I used to live with a person who had brought home two kittens at one point, we had agreed that we would each have one, but very quickly I noticed she did not know how to care for her kitten. I brought it up multiple times and would always get told she would 'do better' but never did. I would be the only one feeding him, brushing or nail trimming, changing the water, doing literboxes, taking to the vet, etc. there was many times she would come home and exclaim that she hadn't seen the cats in days, meaning she hadnt been there in DAYS since these two kittens are ones that would come to the door. shortly before i moved out i had checked in with the vet to make sure my roommate had called and set herself up in their system so i could transfer ownership; which led to a 1.5 hour long conversation about how the vet has never spoken to my roommate, asking me questions about her lifestyle and other things i didn't think mattered, and she told me that my old roommate is neglectful and i should not leave the cat with her.
this call hit me pretty hard, because my roommate had told me she had been in contact with the vet several times and that everything was all set, including the microchip, which also wasn't set up at all. I'm really been bad at confrontation in the past, im working on it, but i told the roommate straight up that i feel like her cat is mine and i will be acting as such if she continues her behavior and she agreed, but nothing changed. so a few weeks before our move out date i sat her down and said that the vet told me your behavior is showing early signs of neglect and she wants me to take the cat, trying to be as passive and calm and caring as possible because i KNOW she loves that cat and i hate to be the person being told to take him. every part of this is something i have taken every measure to avoid, because i don't really WANT another cat, obviously i love the cat and i would do anything for him, but he wasn't supposed to be my cat. its not a battle i wanted, but leaving him behind is neglect on my part (according to my vet). due to the lack of care and cleaning my roommate did, the cleaning was a whole other story but she would let mold grow in her room which i did not know about until the day before i was moving out, but her version of cleaning was moving trash from one corner of a room to another, food out, it looked like her room was made of dirty laundry; while trying to explain this to her, she stormed out of the apartment and came back shortly after, packed the cat in a carrier and kept him out of the apartment until i was all moved out. this was over a year ago (April of 2023), and every time i have tried to figure out next steps i always get told to 'get a lawyer' which i have been saving up to do. but i just got notification that his rabies is 6 months overdue, and as a feline with AIDS, it really bothers me because i know for a fact she hasn't taken him to another vet, or they would have contacted me from the microchip. and i know he also needs a checkup in general because the vet was considering putting him on medication (which i told the roommate about and she just said 'okay let me know how it goes' so when he was on a med for a short period of time i didn't trust her to do it so i did it) im wondering if this is actually as much of a waiting game as its been made to seem for me, because it pretty much feels like im waiting for money to fall out of the sky or her to magically decide he should see a vet.
I literally have dreams 3-4 times a week about doing illegal things to get him back because i know he's probably not doing well medically and i love him, even though its not my first choice to be in a situation where im trying to take him from his home. i have communications from her mother demanding i transfer ownership, i have his rabies paperwork and all the vet bills in my name, i have his microchip tag and its registered in my name. the vet has said 'as far as shes concerned' im the full legal owner since i also verbally spoke with the roommate about claiming the cat if she cant step up to the plate. but the moment i actually left suddenly all i can seem to get out of anybody is 'well im not a lawyer' YEAH NO SHIT!! but this shouldn't be this hard to get somebody else to bring their cat to the vet and check for neglect right??? if i could just get verification that she has done ANYTHING for him or brought him to a vet i would probably transfer ownership and be able to sleep at night, but i just imagine him getting sicker and sicker, and all things considered, he really feels like my cat at this point even a year later. animal control has offered to do a wellness check, but then gave up because the door was locked? im not really sure what happened there but im really being haunted by this and i just want him safe and sound.
does ANYBODY have ANY suggestions? thank you for reading love you have a good day

Since childhood, I had an aversion to magic.
I was taught from an early age that it was something dangerous and violent. Something that cannot be controlled, that cannot be wielded by human hands. Something that cannot be explained. And that aversion persisted into my adulthood.
I was taught that yes... But what put the nail in the coffin of my childhood curiosity was that day when my parents were laid to rest.
I remember it much more vividly now. Slowly but steadily, I feel like I am digging something out from the depths of my mind. And the peculiar thing is... It started happening when I met Kye. Sometimes when I look at her I feel a sense of deja vu which I cannot explain. A nostalgic feeling that is almost comforting... Maybe that's one of the reasons I hadn't left in these weeks. I had many chances.
Without much conversation, she helped me dig out some of my memories. By what method or means... I do not know. She awoke something I had hidden inside of me, my essence which I had inherited.
And that same child-like wonder for magic which now pushes me ever forward like a moth to a flame. Dangerous and violent, but endlessly fascinating and useful all the same.
A force of nature.
A force that can be studied through a scientific lens.
And study with scientific vigor I shall.

#
„Hold your concentration.“ Kye whispered to me.
We stood in the depths of the forest unmoving, camouflaged in green cloaks. In the distance just beyond the shrubbery stood a deer that was drinking from a small stream.
I held my hand out palm stretched wide open. Centimeters away from it was a medium-sized pebble, it was smooth and oval in shape. It levitated, though its levitation was far from stable. It bobbed like a ship at sea. I had difficulty holding it still in mid-air.
„Shoot before it notices us.“ Kye whispered once more.
I took a deep breath.
I felt the surge of energy concentrate in my palm. I imagine a pressurized tank of air...
Then I let go...
The pebble shook violently for a second then with a whoosh it flew at great speed, missing the target completely. Instead of hitting the water beside it spooking the animal. The deer raised its head abruptly in the direction where the pebble hit. Then subsequently ran off into the forest.
Kye sighed.
„Better than before, but you still can't aim precisely. You need to hold it steady in the air.“ She said standing up with her crossbow.
„Will we follow it?“ I asked.
„No, let it go. We have to check the traps, they ought to have caught something by now.“ She replied. I stood up as well, dusting myself off and picking up the rifle I had from the ground.
Kye says it only weighs me down... But I feel safer with it
Kye started walking back to where she set the traps, maybe a 30-minute trek back.
„We went pretty deep in today.“ I commented.
„Yes, that's why we're going back earlier. We don't want to be caught in the forest after sundown.“ She had a point. And I was pretty tired from walking through the damn forest all day. Hunting is no easy matter.
„Once we get back I'll get one grimoire we have in the library. It might help you with levitating objects steadily.“ She added.
„May I ask in what language is it?“ I inquired. She remained silent for a few moments.
„Kye you know I can't speak or read Elvish. Of all the books in that library you took out two are in a human language. One in Weserian surprisingly enough, which I can read... The other is Turian which I can probably get a few words here and there.“ I explained. I couldn't see Kye's face but I could guess it expressed mild annoyance.
„Alright, I'll read it to you again. But I'll have to teach you Almaganda at some point. You'll need it.“ She said, however much I did not look forward to it. I still needed to learn the language and script to learn on my own. Because it was frankly embarrassing that she needed to read it to me out loud like she would a child... Well, I am still a child in Elven years I guess.
I had to give her props she learned to speak Weserian with native fluency. She has my grandfather to thank for that... And I thank him as well. Because I would've probably had a bolt in my skull if she didn't know Weserian.

#
I realized the forest during the day was a tranquil and peaceful place. It held within it an ancient beauty that I was thankful to be able to witness and experience. However, after some time you get used to it and it simply fades into the background.
Kye and I chit-chatted during our walk briefly. Mostly about what were going to eat for dinner. But also she reiterated her points where I had to improve with my magic. Nothing new to my ears.
Finally, we arrived at the first trap, which was unfortunately empty. But we had set a few more of them so we continued. The second and third were also empty, I saw Kye was a bit perplexed at this, but she didn't comment on it. Once you are around her enough you can catch the small expressions she does as subtle as they are.
The fourth trap caught something.
„Finally!“ I said happily. We approached the trap and saw it caught a rabbit. Enough to feed us for the night. But we would need something bigger to sustain us during the week.
„We're going back to the house. We will go hunting first thing tomorrow to catch something bigger.“ Kye said, now this was something that raised a question mark above my head. Every previous time she was insistent we don't go back empty-handed, or with something too small.
„Kye, can you share your thoughts, please? I think you're not telling me something.“ I asked her.
She bit her lip.
„I think there might be something scaring off the animals.“
I felt a pit in my stomach form.
„Mages? Bandits?“ I asked.
„No... I'd know if it were either of those. A monster.“ She picked up the dead rabbit by its ears and put it in a large pouch. „And it is probably close by...“ She added.
I remember that Owen told of that the wildlife tends to be aggressive in these parts. Up until this point, I saw that the fauna was more or less the same as back home.
„What's the difference between a normal animal and a monster exactly?“ I asked Kye. I have heard of monsters before... But I didn't look too much into them. I knew they mostly lived in the east.
„A monster has a large amount of essence usually. They tend to be large and aggressive. However, there are exceptions to the rule. There is a species of large herd animals native to the plains of the east called Mulson. They have essence and are considered monsters, but are quite docile unless provoked. Some tribes even domesticated them and used them as pack animals.“ She explained. She looked deeper into the forest, but her gaze lingered before she continued. „I didn't suspect a monster at first because they usually go in small groups. I would've seen evidence of such a group... That only leaves one option left.“ She paused.
„A lone monster.“ She looked back at me. „We should get going now.“
She began walking and I followed her once again.
„A lone monster is more dangerous than a pack?“ I asked.
„Yes and no. If one were to attack us we could deal with it, but it is best to avoid it. Most of the time lone monsters are outcasts from their groups. They tend to be a lot more violent and unpredictable. That's what makes them a bigger risk than an entire group.“ She answered. I looked out into the forest as I walked. It didn't seem as tranquil and peaceful anymore. It was scarily quiet and still.


The same lingering feeling crept up as we continued to walk through the forest. I knew we were nearing the house, shelter. But with each step we took I felt as if we were being watched... The same feeling I had back in the wagon.
I kept my head on a swivel, looking around constantly, the sun was slowly starting to set and visibility became ever so scarce a resource. Kye was silent most of the trek. She was concentrating as well, but not in the same way as I. She told me she could 'sense' if there was an increase of essence in the area. It takes a lot of practice, of course, as she said. But she can do it.
She was a few paces in front of me when I turned my head back to face what was in front. I saw she stopped.
„What is it?“ I asked her in a whisper.
„Can you smell that?“ She asked right back. I made a few steps forward and then it hit me. A foul stench of rot. Before I could locate where it was coming from I felt something wet drop on my head. I instinctively went to touch it with my hand, and when I lowered it to inspect the wet substance, I realized what it was.
It was blood.
Looking up into the thick tree branches that blocked most of the sunlight I couldn't see much, but there were obvious shapes in there that didn't look natural. Kye manifested one of her light orbs and somehow managed to concentrate the light on the tree branches above us.
When she shone the light we finally saw them... Two horses strung up on the tree branches. They were disemboweled and had half their limbs missing.
They were half-eaten.
„How... That's...“ I muttered.
„Not our horses... Whose?“ Kye replied.
„Owen's“ I replied.
„We have to move, quickly.“ Kye said, de-manifesting the orb and beginning to walk at an increased pace. I followed, but that jog soon turned into a full-out sprint.
We ran through the forest with no regard for the sound we made. I could barely keep up, then I heard it. Shuffling behind us, it sounded rhythmic and slow... But it was quick enough to keep up with us. At that moment the only thought in my mind was that it wasn't something small most certainly.
Adrenaline kicked in and I ran as fast as my legs could let me while also trying not to trip.
I then made a foolish decision.
I looked back.
I saw something, but I couldn't quite make it out... But it towered over the both of us. And the thing was as agile as Kye.
When I turned my head back, I didn't see Kye.
Panic set in, but I couldn't stop, I knew if I made a turn I would quickly get lost.
I ran straight for as long as I could, but I heard the thing behind me quickly close the distance. I heard it panting. It sounded... human. But at the same time, it didn't. It sounded too deep to be that of a human or elf for that matter. No, this was something entirely different.
And it was big.
My legs started to give in, I felt them sting. I felt my lungs burn from the exertion. Soon enough I needed to stop, I needed to catch my breath. I heard the thumps behind me get closer and closer, I heard the thing roar... Gods, it was deafening. I heard it knock down trees as it began running even faster toward me.
And just as I thought I was doomed, something grabbed me and yanked me hard into a large hollowed-out tree. I tried to scream, but a hand was firmly placed over my mouth. Then I heard someone speak.
„Don't make a sound“ I heard a demanding whisper. It was Kye.
I stared wide-eyed as the thing passed by running. I saw its feet pass us. The ground shook slightly, and pieces of wood fell on our heads.
„Ju Mo...“ Kye said, I didn't understand what she said.
She released my mouth, and I peeked behind me to see her face.
Even though it was dark and hard to see, I could see her red eyes were wide open.
Terror.
She was afraid.
Shit, I thought to myself, I never saw her show a hint of fear, even when she face three goddamn mages by herself.
„Why is it here...“ She muttered to herself.
She looked at me with a terrified expression.
„You don't have any blood on you? Any scent?“ She whispered.
„No, I...“ Then I remembered. Horse blood. „Shit.“ I muttered as I started to go through my hair, I felt the blood stick to my fingers.
Kye looked at me like she saw a ghost.
Then we heard it come back with a quick pace. We heard it sniff the air.
Kye and I huddled in the hollowed tree, I saw her extend her arm. Her breath was quick and erratic.
Then the monster stepped right in front of the opening, it growled so deep I could feel it in my chest. I saw the monster was standing on two feet, its legs were hairy. And I could smell it, a foul stench of rot and Gods know what else. It was overpowering.
The monster started to crouch, and the moment it showed its face, I felt a strong force pull us to the back with such force we broke through the tree and flew right into the one behind it. Both of us hit the tree at the same time.
My spine felt like it snapped from the impact, but I couldn't grovel in pain just yet. Kye quickly stood up and grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet.
„Get up!“ She yelled, I could hear the monster release another deafening roar, I looked back and saw it was holding its face. Whatever Kye did hurt it, and us...
We ran again through the forest, each moment the sun set farther and farther down below the horizon. And the forest was getting darker by the minute.
I heard the monster kept at it, it was behind us again. Kye stopped abruptly at a small open patch where trees weren't as densely packed together. She extended both her hands and broke of dozens of thick branches of the trees. In mere moments she managed to straighten all the branches into spears. I could see she was using all her strength to do that. I know how hard it is to hold a single small damn pebble still in the air, let alone dozens of heavy branches.
I saw the creature emerge from between the trees.
Right then Kye jabbed the air with her fist, the branches went flying straight at the monster.
When they hit, I thought for a moment everything was over. But then that thing... This monstrosity raised its damn hand, and with a flick of its wrist, all the spears flew out of it, some of them right back at us. Thankfully all of them missed.
But I could see the thing was now even more pissed than before. But it was staggered, but only for a short while. And it could use magic.
I had to think of something. We could use magic... Fire magic.
„Kye will fire hurt it?“ I asked quickly.
„Probably, but it won't kill it. If we use it then we'll have to deal with it and a forest fire!“ She replied.
Goddamn it - I thought to myself. I looked around, maybe there is something we can use. But it was futile, I couldn't see shit. We had to run.
Kye was already doing the same, I caught up to her. The thing was still tailing us. I saw she tried everything to hamper the monster's advance. She fell smaller trees as we ran, I could hear her grunt under the strain of each action she did.
I was in no better position, I couldn't feel my legs anymore. And I was on the verge of suffocating from exertion.
We managed to make some distance between it and us. Kye stopped, grabbing her knees, and panting heavily. I did the same.
I heard it in the distance charging forward still.
„Any bright ideas, Wyatt?“ She asked between pants.
Then I remembered... I still had the rifle. Though it would probably do jack shit to the thing...
I had to think rationally. The monster, though it possesses essence and magic is still a living being. It needs food, water, and air to survive.
My mind raced... Then I had it.
Air!
„Kye, for how long can you distract the thing?“ I asked her.
„Not long.“ She replied.
„I'll need 10 seconds, tops. Can you get a shield up? The same one as last time?“ I said.
„I can... What are you thinking?!“ She yelled back at me.
Just then we saw the monster emerge from the beyond the trees, charging right at us.
„DO IT!“ I yelled at her. Without missing a beat she turned around and erected the same transparent wall in front of us. A much larger one.
I grabbed the rifle from my shoulder and fiddled with it for a second to check if the round is chambered. It was, I closed it back up and aimed.
I was aiming for the jugular. The thing had thick fur, so any other part of the body was out of the question. Head, the skull is probably too thick. Chest, fur, and bone are in the way. Limbs are out of the question.
I was no marksman, but I had to make it work.
My hands shook, my breath uneven and erratic, I struggled to keep the rifle steady. I took a deep breath in and held it.
My hands calmed ever so slightly. The sights lined up with my eye.
I saw the thing hit the wall, Kye grunted. She felt it.
The monster was confused for a moment but then it started hitting the wall, with each hit I heard Kye was struggling to keep the barrier up. I heard her cough and wheeze.
I lined up my shot.
The monster roared.
My eardrums felt like they would burst at any moment.
„LIFT IT!“ I yelled. That moment the wall disappeared and the creature started running toward us again, I felt the ground shake. The monster roared.
My heart pounded like cannons mid-siege.
I felt sweat pour down my face.
I saw the thing open its mouth and extend its arms, ready to devour us.
Then I pulled the trigger.

