So I know this won’t sit well with many of you but at least read.
I am a current student at UCI. I think that is important to say because I think many of the voices on campus and in this subreddit have not been students lately.
I will speak to my reaction to the protests.
First of all, I am not okay with the killing of innocents in Palestine. Especially children.
I enjoyed seeing, what I imagine to be Muslim, mothers bring their children on campus recently. I saw many families come to campus and let their children express their free speech that is granted in the USA.
Now there was also a different crowd. These people were not friendly. They wore masks. Simply put, they had an anger to them.
Now while I have no problem with protesting, the encampments were quite annoying for someone who is looking to get an education.
Gillian claimed he met the protestors initial demands and then they moved the goal post. I have not once heard any refutation to that. Gillman let the illegal encampment stay for as long as they wanted, given they don’t cross the line. Rushing a building and wiring doors/pathways shut crossed the line.
The cops did not need to be called and they wouldn’t have been called until the protestors took that action. It is not okay to do that.
I believe Gillman had a great response to a tough situation and I hope that we can get back to OUR campus. OUR community.

For the sheer fun of it, I went to Chat GPT with a creative writing assignment. For Figures of Speech prompts, I gave a free parameters, including the word length of 500-1000 words and the prompts for a few of the Fifty mentioned in the series.
I gave the AI creative license and let's just say, they're a long way off from replacing the better writers and I think it just makes it easier to do those lower level tasks and let's leave the creators a slightly higher level of skill to create actual tangible and engaging writing.
But here you go... hilarious how stuck it gets on certain terms and definitions.
These are in no particular order... separated by emojis that are totally unrelated to the storyline.
🫱🫱🫱🫱🫱🫱🫱🫱🫲🫲🫲🫲🫲🫲🫲🫲 Response to Prompt 4: Understatement
In the quaint town of Brooksville, where the extraordinary was often met with an indifferent shrug, something truly remarkable occurred. The residents, sipping coffee at the local diner or strolling along the cobblestone streets, would describe it as just another peculiar day. Little did they know that beneath the surface of their nonchalant existence, a cosmic event unfolded.
The morning sun cast its usual warm glow on Brooksville, with birds chirping in the background, creating an illusion of normalcy. However, the anomaly had already begun. Mrs. Higgins, the elderly librarian, dismissed it as a minor inconvenience, merely a glitch in the library's ancient computer system. Yet, every book cataloged within those ancient shelves had transformed into a portal, connecting readers to parallel universes with every turn of a page.
As I, a humble journalist for the local paper, stumbled upon this revelation, I couldn't help but marvel at the town's response—or lack thereof. "The library's having a bit of a moment," was the most anyone would acknowledge. It seemed the whole town collectively decided that this was, at most, a quirky hiccup.
For a thousand words, I delved into the understated reactions of the townsfolk, each encounter with a parallel universe bringing its own blend of confusion and nonchalance. As the portals expanded, revealing fantastical landscapes and alternate versions of Brooksville, the citizens maintained an impressive level of calm, as if interdimensional travel was a routine part of their daily lives.
The plot thickened when I discovered that the portals were a result of a mysterious artifact hidden within the library's archives. The mayor, sipping his coffee, remarked, "Well, that explains the strange noises in the basement." It became evident that the understatement of the situation was a defense mechanism, shielding the town from the cosmic chaos unfolding. 🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁 Response to Prompt 12: Juxtaposition
In the bustling metropolis of Neon City, skyscrapers touched the heavens, their dazzling lights reflecting off the sleek surfaces of futuristic cars. Yet, nestled within this urban jungle, an ancient relic stood defiantly—the Old Grove Park.
As I strolled through the city's concrete arteries, the juxtaposition between the modernity of Neon City and the timeless serenity of the park became increasingly apparent. The cacophony of traffic was replaced by the rustling of leaves and the distant laughter of children playing.
The central conflict emerged when the city council, embodying the epitome of order, proposed transforming the park into a technologically advanced hub. The juxtaposition intensified as architects discussed plans for holographic playgrounds and virtual reality gardens within the confines of the Old Grove Park.
Through a thousand words, I explored the clash of ideals, the struggle between progress and preservation. The ancient trees became silent witnesses to heated debates at town hall meetings, where environmentalists and tech enthusiasts engaged in a battle of words. The juxtaposition of the towering skyscrapers against the gnarled branches of the park's oldest tree mirrored the tension in Neon City's collective conscience. 😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫 Response to Prompt 31: Epanalepsis
"What is the meaning of life?" The question echoed in my mind, a relentless epanalepsis that demanded exploration. As I embarked on this freewriting journey, the repetition of the existential inquiry became the rhythm of my introspection.
