 2. This explains why he is able to show his emotions and have moments of sensitivity(2). Very compassionate(2) but also childish and silly(5) and able to come up with plans that work(7). Since these #s has double influence, we must considered what they equal. 7 twice equals 14/5 which shows how he is responsible and can make work fun even though it is a duty(6). 6 twice equals 12/3 which shows his social skills, life, and creativity. Another youthful energy as well. 5 twice equals 10/1 which points to his bravery and capability to take action. 2 twice equals 4 which is home,family,responsibility, and structure on the home front and he would make everyone feel comfortable for the most part.
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I’ve been married for almost 2 years and in the relationship for 4. It’s been tumultuous to say the least , but overall I notice if we stay out of each others way everything goes fine. My husband is a very mean person and I notice on special occasions he ramps up his asshole behavior and likes to ruin it. So to avoid this, I just prefer to celebrate the day by myself.
For his birthday he wanted to celebrate the birthday with his family and me , but he made a big fuss and fight over me not going above and beyond even though I got his cake, decorated the house and got the present he wanted, but apparently that wasn’t enough. Either way at the end of his party when all his family had left I told him that for my birthday that I just wanted spend the day alone.
He looked confused and said I spent most of my birthday last year alone, but we went out to eat at the restaurant I chose. Last year I think my birthday went well because I was gone for most of the time and he was kind enough to get me new clothes and shoes. I responded that I just wanted me time for my birthday and wanted to have a spa day, go see an opera by myself and go out to eat by myself this time. I of course would pay for it all myself and the only gift I need or want would be not having to interact with anyone.
He was visibly upset but said “ok” and ever since he’s been colder to me than usual.
I just want a day to relax and not stress about a potential fight or upsetting him. But it’s not only him. I simply don’t want to deal with friends or family his or mine. As you can tell I am very introverted and love alone time.
AITAH?

It was my ex gf's bday last week. We've been together for almost 2 years na. Masaya and smooth naman yung relationship, so far wala pa talaga kaming naging big fights. Happy feels lang talaga.
Not until I caught her chatting with his online game "friend". Apparently, may tawagan sila which is hindi pang "friend". Baby tawagan nila. I confronted her about it pero dedma. Pinaka explanation niya is, di daw niya sineseryoso yun, friend lang talaga. Pero super updated yung guy sa mga life happening ng gf ko.
I told her to stop playing that game, or just to stop communicating with that boy, pero ang galing, dinedema lang ako. Parang when I speak about it, she changes topic or just send me reels.
I tried many times para makapagusap kami about dun, pero wala, patay malisya lang. Minsan nagagalit ako, pero after a while okay na ulit kami. And it's draining me. Okay naman kami, pero the fact na may kausap siyang iba, it feels like she's cheating na talaga. And nothing I say can't stop her. Parang walang pakialam sa nararamdaman ko. Ginagago na ako harap harapan.
I gave her cake, bought her expensive shoes, and a bag. I wished her a Happy Birthday, then blocked her, cold turkey. I love you still, pero I am so confused right now. Wish you the best.

I want my kids to be able to participate in volunteerism with me outside of the major holidays when it seems easier to find places. Summer break is coming up and I would like to make this a learning experience and also help to bolster their practice of gratitude. My kids are 8 and 11 and I would obviously supervise and participate alongside them. I’d also like to know of places where they could donate clothes, shoes etc and be able to experience/connect the dots of the population that benefits from the donation directly (ie not just dropping off at goodwill). I think the direct donation part helps to eliminate the abstract concept of “less fortunate”. Anyone have any ideas?? They have baked for For Goodness Cakes and that’s been wonderful, anything along those lines is great.

1- Happy Eggs 2- Target 3- Nivea 4- McCain’s Mashups 5- Target 6- Dove 7- Shoe Carnival 8- Canada Dry 9- Kodiak Cakes 10- Keebler 11-LEGOLand 12- RareBeauty 13- StarKist 14- Pure Protein 15- Phillips Sonicare 16- SkinPharm 17- Crayola 18- Microsoft 19- Bibleproject