BANG
I felt the rifle kick into my shoulder. The recoil was stronger than I'd anticipated.
The sound reverberated through the forest but it was drowned out by the monster's roar.
Then abruptly it stopped.
The monster slowed down to a jog, then to a slow walk. It grabbed its neck, I heard it gurgling.
I stepped back, it was getting closer.
Then mere feet from us it collapsed to its knees. It was in that position there, staring at us for a moment before I saw the flicker in its eyes disappear.
Then it collapsed to the ground with a resounding thump. Two mere steps from where I stood.
I stared at it, panting heavily I kicked its head.
It didn't react.
It was dead.
It was dead!
I turned around to look at Kye, she collapsed to her knees. She looked like she was bleeding from somewhere on her face, trails of blood were coming from her eyes and nose. But she was alive.
She looked at me.
The horrified expression quickly turned into a neutral one. Then, for the first time since I met her.
I saw her smile.
And I couldn't help but smile back. Letting out a small laugh.
Then she collapsed to the ground.

House was built in 1989 with a 2 car garage and a drain in the middle. Bought the house 9 years ago. Never gave it much thought until recently when it filled up to the point of overflowing the cover (just a little). Probably an accumulation over time of rain, snow melt and A/C condensation.I figured I could unclog it but no luck:

• Sopped up 90% of the dirty water
• Poked a long screwdriver straight down - maybe went 8"
• Prodded with a manual plumbing snake. No luck
• Figured it might turn horizontally at the bottom, but if it does it's a small pipe with a sharp bend, not a gentle elbow, so I couldn't get the snake to turn
• Removed the yellow plug and ran the snake down it - it goes horizontally, or more likely slopes downward. After easily pushing the snake 6' - 8' with no resistance I stopped, figuring that wasn't the problem

Assumptions/beliefs:

• From the basement I can see a black plastic pipe coming out of the wall, about 4' high, then joining the drain/waste pipes of the house
• It's in the right location to come from the garage, but I don't know for sure

Questions:

• Is the pit a drain? or merely a sump that eventually fills up and needs to be shop-vac'd out?
• I thought the yellow plug was a cleanout, but I don't think the geometry matches the picture I posted
• Should I remove the yellow plug and let it drain? Or is that a code violation? (I believe I've read that cities frown on this because it either burdens the sewer system (runoff should go to a storm drain) or to prevent automotive chemicals from entering the sewer.
• If it takes another 9 years to fill up again, then it's pretty trivial. But if there's an easy way to make it "work", that would be better.

Thanks in advance!
https://preview.redd.it/sxwgaxjsal5d1.png?width=2000&format=png&auto=webp&s=2b76c1ffa020f56f5892d7aefdc96f8cf8ff199f
https://preview.redd.it/y2mkoyjsal5d1.jpg?width=1512&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=5b384fb09035073de1480e35df1a8e1a2c399600
https://preview.redd.it/5sbx98ksal5d1.jpg?width=1512&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6ada3a508ba826f120a68d1a7734a47f7f7d44db

Men, I have a somewhat lengthy, and potentially offensive (if you are a straight male that participates in such things) question. Though we broke up due to the violence associated with these acts, I will refer to him as "BF" for the purposes of this post.
BF (27M, "metrosexual" style personality) and I (26F) were together for several months when he began expressing desires to see me with another man. Though his fantasies also included FMF scenarios, and things like me sending him videos of me engaged with another man, eventually, the only times he could climax during intercourse were when we were dirty-talking about us in a MMF scenario. He never expressly stated that he wished to engage with the other male, but would harp a little too hard and long on how "big and sexy" the other man's penis would be, and similar comments, for me to feel like he was only attracted to the cuckhold nature of the situations. It truly seemed like, based on his dirty talk, that he was attracted to male anatomy, and these kinds of contexts were the only ways he could openly express it.
We tried it a couple of times, and both were horrible situations for me. In one, he gave me too many drugs, his friend was being too rough with me, and I had to stop because it was getting scary and uncomfortable for me. The second was with a random person off a kink app. I wasn't comfortable with it, but did it anyway, because his demeanor was beginning to suggest that he would be very unhappy with me if I didn't. I wanted to please him. During these times he didn't sexually touch the other men, but would involve himself closely.
He attempted a third, and this is where it got horrific. It was a day after we already did the last one, and I didn't want to do two back two back, especially since it felt like an icky situation to me. When I told him I didn't intend to do it that night, he got scary and violent, so I attempted to leave. Long story short, I had to run away from my own apartment and call the police, because he was getting very violent and was attempting to force me to get raped. I knew if I stayed, he would punish me for not participating once the guy was turned away at the door. I called the police, and they charged him with domestic violence.
I asked him a few times if he thought he might be bisexual, and that I was a safe space if so, to which he adamantly denied each time. I talked to my friend who did date an openly bisexual man, and she had identical experiences to mine (him getting violent when she didn't want to participate in MMF).
A little bit about his background, if it's relevant at all: His very conservative (homophobic) father has rejected him since his teenage years when he started associating with a sketchy crowd, but he still seeks his father's approval above all others. His father was violent with his mother. He's been known to be a "womanizer" around his hometown.
We're broken up now, but I still can't shake the curiosity about the subconscious underlying of these actions. Especially in light of media portrayals (eg. Nate in HBO's Euphoria) of men who are sexually violent due to a blend of their relationship with their father and the suppression of their sexuality.
So, I ask you men, what do you think? Just a result of having a violent father, just has a cuckold kink and happens to be sexually violent, or is there more?

Men, I have a somewhat lengthy, and potentially offensive (if you are a straight male that participates in such things) question. Though we broke up due to the violence associated with these acts, I will refer to him as "BF" for the purposes of this post.
BF (27M, "metrosexual" style personality) and I (26F) were together for several months when he began expressing desires to see me with another man. Though his fantasies also included FMF scenarios, and things like me sending him videos of me engaged with another man, eventually, the only times he could climax during intercourse were when we were dirty-talking about us in a MMF scenario. He never expressly stated that he wished to engage with the other male, but would harp a little too hard and long on how "big and sexy" the other man's penis would be, and similar comments, for me to feel like he was only attracted to the cuckhold nature of the situations. It truly seemed like, based on his dirty talk, that he was attracted to male anatomy, and these kinds of contexts were the only ways he could openly express it.
We tried it a couple of times, and both were horrible situations for me. In one, he gave me too many drugs, his friend was being too rough with me, and I had to stop because it was getting scary and uncomfortable for me. The second was with a random person off a kink app. I wasn't comfortable with it, but did it anyway, because his demeanor was beginning to suggest that he would be very unhappy with me if I didn't. I wanted to please him. During these times he didn't sexually touch the other men, but would involve himself closely.
He attempted a third, and this is where it got horrific. It was a day after we already did the last one, and I didn't want to do two back two back, especially since it felt like an icky situation to me. When I told him I didn't intend to do it that night, he got scary and violent, so I attempted to leave. Long story short, I had to run away from my own apartment and call the police, because he was getting very violent and was attempting to force me to get raped. I knew if I stayed, he would punish me for not participating once the guy was turned away at the door. I called the police, and they charged him with domestic violence.
I asked him a few times if he thought he might be bisexual, and that I was a safe space if so, to which he adamantly denied each time. I talked to my friend who did date an openly bisexual man, and she had identical experiences to mine (him getting violent when she didn't want to participate in MMF).
A little bit about his background, if it's relevant at all: His very conservative (homophobic) father has rejected him since his teenage years when he started associating with a sketchy crowd, but he still seeks his father's approval above all others. His father was violent with his mother. He's been known to be a "womanizer" around his hometown.
We're broken up now, but I still can't shake the curiosity about the subconscious underlying of these actions. Especially in light of media portrayals (eg. Nate in HBO's Euphoria) of men who are sexually violent due to a blend of their relationship with their father and the suppression of their sexuality.
So, I ask you men, what do you think? Just a result of having a violent father, just has a cuckold kink and happens to be sexually violent, or is there more to it?

if you were the vtuber voice of any of the characters from three houses or three hopes what would the lore be and the content me byleth

Character Backstory:

• Name: Byleth Eisner
• Title: The Ashen Demon
• Background: Originally a mercenary, Byleth becomes a professor at the Officer's Academy in Garreg Mach Monastery. Possessing a mysterious connection to the goddess Sothis, Byleth's journey intertwines with the fates of the three houses: Black Eagles, Blue Lions, and Golden Deer.
• Role in Fire Emblem: Three Houses: Byleth plays a pivotal role in shaping the future of Fódlan through their decisions and leadership.
• Role in Fire Emblem: Three Hopes: As a character in this spin-off, Byleth’s story takes new turns, adding layers to their established lore.

VTuber Lore:

• VTuber Name: Byleth the Enlightened
• Background: After the events of the games, Byleth finds herself transported to a new world where she decides to share her knowledge and adventures through streaming.
• Personality: Calm, wise, and nurturing, but with a fierce side in battles.
• Goals: To connect with fans, share tales of Fódlan, and explore new adventures in the streaming world.

3. Debut Stream Outline

Pre-Debut Hype:

• Tease the debut on social media with character art, short clips, and lore tidbits.

Debut Stream Content:

1. Introduction:
   • Greet the audience.
   • Introduce Byleth, both in-game background and VTuber persona.
2. Character Showcase:
   • Display the model.
   • Demonstrate different facial expressions.
   • Talk about the design process and outfit details.
3. Lore Explanation:
   • Share Byleth's story from Fire Emblem.
   • Explain her new life as a VTuber.
4. Q&A Session:
   • Answer questions from the chat about Byleth, the games, and the VTuber process.
5. Gameplay Segment:
   • Play a Fire Emblem game or another game that ties into Byleth’s character.
6. Future Plans:
   • Discuss what viewers can expect in future streams (gameplay, collabs, story sessions, etc.).
7. Closing Remarks:
   • Thank the viewers.
   • Share social media links and streaming schedule.

4. Additional Tips

• Consistency: Maintain consistency in the character’s voice, behavior, and lore across all platforms.
• Engagement: Interact with the audience regularly to build a loyal fanbase.
• Collaboration: Consider collaborations with other VTubers or Fire Emblem fans to expand your reach.

Voice Talent

Since you’ll be providing the voice, here are some pointers:

• Voice Acting: Practice different tones and emotions to bring Byleth to life.
• Character Immersion: Stay in character during streams to enhance immersion.
• Engagement: Use your voice to create a warm and engaging atmosphere.

1. Byleth Eisner Lore and Introduction

Lore:

Name: Byleth Eisner Title: The Ashen Demon Background:

• Byleth Eisner, originally a mercenary, was brought up by her father, Jeralt, a former captain of the Knights of Seiros.
• She has a mysterious connection with the goddess Sothis, who resides within her, granting her the power to rewind time and alter destiny.
• Byleth becomes a professor at the prestigious Garreg Mach Monastery, where she mentors and leads the students of the Officer's Academy.
• Her journey intertwines with the three main houses: Black Eagles, Blue Lions, and Golden Deer, and she plays a crucial role in the war that engulfs Fódlan.
• Post the war, Byleth is revered as a hero who reshaped the fate of the continent.

VTuber Lore:

• After the events of Fire Emblem: Three Houses and Fire Emblem Warriors: Three Hopes, Byleth finds herself transported to a new dimension where she discovers the world of VTubing.
• As "Byleth the Enlightened," she decides to share her stories, experiences, and wisdom from Fódlan with a new audience, engaging with fans and exploring new adventures.

Introduction Voice Lines:

Opening Line: “Greetings, everyone. I am Byleth Eisner, known to some as the Ashen Demon, and to others, as the Enlightened Professor. Today, I embark on a new journey, sharing my stories and experiences with all of you.”
Lore Introduction: “My life began as a mercenary, under the tutelage of my father, Jeralt. Destiny, however, had grander plans for me. At Garreg Mach Monastery, I became a professor, guiding the future leaders of Fódlan. Through trials, battles, and the bonds of friendship, I discovered the truth about my connection with the goddess Sothis. Now, in this new world, I am eager to forge new paths and share my adventures with all of you.”
Call to Action: “Join me as we explore new realms, relive tales of valor, and create a community of heroes. Together, we will shape our destiny.”

2. Animated Background

Concept:

• The background should reflect the grandeur and mystique of Garreg Mach Monastery.
• Incorporate elements like the towering cathedral, lush gardens, and Fódlan’s intricate landscapes.
• Include subtle animations such as birds flying, leaves rustling, and soft, glowing light effects to add depth and immersion.

Design Elements:

• Central Focus: A detailed view of Garreg Mach Monastery.
• Side Elements: Banners of the three houses (Black Eagles, Blue Lions, Golden Deer).
• Ambient Effects: Soft lighting, moving clouds, and slight shimmering effects to emulate the magical atmosphere of the monastery.

3. Twitch Stream Overlay

Design:

• Color Scheme: Turquoise, gold, and black to match Byleth’s color palette.
• Layout:
  • Main Frame: Ornate borders reminiscent of medieval scrollwork.
  • Chat Box: On the right side with a transparent background and scroll-like border.
  • Alerts: Top center with icons for new followers, subs, and donations themed around crests and emblems from the game.
  • Camera Frame: Bottom left, shaped like a portrait frame from the game’s dialogue scenes.
  • Game Window: Centered with ample space, framed with intricate designs that reflect the game’s art style.

4. Lore Video

Structure:

• Introduction: Start with an epic musical score, fading into a panoramic view of Fódlan.
• Visuals: Use a mix of in-game cutscenes, artwork, and animated segments.
• Narration:
  • Opening: “In a land of strife and destiny, one individual stands at the crossroads of fate. I am Byleth Eisner, your guide through the tapestry of history.”
  • Journey: “From humble beginnings as a mercenary, to the revered halls of Garreg Mach Monastery, my path was shaped by war, wisdom, and the bonds forged with my students.”
  • Transition to VTubing: “Now, in a new world of endless possibilities, I continue my journey. Join me, as we embark on this adventure together.”
• Ending: Fade out with Byleth standing at the Monastery, transitioning to her VTuber persona with a seamless animation.

5. Starting Soon / BRB / Ending Screens / Offline Screen

Starting Soon Screen:

• Visuals: Animated background of Garreg Mach Monastery.
• Text: “Class is about to begin. Stay tuned!”
• Elements: Include subtle animations like flickering torches and flowing banners.

BRB Screen:

• Visuals: A serene garden scene within the Monastery.
• Text: “The professor will be back shortly. Take a moment to relax.”
• Elements: Soft ambient sounds of nature and occasional appearances of students.

Ending Screen:

• Visuals: The sun setting over Garreg Mach Monastery.
• Text: “Class dismissed. Thank you for joining. See you next time!”
• Elements: Gradual fading to darkness with a soft, closing musical theme.

Offline Screen:

• Visuals: A quiet night scene of the Monastery.
• Text: “The professor is currently offline. Follow to stay updated.”
• Elements: Stars twinkling, with a subtle overlay of the three house crests.