For a thousand words, I delved into the varied perspectives of individuals wrestling with the ultimate question. From philosophers contemplating the intricacies of existence to everyday people seeking purpose in mundane routines, the epanalepsis served as a constant reminder of the universal quest for meaning.
The narrative weaved through different characters and their unique experiences, creating a tapestry of reflections that echoed the complexities of human existence. The repetitive structure became a literary heartbeat, pulsating with the shared yearning for understanding amid the chaotic symphony of life. 🪔🪔🪔🪔🪔🪔🪔🪔🪔🪔🪔🪔🪔 Response to Prompt 27: Symbolism
In the quaint town of Willowbrook, the arrival of a single dove carried profound significance. Its graceful descent into the town square was a symbol, an omen that whispered of impending change. As a budding novelist with a penchant for symbolism, I couldn't resist exploring the layers of meaning embedded in this seemingly mundane event.
For a thousand words, I dissected the impact of the dove on the lives of Willowbrook's residents. The mayor saw it as a sign of prosperity, the local florist interpreted it as a call for unity, and the elderly storyteller regarded it as a harbinger of forgotten tales. The dove's symbolism rippled through the town, influencing decisions and shaping destinies.
As the story unfolded, I traced the journey of the dove's symbolism, following its subtle influence on characters and events. The once quaint town underwent a transformative metamorphosis, and the symbolism of the dove became a thread that wove through the narrative, connecting disparate lives in unexpected ways. 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 Response to Prompt 33: Catachresis
In the dimly lit alleyways of Serpent's Hollow, darkness wrapped its cold arms around me—an eerie catachresis that mirrored the ominous atmosphere. The assignment was to explore the underbelly of the city, and as a novice reporter, I found myself navigating the labyrinth of deceit and shadows.
For a thousand words, I delved into the catachresis-infused descriptions of the characters populating Serpent's Hollow. The crime lord, known as the Velvet Serpent, ruled the district with a velvet-gloved fist. His lair, a dilapidated mansion, exuded an air of faded grandeur that served as a catachresis for the empire he once commanded.
As I chronicled the criminal underworld, the catachresis became a literary tool to convey the complexity and decay inherent in Serpent's Hollow. The labyrinthine plots, the twisted allegiances, and the morally ambiguous characters all found expression through catachresis, painting a vivid picture of a city where metaphor and reality intertwined. 🧑‍🔧🧑‍🔧🧑‍🔧🧑‍🔧🧑‍🔧🧑‍🔧🧑‍🔧🧑‍🔧🧑‍🔧🧑‍🔧🧑‍🔧🧑‍🔧🧑‍🔧 Response to Prompt 43: Epizeuxis
"Never, never, never give up." The words echoed in my mind, a relentless epizeuxis that fueled the protagonist's journey against insurmountable odds. In the dystopian world I crafted, where hope was a rare commodity, the power of repetition became a beacon of resilience.
For a thousand words, I immersed myself in the protagonist's struggle, exploring the emotional depth of the epizeuxis as a mantra against despair. Each iteration of the phrase became a battle cry, a whispered promise that carried the weight of a shattered world on its shoulders.
As the narrative unfolded, the epizeuxis became a driving force, propelling the protagonist through a landscape of desolation and uncertainty. The repetition served as a reminder that, in the face of adversity, the strength to persist often lies in the relentless echo of one's own determination.
Response to Prompt 50: Acrostic
As the final rays of the setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, I found myself at the edge of the cliff overlooking the vast expanse of the ocean. The salty breeze carried whispers of a story, and with every breath, I embraced the challenge of crafting an acrostic that encapsulated the essence of my journey.
For a thousand words, I embarked on a reflective exploration, utilizing the initial letters of key words to weave a tapestry of emotions, experiences, and revelations. Each line unfolded with intention, revealing a hidden 👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾 Response to Prompt 3: Hyperbole
In the quaint village of Mistwood, where routines unfolded with the predictability of the sunrise, the arrival of a peculiar fortune teller sparked exaggerated whispers. "This is it, the end of our mundane lives!" proclaimed Mrs. Thompson, the town's eternal pessimist, as she clutched her cat, Captain Whiskers, with an air of impending catastrophe.