I've always been bound to death.
On my eighth birthday, a shadow strode into my house and shot me and my family dead. I remember it vividly, every detail, every angle, etched and stained and carved into my memory.
I sat very still with my knees to my chest, my gaze glued to my siblings.
Lily and PJ looked like they were sleeping, and I could almost believe it.
I didn't look at the shadow.
From the comfort of my knees, I waited for my brother to lift his head.
But his body was so limp, so still, every part of him faltering. My sister’s head was nestled in his shoulder, thick beads of red running down her face.
They're just sleeping.
I could tell myself they were— as long as I didn't look at the splatter of scarlet staining the back of the couch and pooling at their feet.
BANG.
Mom’s body dropped onto the ground.
I lunged forwards, slamming my hands over my ears.
BANG.
PJ’s head slumped forwards, a teasing smile still frozen on his lips.
BANG.
Lily gently tipped into PJ, like she was going to sleep.
Before she closed her eyes, Mom told me to run.
I can't remember how long I stayed under the shattered remnants of Mom’s favorite table. The shadow was waiting for me to move, to make a noise.
I watched booted feet crunch through glass, getting closer and closer, and slowly, fight or flight began to take over.
Making it halfway across the living room, my palms slick with my mother’s blood, I thought I was going to live.
Cruel fingers wound their way through my hair and shoved me to my knees. I remember the phantom legs of a spider creeping down the back of my neck when the shadow with no face dragged the barrel of his gun down my spine.
“Turn around.”
The shadow had a voice.
When I didn't move, the protruding metal stabbed into my neck.
“Turn around, kid!”
I did, very slowly.
Behind him, my siblings still weren't moving.
They were asleep.
Lily was still smiling, strawberry blonde ringlets stained red.
I couldn't see PJ’S face anymore.
BANG.
I didn't feel the gunshot.
I didn't feel anything.
Looking down, I glimpsed slowly spreading red blossoming like a flower.
It felt like being cut from strings.
I hit the ground, just like my mother, my body felt heavy and wrong.
Paralysed.
I remember being unable to scream, unable to cry, the salty taste of metal filling my mouth. It was like being winded. Rolling onto my side, all I could see was flickering candlelight.
The air was thick, so hard to breathe.
I rolled onto my back trying to suck in air.
The shadow took a step back, opened the front door, and bled into the night.
I don't remember the pain, and I don't remember dying. I couldn't breathe, couldn't conjure words in my mouth.
I felt warm and sticky, lying in my own blood.
I think I tried to move.
But I was so tired.
I’m not sure what death feels like, because it's like going to sleep.
I remember my last shuddering breaths, a lulling darkness beginning to swallow me up. I don't know why I wasn't afraid.
Oblivion almost felt like I was sinking into lukewarm depths on a Summer’s day.
Oblivion wasn't pain, and there was a peaceful inevitability to it.
It was endless nothing, a nothing I found myself gravitating towards. But before I could envelope myself in that darkness, it was spitting me back out.
The next thing I knew, I was in a white room, a slow beeping sound tearing me from slumber. I had a vague memory of slow spreading roses blossoming across my shirt, like summer flowers blooming.
Everything was white.
The walls, the ceiling, and my clothes.
Sensation hit me in slow waves.
Exhaustion.
I felt it tightening its grip around my brain, dragging me back onto a mountain of pillows when I tried to jump up. My Aunt May was sitting next to me on a plastic chair, her warm fingers entangled in mine. Aunt May and Mom were practically twins, with the same thick red hair and pale skin.
Mom wore her hair in a casual ponytail, while May preferred a strict bun.
I had to bite back the urge to yank my hand away.
Aunt May was asleep, used tissues filling her lap.
There was a nurse pottering around, checking my vitals and prodding my arms. My eyes felt heavy. I had to blink several times to keep myself awake.
“Charlie?”
The nurse’s voice was like wind-chimes.
I pretended not to notice her forced lipstick smile, the way she stood with her arms folded, staring at me like I was one of my cousin’s experiments. “You were in an accident, sweetie,” the nurse spoke up. I could see her trembling hands. “Just, um, try and rest, okay?”
I wanted to ask where my family was, but I already knew the answer.
I think she knew that too.
“You died, Charlie.” The nurse’s voice was eerily cold. “You were dead for thirteen minutes.”
She took slow steps towards me, her eyes growing frenzied, like she couldn't understand me, like I was a puzzle she could not solve– and it was driving her crazy. I could see it in her twitching hands, her wobbling lips that were trying and failing to appear stoic.
“In fact, I just pulled you out of the morgue, honey. I opened up your body bag that I had just zipped up, and told your aunt that you were a miracle I just… can’t understand.” The nurse sounded like she was trying to choke down a laugh, or maybe a sob.
“Charlotte, you were pronounced dead at 3:02am from a gunshot wound to the chest.” Taking a slow, sobering breath, the nurse tried to smile. “The bullet went through the right ventricle of your heart and severely damaged your left lung, rendering you unable to breathe. Your heart stopped, and after four attempts to resuscitate, we called it.”
Something slimy wound its way up my throat when she began to pace the room. “I… did all the paperwork. It took me two minutes. Your death certificate was signed, and your body was taken to the morgue to be prepped for transportation. Then I had my lunch. Tuna salad with a protein milkshake. I’m not a fan of the chocolate flavor.”
She shook her head. “Anyway, when I came back to you, you were awake inside your body bag.” Her voice was starting to break. “You were…um, alive, and asked me for apple soda.”
The nurse moved closer, and yet kept her distance.
I could feel myself moving back, panic writhing through me.
“So.” The nurse spoke calmly. “How the fuck are you still alive, Charlie?”
I think I passed out after that.
When I woke up again, my head a lot less heavier, the nurse was gone.
Slowly, my foggy brain began to find itself and connect dots.
My mouth was dry, full of cotton.
There was a sudden tightness, a sharp and cruel sting in my wrists.
Something sharp was protruding into my flesh, and no matter how many times I violently wrenched my arm, it was stuck. It didn't feel right to be able to breathe so easily.
I knew the second I woke that my Mom was dead.
Lily and PJ were dead, and it was like losing them all over again.
As clarity came over me, I found my voice, a strangled cry escaping my lips.
“Get it out.” I whispered in a shrill cry.
Tugging at the IV in my wrist, I tried to yank the needle from my skin.
“Get it out!” I shrieked, my gaze glued to the tiny spots of blood staining the insertion point.
I could see it again.
So much blood.
Mom was curled up on the floor, lying in slow spreading red that wouldn't stop, seeping across her beaded rug.
She was all over me, slick on my skin and caked in my fingernails.
I couldn't wash her off of me.
“You're okay, Charlotte.”
Aunt May’s voice came from my right, stabling me to reality.
The world started to move again, started to make sense again, when she cupped my cheeks and told me to breathe. When I opened my mouth to ask where my family were, she lightly shook her head and I swallowed my words. Aunt May handed me a glass of water, and I drained it in one gulp.
She told me I was a miracle.
Aunt May didn't say much, and when she did, she broke into sobs.
Her eyes were raw from crying, clinging onto me, her shuddery voice reassuring me that I was going to be okay.
She told me I would be living with her from now on, before wrapping me into a hug and leaving to get coffee.
Once my aunt was gone, another nurse came to prod my IV.
I tried to sleep, but the uncomfortable tightness of the needle sticking into my skin and the sterile white lights in my eyes made it impossible. I waited for grief to catch up with me, drowning me in a hollow oblivion I wouldn't be able to claw myself out of. But I didn't feel sad. I didn't feel angry.
I wanted to know why my family were dead.
I wanted to know why I was breathing, and their skin was ice cold.
Rotting.
The sudden image of maggots crawling up my brother’s nose sent me lurching into a sitting position, my stomach heaving. Reaching for my glass of water, it was empty. The sensation of throwing up felt familiar, almost comforting.
Mom was always with me when I was sick, holding my hair back and lulling my hysteria with reassuring murmurs.
I was frowning at the trash can by the door, my cotton candy brain trying to figure out if I would be able to make it in time, when a small voice drifted from the doorway, startling me.
“I don't want you to come live with us.”
My cousin was peeking through the door, hiding behind a shock of dark brown curls. Jude was the only brunette in our family. The rest of us were redheads.
I wasn't sure why he was dressed up like a ghost, draped in a white cloak that was way too big for him. Jude was a weird kid. His mother, and my auntie, had inherited the family house, so in his mind, that made him superior.
Jude made it clear he didn't like his cousins, refusing to let us play with him and banning us from family gatherings.
When the adults were drinking cocktails and losing their awareness, Jude ordered us around. The times we did play with him, our cousin showed us his spider collection, or the raccoon brain he kept in a jar. PJ was convinced our younger cousin was a serial killer. Several months earlier, he'd happily showed us the roadkill he'd been growing bacteria on under his bed.
Jude’s ‘experiments’ were worrying.
He stuffed mushrooms down my brother’s ears while he was sleeping, to, and I quote, “Recreate The Last Of Us.”
When Lily had a nosebleed during Thanksgiving dinner, Jude collected all her bloody tissues and refused to tell us where he'd put them, and what he had done with them. Fast-forward two months, and I found them under a nest of spiders. Jude was trying to adapt the spiders to be able to feed on human blood. I was surprised my cousin hadn't immediately demanded to see my siblings’ dead bodies for autopsy.
Jude stepped into the room, shuffling his feet.
“I'm sorry about Lily, PJ, and Aunt Ivy.” He mumbled, glaring at the floor tiles.
My cousin made no move to offer real sympathy, instead speaking to the floor.
“But I don't want you to come live with us.” Jude lifted his head, looking me dead in the eye. “I don't like you, Charlie. I want you to stay away.”
Before I could reply, he stepped back like I was diseased.
“You should be dead.” Jude grumbled.
He scowled at me, getting my age purposely wrong as usual before running off.
“Happy 68th birthday.”
I was six months older than him.
In Jude’s eyes, I was ready for retirement.
Still, though, my cousin was right.
I was stone cold dead, and then I was somehow alive.
Which was wrong.
Growing up, I realized Death was not so subtly attempting to fix his mistake.
It started small. I'd choke on things I wasn't supposed to choke on.
Chips.
Candy.
Ice cream.
Aunt May had to perform the heimlich manoeuvre when I choked on a piece of chicken. I thought I was just really unlucky, but then I locked myself in a freezer that didn't have a lock, and almost drowned in the local swimming pool, catching my foot in stray netting.
At the summer fair, Jude convinced me to try apple bobbing, only for my head to conveniently get stuck underwater.
It started to make sense.
I was supposed to die with my family that night, and death was out to get me.
Death started to get clever, changing his tactic. Instead of using everyday things to try to kill me, he sent reinforcements.
I turned twelve years old, and my aunt threw me a huge party, inviting all my classmates. Aunt May was rich, rich.
Mom never explained it, but our grandparents left everything to May.
The house was like a palace, a labyrinth of floors I was yet to explore, and two swimming pools.
I was in the kitchen cutting myself a slice of cake, when, out of nowhere, a dead boy came rushing at me with one of my aunt’s favorite kitchen knives.
A dead boy who I immediately recognised.
Wren Oliver.
Several years prior, he'd gone missing from his parents' yard. The town launched a full investigation, only to find his body in a ditch a week later.
So, Death had sent a footsoldier.
Hiding under a hooded sweatshirt, Wren appeared older, like he had grown up with me. But there was a startling vacancy in his expression that drew the breath from my lungs, freezing me in place. Wren’s death was announced as an accident, though his wounds suggested the opposite, dried blood smearing his right temple and a cavernous hole in his chest, his clothes painted, stained, in bright red, glued in sticky mounds clinging to him.
The boy’s eyes were wild, feral, like an animal.
His hair was longer, a mess of reddish curls matted to his forehead.
Lip split into a demented giggle.
I remember taking a slow step back, my gaze glued to the knife.
Wren’s fingers were wrapped around the handle like he knew exactly how to use it, how to plunge it into my heart and kill me for good. He moved like a predator, zero self awareness or recognition, only driven to kill me.
The dead boy prided himself in slow, intimidating steps, shoving me against the wall and dragging the blade of the knife down the curve of my throat.
His eyes confused me, writhing with hatred that was artificial, programmed into him as Death’s official soldier.
He didn't speak, only smiled, revelling in my fear. I could tell it thrilled him, my trembling hands, my sharp, heavy breaths I couldn't control. Squeezing my eyes shut, I waited to finally die.
I waited for the pain, and to lose my breath once again.
But death was playing with me.
When I opened my eyes, the dead boy was gone, and I was on my knees, screaming.
“Wren Oliver is trying to kill me!" I managed to hiss.
My aunt knelt in front of me, her expression crumpling.
*Sweetie,” She spoke softly, squeezing my hands. Aunt May was trying to appear calm for my sake, but I could tell she was scared, her frantic eyes searching mine. “Wren Oliver is dead.”
The kids surrounding me started to giggle, whispering among themselves.
In the corner of my eye, my cousin was leaning against the door, mid eye roll.
When my aunt was ushering kids back to the pool, Jude came to crouch in front of me. Ever since I started living with him, he'd made sure to keep his distance.
This time, though, Jude leaned uncomfortably close, a sparkle in his eyes I had never seen before. Inclining his head, he rocked back and forth on his heels, prodding me in the forehead.
“If you see the dead boy again, can you tell me?” His lips curved into a smile.
“I did see him.” I gritted out. “I’m not lying.”
Jude shrugged. “I never said you didn't,” he lowered his voice into a whisper, “I wanna know when you see him again.”
“Why?”
His lips curved into a smirk.
“So, I can catch him.”
My cousin got closer, his breath tickling my cheek.
“I seeeeeeee dead people.”
After that incident, death left me alone for a while.
I was fifteen, walking through the forest with a friend, catching fireflies in bell jars. Aunt May was lucky to live so close to the forest, the entrance just outside her back door. When we were littles, PJ would drag Lily and I down the trail to escape Jude’s weird experiments.
I decided to invite Jem Littlewood on a summer walk.
Jem was cute, but in a dorky way. He was chronically clumsy, and dressed like he'd been spat out of a John Hughes movie. We hiked all the way to the end of the river and had a picnic, watching the sun set over the horizon. I was having conflicting feelings for this guy.
Jem was obsessed with fireflies.
Though he seemed more interested in photographing them than me.
The guy couldn't seem to sit still, jumping to his feet to marvel at tiny specks of light dancing in the air.
“I'm just going to take photos!” Jem beamed, holding up his camera.
I had to bite back the urge to say, “Don't you have enough photos?”
I nodded, and he turned and sprinted back down the trail.
Before his footsteps ground to a sudden halt.
At first, I thought he was snapping polaroids.
When I got closer, though, blinking in the eerie dark, I caught something.
Bending down, I picked up a bell jar still spilling fireflies.
Further down the trail, Jem was lying crumpled in the dirt, his camera smashed to pieces next to him, blood running in thick rivulets down his temple. There he was. Leaning against a tree, his arms folded, was the ghost boy. Wren Oliver was growing up with me. Now, a teenager, and yet his face was carved into something else entirely, more of a monster, slight points to his ears and too-sharp teeth, eyes ignited.
Wren didn't look like a ghost boy anymore.
Death had dressed him in shackles of ivy, a crown of glass and bone forced onto his head, entangled in his curls. Death was torturing him.
Wren’s body was its canvas, and every time I got away, he was punished, painting his failures across scarred skin.
I should have been running for my life, but I was mesmerised by each symbol cruelly carved into his neck.
The boy did a slow head incline, like he couldn't believe I was standing in front of him.
His slow spreading smile caught me off guard.
I remembered how to run, stumbling over my feet.
But I couldn't move.
The burning hatred that death had filled him with, was stronger, hollowing him out completely. I managed two shaky steps, before I felt him, an unearthly force winding its way around my spine. This time, he didn't hesitate.
I watched his mouth move, a single curve of his upper lip that wrenched my body from my control, slamming me against a tree. There was something around my throat, choking the breath from my lungs, a thick fog spreading over my eyes.
Following his mouth curving into silent letters, I could feel my feet slowly leaving the ground, my legs dangling.
I was floating.
Hovering off of the ground, suspended by his words.
Through half lidded eyes, I caught the glint of a blade between his fist, but I couldn't move, couldn't scream.
He was drowning me, bleeding into my blood, spider webbing and expanding in my brain without moving a muscle.
Instead, the ghost boy stood silently, running his thumb down the teeth of his knife while he ripped my lungs apart.
It was like suffocating, sinking into that peaceful oblivion I met at eight years old.
This time, though, the darkness was starving.
“Charlie?”
My eyes found daylight, a scream clawing out of my mouth.
“Charlie, it's past curfew!”
Wren flinched, his stoic expression crumpling.
The dead boy’s lips moved again, this time in a curse.
Fuck.
“Charlotte!”
Staggering back, Wren’s eyes widened and the suffocating hold on me severed.
His head snapped in the direction my aunt was coming from.
“Charlie, answer me right now.”