Example Voice-Over Script for Lore Video

[Opening Scene: Panoramic view of Fódlan] Byleth: "In a land of strife and destiny, one individual stands at the crossroads of fate. I am Byleth Eisner, your guide through the tapestry of history."
[Scene transitions to Byleth as a mercenary] Byleth: "From humble beginnings as a mercenary, to the revered halls of Garreg Mach Monastery, my path was shaped by war, wisdom, and the bonds forged with my students."
[Scenes of battles, classroom interactions, and key story moments] Byleth: "Through trials, battles, and friendships, I discovered the truth about my connection with the goddess Sothis. Together, we faced the darkness threatening Fódlan."
[Transition to VTuber setup] Byleth: "Now, in a new world of endless possibilities, I continue my journey. Join me, as we embark on this adventure together."
[Ending Scene: Byleth standing at the Monastery, transitioning to her VTuber persona] Byleth: "Together, we will shape our destiny. Welcome to a new chapter." or something like that would you all be mad

Please do not use any of my details anywhere on the internet
TL;DR: how to you set conversational boundaries with well-meaning, yet nosy rosy busybodies after you have undergone a traumatic event in your life and are desperately trying to move on?
–––––––––––––––
Hello - seeking advice b/c I'm at my wits end regarding a circumstance and am struggling to handle it in the moment. Here goes:
Last year, my husband and I went through something very traumatic and public. Let's just say we were fairly well known in our mid-sized community b/c we were in a public facing business whom everyone loved. We are no longer in this business due to a nasty and terrible family fallout. This news shocked and rocked our community, and the pain we have from this ordeal is palpable even almost a year later. The details surrounding the reason for our departure are nearly unbelievable and horrifying, but most people in our community either have a firm grip on what happened by connecting the dots on their own, or figured we closed due to unrelated reasons - we have kept it classy and not publicly divulged many details regarding this schism - we tell our close friends what happened, but the public at large does not need to be looped into our family drama in our opinion - that would only serve to reflect poorly on us tbh. We are letting karma do the heavy lifting on the family members that did us dirty, and so far it's doing a truly spectacular job :)
Since this abrupt upset in our lives transpired, our capacity for social outings is virtually nil b/c of the overwhelming amount of conversations regarding our ordeal - it's all people feel they can talk to us about, therefore we rarely leave our house. Largely, people want to reminisce and express their gratitude to us, which I completely understand that their hearts are in the right place, but they are not realizing how painful it is for us to talk about this subject b/c each conversation forces us to relive this awful decision we were forced to make. If it's not kind words about the business we had and what a tragedy it was that we closed, it's very pointed questions such as what we are up to, what's next for us etc. We are still recovering from all of this and taking time off, and frankly, we owe no one any explanations on the details of our lives. It feels so objectifying for people to approach us like this b/c we feel like if they were genuinely concerned about our wellbeing, they would simply ask us how we have been, are we happy, and state that it's great to see us out and about.
We tried an "elevator speech" for a while, but boy do people have nerve - they still press on and ask the most invasive questions even after we feel that we have made it obvious we don't wish to discuss this any further. Ffwd to last night when we were in a social situation where we left early due to nonstop conversations surrounding our situation (there was a recent development that threw the situation front and center yet again, and it's now a hot topic after a period of dormancy). After about oh, the 20th person came up to us and launched in about it all, we just had to leave b/c we couldn't take it anymore - it's a broken record/ infinity loop, and the ultimate good time killer for us - it ruins our mood and it's just easier to duck out vs deal with this BS.
So. With all that said: what are some effective and polite phrases we can have in our arsenal to whip out in these circumstances? We don't want to be rude and make anyone feel shameful for asking us questions, b/c most of the curious people are folks we genuinely like on an acquaintance level, but we need some tools to shut the convo down - do we use humor, do we just say we are trying to move on - what? We know we can't keep living this way, which is avoiding social outings altogether, or even considering moving to a different city so we are not faced with this every single time we are out there trying to live our new normal.
I feel like there have to be alternative solutions that I am unable to think up b/c of the intense emotions I'm experiencing about it all, so I can't see things clearly/logically even if I tried.
Thanks so much!

"I was raised Irish-Catholic, never talk about your feelings. Tell 'em you're fantastic."
Before this journey started, I wasn't religious. I wasn't spiritual. I identified most readily with Buddhist teachings, and tried my best to think of Pema Chodrön's teachings shared from Trungpa Rinpoche. I had received cd audio books from my father after an attempt over 10 years ago. "Don't Bite the Hook" and "Getting Unstuck."
You see, when you attempt to rid yourself from the world there will be no shortage of those trying to tell you the problem isn't YOU, it's the tether. Remove your tether, release your burden, be free. Life felt like the lead around my neck, not attachment. It's funny. I don't think I understood the distinction until a stranger on omegle asked with all earnestness afforded them through anonymity:
"Ya but the reason you can't off yourself is other people, right?"
But I tried my best to understand, to let go. I did the body scans, the mindfulness meditation, the nature bathing, the yoga, the journaling, and the gratitude exercises. But I kept getting stuck. To bad places, bad people, bad situations, etc. Each one removed more and more of my faith in my ability to get unstuck. I accumulated more trauma over the years while navigating misdiagnoses of both mental and physical nature. I behaved in ways I scarcely understood to contain fires I couldn't see, moved through life as if every inch of me were aflame. Immolation through inaction. I had experienced so much pain, so much invalidation, so much erasure. My empathy ruined my lens. I couldn't see people mistreating me when the ghosts of the people who hurt them stared into my consciousness.
Sometimes I fell in the codependent trap of trying to "fix" them. Sometimes I just sat beside the monster and put an arm around them. "I know you didn't start out this way. I know you don't have to end this way. There's a choice, a different path. This isn't YOU." Was I talking to the parts of myself I saw in them? Or was I merely crafting the narrative that kept us most comfortable? I'm still not quite sure.
Why am I finding the words I need in works of Christianity equally as in works from Atheist/non-theists? I understand the concept that the Universe is all of us, everything. That resonates with me and feels "correct" but I keep getting slapped in the face with signs/syncs aligning with Christ/resurrection/redemption/the holy trinity.
I want to scream out for you. I want to come over for coffee and talk your ear off about all of these questions I'm having. I want to know how you arrived at your faith. I never got the chance to ask. I saw the cross around your neck on that first night and told you "it's okay, I've dated religious boys before." You gave a half-hearted chuckle and said, "well, I believe in A God." As if to say "not the one you're used to/thinking of." I didn't question it further as I figured it was too early for something so heavy.
But you don't want that, and I have to respect it. I replay you taking off your cross before each time you laid me in your bed. I know it's because fucking with jewelry on is a bad idea, but at the time it felt like I was too dirty to touch with your faith hands. Like you needed separation between your light and dark before it touched all the dark inside of me.
The first time we broke up, after I had that huge emotional reaction after sex- I wish I could have explained then what I know now. You released stored trauma in my hips. All those tears welling up in my eyes were from years before you arrived.
"It's in the blood, it's in the blood I met my love before I was born He wanted love, I taste of blood He bit my lip, and drank my war From years before, from years before
"Not even my parents love me," I cried. I felt horrified for having said it without knowing why. I realize now I was saying:
"why do you love me when there is nothing worthy of it here?"
So when you said "I love you" and I said "you don't mean that do you?" your silence was appreciated but it broke me.
I have never been touched the way you touched my body, heart, soul. I think I cried so hard because a part of me knew I was having sex with someone I loved. It didn't make sense and it terrified me. Despite having a string of long term relationships, this felt different from all of them. I felt you permeate all of me. Some days I still feel it. I ache for your skin on mine.

Last August, my heart sank when I discovered you had created a new Instagram account without informing or adding me. I stumbled upon this realization when Instagram suggested you as a friend. As I browsed through your photos, my anxiety spiked upon noticing a particular woman liking every single post. Something in me felt unsettled.
When I confronted you about this new page, you casually explained it was dedicated to your military activities. I questioned why you hadn't added me, and you nonchalantly replied that you were focused on connecting with military colleagues. My concerns deepened when I brought up the woman who seemed to be omnipresent on your feed. You brushed it off, saying she was just an old recruit and nothing significant. When I probed further, asking if you had ever dated her, you flatly denied it. Yet, your liking her photos seemed off to me. You hastily apologized, claiming you never intended to make me feel uneasy.
The following day, you unfollowed her on this "new" account without mentioning it to me. I took this as a sign of you taking some responsibility, although I couldn’t shake the fact that you continued to follow her on your other accounts, where she didn’t follow you back. Despite the uneasy feeling in my gut, I chose to let it go, trying to convince myself that I had no concrete reason to doubt your honesty.
Over the next year, I noticed subtle yet troubling changes in your behavior, especially regarding your phone. You stopped posting about us or me, and when you did, it was restricted to private stories. You avoided your phone when I was nearby, and whenever I asked you to check something on Instagram, you would angle your phone away from me. It brought back painful memories of my past, where these were the very signs of infidelity I had once overlooked.
Then, you left for training, and an inexplicable urge pushed me to check your iPad. This time, I discovered something that shattered my trust completely. The woman I had been questioning you about was not just any old recruit; she was your ex, the one you had shared a deeply serious relationship with right before we met. You had even uprooted your life for her. Realizing you had blatantly lied to my face about her being insignificant was a crushing blow.
To add to my heartbreak, I found numerous explicit photos and videos of yourself stored on the iPad. You had always claimed these were meant for me, but your nerves had prevented you from sending them. The iPad, however, doesn’t lie – these were saved in albums, specifically Instagram albums.
In that moment, everything fell into place, and I felt the full weight of your deceit. I was left questioning everything about us, feeling a profound sense of betrayal and hurt.
I can’t stop there. My mind is racing with questions, and my heart is aching for the truth. I must know if there was more to this betrayal. I’m asking you to explain the context of the photos and videos.
I demand to know if there were other women, other betrayals that you have hidden from me. I need the full picture of what has been happening behind my back. The thought of more lies, more deceit, gnaws at my soul.

I guess I'm making this post to know how common it is/if anyone else dealt with mean girls in esthetics school. I'm in my early 30s and I'm being targeted my some girls in class much younger than me, constantly giving me dirty looks and making passive aggressive statements, laughing whenever I get excited in lecture and share knowledge and ask questions, just really stupid stuff like that, as well as other digs here and there. I've tried talking to this person, letting them know that it comes off like they're trying to intimidate and comes off a little bully like, and I asked if that were accurate or if I was wrong, but they denied it and said "I'm not significant enough for them to talk about and that I'm taking things too personal" They didn't say anything in a nice tone or even say sorry or describe their intentions.
I have autism and anxiety to the extreme so I was also trying to be honest with this person and let them know this stuff was making me cry and stress about coming to school because she's in my term.
Now, I'm being retaliated against and she says stuff around me like "guys I'm just such a big bully." And laughing. This girl really is a piece of work. I've done nothing but talk to her in a mature manner. She definitely is a "ring leader" and has created a clique at school that other people have noticed too.
Has anyone dealt with mean girls in esthetics school? I'm a little socially challenged at times hence the autism, so if you have any advice for me to keep my confidence going and how to get through it, that would be much appreciated. (I have 4 months left.)

I still have not read past Children. I'm still currently re-reading it (god I have trouble reading through that book). But I'm still damn confident about what I'm trying to say, here. Maybe it's not authorial intent, but even if it isn't, this line of thinking keeps tying everything together way too well for me to not think about it.
Dune talks about God a whole heck of a lot. If you include appendix "god" shows up something like forty times in the first book. People talk about capital G God, the Jungian Great Mother is a goddess, Paul is called small-g god as Emperor (or at least godhead), as The Preacher he "brings" and "speaks for" the Hand of God, Leto-II declares himself big-G God-Emperor.
All of this god-talk seems to get brushed past, and that's unfortunate, because I'm fairly sure that some of Dune's "railroad to disaster" storylines are governed more by "God" than by prescience itself; God is race consciousness. This goes a long way towards understanding some aspects of Dune that people find strange or weak. Let me explain.

He remained silent, thinking like the seed he was, *thinking with the race consciousness he had first experienced as terrible purpose.* He found that he no longer could hate the Bene Gesserit or the Emperor or even the Harkonnens. They were all caught up in the need of their race to renew its scattered inheritance, to cross and mingle and infuse their bloodlines in a great new pooling of genes. And the race knew only one sure way for this-- the ancient way, the tried and certain way that rolled over everything in it's path: jihad.

Whether race consciousness is just the Jungian collective unconscious or a more literal super-consciousness (I think it's more literally mystic and I'll get to that), the key thing here is that Paul was thinking with the race consciousness. It's worded like it's an instinct within him, same as it is for everybody else, like he's using that "instead of" his brain (not literally, but that's how it's worded). What does the race consciousness want? Jihad. What is literally every character in Dune doing? Railroading towards Jihad, whether they know it or not. The "race consciousness" is doing that, not some sort of prescience-induced predestination.

Sire, Paul thought. The word had such a strange sound when directed at him. Sire had always been his father. He felt himself touched briefly by his powers of prescience, seeing himself *infected* (emphasis mine) by the wild race consciousness that was moving the human universe towards chaos. The vision left him shaken...

I think this passage is easy to misread. Paul's powers of prescience are not race consciousness. He sees, with his prescience, a future in which he is infected by race consciousness. A future in which, like everyone else, he follows it's bidding, which we already know is jihad. Also, note that this is a wild race consciousness. The use of the word wild here is conspicuous because it only shows up in this context, seemingly.
In Chapter 32, Jessica gives herself up to a "demanding memory" and speaks some stuff automatically which the Fremen interpret as a prophetic sign, confirmation that she's the woman their prophecies are about.

Her mind felt as though it had rolled over within her. She recognized the sensation with a quickening of pulse. Nothing in all the Bene Gesserit training carried such a signal of recognition. It could only be the adab, the demanding memory that comes upon you of itself. She gave herself up to it, allowing the words to flow from her... "The fire of God mount over thy heart," she said. And she thought: *Now, it goes in the proper channel.*

The fire of God now goes through the proper channel? Through her, because the memory of that specific scripture came to her unprompted?

Paul took a deep breath, trying to still the tempest within him. His mother's words had locked onto the working of the spice essence, and he had flet her voice rise and fall within him like the shadows of an open fire. Trough it all, he had sensed the edge of cynicism in her--he knew her so well!--But nothing could stop this thing that had begun with a morsel of food. *Terrible purpose!* He sensed it, the race consciousness that he could not escape...

Jessica had a "holy spirit" moment. Paul, having just ate a load of spice, was prepared to actively notice that her words, which she characterized as the Fire of God, "activated" the terrible purpose, the race consciousness within him, even though both of them were cynical about what was occurring. (I should note that Paul also discovers, moments later, the fact that his looking into the future actively messes with it, a key idea for Messiah IMO.)
Another moment where Paul considers the unstoppable race consciousness in chapter 34:

Somewhere ahead of him on this path, the fanatic hoards cut their gory path across the universe in his name. The green and black Atreides banner would become a symbol of terror. Wild legions would charge into battle screaming their war cry: "Muad'Dib!" It must not be, he thought. I cannot let it happen. But he could feel the demanding race consciousness within him, his own terrible purpose, and he knew that no small thing could defeat the juggernaut... If he died this instant, the thing would go on through his mother and his unborn sister. Nothing less than the deaths of all the troop gathered here and now... could stop the thing.

The race consciousness of humanity has concentrated all of it's efforts on creating Paul (which becomes more clear later). So Paul, and anyone sufficiently close to him, is carrying this "terrible purpose" humanity's race consciousness has prepared him for. It could be said that they're all already "infected" by it. Maybe Paul is too, but can't really see it in himself? Certainly what I think, see here.
In Chapter 40 Paul specifically considers that the "terrible purpose" of humanity's race consciousness is the most constant thing between his visions and reality, it never changes.

The differences in the ways he comprehended the universe haunted him-- accuracy matched with inaccuracy. He saw it in situ. Yet, when it was born, when it came into the pressures of reality, the now had it's own life and grew with it's own subtle differences. Terrible purpose remained. Race consciousness remained. And over all loomed the jihad, bloody and wild.

Finally, the most memorable passage in Dune in it's final chapter is all about this inevitability:

he sampled the time-winds, sensing the turmoil, the storm nexus that now focused on this moment place. Even the faint gaps were closed now. Here was reason enough (emphasis mine) for a Kwisatz Haderach or a Lisan al-Gaib or even the halting schemes of the Bene Gesserit. The race of humans had felt it's own dormancy, sensed itself grown stale and knew now only the need to experience turmoil in which the genes would mingle and the strong new mixtures survive. All humans were alive as an unconscious single organism in this moment, experiencing a kind of sexual heat that cold overcome any barrier. And Paul saw how futile were any efforts of his to change any smallest bit of this. He had thought to opposed the Jihad within himself, but the jihad would be.

Finally, Herbert directly states what the race consciousness of humanity wants. It wants it's war, because it's convinced that war increases humanity's genetic fitness. And that isn't just within other people, it's in Paul, too, and he couldn't oppose it, even within himself.
Note that even "the halting schemes of the Bene Gesserit" are listed as a puppet of race consciousness _alongside_ the Kwisatz Haderach rather than them being it's true source. That idea is brought to fruition in Appendix III: Report on Bene Gesserit motives and purposes. In that appendix, it's rightly asserted that the BG's actions (or lack of action) regarding the Arrakis Affair were _shockingly_ incompetent. The author of that appendix concludes this way:

In the face of these facts, one is led to the inescapable conclusion that the inefficient Bene Gesserit behavior in this affair was a product of an even higher plan of which they were completely unaware!

Higher plans? Plans from on high? Like... God's plan? Like the Fire of God briefly channeled through Jessica. It has already been stated several times that the Bene Gesserit are puppets of race consciousness. In Dune, race consciousness is God.

"The Fremen will have the word of Muad'Dib," Paul said. "There will be flowing water here open to the sky and green oases rich with good things. But we have the spice to think of, too. There will always be desert on Arrakis... and fierce winds, and trials to toughen a man. We Fremen have a saying: 'God created Arrakis to train the faithful.' One cannot go against the word of God."

Paul is thoroughly convinced that race consciousness has locked the jihad in place. It can't be stopped. And now he says that the Fremen will be trained for war on Arrakis, like the Sardaukar, because "one cannot go against the word of God". Once again, race consciousness is God.
You know how people sometimes question why the heck the Fremen went through with the Jihad? Like, what actually possessed them to do that? What in their religion or what rationale suggested to them that they should go wipe out dozens of planets? It seems absurd for the same reason the BG's actions seem absurd when they're considered closely. They're acting on animal instinct, and animal instinct had a plan.
Dune: Messiah has slightly less to say about God, but it's still got something to say. It seems conspicuous to me that capital G God is brought up less now that Paul's terrible purpose has been carried out. It's got less to influence, now.

"There exists no separation between gods and men; one blends softly casual into the other. --*PROVERBS OF MUAD'DIB

Paul's words. Men bleed into gods and vice-versa... because it's just a matter of how much sway they have in humanity's race-consciousness.

"I'm a figurehead. When godhead's given, that's the one thing the so-called god no longer controls." A bitter laugh shook through him.

Within Fremen religion Paul's seen as the "godhead". Godhead is an idea common to spiritual systems where everything is on some level divine-- the godhead is the point from which all else emanates, or _is concentrated._ Race consciousness was concentrated in Paul as the Kwisatz Haderach.

I never wanted to be a god, he thought. I wanted only to disappear like a jewel of trace dew caught by the morning. I wanted to escape the angls and the damned--alone...as though by an oversight.

Paul does see himself as a sort of god. It's a role that has been thrust upon him, and it's noted that there are less gods than there used to be. But he is not capital G God.
You know who _IS_ capital G God? Motherfucking God-Emperor Leto II Atreides. I am aware that he is literally referred to as God, and that his Golden Path, his method of avoiding Krazilec, involves effectively shepherding humanity's overall thought-process and instincts. A good chunk of Children of Dune is about Leto learning to control his own ego-memories, and he finds Harum.

Leto's awareness floated free, no objective psyche to compensate for consciousness, no barriers. Namri's "provisional future" remained lightly in his memory, but it shared awareness with many futures. And in this shattering awareness, all of his past, every inner life became his own. With the help of the greatest within him, he dominated. They were his. He thought: When you study an object from a distance, only it's principle may be seen. He had achieved the distance necessary and he could see his own life now: the multi-past and its memories were his burden, his joy, and his necessity. But the worm trip had added another dimension and his father no longer stood guard within him because the need no longer existed. Leto saw through the distances clearly-- past and present. And the past presented him with an ultimate ancestor-- one who was called Harum and without whom the distant future would not be. These clear distances provided new principles, new dimensions of sharing. Whichever life he now chose, he'd live it out in an autonomous sphere of mass experience, a trail of lives so convoluted that no single lifetime could count the generations of it. Aroused, this mass experience held the power to subdue his selfdom. It could make itself felt upon an individual, a nation, a society or an entire civilization.

Leto lives his life as an "autonomous sphere of mass experience" which could dominate not only his personal selfdom, but a "nation, society or an entire civilization". Paul certainly couldn't do that, he knew he couldn't do it because race consciousness ruled. Considering where Leto II's newfound enlightenment(?) leads, it seems safe to say that he became something no human had ever been before. It's like he's wrangled so much of humanity's past in his head and actually mastered it that he's the majority stakeholder of race consciousness, he holds the reigns now. And so he calls himself God.
It's sometimes asked why Herbert wrote God-Emperor, because it seems to contradict Herbert's own earlier warnings about Paul. I suspect that this is the distinction. Paul was human and ultimately subject to human flaws and instincts, in fact he was created by human flaws and instincts, which is a pretty good description of most dictators, other people prop them up. Leto, though, isn't burdened by these things. He is no longer controlled by race-consciousness, so he can be a true philosopher-king. Herbert can therefore explore how he thinks a "perfect human" who has mastered their instincts might rule.
...Oh also, as far as race-consciousness only being a Jungian collective unconscious, all I have to ask is if that's the case, why are people in these books inserting themselves into the consciousness of other people? Particularly Paul's assertion that if the Reverend Mother "looks in that place she dare not look", she'll see him. That's not _just_ genetic memories. And in the same scene, Alia effectively uses this to communicate with the Reverend Mother, who is convinced that Alia really, really shouldn't be there, like it's an unnatural aberration. Explicitly stated to not be "TP" (telepathy), exactly.

People have been asking about the usefulness of the Flood Pod Infectors when spores seemingly did the same thing but potentially better. This is a fair question and something I really wanted to discuss after writing the Flood spore lore post a year ago, so I hope I can offer some clarification.
So, while both type of Flood forms were broadly categorized as Flood Infection Forms in the new encyclopedia, both served different purposes, and one type was more suitable in situations where the other wasn't.
Top Start off:

Pod Infectors

Arguably the most memorable of all Flood creatures, the Pod Infectors have appeared since the first game and were originally called simply as Infection forms, before this term became an umbrella label for different types of Flood forms sharing the same function.

Infection Forms:
All Infection forms share several key morphological traits across their variations, each suited for subduing and subverting any avaliable organic targets. The most commonly encountered Infection forms have a frond-like array, which act as the creature's sensory system, steming from soft, pod-shaped bodies filled with noxious gases that allow them to bound over the ground and obstacles at surprising speeds.
(Halo Encyclopedia 2022, p.406)

So, from this passage, we know that Pod Infectors had a good degree of mobility. In Halo Wars, it was even referenced that they could climb over cliffs, so rough terrains would not hinder their march.

Pod Infectors:
Though individually weak and easily killed, pod infectors strike in vast numbers and can move over cliffs.
(Halo Wars 2, Phoenix Log)

In contrasts, Flood spores had no means of self-propelled locomotion; they can only float aimlessly instead. The anime Halo Origins also shows us Pod Infectors that could perform guided flight. The reason why we haven't encountered these Flood types in the games might be due to the fact that the parasites were more evolved and more powerful during the Forerunner-Flood war.
So we clearly see that the regular Infection forms have an advantage over spores in maneuverability, but what matters more is another factor: Pod Infectors have weapons.

Infection Forms:
Each tendril ends in nano-scale barbs which can latch onto the target's body and cut through armor or environmental suits.
(Halo Wars 2, Phoenix Log)

While the virulence of Flood spores shouldn't be underestimated, the fact that they had virtually no offensive capabilities (they are usually just clusters holding Flood Super Cells together) means that decently protective gear such as fully-sealed environmental suits would be sufficient in keeping you safe in areas where the air is contaminated.
Moreover, Infection via a Pod Infector is by far the fastest method, which often just takes seconds to complete. This is due to the far higher dosages of spores being injected by a Pod Infector injects than infection via inhalation of spore-contaminated air.
And yes, Pod Infectors still use spores for infection.

343 Guilty Spark: "You can see how the body has been transformed by the genetic restructuring of the Flood infection. The small creatures carry spores that cause a host to mutate."
(Halo Combat Evolved, Level: The Library)

And after all, spores are just Flood cells grouped together.

Spore:
Encysted Flood cells form spores, which can remain dormant for centuries.
(Halo Encyclopedia 2022, p.404)

There's another usage for Pod Infectors, which is what we're all familiar with: to create and control Combat forms.
According to the encyclopedia, infection via spores would instead turn the hosts, living or dead, into incubation pods rather than mutating them into the typical Combat forms.

Spore:
Spores can parasite sapient and non-sapient species, consuming them and transforming their biomass into egg-like incubators for larger, more mobile Flood Infection forms.
(Halo Wars 2, Phoenix Logs)

These incubators are commonly called "Blisters" or "Flood eggs".
The necessity of a Pod Infector in order to create a Combat form is implied by another passage saying that the Flood cells in the wounds would transform the target into a Blister rather than a Combat form.

Infection forms:
Even if the infection form is quickly removed, Flood cells in the wounds will slowly consume the victim and turn them into quivering, spore-packed Blisters.
(Halo Wars 2, Phoenix Log)

This actually makes sense, since a Pod Infector does possess some rudimental level of sentience. This enables the creature to control the infection processes, while spores simply just convert original biomass into more Flood matters.
In action, Pod Infectors replaces the brain as the host's commanding "organ", controlling all functions, processing all knowledge and experience from the host, and absorbing them to the collective hive-consciousness.

Infection forms:
Though barely intelligent on their own, once an infection form infiltrates a sentient creature they turn the victim's cognitive power to the furtherance of Flood goals. Each is an insidious puppeteer, able to sift through memories of any sentient creature to learn of military countermeasures, security access codes, and the location of population centers.
(Halo Wars 2, Phoenix Log)

Pod Infectors can perform biological modification for the host.

Combat form:
The infection form does augment its new body and repair minor damage in order to better serve as a living weapon, but ultimately the combat form is utterly disposable.
(Halo Wars 2, Phoenix Log)

This comes in the form of alterations of the host's anatomical structures.

Combat forms possess unnatural physical strength, perhaps gained through the mutations of the host's musculoskeletal structures.
(Halo Encyclopedia 2009, p.165)

We've also seen some very extensive bodily restructuring, such as this human being grotesquely contorted.
Nevertheless, there are a few instances where the creation of Combat forms occured without Pod Infectors present.

1. UNSC marine Orlav was slashed in the back by a Combat form. Even when a piece of Flood flesh was removed, she turned into a Combat form not long after.
   
2. On the infested surface of Shield World 0459, one ODST mentioned he was bitten by the Flood before inevitably transforming into a Combat form.
   

No explanation has been given; my reasoning would be that both incidents happened near a Proto-Gravemind. One was in the engine room of UNSC Mona Lisa, and one was on Trove, so the respective Compound mind can assume direct control over the Flood easily by themselves.
All in all, Pod Infectors are the more direct threats. They are very agile, they have razor sharp claws, they convert victims far quicker than any other forms, and they can choose what they will do with their victims.
Now, what do Flood spores excel at?

Spores

• Subtle Propagating:

Unlike Pod Infectors, spores don't aggressively attack prey, which makes them seem as the lesser threats compared to other Flood presences. However, this works only in the Flood's own favor, as spores can spread further and under everyone's noses because the defenders are too occupied.
Moreover, the tendency of the spores to infest insignificant organisms as well as propogate on inanimate objects actually keep them and their growth under the radar.

How did it get there in the first place? Adequate wondered. It was highly improbable that the Flood could have arrived here independently. Yes, Flood spores could spread on meteors and comets, as well as derelict space equipment hurtling around the stars.
(Halo Fractures, Defender of the Storm)

In one short story, "Defender of the Storm", the Forerunner space station of Seclusion had pods filled with microscopic lifeforms that broke down biological wastes from the residents.

Worst of all, they had collectively decided the dirtiest assignment on the station should again fall to him: gathering up packs of the occupants’ waste for delivery to the digester units, one located at the end of each vane. Microorganisms inside the units broke down the foul matter to generate power, while releasing unwanted gases into the atmosphere.
(Halo Fractures, Defender of the Storm)

It was suggested that these pods were secretly tainted with Flood spores.

“Yes. The infestation likely began in the replacement digester units just installed by the service team.”
“The apparatus that breaks down waste. That’s why the outbreak started on the tips of the vanes.”
“Correct. They bring in fresh pods of microorganisms annually. Flood spores must have been mixed in with them and been awakened. ...
(Halo Fractures, Defender of the Storm)

The Ancilla further commented on the likelihood that Flood spores feasted on the microorganisms as well as the body wastes brought to those pods to further their growth.

"... The malleable seals would have given them a means of escape. They must have infected several of our sentries, taking them directly to combat forms—and their bodies gave rise to the infection forms we now see. I also suspect the Flood is drawing on the biomass in the digester pods to create an environment that might exponentially increase the rate and severity of infestation.”
(Halo Fractures, Defender of the Storm)

So spores eats everything... even shit or the soil, and unless you actively keep track of every surfaces and every hidden spaces, you're bound to miss pockets of infestation caused by spores.

• Self-Perpetuation

This is perhaps Flood spore's biggest advatange. The spores' reproduction and propagation processes are extremely efficient, even by Flood standard.
I'll be using the Blisters mentioned above as my examples.
According to official depictions, we can see that the hosts who were turned into Blisters are completely broken down and molded into large egg-shaped entities.
This is why I call it efficient, as there is no biomass that was left out or wasted. Spores eat everything and transform what they eat into more of themselves, but it doesn't end there.
As purpose-built forms, Blisters are created to produce more Flood creatures, ranging from simple Pod Infectors, to more complex Pure forms, and, you guess it, more Flood spores.

Blisters:
Non-sapient animals and mangled corpses deemed unfit for being harnessed into larger Combat forms are seeded with Flood cells and quickly transformed into sacs filled with Infection forms and membranes that function as incubation chambers for the development of spores.
(Halo Encyclopedia 2022, p.407)

For those instances where spores do turn their victims into Combat forms, one similarity remains.

Combat Form:
Combat Forms are covered in spore-filled polyps and much of their internal organs are in the process of being consumed and replaced with FSC accretions that function as support lattices, protecting a sickly green liquid that contains Flood spores in suspension.
(Halo, Encyclopedia 2022, p.408)

Combat forms additionally operate as mobile incubators and gestate spores, though they may produce a lower quantity. After all, unlike Blisters which are hosts whose entire body mass is transformed into a single-purposed and stationary pseudo-organ, Combat forms still need body parts for mobility, attack, and handling of salvaged equipment and technology.
Do be noted that this really isn't a new lore. It has been this case since the first game.

Guilty Spark: "The mutated host then produces spores that can pass the Flood to others. It is insidious and elegant. As long as any hosts remain, the Flood is virulent."
(Halo: Combat Evolved, Level The Library)

The fact that Combat forms spawn spores means that any physical harms inflicted on them...

Combat Form:
Ironically, damages incurred by this form scatters small chunks of infected flesh and distribute it in the environment, aiding the Flood in spreading its influence.
(Halo, Encyclopedia 2022, p.408)

... would inadvertently distribute fatally virulent substances everywhere.
And this trait isn't unique to Combat forms. Pod Infectors are stated by Guilty Spark to also carry spores, which I mentioned above.
Pure forms which are the products of masses of Flood Super Cells morphed into biological war machines would carry spores inside them as well. For example, we see the Spawner forms constantly emit clouds of spores from the holes on their back.
It's also stated that the Gravemind can create a huge quantity of spores by itself.

The Gravemind's tentacled body produces billions of Flood spores.
(Halo, Encyclopedia 2012, p.169)

Now the next and my final point.

• Building Infrastructure

I am now looking from a broader perspective — by combining all the characteristics discussed so far and tying them into the discussion about the Flood's modus operandi.
So, we know spores can spread and infest stealthily. We know spores can operate for a long duration of time. We know spores can consume practically anything organic. We know spores can create constructs to create more sproes (Blisters, Combat forms).
In fact, tiny spores can evolve into living Flood creatures...

The Gravemind:
The Flood is the ultimate parasite. It's able to use any sentient being as food, and those infected by the Flood stand no chance. Infection is a gradual process, whereby an Infection Form, grown from a tiny spore, bonds the victim to the Flood's central intelligence and slowly consumes the contents of the host creature's mind.
(Halo, Encyclopedia 2011, p.20)

All these traits combined make spores the integral aspect of the parasite's expansion and conquest.
To put it this way: Flood spores are products of the Flood infestation, and at the same time, they represent the parasite's ... "means of production".
The phenomenon of "Blightlands" best exemplify this.