He hesitated, his bare feet pivoting in the dirt, like he was considering finishing me off. Wren studied me with lazy eyes, sucking on his bottom lip. When my aunt's footsteps got louder, branches snapping under her shoes, something contorted in the boy’s face.
Fear.
I guessed the boy wasn't expecting other humans to intrude.
Wren fell over himself, shuffling on his hands and knees, before diving to his feet. When he turned and ran, I was released, slipping to the ground, trying and failing to draw in breath. I barely felt the impact, only a dull thudding pain. I could hear the ghost boy’s footsteps, his uneven, shuddery breaths as he catapulted into a run.
Under a late setting sun, I watched his dancing shadow disappear into the trees.
Mission unsuccessful, I guessed.
When I was fully conscious, Aunt May was checking over Jem, helping him sit up.
“Where did he go?” I managed to get out, scanning the darkness for Wren.
“He's okay, just concussed.” May whispered, dialling 911.
My aunt applied a dressing to Jem’s wound, ignoring the boy’s hisses.
“Keep still.” she murmured, smoothing his bandaid. “What happened, Charlotte?”
“She pushed me over.” Jem groaned, shuffling away from me. When my aunt told him to stay calm, he straightened up, leaning against the tree. “The psycho bitch tried to fucking kill me!”
When my aunt's gaze flicked to me, I shook my head.
“It was Wren Oliver.” I gritted, teetering on hysteria. I could tell she didn't believe me, but I couldn't stop myself.
I prodded at my throat, clawing for the indentations where his phantom fingers snaked around my neck, squeezing the breath from my lungs.
But there was nothing.
I could feel my mind starting to unravel. I nodded to my disgruntled classmate trying to dodge my aunt’s prodding.
“Ow, ow, ow! That stings!
“He knocked Jem out.” I managed. “Then he tried to kill me.”
Jem surprised me with a scoff. “You're seriously blaming your psychotic break on a dead kid?”
Aunt May pursed her lips, motioning for Jem to be quiet. Judging from her face, however, she agreed with the boy.
May forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. “Okay. Can you, uh, describe the boy to me, Charlotte?”
“He was wearing a crown,” I said, “And he looked my age.”
Aunt May cocked her head, and I saw real worry, like she was trying not to freak out. Jem made a snorting noise.
“I'm sorry, he was wearing a crown?”
“Yes!” I insisted, getting progressively more frustrated.
I tried to jump up, only for my aunt to gently lower me back down. “I know it sounds crazy, but death has sent Wren Oliver to kill me, just like my family. He tried to kill me when I was twelve, too!”
Jem let out a bitter laugh. “Your niece is a fucking wackadoodle.”
Aunt May’s eyes darkened. She grabbed my shoulders, her nails stabbing into my skin. “Charlie, I want you to listen to me, okay?” When my eyes found the rapidly darkening sky, my aunt forced me to look at her.
“Charlotte!”
She was as scared as me, her voice shuddering.
“Wren Oliver is dead.” My aunt said firmly, shaking me. Even then, though, I wasn't even looking at her. I was trying to find his ignited eyes lighting up the dark. “Wren died at eight years old in a terrible accident, and you can't keep using him as an excuse for your mental trauma.” There was something twitching in her expression I was trying to make sense of. When I risked a look at Jem, the boy was staring at me dazedly– like I really was crazy.
Aunt May pressed her face into my shoulder, and I could feel her tears soaking into my shirt. She was trying to hold it together, trying to understand.
“Charlie, I know you lost your family,” she whispered. “But you and Wren Oliver are not the same. You survived, and he didn't.” Her voice splintered.
“You need to come to terms with that, okay?”
When I didn't respond, she pinched my chin, forcing me to look at her.
“Charlotte.”
Aunt May’s voice turned cold. “I ignored this when you were a kid, but if you continue to use this poor boy as a coping mechanism, I will have no choice but to send you to a specialist.”
When Jem was taken away by paramedics, Aunt May held my hand, squeezing my fingers for dear life.
I caught her gaze scanning the tree's around us, delving into twisting oblivion. Every little noise sent her twisting around. She was looking for something.
“I'm going to get you help.” Aunt May said in a low murmur when we were back at the house. Jude was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs swinging. I could feel his penetrating gaze burning into the back of my head.
Aunt May set a cup of cocoa on the table.
“No more fairytales.”
By the time I was eighteen, I had bitten three therapists.
They refused to believe that death was coming to reclaim my soul, and was using a dead boy to do his dirty work.
For my 16th birthday, I braced myself to come face to face with Wren Oliver’s ghost.
I wasn't even in town, staying at a friend's house.
But dead boys, and especially dead boys moulded into Death’s personal soldiers, could materialise anywhere.
I locked every door in the house, and taped up my friend’s window.
Nothing happened.
On my seventeenth birthday, I was sick in bed with gastritis.
Still no ghost boy.
Death seemed to have finally left me alone.
On my eighteenth birthday, I was stuffing books in my locker when my cousin popped up out of nowhere, scowling as usual. After an unexpected growth spurt and losing a tonne of baby fat, my cousin had scaled the high school hierarchy, swapping his weird experiments for a varsity jacket and experimenting with his sexuality.
The two of us had come to an unspoken truce.
I kept quiet about his spider collection to his popular friends, and he tolerated my existence until I left for college.
“Your surprise party is cancelled.”
Jude leaned against my locker, running a hand through thick dark hair tucked under a baseball cap. Jude never admitted it, but he was definitely embarrassed of being the odd one out.
My siblings may be dead, but they were still redheads.
I pulled off his cap with a smile, throwing it in his face. “Sure it is.”
My cousin’s eyes widened. He lost his slick bravado, grabbing for his cap.
“Hey!”
According to my cousin, my party was unexpectedly cancelled every year.
I wasn't sure if it was his weird superiority complex, or just plain jealousy, but it was getting exhausting.
Jude followed me down the hallway, matching my stride.
“Can you just not come home tonight?”
I quickened my pace. “It's only a party. I'm having some friends over, and no, we won't go anywhere near your room.”
“No, I mean.” Jude stepped in front of me, and for the first time in a while, he wasn't trying to hide disdain for me.
His dark eyes pinned me in place for a moment, the world around us coming to a halt. Sound bled away, and all I heard were his slow breaths. There was something there, an unexplainable twitch in his eyes and lips, that twisted my gut.
Jude stepped closer, his lip curling. He shoved me back, losing his facade.
“Stay the fuck away from the house tonight.” He said, and his voice, his tone, was enough to send shivers creeping down my spine. Jude had always hid behind a ten foot wall in his mind. It was jarring to see something in him finally start to splinter. Fuck. I thought.
This kid had serious Mommy issues.
I blinked, and the world resumed, kids pushing past us.
Jude seemed to catch himself, slipping back under his mask.
“I'm having friends over,” he rolled his eyes, “Your presence will ruin the vibe.”
“It's my birthday?”
He groaned, tipping his head back. “Yes, I know. But–”
“I think you can deal with the attention off of you for one night, Jude.”
“Will Wren Oliver be there too?” Jem Littlewood hollered.
Jude didn't respond for a moment, his lip curling.
“Shut the fuck up.” He spat at Jem, who immediately backed down. With an audience this time, Jude forced an award winning smile. “Fine.” His lips split into a grin I knew he hated. My cousin clamped his hand on my shoulder, hard enough to hurt. I could feel his fingers pinching the material of my jacket. “Have it your way, dude.”
Jude backed away with a two fingered salute.
“Happy 78th birthday!”
In a sense, I wish I listened to my cousin.
My party was a success, sort of.
Four of us, a crate of beers, and no sign of my cousin.
I was mildly tipsy, sitting on the edge of the pool, dangling my legs in the water when my friend demanded more beers.
I was also hungry for cake, so I stumbled inside in search of the goods.
The house was dark, lit up in dazzling blue from the pool's lights reflecting through the windows. Aunt May was in her office on the ground floor, and Jude was getting high in his room. In my drunken state, I found myself marvelling my aunt's house, and how much of it was left unexplored.
For example, in the foyer, past the spiral staircase she’d had custom made, was an elevator I had never questioned.
There was a girl my age standing on the staircase.
She was frozen, mid run, dressed in ragged jeans and t-shirt.
Everything about her stuck out to me, bringing me to a sobering halt.
The girl reminded me of my sister– or at least, if my sister had ever grown up.
I wasn't sure if I was drunk or hallucinating.
Her flower crown was pretty…
Lily had grown wings.
I was slowly moving towards her, a sudden bang sounding from the kitchen.
The bang of something shattering on the floor.
Twisting around, I found myself gravitating towards warm golden light.
The first thing I saw was the refrigerator door hanging open, and someone, no, something, rooting around inside it.
Glued to the spot, I dazedly watched them grab milk, guzzling it down, and then soda, cracking open each can and sucking them dry, before carving their fingers into my birthday cake.
But I wasn't looking at the spillage of food seeping across the floor. Instead, my gaze found a crown of antlers, both human and animal bone entangled with dead flowers and human remains glued to a head of familiar matted brown curls. There was something sticking from battered and bruised flesh, twin gaping slits sliced through a torn shirt resembling glass wings that were not yet formed, reminding me of a butterfly.
Wings.
But not the wings I dreamed of as a kid. These things were unnatural mounds that both did and didn't make sense on a human boy. I could see the trauma of them slicing through his flesh, monstrous, looming things protruding from what was left of a human spine.
Human, and yet I couldn't call his beautifully grotesque face human.
Wren Oliver had grown up with me, now an adult.
Eighteen years old.
His clothes confused me, a single white shirt and shorts.
Wren’s feet were bare, battered and bruised, blood smearing my aunt's tiles.
Angel.
Death had turned his footsoldier, and my future killer, into an angel.
But there was nothing angelic about the dead boy, his body and mind sculpted and moulded into Death’s own.
The boy no longer resembled a human, feral eyes and a manic smile, choking down pieces of cake. His face had been contorted into a monster, gnashing teeth and sharp points in his ears, a sickly tinge to malnourished skin.
And that's when it hit me, watching him stuff himself with food.
Something slimy inched its way up my throat.
The boy didn't move. I don't even think he'd noticed me, gorging himself on anything he could get his hands on.
Chicken, raw bacon, leftover salad.
When he moved onto cupcakes, licking frosting from his fingers, I glimpsed markings on his arms, a language I didn't understand, carved into him.
His wrists were shackled, bound, in entangled iron and vine, iron that was ingrained into his skin, vines and flowers and ivy entangling his bones, that were part of him, polluting his blood. Slowly, my eyes found stab wounds splitting open his torso.
Raw flesh, where his skin had been torched, melting, and then merging, ripped apart and put back together over and over again.
I found his heart, the gaping cavern in his chest where it should be.
And it was.
Marked, carved, and branded with a symbol resembling an X.
Wren Oliver was not dead.
But, just like me, he should have been.
I remember saying his name, my voice slurred slightly.
I didn't drink that much, but I could barely coerce words, my head spinning.
Wren’s neck snapped towards me, his eyes narrowing with resentment I couldn't understand, hatred that seemed to puppeteer him. Slowly tilting his head, the boy’s lips split into a grin, eyes filled, polluted, with mania.
I could see where his lips had been stitched shut, and then ripped open.
“Hi.”
He held up his hand in an awkward wave.
When one of my friends stumbled into the kitchen, Wren reacted on impulse.
He picked up a knife from the counter, throwing it like a dart, straight through the guy’s throat.
Something shattered inside my mind.
Ignoring my friend bleeding out, Wren stumbled over himself, abandoning his feast. He took a single step towards me, backing me against the wall, coming so close, close enough for me to feel his very real breath grazing my cheeks. Just like when he was a kid, he traced the teeth of his blade down my throat. I wasn't expecting him to burst out laughing, trembling with hysteria.
His eyes were wild, feral and wrong, almost euphoric.
With what all I could only recognise as relief.
BANG.
I was barely aware of the gunshot.
The bullet went straight through his head, the winged boy hitting the ground.
Dead.
I saw the blood stemming around him in a halo before the bleeding pool faltered, seeping back inside his head.
Like rewinding a VCR.
Wren was dead, and then he was alive.
Wren’s body contorted, his chest inflating.
His gasp for air was painful, strangled, eyes opening wide.
Terrified.
“You fucking idiot.”
Jude’s voice sent me twisting around.
My cousin stood in the exact same robes he wore as a child.
The world tipped off kilter, and I was on my knees, then my stomach.
I sunk to the floor, my thoughts swimming.
Jude’s murmur followed me, creeping into the dark.
“I told you not to come home.”
I can't remember how long I was unconscious for.
When I woke, I was dressed in an evening gown, a dress that used to be my mother’s.
My vision cleared, and I found myself sitting in an unfamiliar room resembling an abandoned swimming hall.
The pool itself was empty, the bottom stained revealing scarlet.
There were symbols carved into each tile.
Like a game.
“Sit up straight, Charlotte.”
I was sitting at a banquet.
Jude was in front of me, sipping on wine.
He caught my eye for half a second before averting his gaze.
At the far end of the table sat my aunt May.
Kissing the rim of her glass, her smile was twisted.
“I've been waiting so long to give you your birthday presents, Charlotte. Your memories should be returning soon.”
“Mom.” Jude muttered, hiding behind his glass. “Calm down. You're embarrassing yourself.”
Ignoring my cousin, May tapped her glass with a fork, and in walked my birthday presents.
No, dragged.
By their hair.
Wren Oliver, the dead boy, was in fact my aunt's prisoner.
Behind him, was the girl who looked so much like Lily.
I think that's why my aunt chose her.
Aunt May cleared her throat.
“For a long time, our family has lived among creatures who live in the forest you played inside. In exchange for keeping this town safe, they only ask for small favors. Wayward children who disappear into the woods are good enough payment. Charlie, you and your siblings do not share our inheritance. Your mother never wanted fae children. She wanted you to be human.”
Aunt May’s smile faded.
“After losing my sister, and my niece and nephew, I made a deal to give my last surviving niece 100 years of life.”
Her words were white noise, my gaze glued to my birthday presents. I couldn't call them human anymore.
I couldn't call Wren human, when his face was so beautifully grotesque, painfully hypnotising.
The monstrous things sticking from twin slits in his back were supposed to be wings, except they looked wrong, cruelly protruding from his exposed spine. Under the influence of alcohol earlier, the girl made me smile.
Her wings, to me, looked like one of a real fairy.
In reality, they were torn and shredded apart, bigger than the girl herself.
When she dropped onto her stomach, she was dragged back to her feet, her knees buckling under the weight. Her tiara of flowers and bone looked pretty to me when I saw her on the stairs.
Now, though, I could see the pearly white of a human child's skull forced onto her head, dead flowers threaded through cavernous, gaping eye sockets.
The two of them were violently shoved into the empty pool.
“Jude. Please demonstrate, sweetheart.”
Jude stood, pulling out a gun, and aiming it at the winged girl.
BANG.
The girl’s body hit the tiles, her blood seeping across stained white.
“Now, of course, our king did not give you life for free.” May continued.
“The King demanded a debt, as well as two heirs to join him in his court once your hundred years were complete.”
Her lips quirked into a smile.
“The king is smart. If a child cannot be stolen from the human world, they can, however, be made, moulded and shaped from their human forms, skinned of their humanity through their suffering, leaving a hollowed out shell in the child's place.” She was speaking so casually, ignoring Wren’s whimpers.
“The conversion takes a while. 100 years to birth a fully blooded fae heir, who will lose their human memories, in preparation to join their new family.”
Jude shot Wren in the chest, his eyes empty.
This time, he dropped his weapon, using finger-guns instead.
“Bang.” He deadpanned.
Then the neck.
I watched Wren come back to life, and then die.
Over and over again.
I think at one point, he screamed and cried.
But not now.
He was their puppet on display, dancing for their entertainment.
Half lidded eyes drowned in oblivion found mine, and I understood his hatred.
Before he was shot again.
Stabbed.
Branded and burned, and ripped apart.
At some point, I screamed at them to stop. I couldn't breathe, slamming my hands over my ears and begging them.
Aunt May didn't listen, ordering for my hands to be tied down.
“The King required two human sacrifices to suffer in your place.” She concluded. “For one hundred years.”
Aunt May’s smile was suddenly sad, and she lifted her glass in a toast.
I was watching their blood trickle down each tile in the pool, like every death, every time they suffered, my body became progressively less human.
I felt disgusting. I wasn't supposed to be alive. Every single year of my life, every breath I had taken, was stolen.
Aunt May nodded at me, her lips forming a proud smile. She stood up, and was handed a sacrificial knife.
Climbing into the swimming pool herself, she strode over to Wren.
The boy slumped to the floor, trembling, his knees against his chest.
Aunt May grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head up, and sliced the blade across his throat.
His eyes flicked to me, and I swore he smiled.
Spots of red dotted yellowing tiles, a river trickling under my aunt's heels.
“Happy 78th birthday, Charlotte.”
Last night ended with me being locked in my room.
It's been almost 15 hours, and the door is still locked. Please help me. I'm fucking terrified of what my aunt is planning.
I can't stop shgajing. FycjbfucibFUCK
If she is telling the truth, I shouldn't be here, right??
And I can't stop thinking.
Is Wren Oliver trying to kill me, or himself?