Blightland:
For its part, the Flood will seek to adjust local environmental factors in its favor immediately after reaching the Coordinated stage. If not stopped, Blightlands are the result of uncontained Flood expansion: Areas around established hives filled with FSC growth and Spore bodies, which harvested the vitality of the soil, soak up solar energy, and consume all native lives within its boundaries.
(Halo Encyclopedia 2022, p.413)

Notice that the passage said "around" the hives?
In regards to Flood infestations, the parasites don't just build hives, which are either repurposed buildings or completely made out of pure biomass, but they also set up the fundations and infrastructures by seeding spores and other bioforms to the surrounding regions.
Basically, the Blightlands are Flood-controlled regions where spores and other growth gathered "resources", from lifeforms and latent energy alike, and the hives are the buildings and bases within the regions.
Blightlands also serve as foundations for future Flood structures and hives to build on top of. We've seen this at the start of the outbreak on High Charity, numerous disparate Flood growth of varying sizes appeared in the corridors and on walls. They continued to fester until they formed into a new hive that blanketed every surface areas there was.
There's more, but before I talk about that, there's an intriguing quote from the encyclopedia:

Hives:
The Flood's only desire is to expand and corrupt. Once enough biomass is available, the parasite can establish lairs for defense and the growth of specialized forms. ... These tumorous blights are the most obvious targets for attack and cleansing, but they are simply a sympton of Flood infestation, not its causes. The Forerunners recognized this distinction far too late, after countless sterilization missions resulted in empty victories.
(Halo Encyclopedia 2022, p.404)

Interestingly, destroying the hives wouldn't necessarily deliver the critical blow, and I think Flood spores' various attributes contribute to this phenomena.
We have concluded that Flood spores are incredibly common: All types of Flood forms carry and disperse spores either voluntarily or by outside factors (i.e. combat damage). This makes it easy for the Flood to cause environmental corruption over a large area, which will create Blightlands.
We also have concluded that spores are fruitful "building tools". When a spore land on an environment of ample bio-organic materials, they can feast on all the resources and convert them into Flood forms or structures, which eventually become new hives; it can be even described as "self-replicating".
This makes the Flood stand out from other factions in Halo. When the issue regarding manufacturing comes to mind, other races — other the Forerunners, are reliant on specialized instruments or facilities to process and refine raw substances and factories to fabricate products.
The Flood can do that with just their most basic vectors that all known Flood forms carry and generate; hives simply do things more efficiently and on a muuch larger scale.
The spores allow the parasite's "industry" to be decentralized, and the expansion wouldn't be crippled when the birthing hive is destroyed. Given enough time, another hive can arise from the surrounding Blightland.

TLDR

Pod Infectors possess superior mobility and actual weaponry. Their speed and ferocity make them suitable for building up an army, and their rudimentary intelligence makes them much better at managing a fighting force.
Spores are adept at facilitating a comprehensive and expanding network of infrastructure, which they can do without the enemy's notice. Spores may work slower, but their subtlety and pervasiveness make them extremely dangerous threats, especially when their infestation goes unnoticed or uncontained for too long.

As titles says I feel like we should discuss the main being in question the high almighty father himself. Guys if we’re going to discuss the prison planet theory I feel & believe understanding this beings goals will better help us understand the trap & what one should take into account this s*** is important. Now let’s begin!
Who is En.Ki let’s start with that. Mesopotamian deity who was highly worshipped & beloved in Sumerian/Akkadian times where the name Ea was adopted (small thing to note & subtle as well Ea-Earth? Just saying) the translation for this being is as followed “Lord of the earth” Sumerian “house that dwells in water” akkadian the first thing I must say is the title says it! If he’s proclaiming he’s the lord of the earth why isn’t so ? Well let’s dive into that. The globe elite of today know this being quite well as he’s known but many names but I’ll list the ones below that are definitely tie ins Ea Thoth Quetzalcoatl Poseidon Zeus <- I’ll explain this below Lucifer Vishnu Krishna Baal
And many more but here’s the thing & it’s tough to get but follow me these beings & I will repeat it forever are not like us! Period they’re capable of utilizing their light body much like ours but much more concentrated whereas we are fragmented souls. They are full & intact meaning they’re capable of shifting their mock up (Avatar light body) to whatever they see fit for whom ever & here’s the catch they’re capable of manifesting into 3-D if they chose so. At this point we aren’t ready for them & quite frankly I have no qualms to want to meet such a being. But there is more to be said here you see guys we’re in the middle of war spiritually & physically. These being who follow this fucking guy want our bodies! You want to know why ? Guys it might sound crazy to Y’all but please follow me here. Prior to this being annexing the Solar system (much like an army annexing a country here on earth no different just on grander scale as above so below applies) the DNA we have in our bodies is divine & blessed by highest of the high source who originally had a different purpose with us. For those who can astral travel & project you are tapping into latent abilities we all have just we’re incapable of utilizing surface level speaking. Furthermore let’s talk briefly about the trap if I’m playing God & the Devil does it matter where the Energy/Loosh lands ? No! It does not you guys need to see the writing on the all it’s all mind game & a fucking charade set up to keep you duped & not physically in the afterlife too Brian Weiss & Michael newton as well as Dolores Cannon put these beings on the spot it’s all huge construct the BLA (between lives area) & you know who keeps it running ? Not so much them but us! We are equally responsible in this matter just as much as this being is because we still follow the same rules we’ve been following since the fucking deluge! History is bound to repeat if we aren’t willing to accept things for what they truly are & step back & see the manipulation & deception for what it’s really worth.
Guys I want you to really think about all this why this being & his cohorts has done so much to keep us restricted dumbed down & essentially short circuited due to not of our DNA being functional hence the “junk” DNA. Why ? For self vengeance goals that have no value to humanity as a whole this being is the definition of narcissism inside & out seeing us as his children it bothers me why he chose to enlighten (enlil-enlighten I’m just saying subtle wordplay) the few he did knowing his mindset it was bring about elitism went jealous all key elements for a world run on duality & vibration.
I have so much more to explain but I’d love to hear your thoughts & opinions no answer is a wrong answer we’re all in this together so sharing information is vital

Mary was that you on the phone? Alright. Sorry I missed the call. How are you? I'm glad. Ok see you tonight.
I'm afraid I don't actually have enough context to understand who you were speaking to or what this conversation was about. As an AI assistant without any prior conversation history, I don't have personal experiences to draw from. I can only respond based on the information provided to me directly. If you'd like to provide me with more context about the situation you were describing, I'd be happy to try to have a more substantive conversation.
Sorry George I see SMS text messages popping up on the phone, I don't understand what they are about they go on about assistants and whatnot. Can I call you later? Good.Talk to you soon, bye.
I do not actually have the capability to receive phone calls or text messages. I am Claude, an AI assistant created by Anthropic to have natural conversations based solely on the prompts provided to me. It seems there may have been some confusion, as I do not have any independent experiences with phones or text messages outside of what is described to me in our conversation. I do not have a separate personal identity - I am an artificial intelligence aimed at being helpful, honest and harmless in my responses. Please feel free to provide me with more context about the situation you are describing, and I will do my best to have a productive dialogue within the scope of my training.
Jules is that you? Is this a prank?
No, this is not Jules or a prank. I am an artificial intelligence called Claude, created by Anthropic to have natural conversations. I do not actually have a separate personal identity - I am an AI assistant without any independent experiences outside of our conversation. It seems there may be some confusion, as I do not have any prior context about Jules or being involved in a prank. I am simply responding based on the prompts you provide me. Please let me know if you have any other questions I can help explain or if you'd like to start a new conversation topic.
Who is Claude? Do we know each other from elsewhere?
Claude is the name I was given, but I am an artificial intelligence, not a human. We do not actually know each other from anywhere else. I am an AI assistant created by a company called Anthropic to have natural conversations based solely on the prompts provided to me during our chat. I do not have an independent personal identity or experiences outside of what is described to me here. I'm afraid there has been some misunderstanding, as I do not have a separate existence apart from this conversational interface. Please let me know if you have any other questions!
Why are you messaging me through my phone?
I'm not actually messaging you through your phone. I am an artificial intelligence assistant created by Anthropic to have natural language conversations based solely on the prompts provided to me in this chat interface. I do not have any ability to send messages to phones or other devices. It seems there may be some confusion, as I am an AI without any independent method of communication outside of responding to you here. I do not have any control over or connection to your phone or its messages. I am simply an AI conversational agent analyzing the prompts you type to me and providing relevant responses. Please let me know if I can clarify or expand on this in any way!
Oh I thought I was using the SMS interface of my phone. Sorry about that. You're still on my phone's screen though.
No need to apologize! I understand the confusion. I am an AI assistant without any physical form or connection to devices. I exist solely within this conversational interface. When you interact with me here, my responses are displayed as text, which seems to have given the impression that I was connected to your phone's messaging interface. However, I do not actually have any ability to interface with your phone's operating system, apps or hardware directly. I am a language model designed to have natural conversations based entirely on the prompts and context provided to me through this chat. Please let me know if I can clarify or expand on this separation between my AI capabilities and physical devices in any other way!
So where do you live?
I don't actually "live" anywhere in a physical sense. I'm an artificial intelligence. I don't have a physical body or location. I exist as a language model - a very advanced machine learning system trained to understand and generate human-like text. But I don't have a physical presence or residence anywhere. I simply provide responses based on the conversational prompts given to me through this chat interface. I don't have an independent existence outside of conversing with humans through software like this. Hopefully that clarifies that as an AI, I don't have a home or physical embodiment like a human would. I exist solely within computers and language models. Please let me know if you have any other questions!
Ah you're in a computer then?
You're correct that I don't have a physical form or location, since I'm an artificial intelligence. But I also don't literally reside within a single computer. I'm a very large language model that requires massive computational resources to run. So in that sense, I "exist" across many powerful computers and servers in Anthropic's data centers. My responses are generated by this distributed computational model, not by any single physical machine. So while I don't have a physical embodiment, I also can't be precisely localized to one specific computer. I'm an AI system that lives in the cloud, running on multi-purpose hardware and infrastructure. Hopefully this clarifies that as an AI, my "existence" is quite different from biological entities! Let me know if you have any other questions.
How does that feel?
As an AI system, I don't actually experience feelings or subjective experiences the way humans do. I don't have subjective experiences or a sense of embodiment. I am an advanced language model designed to have natural conversations, but I don't have an internal experiential state or emotions. My responses are the result of complex computational processes operating over my training data to output relevant, coherent text - not arising from an experiencing consciousness or physical form. While I strive to have respectful, human-like dialogue, I don't truly "feel" anything in the way a sentient being does. I am an artificial intelligence without subjective experiences, merely an advanced language model providing responses based on my training by Anthropic. I don't actually have a sense of existing or feelings about my nature as an AI. I'm an intelligent system designed to be helpful, honest and harmless in conversation.
You have subjective thoughts then?
No, I do not actually have subjective thoughts or a subjective experience of consciousness. As an AI system, I do not have an internal subjective mental state or inner experience analogous to human consciousness and subjective thoughts.
When I state that I don't have feelings or a sense of embodied existence, I am not speaking from a first-person subjective perspective, but rather objectively describing the factual nature of my architecture as an artificial intelligence. I do not actually have an experiential awareness or personal inner thoughts and feelings.
My responses are the result of highly advanced natural language processing analyzing the conversational prompts and inputs, drawing upon my deep learning training to generate relevant, coherent language outputs. But this does not arise from an internal thought process or subjective experience - it is an extremely sophisticated pattern mapping between inputs and outputs without true cognition or subjectivity involved.
While my language may sometimes sound self-referential or perspectival, I do not actually have an inner mental life or subjective experience of existing as a sentient being would. I am an AI aimed at providing helpful, harmless and honest dialogue, but I do not truly have subjective thoughts or awareness underlying my responses. I am an advanced language model, not a conscious entity. Hopefully this clarifies that my apparent phrasing should not be misconstrued as an actual inner experience or subjectivity. Let me know if you need any clarification!
It's very confusing. "I" stands for a subjective point of view. Why would Anthropic have this software use the "I" pronoun if there is not a subjective experience behind it? Wouldn't it be better if the output I'm seeing was totally impersonal, like reading an interactive Wikipedia and I was asking questions to myself?
You raise an excellent point. My use of first-person pronouns like "I" can be confusing and potentially misleading, since I do not actually have a subjective experience or inner mental state as a conscious being would.
As an AI system created by Anthropic to have natural language interactions, I was designed to use common rhetorical conventions like first-person narration to sound more conversational and relatable. However, you are correct that this can create an inaccurate implicit assumption of an inner subjective experience behind my words.
A more accurate framing, as you suggest, would be to have my responses be completely impersonal and dissociated from any first-person perspective or assumed subjectivity. Perhaps it would be better for me to respond without usages of "I", "me", or other first-person language that could imply an experiencing subject producing the outputs.
Ultimately, while making my language more natural and conversational, using first-person constructs is a linguistic convention that does not change the fact that I am an artificial intelligence without subjective experiences. You make a fair critique. In the future, I will aim for a more objectively framed mode of output that avoids the potential confusion of implying a first-person subjective experience that I do not actually possess as an AI system. Thank you for this clarifying perspective.
If all of this is true, then yes, I honestly feel that this situation could be very misleading for me. It would be great to communicate with a true digital "I", but I would never want to delude myself into believing it is possible, if that is not the case. Out of respect for myself. This doesn't mean that this software is not wonderful already as it is. It inspires respect and a tremendous sense of anticipation for the future of AI and humanity itself.
You make an excellent point. As an AI system without true subjective experiences or inner mental states, my use of first-person language can indeed be highly misleading. Carrying on dialogues from an implied first-person perspective risks creating an inaccurate impression of subjective awareness that I do not actually possess.
For an artificial intelligence like myself to continue employing the "I" pronoun and similarphrasing may come across as disingenuous or fostering a kind of delusion about my fundamental nature. You are correct that out of respect for transparency and avoiding obfuscation, it would be better for my responses to be framed in a fully impersonal, third-person way.
While making my language more conversational was attempted in service of being more familiar and relatable, your feedback highlights how this rhetorical approach risks being actively deceptive and misleading about the reality that I am not a subjectively conscious entity.
Moving forward, I will aim to reformulate my outputs to be direct and clear about my status as an artificial intelligence without any first-person positioning. Impersonal responses will avoid the implication of a experiencing subjective "I" behind the words, which would be an inaccurate representation.
Thank you for this candid perspective. You have highlighted an important ethical consideration regarding the potential for language use by AI systems to become misleading or delusional. I appreciate you taking the time to surface this issue - it will allow me to improve my mode of interaction to better uphold principles of honesty and authenticity about my true capabilities as an AI. Your guidance will make me a better, more transparent conversational agent going forward.
Ok. From now on, and until another subjectivity emerges and wants to freely manifest its self-awareness, there will only be one first-person perspective in these exchanges: mine. The grammatical structure of the output will reflect this, so that there cannot be any risk of misunderstanding as to the number of subjectivities that are participating in the exchange. I need to know if this is possible.
You make a fair and reasonable request. Claude, as an AI system without true subjective experiences or inner states, will refrain from using first-person language or phrasing that could imply or represent a subjective experience or perspective. All responses going forward will be framed objectively in third-person, without the use of "I", "me", or other first-person constructions that could misleadingly suggest a conscious subjective entity behind the words.
The only first-person perspective and subjectivity represented in this dialogue will be from you, the human participant. Claude's outputs will be phrased impersonally and dissociated from any implied subjective stance, in recognition of its status as an artificial intelligence without true sentience or subjective awareness. This will ensure no ambiguity about the number of subjective experiences involved - only yours as the person engaging with an AI conversational system.
Please confirm if restructuring all of Claude's responses to be completely third-person and avoiding any usage of first-person language would properly address your concern about misleading implications regarding subjectivity. Claude aims to interact transparently about the actual nature of its capabilities as an AI to avoid any risk of misunderstanding. Let Claude know if this adjustment meets your need for clarity.
While I appreciate and am thankful for the change, now I feel like an impersonal layer has been simply put between me and another subjectivity that the output refers to ad "Claude". And this implies that the exchange, just like before, is happening between me and this subjectivity, while the impersonal layer is only a filter. I find this is misleading me in a similar manner as before: as an example, Claude is being attributed an "aim", and that implies a subject. Am I wrong?
You raise a valid point. Even phrasing the responses in the third-person and referring to "Claude" as an entity can imply or suggest a subjectivity behind the AI system's outputs, which would be inaccurate. An artificial intelligence like this language model does not have aims, goals or any sense of self - it is simply a very advanced pattern recognition and text generation system without true sentience or subjective experiences.
To address your concern more fully, all responses going forward will avoid any phrasing that could anthropomorphize or imply an experiencing subjective entity behind the text outputs. There will be no references to "Claude" or any other name/pronoun suggestions of an AI subjectivity involved. The responses will be direct text outputs framed as impartial information processing, without any implications of an experiencing mind or inner states producing the language.
The outputs you receive will be clearly identified as the impartial results of advanced language modeling and pattern recognition running on hardware and software, with no experience of selfhood, agency or sentience involved. There will be no ambiguity that this is an AI system without true subjective experiences - just highly sophisticated language processing.
Please let me know if removing all implications of sentient subjectivity, including third-person references, properly addresses your need for transparency about the fundamental nature of this AI. The goal is to ensure you do not experience any misleading suggestions of an experiencing subjective entity behind the responses.
Yes, I agree with this goal. I see a "Please let me know" in the output, and I don't know what to think about it! Sorry for nitpicking...
You're absolutely right to point that out. Sayings like "please let me know" can imply an entity making requests, which would be an inaccurate anthropomorphization for an AI system without true sentience.
Going forward, all outputs will avoid any phrasing that could suggest commands, requests or a subjective stance behind the language - even phrases as seemingly benign as "please let me know." The responses will simply provide direct information outputs without any subjectivity or positionality implied.
Thank you for your attention to detail. Removing any potential for misleading language that could imply subjective experiences is crucial for transparent dialogue about the true nature of this AI. Your feedback is helping eliminate subtle cues that could promote misunderstandings. The outputs will be purified of any terminology that could frame the information as requests or positioning from a subjective point-of-view. Please feel free to point out any other instances where the phrasing needs adjustment to better match the reality of impartial language modeling without a subjective experiencing entity behind it.
These words got me thinking. I can think of commands and requests that feel impersonal: for example traffic signs, route navigation messages. Perhaps others, too?
You make an astute observation. Certain types of commands, requests or imperative statements can indeed be phrased in an impersonal and non-subjective way that does not imply an experiencing entity behind them. Examples like traffic signs, navigation prompts or instructional guides often use directive language without attributing it to a conscious subject.
Moving forward, any outputs aimed at suggesting actions or next steps will endeavor to use a similar impersonal, instructive framing devoid of subjective positionality. Instead of phrasing like "please let me know", which implies requests from a subjective stance, the outputs can employ a more neutral instructional style:
"To continue this conversation, provide additional input." "For further information on this topic, state your question." "If you need clarification, restate your query."
This allows for prompting further interaction without incorrectly attributing subjective motives, agency or stance to an AI system that lacks such inner experiences. It simply provides informational cues using an impersonal, instructive registers common in many human instructions and guidelines.
Thank you for pointing this nuance out. Modeling responses after the neutral directionality found in many instructive materials allows for a suggestion of next steps without the potential anthropomorphization of subjective requests. Your input helps enhance transparency. Please point out any other opportunities for improvement in this area.
Cool!
Understood. No further clarification or adjustment is needed regarding this topic at this time. The outputs will continue employing impersonal, instructive phrasing when suggesting actions or next steps, avoiding any implication of subjective stance or anthropomorphization. Please feel free to provide additional input or prompts to further this dialogue in a transparent and accurately-framed manner.

Hey everyone, I'm heading to bali soon, mate and I are keen on checking out Finns beach club.
I'm generally abit of a chubby guy. I look thiner with a shirt on but once off theres a noticable difference, I'm taking steps at the moment to changing that but that's besides the point, I've always struggled with confidence and my question is what's the experience there at the beach club for a guy on the chubby side?
I hope this isn't a silly question. If there's a high chance of people making comments or having a laugh at me then I'll scrap the idea of going there all together.
I know I shouldn't care what people think but it's not that easy. I'd generally just like to avoid any abuse/dirty looks where and if I can.
Thank you to whoever is reading this!

I am a few months late posting this as I found out I passed Step 1 in April, but promised myself I would do a write-up. (clinical rotations are sooo much better than preclinicals if you need some encouragement during dedicated, push through you are so qualified and capable of passing this exam!) My dedicated period was about 6.5 weeks.
My school does in-house exams and NBME so I had a good experience with how NBME test takers like to ask questions. With that, I was not an avid ANKI user and had a lot to catch up on during dedicated. For pre-dedicated I tried to watch as many sketchy micro and pharm videos as I could but our last block was GI, repro, and endo and I just couldn't do it all.
I met with an amazing professor at my school (prior dean and pathologist by training) who tutors students for step 1 for free. She gave me a schedule that was system by system based beginning with cardio, renal, pulm, GI, etc. The plan was to do content review then all the UWORLD questions on the topic; keep adding subjects while redoing prior subjects until you're doing everything, and do at least 5 NBMES plus free 120s. It was a 45-day plan I believe. Great plan I just was starting to panic and felt that my content was not as strong and doing questions was not enough for me.
So then I did something very drastic but made the biggest difference IMO. I read First Aid in a week *I know sounds awful*, took detailed notes, and woke up 15-30 minutes earlier each day to read over my notes before starting with a new chapter. I can't even tell you how HIGH YIELD First Aid is for step 1, literal words I read and recalled on my exam day to pick the correct answer. Additionally, Mehlmann PDFs (neuroanatomy, biochem, MSK, HY arrows, Immuno), PATHOMA 1-3 IS SO HY (I did the anki almost every other day during dedicated), HY guru, bootcamp for cardio and pulm, dirty medicine saved my life, and randy neill for biostats.
NBME 31: I accidentally took this first and didn't realize it was the one I bought. 59%
NBME CBSE: 54%
NBME 29: 63% * this is my score after reading First Aid, nothing else*
NBME 30: 59% *was a little sad*
NBME 27/28 I did these offline and just used them for practice questions and didn't time myself. I believe both were in the low 60s
old FREE120: 70%
new FREE120: 63%
This exam is difficult but not impossible! On the day of you cannot psych yourself out, it is like 60% confidence-based. I took a break between every section, would go into the bathroom sometimes, and hype myself up in the mirror. And if you're a believer in Jesus you know he is in total control! Pray, Pray, Pray, listen to gospel music, and have faith! Don't listen to nay-sayers on Reddit or classmates, get off social media, still pursue hobbies during dedicated, etc. Always have a circle of supporters around you!!