Hey so I wore some style 93 Mary Jane vans to a metal show and got stuck in the pit, lost one shoe that was later returned to me caked in mud. They were both pretty muddy anyway so I scrubbed them with a soapy tooth brush the next day. It wasn’t enough to get them perfectly clean and I didn’t want to soak them so I let them dry before making attempt number 2. I got all the actual globs of mud off at this point but there was still dirt caked into the canvas. After the 3rd scrubbing I thought they were finally clean until they dried and I could see there was still somehow mud stuck in the fibers of the canvas. I thought they were at least clean enough to wear again and when I tried to put them on they were so insanely tight I literally had to force my foot into the shoe. My foot looks like it’s bursting out of the top now.
So my questions are; how can I get these shoes actually clean? Can these be re stretched, they feel nearly a half size too small now. I’ve only gotten 2 wears out of them at this point. Thank you to anyone with advice!

I’ll preface this by saying that our solution is not to “break up” etc etc. i’m looking for structural advice to help us
On my most recent birthday, I told my boyfriend that i did not want any gifts and that i just wanted to spend time with him. We already booked a holiday for our birthdays so asking for more seemed too much to me. Around midnight, he came to my house and gifted me a lovely card, perfume and a drink and it was great. I mentioned that I would like us to go to this restaurant we love as they gave us a lifetime discount of 50%.
We wake up in the morning and he goes home to get ready. I’m almost finished getting ready and he’s with his best friend (someone who is an E-list celeb and flaunts his money around my bf but never invites him, but are supposedly best friends). On the phone he starts to say he doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t want to see me, i should spend my birthday with someone else. It comes to light that he had just tried to gamble his money to get more money for my birthday and has lost around £800. So, I went to see him and ask him about it all and he concluded he had ruined my birthday. I stood on the fact that I just wanted to spend my birthday with him and we ended just going back to my house and chilling.
A month later, his birthday has just gone. I planned very hard to try and make sure that he wouldn’t have to feel how i felt on my day but it didn’t work. I baked a homemade birthday cake and bought him a drink and card. in the morning i went home to get ready as i had made reservations for us at a 5 star restaurant in Central. We get out the cab and my heel breaks so we have to get cab back home so i can change shoes. He says he doesn’t like the area because there’s too many tourists. Once i’ve changed my shoes he says that it’s okay if we stay home but i said that i really wanted to take him to this restaurant and book the cab back. once we return, he says he doesn’t understand why i took us back to the same place and I said to him that it’s now night time and the tourists are gone, so i assumed it wouldn’t be a problem. We go to the restaurant, and he says he doesn’t like it and we pay and leave. Once home he says i ruined his birthday by tricking him back to the same place and not listening. I said that i listened to what he said and made sure to go at a quieter time. He also says to his brother that the place was trash and everything was trash.
The next morning, he’s still really mad at me. overall, i take accountability of my actions and maybe instead of going when the tourists were gone, I should’ve gone somewhere else but I also feel that he is really harsh on me and not as understanding as I am when the shoes on the other foot. When he made a mistake trying to do something good for me, I took a step back to try and see from his eyes but also reiterating that I wanted something simple. I feel that both of us tried to give the best for each other but it didn’t go as planned.
He’s not speaking to me right now and i’m conflicted on how to feel. I understand that he may be processing it differently too. i can’t help but feel hurt though on how harsh he is on me. I don’t want to beat myself up about it because i do feel bad but it’s really made me feel quite sad.
tl;dr. boyfriend gambled on my birthday and concluded he had ruined my birthday. i couldn’t be mad and just had to accept and forgive. i took my boyfriend to dinner but he says i tricked him by going back to the same place. i feel there’s a double standard in place?