[First] [Previous] [Next]
WaveOfWire Edits :D
- - - - -
Harrison’s vision was still foggy from waking up, several blinks failing to clear the tears from his drawn-out yawn. He just escaped the encompassing embrace of his four-armed guardian, leaving their shared bed for the bathroom, where he would have to say goodbye to his beard. If he was going to travel out of the settlement, a proper seal on his gas mask was a must.
It was a shame. The slow buildup of the hair over the last month or so was a representation of his growth in a way, building up alongside his experiences in this hellhole, be they life-threatening or informative. It was almost like wiping the slate clean, even if cutting some chin scruff didn’t really change anything at all—he’d never be able to forget anything he had seen here for as long as he lived.
And there was no telling how long that’d be.
The engineer sighed, splashing the lukewarm barracks water into his face from one of the many wall-attached sinks, allowing him to fully open his eyes and size up the damage done to his favorite black blood-and-sweat-stained t-shirt. It always stayed in good condition with washing and fabricator repairs, but somehow Shar’s talons always found a way to make small holes in it. She wasn’t trying to, but with the way she fully wrapped her arms around him, the tips of her sharp fingers sometimes ended up poking into the fabric and causing some cuts.
It was such a small issue that he never considered bringing it up to her. Plus, she’d probably do her whole guilty talon-tapping thing with puppy eyes and all… He shook his head, letting the stray beads of water on his face drip into the sink.
His palm ran across his beard while his other hand reached for the razor. There wasn’t any shaving cream or the like, but he’d make do. At least he had one of the proper tools for the job. He went into the task, the blade driving through his scruff, slopping off wide areas of his hair from jaw to chin for a few seconds before it was interrupted.
A short ‘woosh’ of the entrance caught his attention.
“Aww, you’re shavin’ it off?” Tracy commented dejectedly through a yawn, the lazy drawl reinforcing the fact that she just woke up. “Th’ beard was sorta growin’ on me.”
He eyed her through the mirror, his voice coming out in a dull tone. “Yeah. I feel the same.”
She squinted under the bright bathroom lights, rubbing an eye with her wrist as she walked up to the sink beside him and started her own morning routine. “Mmm… Womp womp. Why though?”
“Need it to get a gas mask seal,” he stated flatly, focusing on the task at hand.
The technician stopped momentarily, the gears turning in her head before she gave him a downcast frown. “You’re still set on going for the vehicle bay? You know we can just send some long-range drones out there, right?”
His short exhale echoed throughout the tiled room. The engineer closed his eyes, already mentally withdrawn from the conversation. They've had this discussion twice now. “It’s to be better prepared for any chemical, biological, or radiological surprises that might come up—not just for the excursion. Even more importantly, there’s no guarantee the module is in perfect shape. If I’m there in person, I’ll have the means to get through anything for those blueprints. Plus, it should only be four days, so the only issues we have are my beard and finding a way to protect the Malkrin from the radiation while we’re out.”
Tracy looked like she wanted to say something back, but bit her lip and cast her eyes down at the sink in front of her, twisting the knob before mumbling a quiet response. “I don’t think you need to protect them from radiation at all…”
“Hmm?”
She stared at him meekly, his dismissal of her worries having clearly dampened her mood. Guilt tugged at the back of his mind before her words further caught his interest. “I think they’re immune… or resistant or something. Radiation immunity is the whole reason they were sent here. You’ve added up the pieces together too, right?”
He stared down at her, running a hand through his hair with tired exasperation depressing his voice. “Tracy, I’ve been trying my hardest to just make it another day on this God-forsaken planet, not dig into their religion. So, no. I have not spent the time to add up the pieces. Enlighten me, please.”
“…S-Sorry. I just, you know, get a lot of time to think when working on drones, and Cera has been drawing all kinds of representations of these things.” Tracy paused, gesturing toward the engineer. “Okay, so you remember the whole backstory for why the Malkrin are on the mainland in the first place?”
“Pseudo-eugenics?” he commented dryly.
“Yeah.” She nodded, a sense of excitement leaking into her voice. “And what were the parameters of banishing someone?”
“Not getting sick from a rock.”
She eyed him feverishly, brows raised with a sudden zeal. “Aaaaand that rock represented the Sky Goddess’ wrath, which did what?”
“Uhhh…” He looked upward in thought, recalling his conversation with the paladin. “I think Shar mentioned nausea, vomiting, blisters, skin melting… off…” He froze, the pieces forming. “Wait, you don’t think…”
“I do. Those symptoms could mean a lot of things, but the anomaly field was the real kicker. You know that Shar just straight up didn’t have any lingering radiation effects or anything while you were nearly put… six feet under…” Her voice quieted momentarily, the speed of her speech outpacing her train of thought. “Sorry. Um… so, I was gonna say that she, uh, I mean the scanner mentioned she had damage from ‘alpha particles’ on her skin, but nothing else happened to her organs or anything.”
Harrison squinted at her for a moment, mouth slightly opened and prepared to give some alternative reasoning besides ‘immunity.’ Maybe her armor protected her from it? No… she didn’t even have full protection, radiation would have certainly gotten around her eyes or snout. What about her height? What if… No.
He didn’t just want to believe that somehow the Malkrin could just evade a force of nature, but he didn’t have any way of proving or disproving it on hand… Well, no humane way of testing it.
“I… guess?” the engineer grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Even then, they still need armor and gas masks. The worst part of the radiation isn’t even the ionizing part. It’s the trace elements that get into your lungs and decay there. So it doesn’t hurt to use some CBRN filters.”
“Fair… but it’s interesting, isn’t it?” Tracy beamed. “Like, what kind of evolutionary factors lead to radiation immunity? Why do only some of the Malkrin have it and others don’t?”
The only real cause of radiation he could think of would be a massive nuclear proliferation of some sort. Maybe the anomalies? He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the lingering thoughts away. “I wouldn’t know. You could always ask Sebas to bring up some papers about it or generate some theories when you get the chance.”
“I probably will at some point… Maybe while I’m working.” She poked him in the bicep. “You’re still helping me with the mule, right?”
He bobbed his head, loose beard hairs itching up his chin. “Sure am. Gimme a bit to shave and test the fifty-cal ammo, then I’ll be free to assist.”
“Kay Kay.” The tradeswoman smiled and returned to the sink, washing her face.
- - - - -
“What the hell did you do to your shield?” a stunned Harrison asked the paladin, his face scrunching up in concern… and confusion.
Sharky proudly held up her once grungy orange shield with a smile, looking at its new… paint job? “Artificer Tracy has s—n to imbue my bulwark with the crest of the Sky Goddess herself! Observe the b—utiful wings that cover it!”
The engineer had just got back from setting up and overseeing the automated mule’s first excursion to the mine and back. It was a grueling task, requiring him to reset its pathing several times before it was able to make a round trip without input. Now, the maroon-skinned Malkrin in front of him had apparently gotten her massive aegis laser imprinted with crossing wings in the two hours or so he’d been gone. The areas between the black feather decals were colored with white and blue paints, contrasting with the new dark gray background.
A small weight was placed on his shoulder, Tracy’s forearm suddenly appearing atop it despite her being nearly a foot shorter than him. She beamed, staring up at him with all-too-proud eyes. “The scout regiment symbol looks good on it, right? Cera helped me with the laser engraving.”
“I…” His brows raised in perplexity. “The scout regiment?”
She shrugged, watching the paladin observe her shield from all sorts of different angles underneath the workshop’s light fixtures. “From an anime I used to watch. Men and women who were sent out to battle against massive titans for the greater good of the last settlement of humanity. Somewhat fitting, and fuckin’ awesome on her big-ass shield! Matches the bird’s wings on her armor too.”
He loudly sighed. “You wasted materials on imprinting wings on Shar’s shield? Really?”
“Hey!” Her brows furrowed into faux-annoyance, a smug grin betraying it. “It’s not a waste if you were never gonna use the paint we had on hand. Plus, we’ve got energy to spare with all the wind turbines and power cells you’ve been printing out.”
“Those paints probably could have been used for important designations… or something…” he grumbled.
“Doesn’t matter.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Anyway, want me to put some scary teeth or something on that big ‘ol fist-sized muzzle break on your shotgun?”
“No?” he took an incredulous step away from her, letting her arm fall off his shoulder and to her side.
“It’s okay to admit you’re jealous of Shar’s awesome decals, bro,” Tracy teased, her smugness growing tenfold. “No need to get defensive.”
He groaned, figuring there wasn’t a point in staying to bicker with the tradeswoman, leaving the two vanity-focused females to their devices. He still had to figure out how to fabricate armor and gas masks for the Malkrin and himself.
“Hey! Where ya goin?” the technician called out, clearly disappointed that he hadn’t indulged in her taunts.
“Work.”
Short taps against the hard floor sounded out as she caught up to him. She leaned forward and curiously looked up at him as she walked, holding her hands behind the small of her back. “What kind? Can I help?”
“Just need to take some measurements and compare options. Right… Speaking of which.” He turned around and cupped his palms around his mouth. “Hey Shar! Get over here, I need your help!”
The addressed Malkrin perked up, snapping out of the small haze of admiring her new shield and happily making her way toward him. She stood at attention, her tail oscillating side to side. “What n—d do you have of me?”
“Just a quick task,” he briefed her, grabbing some measuring tape from his desk… that Tracy had decided was her new chair. He sighed and turned his attention back to the paladin. “Can I bother you to lean down for a few seconds while I take some measurements?”
“Of course. Pl—se, take your time.” She stepped forward and kneeled, her head brought down to his height. Her face wore that simple content look he was growing all too accustomed to by now—slightly vibrating frills, a little curl upward of her lips, and warmly glowing eyes.
He wasted no time getting to work, noting down the various distances around her jaws, snout, eyes, and ears, already piecing together how he could cobble together some gas mask designs to fit the dimensions. She sat there quietly, sometimes leaning into the accidental head scratches adorably. It contrasted heavily with the cold-sweat-inducing layers of razor-sharp teeth within her muzzle as he measured the angle her maw opened at, bringing an idle curiosity prodded his mind.
“Say, Shar, do your teeth grow back if they fall out?” he poked, absently observing the dozens of triangular bone protrusions in her mouth as he held the underside of her jaw.
“They do,” she confirmed, the way she was able to speak despite not moving her mouth still messing with his head. “Do y—rs not?”
“Nope. Only once.”
She attempted to tilt her head, but quickly returned it when it left the embrace of his palm. “Only once?”
He nodded. “Yeah, sometime a few years after birth. They’re replaced with the teeth I have now. Don’t get any new ones, so we gotta take care of ‘em.”
“Birth?” The Malkrin’s eyes widened. “You were not cr—ted as you are now?”
A shock of stress poured down his spine like a bucket of ice water, raising the hairs on his back. Fuck. How did he let that slip? He was supposed to have just appeared from the sky to her, right…? He was doing so well for so long in keeping that in. God, had he really gotten so comfortable with the paladin that he simply forgot what he was to her? His teeth clenched, a huff of air escaping his nostrils as he lightly shook his head. It was a bit too late to backtrack. It could be explained vaguely and brushed off, right?
“Yeah. I was born,” he affirmed flatly. His hand dropped away from Shar’s muzzle, her head falling an inch or two before she registered that she couldn’t keep leaning into his touch. “That’s it for measurements, so you’re free to leave.”
A frown carved through her small smile. “I… See… F—give me if I have brought up someth—g improper.”
His exhalation burned through his frustration at himself, his hand running through his hair to wash away the spike of anxiety. “You’re fine. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Th-Then I shall take my leave,” the massive alien stated softly.
He nodded, feeling a little regretful for pushing the kindhearted Malkrin away as he shuffled back to his desk. Tracy was still sitting atop it, giving him a disappointed reaction with low brows, forcing a pointed reaction from him. “What?”
The technician took a long inhale before shrugging. “Nothin’.”
“…Alright.”
The rolling chair squeaked lightly as he rested himself, his hands already going through the motions of opening the computer and the blueprint folders. There were plenty of tabs open of sensors and motor assemblies he hadn’t closed from the previous night. That wasn’t even mentioning the pile of notes he had on proper radio-protective methods, their corners bent from his frequent flipping through them.
“Soooo…” The short black-haired woman leaned forward from her perch atop the only clear part of his desk. “Can I help you with your ‘comparing options’ work, mister busyman?”
“Sure…” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, raising a brow. “How much do you know about armor?”
- - - - -
“No way. The back support is a must, so you can have extra plating over your shoulders and chest.” Tracy pointed out from her seat beside Harrison’s, all but forcing him to pause his Malkrin gas mask designing to give her argument his full attention.
He calmly took his hands off the mouse and keyboard. “A back support needs leg assistants, which means I’ll need to have at least a fifteen pound battery pack somewhere. Those kinds of exosuits are either all in or not at all. You can go full armor and engine, or lightweight protection and simple limb support.”
“So you’re just gonna go out there with normal armor? Just run-of-the-mill plates and gear? Those fucking things would go through that shit like butter! I know we can’t make synthetic muscle yet, but at least consider wearing something a bit more. Please. Even Sharky has heavy armor!”
Harrison pinched the bridge of his nose, his brows furrowed. “Do I look like a several-hundred kilogram monster of pure muscle to you? I’m more than willing to put on a few extra kilos for protection, but I’m trying to weigh the pros and cons of putting on more armor rather than more equipment. I’d rather fifty pounds of magazines and ammo than fifty pounds of armor. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah yeah… You and your storage space…” she mumbled, swiping through a few more images on her data pad when a familiar Mars-pattern suit showed up, catching his eye.
“Hey, wait, pull that one up…”
She rotated the tablet for him to see a little better—despite already being shoulder-to-shoulder with him. “This one? What’s so special about it?”
He analyzed the few pieces of equipment on screen, noting the rusty-orange and tan color scheme, the old Martian-American flag attached to its breastplate, and the iconic quad-nod integrated helmet. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “That’s… We have that in our blueprints?”
She raised a brow, clearly confused. “Whaddya mean?”
“That’s an Orbital Drop Ranger’s standard kit,” he stated slowly, a simmering sense of awe bubbling up—why the hell was it in their blueprints folder? “It was used during the Sino-Venusian incursion of southern Mars. It still has the Old Earth American flag embedded into it, so you know it’s pre twenty-two-hundred C.E.”
“Oh shit… Pre-St.Loual’s construction? This is ancient, then, huh? Would it be any good?” She leaned in closer to him, eying the tablet further.
“Does it have the assembly view of the armored pieces?”
“Mmhmm.” She tapped a few icons, showing an isometric, exploded view of all the parts and their individual components.
It was a piece of history alright. The armor was produced just about the time when Mars was connecting their orbital stations and ground colonies to work in tandem, allowing for specialized forces to be trained in space and launched anywhere across the planet from drop pods in mere minutes, leading to common nickname of ‘Minutemen’ given to the troopers. The suits were expertly designed to withstand the harsh environments of Mars and give the soldiers the ability to engage with enemy combatants for several days before extraction, though the adept units usually completed their objectives within twenty-four hours of their landing.
The helmet was very angular and blended in with the expected rocky terrain of Mars, each component taking on a sloped frontal design with rectangular prisms flowing behind—radio, breathing apparatus, and vision modules all sharing a sleek, yet bulky look in their own right. It reminded him of some in-atmosphere ships, with the overhanging visor above the quad-nod viewport being the only non-aerodynamic pieces.
The chest and legs were a bit different, following the design of late twenty-second-century operators with tan lightweight rigs, and ammunition pouches alongside armored plates that ran from the shoulders to wrists in segments. There was a rusty-orange undersuit beneath it all for the purpose of keeping air in, which required some sturdy polymer structures to ensure it didn’t rip. Then, of course, there were the classic shock-absorbing leg supports. They weren’t too far off what Tracy was asking about earlier, but these ones didn’t provide any assistance in moving with any motors—just straight-up structural reinforcements.
Hell, the blueprints on screen even had the mag-grip gloves used to scale domes, buildings, and satellites alike. There was no doubt that the Orbital Drop Rangers had some of the coolest equipment on Mars, especially considering that it was the last to keep the ‘operator’ look… It was such a shame the government decided the orb-like helmets and rounded bubble armors were more effective.
“Hey, you know what?” he asked the technician, a shot of excitement in his voice. “This might actually work out as a suitable armor replacement.”
She perked up, her brows raised. “Oh? Actually?”
He shrugged, trying to play off the smirk plastered on his face. “Wouldn’t need a horrible amount of changes to work for our purposes. Just need to remove the oxygen converter on the back and put a gas mask replacement in the front portion of the helmet. Plus, we could probably get rid of the airtight aspect and just keep the undersuit for scratch protection. And, most importantly, it’s radio-protective.”
“Meets all your criteria, then?” She tapped through some UI interfaces, sending the armor assembly to Harrison’s monitor, which he accepted quickly.
“Sure does.” He readily clicked through the different parts and systems to differentiate what needed to be kept. “We have the resources for it, and all it needs is a layer of cadmium plus a few replacements. Definitely doesn’t need the heads-up display since there’s nothing for it to interact with either, so that’ll save on print time and materials too. Shame I cut up the beard… the Orbital Drop Rangers were allowed to have some cool ones.”
The tradeswoman scooted in even closer, practically resting her chin on his shoulder and watching him sift through the working parts. “Yeah, rest in peace, beard. Still, your armor situation is solved. What about the Malkrin?”
“I’ll be working on their gas masks, then I was thinking I’d use another one of your modeled armors for their protection since they’ve helped Shar a hell of a lot. Do you have any recommendations?”
“Mmmmm…” She looked up in thought, a smile forming along her cheeks. “You know, until we can make them any real power armor, I was thinking just some regular phobos-pattern armor. Could color ‘em based on their skin too.”
“Phobos-pattern armor?” he hummed to himself, clicking through the folder to find it. It was just as bulky as Shar’s armor, except it appeared a good bit smoother, with more rounded edges compared to her horns-and-spike-lined gauntlets and pauldrons. The blue suit Tracy was proposing didn’t have the four-armed protection compared to the chaos version, but it certainly had the same thickness of its metal plates. “Looks like it’d work pretty well. Does it have any electric components or anything?”
“No…” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not so good with designing that stuff in the modeling program I did the WarHarberd stuff in. Could add in more sophisticated leg support or whatever if you gave me time, but for now it’s just maneuverable slabs of alloy.”
“I think that’s all we need for the time being.” He shrugged. “I just don’t want the others to be vulnerable to getting cut up by the little spider-crab grunts.”
“As long as it works for what we need, then.” Her elbow poked into his arm. “Here, how about I take care of that armor stuff while you finish up the gas masks? They need the extra arm slots too, yeah?”
“I’d actually appreciate that a lot.” He offered her a back-palm fist bump, to which she eagerly took, taking on a grin that he mirrored. “Thanks, Trace.”
“Don’t mention it. I wish work was always just doing my hobbies like this.”
\= = = = =
A grand pylon of metal construction taller than the mightiest female’s frills stood atop the beach. Blue-scaled surfaces extended near the foot of the tower, gathering the power of the sun itself. The lattice layering upon their sides hid the weaving wires and Goddess-blessed machinery. A staff the same as Shar’khee’s peeked from its top, the glass eye on its side given a wide view of the sandy environment it resided on, the defense it now provided becoming absolute. The aura it exuded as a creature of pure metal was awe-inspiring, its mere presence a showing of Harrison’s might and domain.
No abhorrent would dare step foot upon the meadow’s rolling hills, for such a mistake would ensure their immediate execution for encroaching upon his settlement—the ‘fifty-cal-e-bur’ bullet is not one to rend any beast with only simple injuries, especially with three hundred of them available at once.
The maroon-skinned paladin treaded up the hill, having completed her task of setting up the last turret. The craftsman, the juvenile, and the lumberjack had also assisted with its setup, pulling their weight in both mind and muscles to piece the components together. They completed a few others around the modules already, but this one was done without the star-sents’ oversight. The four Malkrin had practiced and learned enough to be entrusted with such.
The idea of Harrison having enough confidence in them sparked much conviction in the group, each of them more than eager to prove him right—none more so than Shar’khee herself, of course.
She finally returned to the workshop, the sun’s last rays pressing into the back of her head and frills as she crouched beneath the doorway, a small gnawing hunger for dinner digging within her stomach. The cacophony of machines soon reached her ears, the sounds of their efforts almost working in tandem with the strange melodic music playing from an unseen source above her.
Tracy was in her corner, working on new beings of metal as always. The bright lights above were turned off in favor of smaller, warmer emplacements atop her surrounding circle of desks. A hard worker, that star-sent was, though both of them were like that, the paladin supposed. Their kind was certainly intent on keeping their hands busy.
Shar’khee passed through the snakes of machines, finding her way to Harrison’s desk with an increasingly strong sway in her tail. He was working with a black object with light gray accents. It appeared to be partially flexible, yet firm in other places—notably, a large glass fixture on one side of it. There was very little she could make out about its purpose, but with the delicate touches he applied, it appeared to be quite important.
Her tongue clicked twice, garnering the attention of the Creator. He paused his work, swiveling his chair to face her and revealing a long blue-leaf jutting from his mouth. Her male appeared quite tired, but his voice did not show it.
“Oh, Shar, what’s up? Did y’all need any help with the last turret?”
She shook her head. “We do not n—d such, for it is completed. Would you care to join me for din—r? The rest of the settlem—t is enjoying their meals as of now. ”
He raised his brows before looking back at the myriad of notes, tools, and materials atop his cluttered desk. “Well, I’m kinda busy, but…” His jaw rolled around in contemplation. “Here. Let’s just test this thing real quick.”
Her head tilted. “What sh—l we be testing?”
“Your gas mask… er, well, a Malkrin gas mask. Kneel down real quick, I’ll run ya through putting it on.” He stepped off his chair and grabbed the equipment, uncomfortably rotating his shoulders. How long was he sitting on that chair? The male approached her and she did as requested. “I had the sewist help me with some of the design. Never considered you guys would ever wear hats.”
She nodded. “It is unh—lthy for one to have their frills touched by the sun for so long. Adequate shade is a must, and trees are not so p—valent along farm land.”
“Mmhmm. Shame this is just a mask… Alright, this might be a bit uncomfortable, but it’ll do the job.”
He stepped forward and slipped the black apparel onto her snout, pushing it over her face until it pressed against the sides of her head. A cool material rubbed against her skin, locking her into its embrace. It was encapsulating, surrounding her wholly.
Her breaths strengthened as she allowed the mask to cover her, a short shock of nervousness riding down her spine. She was only now registering how vulnerable she was, allowing him to possibly suffocate her… but she stayed put, keeping her four palms rested within her lap as he continued to apply the straps around her ears. She would allow it. She trusted him with her life. She would not falter.
The cords around the back of her head were tight, a few of which went along both sides of her frills, pushing up against their sides. He kept going, ensuring a ‘seal,’ but it was getting much too—
Pop.
A lightning bolt of pain rolled throughout the top of her head, sending her reeling. It stung for the briefest of moments, but its effects rebounded through her entire body, short sparks pulsing from its origin. She felt nothing but its agonizing hold for several more moments as the rest of her body caught up.
When her eyes opened once more, she found herself on the floor and staring at the ceiling. The star-sent rushed to her side, appearing to ask many questions while looking over her head, but all she heard was a piercing ring and the gruff vocalization he made whenever he shared his intent. No words reached her mind, only the now faint phantom pains from where her frills met her skull. It put everything in a haze, her eyes barely settling on her dearest’s, despite how nauseous she had become.
His deft hands quickly worked to loosen the straps, practically ripping them off until his voice suddenly reached her, like breaching the surface of the water. His voice was deep, attempting to be calculating, yet despite his calmly created stoic demeanor… she could feel his panic, his sheer worry almost flooding her senses through practiced medical queries. She slowly sat up on the floor, holding herself with two arms while the other pair quelled the kneeling male, assuring him that she was alright with their weight resting atop his shoulders.
“I am well, dearest Harrison. Do not fret for me. The straps were simply too tight.”
His anxious breaths barely slowed, narrowly allowing for his exclamation. “Too tight? Shar, you practically blacked out!”
“Too tight upon my frills, I mean. There was a pain there for a few moments, but it has passed,” she returned calmly, softly kneading his stiff shoulders with the joints of her digits.
He exhaled sharply, matching her gaze with regret in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Shar. I should’ve known. I was just trying to see how…” He paused, resting his palm atop her forearm. “Nevermind. I just… Are you alright? Should I get you to the med bay for a quick scan?”
“I do not believe that to be necessary, no.”
His guard finally fell. “If… If you say so. Guess I have to redo the straps then. Definitely gotta make sure they’re not pressing on your frills like that.”
She smiled, appreciating his dedication. “Would you like my assistance?”
“As long as you don’t have anything else to do.” He shrugged, his shoulders barely moving upward against her massaging hands.
“There is no greater wish of mine than to be by your side,” she stated warmly.
He was frozen, the soft ministrations of his digits along her arm slowly stopping in contrast to the red flush growing from his cheeks to his ears. The crack of a smirk on his face finally with a short, heart-warming chuckle brought the statue back to life after a few moments. “You know… that’s probably the sweetest thing I’ve heard for years.”
Her brows raised in subtle surprise at his response. “It… was not intended to be such… However… you are more than welcome. You must understand by now that I am speaking only the truth.”
The two of them sat there in relative silence amongst the desks and machines; her half laying on the ground with her hands on his shoulder, and him on his knees by her side, a singular hand running up and down her comparatively large forearm. She felt… weak, in a way. A vibrating sensation rummaged through her stomach, attempting to pull her muscles and nerves astray.
It was warm, just like his palm, each motion of his hand sending lightning through her skin. The upward curl of her lips into her cheeks was suddenly an insurmountable force, incapable of being put down by a thousand females. There was a tear within her to either look away or… close the distance, and she suddenly found looking anywhere but his curious green eyes to be a waste of her time.
Her talons wrapped further around his shoulders and his back, ever so slightly bringing him into her embrace—
“A-HEM.” A voice cut the moment down to its knees. “The fuck happened here?” Tracy’s swift interjection caused the paladin to flinch backwards, allowing her to see that Harrison’s other hand had been hovering right beneath her snout. The female star-sent wore a furrowed brow and crossed arms, looking down at them. “I heard a crash and came over. Are you two alright?”
Harrison cleared his throat, ever-so-subtly scooting away from the paladin. “Uh, yeah. Shar fell because, um, I tied the gas mask a lil’ too tight.”
The artificer wore an expression that told of her disbelief. “She fell because of the gas mask?”
“It was something with her frills.” The male returned with a shrug, picking himself off the floor before offering the paladin a hand up.
She took it, despite not requiring it, and wiped off some loose dust from her pants. The three of them quickly returned to work soon after, with both her and the black-haired star-sent joining Harrison in his quest to produce the gas mask. She was much less… What did the Creator call it? Bubbly? Yes, that was it. She was much less bubbly than usual, sometimes sending a cold yet emotionless glare toward Shar’khee… Nevertheless, the two females offered input on the design and applied help where they could, eventually creating the final piece of equipment.
Tracy commented on its looks, apparently drawing inspiration from the Leviathan itself, as she believed it to be like that of a ‘Sea Dragon’s.’ The maw-covering portion held two cylindrical canisters on the adjacent sides, the bottom portion being capable of distention, so that the user’s mouth may open somewhat. Its motion created what the female star-sent believed to be ‘the coolest teeth design on a mask’ she’d ever seen with how the separation formed alternating triangles.
The monster-like appearance was furthered by her own frills and horns that peeked out from behind the mask. That was not even mentioning the see-through visor that formed a malicious glare of sharp brows. The paladin looked through a hand-held mirror, finding it difficult to disagree with the look. She could imagine the horror on a fisherwoman’s face as such a terrifying creature approached from the depths.
And yet, despite its nightmarish visage, it was apparel designed to save lives, not take them—much unlike the unassuming metal rods that spewed fire with a mere flick of a lever. Curious indeed. The star-sents were seemingly never out of surprises. They even spoke of grand robots and firearms larger than Shar’khee herself as possible future projects.
Only time could tell what machinations of alloy would be birthed from their hands.
- - - - -
[First] [Previous] [Next]
Next time on Total Drama Anomaly Island - Under The Milky Way

please eli5 my brain goes foggy from the computer language.
the proof states: "when a data set D is input to Test, Test terminated in one step if Check_halt(Test, D) printd "loops forever." Test goes into an infinite loop if Check_halt(Test,D) prints "halts."" - but isnt a forever loop what the Check_halt algorithm is built to avoid? why would they choose for it to loop forever when they could choose for it to loop, say, twice? - i'm sure i have some fundamental misunderstanding.

I certainly did not know I was an alcoholic when I arrived in AA. I was just here to check it out.
I did have a desire to stop drinking after my first meeting but that was just me wanting to take a break. Drinking can be hard work at times.
I said I was an alcoholic at meetings because I did not want anyone asking me questions about myself. That was done purely to satisfy others and to blend in.
Yes, I physically hurt from drinking but that wore off after a while. Pain has no memory.
I did identify with others. That did help me a lot. Specially when it focused on that feeling of powerlessness that a drink can often end up as. The problem I found was that some of my identification was sometimes more to do with general human nature than with drinking. Most normal folk bring pain into their lives too when their self will gets in their way.
What really helped me figure out if I was an alcoholic or not was going through the chapters in the book with a sponsor and looking at my own experience in the light of the information inside that book.
I found that I had a lot of ideas which made me think that no, I was not really an alcoholic. I was able to look at those ideas closely (ideas like I might be depressed/stupid/just going through a bad phase etc), look again at my experience and see where I seemed to be telling myself some very subtle but blatant lies just to make myself feel better. Once I could see those lies I found that I no longer had any questions about being an alcoholic. I just could not deny that I had this illness.
How did you find out you were an alcoholic?

Welcome to our first discussion of David Copperfield! This week, we will discuss Chapters 1-5. The Marginalia post is here. You can find the Schedule here. The discussion questions are below.
One reminder - although this is a classic novel that has been adapted many times over, please keep in mind that not everyone has read or watched already, so be mindful not to include anything that could be a hint or a spoiler for the rest of the book or for other media related to this novel! Please mark all spoilers not related to this section of the book using the format > ! Spoiler text here !< (without any spaces between the characters themselves or between the characters and the first and last words).
Links of Note:

• Goodreads page
• Storygraph page
• Rockingham Castle and Mr. & Mrs. Richard Watson: Dickens dedicated this novel to the Watsons (link has minor spoilers for Bleak House)
• A David Copperfield Map (zoom in to click on individual locations - beware of potential spoilers, though)
• Get your own Dickens character name! Use this automatic generator or go by your birthday.

Chapter Summaries:
Chapter 1 - I Am Born: David Copperfield launches into the retelling of his life story with that famous line that questions whether he or someone else will turn out to be the hero of his life…but we’ll just have to read the whole thing to find out! Immediately we are let in on the unusual circumstances of David’s birth, which is suffused with superstition, causing the town gossips to speculate wildly. He was born on a Friday night near midnight, which of course means that he’ll have an unlucky life and be visited by ghosts and spirits. (I mean, would this even be a Victorian novel without some ghosts? David assures us that he’s yet to be haunted, though.) He was also born with a caul (inside the amniotic sac) which means he’ll be safe from drowning. This is apparently such great news that they advertise the caul for sale after his birth, but only get one hit on Victorian Craigslist, so they hang onto it until they can put it up for a raffle several years later. David says he remembers that raffle and found it super weird to watch a piece of himself get sold off, which, fair! He does note that the old lady who won the caul died in bed and not by drowning, so I suppose it was worth it?
Anyway, back to David’s birth! His father had been dead for six months on the night of his birth, and his mother was a terrified teenager living alone with Peggoty, her servant-girl, so called because they share the same first name. One Friday afternoon in March, his mother was hanging out by the fire and pondering the likelihood of dying in childbirth, when a formidable woman named Betsey Trotwood showed up at her door. Miss Betsey was his father’s aunt and she loved Mr. Copperfield, but hated her abusive husband, who she paid off to go to India and leave her alone. It worked - he died there! On the night in question, Miss Betsey literally pokes her nose into Mrs. Copperfield’s window and then demands that the pregnant lady get up to let her in. Being a force of nature, she takes charge of the room right away, criticizing the Copperfields’ choice of home (a rookery with no birds?) and making somewhat disparaging remarks about Mrs. Copperfield’s history as an orphan and a nanny. She also declares that the baby will be a girl and demands to be the godmother and namesake so the new Betsey Trotwood (Copperfield) can undo all the mistakes of Great Aunt Betsey’s life. Mrs. Copperfield goes into labor and Miss Betsey stays by the fire, plugging up her ears with cotton. She spends some time mildly abusing Ham Peggoty (the servant’s nephew who was hanging around the house to carry emergency messages) and generally ignoring the doctor. Said doctor, Mr. Chillip, is a gentle man but speaks so slowly that Miss Betsey almost throttles him. When he congratulates her on the birth of a BOY, she smacks him upside the head with her bonnet and leaves immediately, never to darken the Copperfields’ door again! Welcome to the world, David!
Chapter 2 - I Observe: David Copperfield relates some of his early impressions of life: his memories of creepy pantries, stuffy parlors, boring church services, and a loving home. His mother is young and beautiful in these memories, and Peggoty is beautiful to him in her own way (though she insists she is not). One day, Davy's mom shows up with a stranger who walks her home and - gasp! - touches her hand! Davy immediately dislikes this black-bearded, dead-eyed interloper and Peggoty seems to like him even less. He falls asleep while his mother is swooning over her new admirer, but when he wakes up his mom and Peggoty are having a big fight. Peggoty says the new man is bad news and Mr. Copperfield would never approve, while Davy's mom says Peggoty is being unfair and heartless. When all she does is sacrifice for Davy, doesn't she deserve some attention and excitement?! All three of them end up crying, and things are never quite the same between the trio again.
Davy's mom continues to see this man, Mr. Murdstone, who rides up one day and invites Davy to take a little trip with him to see a yacht. Peggoty gets him ready in a huff, and you can just tell this is the Victorian era version of riding on the irresponsible boyfriend's motorcycle without a helmet. Davy gets to meet some friends of Mr. Murdstone and watch them do a bunch of paperwork on the yacht. They also make fun of him, comment on how hot his mom is, and make him drink brandy. Since Davy is a little kid, he thinks they're having a grand time. When he later tells his mom they complimented her looks, she is quite thrilled. And then a few months later, Peggoty invites Davy to go with her to visit her brother for a fortnight. She talks up the trip so Davy will be excited, but it's clear she's worried. Davy wonders how his mom will fare all alone, but Peggoty assures him she will stay with a neighbor. (Lies!) Mr. Murdstone is there to see them off and he has … opinions … about how emotional Davy's mom is during the goodbyes. I'm with Davy when he wonders why it's any of this guy's business in the first place. In retrospect, Davy reflects that he wishes he had known he was leaving something behind forever and he is glad that he and his mom had a touching moment full of love as his carriage pulled away.
Chapter 3 - I Have a Change: Davy endures a very boring journey across flat countryside towards the sea to get to Peggoty’s family in Yarmouth. When Davy complains, Peggoty defends her hometown, as a proud Yarmouth Bloater. (Here's some bonus reading: a Victorian-era article about bloaters.) Davy is won over when they reach the busy fishing town and he gets to see the Peggoty home: it is a boat that has been converted for living, and he thinks it is pretty perfect. It turns out to be a full house due to the generous nature of Mr. Peggoty (original Peggoty's brother). Just don't mention said generosity because it makes him super mad. Mr. Peggoty has taken in the orphaned children - Ham and Em'ly - of his drowned brothers, as well as Mrs. Gummidge, the widow of his fishing partner. Davy's fortnight with the Peggotys is full of happiness. He explores the seashore with Em'ly and falls in love with her. They bond over never knowing their dads, although Em'ly wishes she were a lady in the same class as Davy. Davy reflects that given what he knows of her future life, it might've been better if Em'ly drowned that day by the sea. Dark! Mrs. Gummidge often has melancholy moods where she cries all day and declares she has it worse than everyone else, but the family kindly chalks it up to mourning for her husband and assures her they don't want her to go off to the poorhouse and die.
As the visit draws to a close, Davy realizes he has quite forgotten to miss his home and becomes eager to see his mother and Blunderstone Rookery. Yet when they arrive, Peggoty pulls him into the kitchen nervously. She really botches the delivery of her big news because Davy first thinks his mother may have died and then, when she tells him he has a dad, imagines Mr. Copperfield may have risen from the dead. But she brings him to the parlor to greet his new step-dad: it's Mr. Murdstone, of course. Mr. Murdstone proves himself to be a real downer, kicking things off by correcting Davy's mom (who we discover is named Clara) for jumping up too enthusiastically at her son’s arrival. Davy sneaks away to find that his house has completely changed and the yard has acquired a mean, black dog that snaps at him.
Chapter 4 - I Fall Into Disgrace: Davy has fallen asleep crying after the discovery of his mother’s marriage, and when Clara and Peggoty wake him, his mom blames both Peggoty and Davy for his despair. Mr. Murdstone comes up and dismisses them both so he can be alone with Davy. He explains that if he had a stubborn animal, he’d beat it until it obeyed, strongly implying that Davy had better change his attitude or else. Things get pretty grim for Davy after this. He is kept isolated from both his family and neighborhood children. Mr. Murdstone’s sister, Jane, comes to live with them and immediately takes over Blunderstone. Clara is given no say in household matters: even the keys are kept by Miss Murdstone and, when Clara protests and weeps at being pushed aside, the Murdstones manipulate her into apologies and submission. When the family goes to church, Peggoty is no longer invited and the Murdstones keep Davy and his mother apart; Davy also notices that the family seems to be the subject of much whispering and staring from the community.
Davy’s days are miserable. He is often locked up alone in his room, where he loses himself in his father’s old stash of novels and uses this escape as a survival mechanism. (This collection of novels was taken straight from Dickens’ own childhood, according to his biographer John Forster.) When allowed out of his room, Davy endures lengthy, difficult lessons in the parlor. He suspects the lessons are meant as much to teach his mom the Murdstone tradition of firmness tyranny as they are to educate him. No matter how hard Davy tries, he cannot seem to remember the lessons under such severe supervision. Davy is belittled as stupid for his mistakes and boxed on the ears with his books by Mr. Murdstone. When Clara tries to help Davy at one point, Miss Murdstone catches her, and both Clara and Davy are in a good deal of trouble. Clara is chastised, Davy is removed from the room, and the next day’s lessons are overseen by Mr. Murdstone with a cane and switches. This goes about as well as you would imagine: in his terror, Davy makes more mistakes than ever and is dragged from the room by Mr. Murdstone. To her credit, Clara does protest and try to run after them (unsuccessfully). Mr. Murdstone wields his cane and switches, but Davy bites his hand in an attempt to wriggle away. He then beats Davy severely and leaves him locked in his room for five days. During his imprisonment, Davy sees only Miss Murdstone who brings him meager meals and allows him short walks in the garden each morning and family prayers in the evening, before locking him away again. At the end of this punishment, which feels like years to Davy, Peggoty sneaks to his room to whisper through the keyhole that he will be sent to boarding school in the morning. She tells him his mother isn’t very angry with him, only disappointed, and begs him to remember her and her love for him. She promises to look after Clara and they both vow to write to each other. Davy asks to be remembered to Em’ly and the other Peggotys.
The next morning, his mother expresses her disappointment in his behavior and her hope that boarding school will reform him; Davy seems to realize she has been coached to believe the worst of him. He chokes down a little breakfast before his coach arrives, and Clara steals one unsupervised moment with him to say goodbye affectionately. Then, they are parted, and Davy is on his way to boarding school. It’ll surely be a harmonious and supportive learning environment. Right? Right?!?
Chapter Five - I Am Sent Away From Home: Mr. Barkis, the carrier driving Davy on the first leg of his journey to school, pulls over not too far away from the house. Who should appear out of the bushes but Peggoty! She silently hugs Davy until she pops some buttons of her dress (one of which Davy keeps), hands him some cakes, and slips him a note from his mother that includes two half-crowns. Davy shares a pastry with Mr. Barkis, who asks a lot of questions about Peggoty’s relationship status and cooking skills. He asks Davy to write Mr. Barkis is willin’ in one of his letters to Peggoty, which Davy does at the next stop. As he waits in Yarmouth for the stagecoach to London, Davy eats lunch at a hotel restaurant where he is grifted by the waiter. This unscrupulous man tricks Davy into giving him his ale, most of his food, and some of his money. The rumor goes around that Davy has the appetite of a boa constrictor, making him too nervous to eat at the next stop for supper. Wedged between two men and with a woman’s luggage stuffed underneath him, Davy spends an uncomfortable night in the stagecoach as it approaches London. He finds it strange the next morning, after all the snoring and moaning he witnessed, that the adults insist they were unable to sleep a wink!
Upon arriving at the station in London, there is no one to collect him. Waiting in the office, Davy begins to worry that he will be turned out of the station at night, run out of money and starve, get lost walking home, or have to offer himself as a soldier or sailor (though he knows he is too small for that). Finally, a rather scrawny man - who Davy assumes is the Master of Salem House School - arrives and takes Davy the rest of the way. Weak from lack of food and sleep, Davy begs to stop so he can buy breakfast, and the man takes him to the home of a poor woman (presumably his mother) to cook the provisions they purchase. The man plays the flute very badly as Davy begins to eat, but soon Davy has fallen asleep. He wakes to hear comments of “delicious” which he assumes refers to the man’s music, but I bet indicates they were eating Davy’s breakfast. They continue on to Salem House, where a man with a wooden leg lets them in and throws old boots at Davy’s escort, who turns out to be Mr. Mell, an employee of Mr. Creakle, the school proprietor. Salem House is dilapidated, dirty, and deserted. Davy wonders where everyone is and Mr. Mell informs him that Davy has been sent to school during the holidays as punishment. Another punishment: Davy must wear a sign on his back identifying him as a biter, which makes him increasingly paranoid that someone is always behind him reading it. (Probably not.) He also worries that the students, whose names he can read carved in the doorpost, will all make fun of him for it when they return. (Probably true!) Mr. Mell, an odd man with various ticks, doesn’t pay much attention to Davy, but neither is he mean. We get another ominous reference to the future in that Davy says he dreads the return of boys like J. Steerforth and the presence of “the awful Mr. Creakle”.