Jim Simons, a Pioneer of Quantitative Trading, Dies at 86
A mathematician, he helped usher in a revolution in trading, embracing a computer-oriented, quantitative style in the 1980s
https://www.wsj.com/arts-culture/books/jim-simons-a-pioneer-of-quantitative-trading-dies-6621d66e?mod=djemalertNEWS
Jim Simons, a mathematician who became one of the most successful investors in modern financial history, has died at age 86.
A cutting-edge code breaker and geometer, Simons helped pioneer a revolution in trading, embracing a computer-oriented, quantitative style in the 1980s well ahead of the Wall Street crowd. He and his team employed trading algorithms and artificial intelligence to outperform the market—and the likes of Warren Buffett and George Soros. Later, Simons became a political donor and an influential philanthropist in the worlds of science, health and education.
Simons, the son of a Boston shoe-factory executive, developed an early passion for mathematics and ignored the advice of the family physician who urged him to steer clear of the field because he wouldn’t make a living. The warning proved misplaced.
Simons began his career as a professor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Harvard University. He proved popular with students. One year, Simons amused a graduate class by confessing that he didn’t know much about the topic—partial differential equations—but that he viewed teaching the course as a good way to learn.
Simons became restless, though. He started businesses with friends and dabbled in trading. Friends and family detected a desire for wealth.
“Jim understood at an early age that money is power,” said Barbara Simons, his first wife, in an interview.
During the Cold War, in 1964, Simons joined a U.S. intelligence organization fighting the Soviet Union. He successfully broke Russian code but was fired when he took a public stance against the Vietnam War, upsetting his boss, who had spoken in favor of the war.
Simons joined Stony Brook University in Long Island, N.Y., where he ran the math department, developing an ability to recruit talented professors. At 37, he won geometry’s highest honor, cementing his reputation in the world of mathematics. His Chern-Simons theory remains one of the most widely cited math papers of the past century.

Farewell to academia

In 1978, at the age of 40, Simons astonished his colleagues by quitting academia to try his hand at trading. He started an investment firm in a dreary Long Island strip mall, next to a women’s clothing boutique and two doors from a pizza joint. At the time, many rivals were “fundamental” investors, chatting with corporate managers, scrutinizing balance sheets and relying on judgment and intuition to predict the ups and downs of investments.
Where others saw the zigs and zags as chaos, Simons, who had been trained to scrutinize large data sets, sensed that financial markets had more structure than most presumed.
“I developed a view that markets are not random, and [were] to some extent predictable,” he later said in an interview with The Wall Street Journal. “There were statistical anomalies that could be exploited.”
Early on, Simons traded like most others, reading the news and betting on gold prices and other investments. He scored gains but found it hard to endure the market’s volatility. He developed stomach pains and berated himself for miscues.
“One day you’re a genius, the next you feel like a dope,” Simons said. “Fundamental trading gave me ulcers.”
Simons set out to build an automated trading system that could discover fleeting and overlooked patterns in prices.
“I want models that will make money while I sleep,” Simons told a friend at the time. “A pure system without humans interfering.”
Simons hired scientists and mathematicians who used data going back centuries, predictive algorithms and machine learning. They often met with frustration.
“There’s a pattern here; there has to be a pattern,” Simons insisted one day.
At one point, their trading system inadvertently came close to cornering the market for Maine potatoes, to the dismay of regulators.
“We were viewed as flakes with ridiculous ideas,” said Elwyn Berlekamp, who helped lead the firm in the 1980s, in a 2017 interview.

A payoff, finally

By 1990, Simons and his team, in their East Setauket, N.Y., headquarters, had identified ways to profit from currency, commodity and other markets using short-term patterns they had found. It took years longer, but the firm, by then called Renaissance Technologies, eventually discovered a way to make billions of dollars on stocks.
Their winning strategy: holding investments for short periods, even minutes, turning almost all of the trading decisions to computers—and maintaining a veil of secrecy unlike almost any in Wall Street’s history. Colleagues said one reason for the firm’s success was Simons’s ability to coax accomplished mathematicians and scientists to join his firm, and get them to work together—his genius was managing genius.
“There is one GOAT [greatest of all time]. His name was Jim Simons,” said Clifford Asness, managing and founding principal of AQR Capital Management. “That he was also a nice, kind, generous and caring man just makes it that much more amazing.”
Between 1988 and 2018, Renaissance’s flagship Medallion Fund produced gains of more than $100 billion and average annual returns of 66% before the firm’s unusually hefty investor fees. The annual gains were 39% after those fees, a performance that topped those of Buffett, Soros, Peter Lynch and other investors during that period. Medallion years ago became a fund only open to Simons and his colleagues.
Simons defied the odds in other ways. He was a regular cigarette smoker, lighting up in office buildings, restaurants and most everywhere else. Once, during a presentation to potential clients, Simons couldn’t find an ashtray so he buried his cigarette butt deep in a sheet cake, amazing his guests.

Many converts

Today, more investors have embraced Simons’s mathematical, computer-oriented approach. About one-third of all money is managed by so-called quant firms, and businesses in various industries rely on algorithms.
Away from trading, Simons suffered tragedy. One son, Paul, died in a bicycle accident. Another, Nicholas, died while scuba diving.
“My life is either aces or deuces,” Simons once told a colleague.
Over the years, Simons reduced his role at the firm while focusing on science, education and other philanthropies. In 2010 he resigned as Renaissance’s chief executive, yielding the job to longtime employee and former International Business Machines computer scientist Peter Brown. Simons retired as chairman in 2021.
Simons’s health had deteriorated recently.
Simons gave away more than $6 billion during his lifetime. The Simons Foundation became a leading private funder of research in basic science. Simons also provided annual stipends of $15,000 to more than 1,000 top math and science teachers in New York City. He funded efforts to discover treatments for autism and spent $75 million to build an observatory in Chile to gain an understanding of creation’s earliest moments.
In 2021, Simons and senior Renaissance executives agreed to pay up to $7 billion to settle a long-running tax probe related to how the firm converted short-term gains into long-term profits, which are typically taxed at a lower rate. It was one of the biggest settlements in Internal Revenue Service history.
Simons was one of the biggest backers of Democratic candidates, supporting the presidential campaigns of Joe Biden and Hillary Clinton. Meanwhile, Robert Mercer, then the co-CEO of Renaissance, in 2016 became one of then-presidential-candidate Donald Trump’s most important backers.
In a 2019 speech, Simons offered a life lesson to MIT students.
“Be guided by beauty,” he said. “It can be a way a company runs, or the way an experiment comes out, or the way a theorem comes out, but there’s a sense of beauty when something is working well, almost an aesthetic to it.”
Simons is survived by his wife, Marilyn Simons, and three children. His earlier marriage to Barbara Simons ended in divorce.

So I 17F turned 17 in November and have an elder brother 19M who recently turned 19 in April. Quick family background: My dad works at a well-paying job and also has a business of rental homes from which he earns well as well. My mother also works at a well-paying job and earns well. I'm an introverted person and I recently turned 17 in November end.Now as I stated I have an elder brother who's 2 years older than me. I never really thought that my parents ever favoured him over me in my life until recently which started with small changes made by my parents. My dad first changed his mobile password to my brother's birthdate and my mom followed by changing her social media pics to my brothers only. He would always get the latest sneakers, and clothes and go out partying with his friends which I thought (and is) expensive. Now, I've been a fan of motorcycles since I was a kid and in 2022 I fell in love with a motorcycle and practically begged my parents to get me one. They kept denying it until my dad realised that I wouldn't stop begging for it and got me the bike in 2023. Right after that my brother also demanded a new bike and my parents got him a new bike which was twice the price of mine in September. Now, Throughout November I was eager for my birthday since that was the only day I got all the attention and love and asked my parents and brother for a birthday gift or a small party with all the family members since that is what we do at birthdays. On the day of my birthday, my brother went to another town since he had to attend a lecture and just called me and wished me a birthday. In the evening my friend and I went to a nearby cafe where we hardly spent 5 mins and then my dad called me asking me to pick him up from the bus depot. I first told him that I was on the other side of the town and it would be comfortable for him if he just booked a cab or something. But then he got angry and demanded me to be there in 10 minutes or things wouldn't be the same for me after that. I asked my friend to wait for 15 mins and picked up my dad and he asked me where I was to which I replied that I was with a friend at the cafe since it was my birthday and ill had to head back there soon since she's waiting. He paused for a moment and asked me to get a cake while returning home. I raced back to the cafe after dropping my dad and apologized to my friend for the wait. We were just talking about college for 10 minutes and then my mother called me demanding that I should be back at home or there would be no cake cutting. I felt bad for my friend and also myself. I apologized to my friend decided to get a small cake from my savings and headed back home. My mom and dad asked me to cut the cake while they sang the song and we cut the cake together. I was just sitting in the living room while viewing some posts on Instagram when my parents came back from the room and said that they'd have dinner at a friend's party that night and would return late. They asked me to eat the dinner which was premade by our cook and study and sleep. I asked them where was my birthday gift to which they replied that they gifted me the bike and now they don't have any money for another gift for me. I just laughed it off and went to my room after they left. The same night my brother sent me a snap of him enjoying a party with his friends and I just burst out crying realizing how lonely my life was Thanks to my parents my friend hadn't repliedto me back since that day after I had to leave her at the cafe. I didn't eat dinner and just studied and slept that night. My brother returned in December and was flaunting his new sneakers and I felt a bit odd. I asked him where he got the money for those pairs and he just shrugged and said that dad gave him the money. I genuinely felt hurt but didn't say anything to him. Fast forward to April and it was my brother's birthday. I had been saving up money to give myself something since I didn't get anything from my family but then my brother asked for a gift and I couldn't refuse him since he was my brother. He asked for a silver chained bracelet and I had just enough money to get a moderate one as a gift and gifted him the chain. My mother later gifted him some expensive Adidas t-shirts and I thought that maybe he needed new ones since he goes to the gym and stuff. Then in May of 2024, my dad purchased the new iPhone 15 pro max for himself and needed my help to transfer all the files and data. While transferring my brother suddenly sent a pic of a fossil watch worth around 20k and thanked my dad for it as a gift. I asked my dad what he was talking about and he said that he gifted that watch to my brother as it was his birthday in April. I genuinely felt hurt but still forced a smile and jokingly asked where was my gift. He just shut me up saying that he got me the bike. I felt so hurt that I left his room and was walking back to the other room when my mom saw tears and asked me what was wrong. I replied to her that my brother gets everything he needs even a birthday gift and I didn't even get a cake from you (the cake that I cut was from my own money which I had saved up after selling my gaming account). She just said: But beta we gifted you the bike. At that point, I was practically crying and said to her that even my brother got the bike much more expensive than mine which was followed up by a new pair of dozen sneakers, bracelets and clothes. Still, I didn't get anything else. She just asked me to suck it up and asked me to stop comparing. At that point, I just stormed off to my room closed the door and was weeping in my room when suddenly I heard my dad yell across the living room asking why I was throwing a tantrum over a SMALL THING. I just decided never to talk to anyone after that and decided to keep to myself. Just after a few days (today) my brother came back for the holidays and was happily flaunting his new watch and shoes. I didn't react or say anything for almost 5 hours until he asked me what was wrong and I told him everything I felt. And he just asked me to stop with all the tantrums and stop comparing. I felt so bad when he also said: Be happy that they got you a bike.
Now I had decided not to talk to anyone but the anger and sadness were eating me up. I started overthinking a lot more than usual and didn't know if I was wrong or right to ask for a gift.
Please help me and suggest me something about your opinion.
18hrs later: Many of you said that I should be happy with everything (with the bike they've provided) and shouldn't be jealous of my brother or anything.
I love my brother a lot and I'm not jealous of him in any way but I just feel that he gets everything he wants and whenever I ask for anything my parents just reply that they've got financial issues and the very next week my brother would send me a snap of something useless but good stuff he's bought.
So the thing is I just feel like my parents don't like to spend anything for me but are happy to spend on my brother even on unwanted things. Growing up I never asked for anything from them even the smartphone I'm using to post this is a hand-me-down iPhone 12 that was previously used for a year by my brother and I happily accepted it since I knew they wouldn't buy me a new one. (My brother keeps upgrading his phones as they come into the market)

Popping up in a voodoo shop in New Orleans, a demon made of burlap made his way to the counter. His inky eyes glittered with excitement at my presence, a couple of his pins popping out. Fishing around the pocket of my jet black summer dress, a box of giant pins grazed against my fingertips. Setting the pins on the counter, Wisty shifted uncomfortably behind me. The voodoo doll demon's short stature had me smiling to myself. Mr. Dolls was a demon with the pension for the simple things.
“How is it going, Mr. Dolls?” I chirped cheerfully, hoping to get access into the Dark Market for a few supplies to seal those reapers into their final resting place. Feathers fluttered onto my shoulder, his beak kissing my cheek. Fluffing the top of his head, Mr. Dolls tucking them underneath the desk. Taking in all the basic supplies for any spell on the worn shelves, his hand slid over a rusting skeleton key. How long has it been since I visited the market?
“Have fun!” He bellowed in his deep southern accent, a Cheshire Cat grin spreading ear to ear with the peck to his cheek. A black iron door appeared in front of us, the brass knob turning on its own. Crossing the threshold, the door creaked shut behind us. A sea of rundown buildings greeted me, the stands lined with every magical tool and herb one could need. Fixing his black band t-shirt and ripped jeans, something told me that he felt out of place. Most of the people in the market wore clothing similar to ours, his fraying nerves relaxing visibly. Something reeked, my eyes scanning the chaos bustling about in front of me. Chewing on my lips, a tap on Feathers’ head sent him ahead to check things out. Hooking my elbow around his, his real smile lit up his features. Moving from stand to stand, ingredients were soon filling up my worn leather bag. A scream had our heads snapping in its direction, a corrupt reaper seconds from decapitating a random witch. Shoving the bag into Wisty’s chest, my fingers plucked my fans from my boot. Flicking them to their full length, shocked gasps passed like silent whispers the moment I pushed off the cobblestone street. Ruby moonlight bathed me, the shadowy reaper glancing up at me. Spinning my fans around my wrist, a blast of wind had him crashing into a pile of bricks. Landing gracefully, the shoppers scurried into the nearest buildings. Cart owners rolled their mobile shops into the closest alleyway, their livelihood depending on that alone. Admiring the amount of space, the rogue reaper rose to his feet with a hiss. Spinning his shadow scythe over his head, the reaper was so far gone that words were no longer an option. Raising my fans in the attack position, this battle was going to sting like a bitch. Charging at me, my fans blocked his scythe. Kicking me in the stomach, several of my organs burst. Blood rained in the sky, a building catching me. Glancing down at my stomach, a whimper escaped my lips at the broken pipe impaling me. Peeling myself off, inky blood pooled on the top of my boots. Hiding behind the wall, the reaper was hopping towards me. Chains blocked his path, my body sliding down the wall. A small demon child cried behind her mother, a sympathetic smile leaving my lips. Plucking my pocket watch out of my boot, my concentration lingered on the pipe and wall. Spinning the top, everything repaired itself. Struggling to my feet, a new plan of attack needed to be found. Noting the bag of sand in the corner, my brow raised with a sly grin.
“May I borrow your bag of sand? I promise to buy you another one after the madness is over.” I requested politely, my head bowing in shame at my blood staining their carpet. “And perhaps a carpet as well.” Opening the window, their shock filled eyes followed me climbing out the window. Heaving myself onto the roof, my eyes scanned the vast market for a viable plan. Salem flew past my head, my arm catching him. Setting him down gingerly, no wounds were visible. Fishing around my boot, a healing potion grazed the tip of my fingers. Offering him the vial, his trembling hand gulped it down. Swaying slightly, the reaper punched the walls behind him.
“Any weaknesses?” I inquired with a rub on his shoulder, his head shaking. My worst fear had been confirmed, the reaper was well beyond the normal level. Checking to see if the bag was still there, Salem’s protest fell on deaf ears the moment I leapt onto the next roof. Landing next to me, his rage was his weakness. Keeping to the shadows, we were just over him. Jumping off, my loud landing had his head snapping in my direction.
“Is the little reaper done with his temper tantrum!” I teased with a defiant grin, his temper flaring. Crashing towards me, sand exploded the moment it hit the street. Pirouetting around his shadowy form, a swift kick had him flailing in air. Twirling around to pick up speed, a tornado whistled to life around me. Feathers floated into the howling funnel of wind, an abrupt stop had him trapped in the death trap. Feathers cut into his skin, my fingers curling around the pocket watch. Speeding up the tornado, his screams grew louder. Inky blood poured from my nose, the screams dying down. The tornado died down, a pile of ash remaining where the reaper once stood. A gang of demons crunched behind me, sand crunching as I spun on my heels. Cocking my head to the left, hidden horror hid underneath my confident smile at the blade being pressed to a kid’s throat. Couldn't one thing go right today, damn it!
“I suggest you let the little guy go.” I threatened icily, my patience wearing thin. “If you don’t, Death is going to rain down on you.” Pushing the kid towards me, his parents called him over. Masked gang members fussed with their simple onyx masks, the hooded sweatshirt and jeans throwing me off. The leader sauntered forward, his seven foot stature had me doubting myself for a few spare moments.
“It’s not like you are in charge of the universe or anything.” He retorted bitterly, his visible lips curling into a smile at my visible rage. “Oh shit! You are in charge of the universe. So you are the infamous Asphodel, the one to kill. Do you know that Master Skull has an impressive bounty on your head?” Scoffing with an eye roll, the information was all I needed to know. Master Skull needed time to recover from his withdrawals.
“Your bitch of a boss can fight me himself.” I snapped impatiently, spinning my fans in my palms. “Is the money worth you dying?” Leaning his head back, a hearty laugh poured from his lips. Gritting my teeth, his level of disrespect had my temper flaring visibly. Clenching my jaw, Wisty popped up by my side. Cracking his knuckles, his chains whipped around him. Respect burned in their eyes for him, another wave of fury crashing through me. Did I not look authoritative enough to garner respect?
“If you know what’s good for you, your asses should leave and never come back.” Wisty warned with a low growl in his throat, the gangster breaking out into a fit of laughter. “So plan B it is, eh?” Cocking the safety, a bullet whistled by my head. Chains blocked a barrage of bullets, the idiots chose death over living. Splitting up, stealth would be my friend. One of the stand owners pushed out a sack of ash, my fingers curling around the top. Tucking my pocket watch back into my boot, wits would be my way out once more. Scaling a building, the sheer impact would create an incredible fog on the street. Hanging it over the ledge, footfalls echoed behind me. Releasing the sack, time slowed during the descent. Spinning on my heels, the precise edge of my fan cut through a gang member’s neck with ease. Smashing the heel of my boot into his head until it resembled brain and bone stew, the sack hit the street. Leaping over the ledge, the cloud obscured my landing. Dancing through the ash, spin after spin had demon heads bouncing off of my boots. Crashing into Wisty, my breath hitched at how handsome he looked in the chaos. Kissing each other passionately, scarlet painted my cheeks upon the release of his spell. Getting back into the battle, about a dozen of them remained. Dodging the attacks with ease, my light footwork was proving to be my friend. Muddy blood sprayed my face with every slice, the bodies hitting our feet. Decaying to ash, one demon remained. Skidding into the nearest alleyway, Wisty smashed into me. Every ounce of breath hitched at how close he was, his crooked grin causing my heart to flutter wildly. Seconds from flirting with me, the leader’s voice had our heads snapping in his direction.
“Nice work. If I didn’t know who you were then you would be hired in a heartbeat. Most people die within ten minutes of meeting us.” He mused darkly, his body paced back and forth in the thick of the cloud. Something seemed off, the damn trick looking like an illusion. The energy shifted, copies appeared in every space. Wisty sent out his chains, the real one seeming out of range. Glancing up, his body appeared over us. Spinning my fans in my palm, wind built up. Flicking them into his direction, a ball of air swirled around my boot. Releasing the ball of air with a swift kick, my fans’ speed tripled. Shock round his eyes at the sharp edges cutting him into three pieces. His head bounced off of mine, the torso splattering by our boots. His expensive shoes clanged with every clumsy strike on their way down. Decaying to ash before they could hit the street, his torso and head wasn’t far behind. Catching my fans in my eager palms, Wisty cupped my cheeks. What was going through his head right now?
“I love you so much right now! Nothing can describe how sexy you look at this very moment.” He flirted shamelessly, everyone coming out to see nothing but ash and an empty street. Gathering the souls into a bag, his steady hand dropped the bag of supplies into my hands. He wasn't this sweet unless he wanted something.
“Stay here until I ditch these bastards in Hell.” He pleaded with his palms pressed together, my ears pinning back. Shooting him a thumbs up, his chains whisking him away. Plopping down on the nearest bench, patience wore thin in my eyes. Lantern appeared next to me, his perfect waves floating up. What now! My bed was beckoning, the softness of the blankets gifting me rare moments of sweet slumber.
“Time for a meeting, council leader.” He announced with a big smile, hesitation burning in my eyes. “Wisty will meet us after he finishes up.” Huffing a bitter fine, his arm curled around my waist. Something was up, curiosity mixing with a dull fury. Narrowing my eyes in his direction, a nervous chuckle flooded from his lips. Zooming into the hallway outside the meeting room, his strong arms set me down. Holding his finger in the air, his head poked into the slightly ajar door. Smoothing out his robes, he cleared his throat. Why did he have such an odd expression?
“Don’t murder us but we wanted to celebrate your promotion.” He pleaded with another nervous chuckle, his hand pushing the door open. Mixed emotions flashed on my face, Mother Nature waving at me with Ravy in her arms. Taking in their usual outfits, my old man came in with a peanut butter flavored ice cream cake. The door opened again, Wisty stepping in with an apologetic smile on his lips. Waving at us, his fingers intertwined with mine. Spinning me around, his arm curled around my waist. Staring up at him with a look of disbelief, the idea had to be his and his alone.
“What brought on this?” I inquired with a cock of my brow, a sly grin brightening his exhausted features. Shrugging his shoulders, my father motioned for us to sit. Taking my seat at the head of the table, an empty chair remained. Tears welled up in my eyes, his name having been engraved in his seat. Silent tears stained my cheeks, tears pooling on the table. Covering my mouth, Wisty took my hand. Not sure what to do, his place would always remain here and in my heart.
“We wanted to remember him as well, my dear.” Mother Nature spoke with tears glistening in her eyes, her broken expression lingering on the chair. “Don’t leave us like him!" Kissing the top of Ravy’s head, a tainted feeling of hope came over the space. Something ate at me, Master Skull's plan proving to be insecure at best. Why wouldn’t he fight me himself? Fingers snapped in front of my face, Wisty staring into my eyes with the utmost concern. The lights flickered, arms ripping me away from the table. Falling through the dimensions, Master Skull’s boot met my stomach. A fountain of blood burst from my lips, my fingers clawing at the warm rock underneath me. Where the hell was I?
“Open up the seal or die right here!” He demanded venomously, throwing the bag of supplies into my face. Wicked laughter rumbled in my throat, our story would be ending today. Getting on my knees, this fucking bastard didn’t know the spell. Raising his leg over my head, my fingers caught his ankle. Not today, you freaking cockroach.
“As much as I like this little trip to a necessary location, you can’t tell me to do shit!” I barked back with a defiant grin on a determined face. “Try me.” Whipping him into the air, my muscles protested as I snatched the bag. Sprinting into a nearby cave, the supplies hit the smooth black surface. Dumping the ingredients into the special bowl, my fingers curled around my fans. Coughing up a glob of blood, the glob hit the top. Grinding it into a paste, my necklace floated over my head. Lowering itself into the bowl, the ingredients changed into a thin liquid. Waiting for the screams to pierce my ears, nothing came. The bracelet on my wrist glowed brighter, his magic protecting my ears. Something groaned in the distance, a ruby glow taunted me. Sprinting down the tunnels, the entrance to the reapers’ resting place threatened to open. Sinking to my knees, my fingers moved a mile a minute. Strange symbols came to life, the spell would seal their fate. Pressing my palms together, the next words flowed seamlessly from my lips.
“Blossom of Mother Nature! Blood of time! Flames of the Heaven! Wax of Life! Stone of Hell and Death! Combine to form the permanent seal to save us all!” I chanted boldly, Master Skull skidding in. “Take all the power you need from my humble soul!” Pressing my palms onto the stone, a bright blinded me as a black energy welded it shut. Master Skull smashed into me, his blade sliding in and out of me. Large pools splattered the walls, the spell almost finishing up. Waiting with bated breath, a blast of energy knocked us back. Rolling across the smooth surface, a quarter of my power remained. Twitching in the pool of my growing blood, another wave of energy signaled that realm being cut off from the other side. Striking me too fast for my body to heal, tears of joy flooded from my eyes. Voices called for me in the distance, Master Skull kicking me into the air. Every person that I met crashed into view, waves of water smashing Master Skull into the wall. Fighting him off with their weapons, Wisty caught me in his arms. Holding me until the wounds sealed shut, his tears splashed onto my face. Knowing what I was thinking, his head shook desperately.
“Don’t you dare even think about that!” He begged with wild sobs, his hands trembling underneath me. Ignoring him, he cried out as I jumped out of his arms. Sprinting towards the chaos, fresh tears streaming from my eyes. Happy images of my friends flashed in my eyes, my fans darkening to the deepest black. Giant feathers floated behind me, several organs bursting. Unlocking my limit, the situation at hand would be the very definition of an emergency. The others collapsed to the rock, a wall preventing him from getting to me. A gust of wind sent them all back, blood pouring from my eyes, ears and mouth. Holding my head up high, the universe was my responsibility.
“The universe needs saving, so let me do my damn job!” I shouted through a wall of tears, fresh cuts appearing on my skin. Humming to myself, the dance to end him began. Master Skull charged at me, his blade aimed for my throat. Spinning around his strikes, the energy built in the air. Horror rounded his eyes, elements of angel magic granting me the grace to strike his cheek. Stumbling back, clammy sweat drenched his skin.
“No! No!” He pleaded while scratching at his peeling face, the bastard backing into a wall. Pushing off the rock, my body flipped through the air. Fully expecting his defense, my boots twirled down his blade. Pushing off the hilt, rapid spins of my fans over my wrists had the feathers aimed for him. Flicking them towards his neck, the sharp edges cut through his neck like butter. Grabbing his head last minute, the fans weren’t the deadliest item. Hugging him close to me, harsh memories haunted my mind. Raising my hand in the air, a snap of my fingers had the feathers piercing us both. Attempting to push me off, every poison known to kill angels coursed through our bodies. Gripping him with all the strength I had in me, the feathers kept coming. Our blood mixed, one spell remained.
“Undo what was vowed.” I wheezed, his body collapsing into my arms. “Make my blood the deadliest venom. Strike the enemy underneath me.” Sinking to our knees, silent tears cascaded from my eyes as the venom took its hold on him. Foam poured from his lips, my trembling hands pulling his head onto my lap.
“Why?” He coughed with a weary smile, seeming happy to die. “Why give me a nice ending after all I did to you?” Smiling through the blood pouring from every hole in my face, my compassion could never let a soul receive a horrible ending. As much as I despised him, he looked so innocent in this tragic moment.
“No matter your sins, a peaceful ending is always deserved.” I whispered through another shiver, feeling death’s arms around my shoulder. “All I ever wanted was for the world to be peaceful. Lay with me until you draw your last breath, friend.” The landscape doubled, his hand dropping to the rock. Catching his soul, the poor guy deserved a chance. Struggling to my feet, the wall keeping the others from me glitched out. Limping over to the others, I pressed his soul into Lantern’s palms. Perhaps a better life would guide him in the right direction.
“His life was hell so give him a second shot down on Earth. Please.” I wept dejectedly, cupping my sides as protests parted his lips. “Don’t argue. I wouldn’t be any better than him if I didn’t do this. If he fucks up again, I will kill him myself.” Their faces blurred with my tears, a rough darkness stealing me away.
Standing in a field of stunning flowers, the colorful blossoms tickled my fingertips. A familiar voice had me spinning on my heels, a healthy looking Raveno ran his hand through his hair. Fussing with his suit, a sad smile lingered on his lips. Smashing into his body, his arms buried me into a desperate bear hug. Cupping my face, tears poured down his chin. Sliding his hand down to my bracelet, his head cocked to the left. Tracing his fingers over the cracks, pride glistened in his eyes.
“Now isn’t your time.” He sobbed softly, my head shaking. “Someday we will meet again but not today.” My lips parted in protest, his hand covering my mouth. Curling my hand around his, part of me wanted to stay.
“I didn’t die for you to die.” He spoke simply, tucking a loose piece of hair behind my ear. “Remember that I love you with all of my feathers and lead the universe in the right direction. Goodbye isn’t forever.” Our eyes flitted to the glowing crystals, a blinding light sending me out of the dimension.
Sucking in a deep breath, a quick glance around me had my bedroom walls greeting me. Swinging my feet over the edge of the bed, a simple white cotton dress hugged my body flawlessly. Stumbling into the elevator, the damn thing couldn’t move fast enough. Jaws hit the ground at the sight of me, half of them looking like they had seen a ghost. Long wild waves floated with each step, my mind wondering how much time had passed. Scanning the crowd for Wisty, my heart sank at the lack of his presence. Running through the market, the chaos died down at the door of my father’s home. Banging on the door, the color drained from my father’s face. Ravy recognized me, her tiny hands reaching for me. Clutching her close to my chest, a sigh of relief poured from my lips at how small she still was. Collapsing into his arms, his tears soaked the top of my head. Helping me in, his hands sat me down in the chair.
“How long has it been?” I choked out through a wall of tears, his trembling hands scrunching up the hem of his suit jacket. “How long?” Sinking into the chair next to me, his office door burst open. Wisty plucked me from my seat, his strong arms burying me into a bear hug. More tears dripped down my cheek, my wet eyes meeting his. Cupping my face, his hands shook as bad as my father’s. Kissing me feverishly, his hands refused to let my face go. Happy to see him, my heart fluttered with pure bliss.
“Don’t you ever pull that shit again.” He berated me with his real smile, his thumbs wiping away my tears. “You are lucky that Vivra was able to keep you in a coma.” Mumbling an earnest apology, the door burst open again. Wisty’s eyes rolled, the rest of the council fretting over me. Stepping back, he gave them space. Basking in the warmth, a noise had me bursting from their circle. Music played in the street, curiosity glistened in my eyes. Running over to the window, my real smile illuminated my features. A banner reading welcome back stole my heart away, Teas flipping into the room.
“Come along and celebrate the festival in your honor.” She chirped cheerfully, dropping my worn boots by my feet. Sliding them on as Sunny spun in, her palms pressed together. Letting them guide me into the next part of my life, the universe was mine to run.

Sorry if I’m adding onto these type me posts! Kind of need help on this if possible because I’m deciding on a few types so I thought getting an outsider’s perspective might be better 😅 I tried to just put whatever I thought about the aspect, sorry if it looks a bit messy. I tried to condense everything because I realised I put in irrelevant information first drafting this lmfao. If there is anything else I can elaborate on please let me know

Emotion
I am very very very very emotional. I love poetry and fictional stories. I cry a lot, I am literally unable to contain my emotions. Normally my first instinct is to not have other people in mind when expressing my emotions, as in, if I feel really hurt about what someone says, verbally I’ll show a sign of defeat and may even self-deprecate in front of them as a defense mechanism, but that won’t stop me from crying in front of them. I’m also really into art (I’m a digital artist myself), and a lot of my art is inspired by anime scenes or pictures irl so I capture what I feel from the photo and try to channel it into my art, if that makes sense. I can get really snappy. But I feel like with age I’ve gotten a bit better at this so I don’t always snap at people first hand, and one of the things I learned growing up being to consider other people before exploding and that not everything is about me. I also can be very highly empathetic to people, in the sense that on the surface I might not be able to understand another’s emotions but if I do sit myself down and think about the other person and put myself into their shoes, I become extremely empathetic. Generally, I just feel emotions very strongly and I would say it’s a pretty big staple in my life.
Volition/Willpower
This is a painful one for me to talk about. A lot of the time, I have huge plans to do things, but I can never seem to put them properly. I look into guides online on how to be better, but I feel like they never really understand what my problem is. When someone hurts me by something they do or say, I shy away because I’m afraid to speak up against them. But I hate the fact that I let myself be limp in front of these people. I then start to worry about whether they'll take advantage of my kindness. Often, people can be confused about my behaviour, because one moment I can be really nice to them (even moreso if they’ve pissed me off, I’m not really sure why but I become extremely people pleasing when someone does piss me off. Defense mechanism maybe?) but the next I could be lashing out at them over specific things that have happened like a year or two ago. I am never able to convey what I really feel on the spot because I am scared of others. It’s a lot of inner turmoil and push and pull that I experience everyday. It’s hard for me to stand up for myself even though I always feel this angry force within me telling me to just do it, but I literally feel like I cannot. I don’t like being told what to do (then again, who does?), but when I am, I force myself to swallow the pain because I realised I don’t have… any power at all against who is telling me what to do, but then I start wondering if they really do have power against me and… yeah it’s a lot of back and forth within my brain. I end up trying to be nice to people in order to not be attacked by them if that is also relevant information. That being said, I have a bit of a martyr complex because in my head I feel like I deserve to be kind to because I’m always letting people step on me.
Logic
I’m gonna be honest, I’m not much of a debater. I kind of feel weird about debates (again, going back to the fact that I hate speaking up against people because I feel like they have some kind of power over me, and I hate that they do have power over me). I do, however, like to blab on and on about things that I’ve researched. I like discussing them with people. One of my mates has told me I should start a podcast based on the amount of hours I’ve spent with her talking about random things or discussing things. I like to go on wikipedia rabbit holes. A few people have said I am really thorough with research on things, and to be honest I do really like researching things (although, it has to be something I’m interested in obviously). I like learning useless random facts on the internet, and I enjoy talking about what I find out to my friends and what my opinions are on them. I find it fun to learn new things in life when I actually get motivated to do so. In terms of opinions, I don’t like it when someone asserts their opinion to be ‘the only one’ and usually I play Devil’s Advocate against these people, provided I find courage in myself to speak out. My opinions are normally not very dominating and can be changed but only after I’ve thought about everything else first (ie other people’s opinions, research online etc). So I would say I do like listening to everybody’s opinions on matters as long as the people aren’t so gung ho about their opinions. If this is also relevant information, back in high school when I learned about history, I would always enjoy explaining to the class (when asked to) about what I think was the most important cause of a major event, and I tend to go on tangents (I think even one time while explaining to my friends about my opinions, I ended up comparing these causes to major events like making a cake lmao).
Physics
Sometimes I’ll wake up and forget to eat for a few hours because my priorities are elsewhere, then I realise I’m super hungry and go sicko mode to find food. I don’t really care about my appearance all that much, which is why I don’t wear makeup or super fancy clothing. However, I do have a certain clothing aesthetic I’ve chosen for myself but it’s mostly due to inspiration from (again) anime and Japanese style clothes I see on Pinterest. I look at a picture and go “Hey I should buy that!”. But on the other side of the coin, I kind of see myself as a germaphobe, I love putting hand sanitiser when possible. I’m not really a physical person at all, hell my love language is words of affirmation. Whenever someone comes to me for a hug, I kind of just accept it, and I do feel appreciated that they want to hug me. However, I don’t really give hugs, mostly because I’m scared they just don’t like hugs and it becomes and awkward situation, so I wait for them first. I like cleaning things, because I just like to see dirty things get cleaned. I only really started working on my skin care recently after years of kind of just ignoring it or using simple methods and tricks other people have told me to do. Like say if someone tells me to use a product I’ll be like “yeah I can do that”. Even now I still kind of do this with skin care, I just go online and follow whatever people suggest. But the thing that bothers me about this is that when I was a teen I used to be a bit insecure of my appearance, so I’m not sure if this might contribute to something. I kind of just began to ignore it when I grew up. Ideally, I would like a very calm lifestyle where I’m not moving around a lot. Whenever someone asks me if I can taste something, I have a very straightforward way of thinking like if it’s good, it’s good, if it’s bad, it’s bad. So I’m not really helpful when asking for feedback on what someone has cooked because 90% of the time I’ll say it’s fine and it tastes amazing. I do really like looking at pretty things as well and pondering about how they make me feel.

Hey everyone!
I'm looking for advice for a wedding I'm doing in September. For context I'm based in the UK :-)
Wedding Ceremony begins 4.30pm at a busy registry office (in and out sort of deal)
Ceremony lasts 45 minutes
Reception is at another location 15-20 minutes away and begins at 6pm. They have skipped having cocktail hour, which gives me essentially 30 minutes to do all family photos and Bride and Groom portraits.
My first thought is I have no time for photos..
My first draft plan -
Morning, Bride getting ready (her home) etc and do Bride with Bridesmaids photos before they get to the ceremony.
Groom and groomsmen getting ready
Groom and grooms family outside ceremony before the bride arrives
Ceremony shots
Confetti shot
Bride with brides family
Bride Groom and wedding party
Bride and Groom
then head to evening reception for speeches, cake cutting first dance etc.
If you were in my shoes, how would you manage the timetable?
Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate any advice or opinions :-)

My cousin is a great DOOM fan and he has still his vinyl collection at his old house. Among the many vinyls I found this