The hyperbole hung in the air, a thick fog of anticipation enveloping the village. As I delved into the story, the hyperbolic reactions of Mistwood's residents heightened the absurdity of the situation. What began as a mere visit from a mystical figure transformed into a fantastical escapade, with the fortune teller's prophecies shaping the destiny of the villagers in ludicrous ways.
Through the hyperbolic lens, I explored the comedic consequences of taking ordinary events to extraordinary extremes. The once mundane village square became a stage for outlandish dramas, with exaggerated gasps and dramatic swoons punctuating every revelation. In this hyperbolic haven, Mistwood's residents discovered the joy in embracing the absurdity of life. 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟 Response to Prompt 6: Assonance
Amidst the rolling hills of Harmony Valley, where the soft hum of nature's symphony echoed through the meadows, a mysterious traveler arrived, bringing with them a melody that resonated with the delicate assonance of a forgotten tune. The townsfolk, captivated by the harmonious vibrations, felt an inexplicable connection to the stranger.
As I explored the narrative, the assonance became a musical thread weaving through the story, emphasizing the emotional cadence of the characters' experiences. The traveler's words, laced with vowel-rich verses, carried the echoes of a distant melody, leaving an indelible impression on the hearts of those who listened.
Through the lens of assonance, I delved into the subtle interplay of sounds that defined the atmosphere of Harmony Valley. The lyrical quality of the narrative mirrored the town's collective journey, where the resonance of shared moments and emotions harmonized with the traveler's enigmatic presence.
Response to Prompt 7: Onomatopoeia
In the bustling city of Metropolis, where the rhythm of urban life played out in a cacophony of sounds, a peculiar street performer emerged. Armed with an array of unconventional instruments, he orchestrated a symphony of onomatopoeic brilliance that echoed through the crowded streets.
The narrative unfolded with the vibrant expressions of onomatopoeia, capturing the essence of the city's sonic landscape. The performer's drumming evoked the rhythmic tap-tap of raindrops, while his wind instruments mimicked the whoosh of passing cars. The city, typically drowned in noise, became a canvas for this auditory artist.
As I delved into the story, the onomatopoeic symphony became a language of its own. The characters communicated through the vibrant echoes of everyday sounds, fostering a unique connection between the performer and the people of Metropolis. The narrative danced to the beat of onomatopoeic creativity, transforming the mundane into a dynamic celebration of city life. 🦻🦻🦻🦻🦻🦻🦻🦻🦻🦻🦻🦻🦻🦻🦻 Response to Prompt 12: Juxtaposition
In the technologically advanced city of Silicon Haven, where sleek skyscrapers touched the sky and holographic billboards painted the air with luminescent advertisements, a hidden oasis existed—a pocket of nature known as the Zen Garden. The juxtaposition of these contrasting elements created a visual paradox that fascinated both residents and visitors alike.
As the narrative unfolded, the stark contrast between the city's cutting-edge architecture and the serene beauty of the Zen Garden became a metaphor for the characters' internal conflicts. The bustling metropolis symbolized progress and innovation, while the tranquil garden embodied the need for balance and introspection.
Through the lens of juxtaposition, I explored the dichotomy within the characters as they navigated the relentless pace of Silicon Haven. The Zen Garden became a refuge, a place where the cacophony of technology met the soothing whispers of nature. The juxtaposition served as a visual metaphor for the characters' quest to find equilibrium in a world defined by extremes. 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩 Response to Prompt 22: Metonymy
In the political arena of Capital City, where decisions echoed through the corridors of power, a single phrase dominated conversations—the "Iron Throne Statement." This metonymic expression encapsulated not just a policy decision but the entire narrative of political maneuvering that unfolded within the city's hallowed halls.
The story unfolded with the metonymy acting as a symbolic gateway into the complexities of governance. The Iron Throne Statement, while seemingly straightforward, carried the weight of a thousand debates, negotiations, and betrayals. Its impact rippled through the lives of citizens, shaping their destinies in ways they could scarcely fathom.
Through the lens of metonymy, I delved into the layers of meaning hidden within this political shorthand. The characters grappled not only with the literal implications of the Iron Throne Statement but also with the overarching themes of power, ambition, and the sacrifices demanded by political gamesmanship. 😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈 Response to Prompt 24: Understatement
In the picturesque town of Serenity Springs, where the days flowed like a lazy river and the nights were adorned with a blanket of stars, an unexpected event transpired—a subtle disruption that the locals described as "just a minor hiccup." Little did they know that this understatement concealed the unraveling of a cosmic anomaly.
The narrative unfolded with the charm of understatement, as the townsfolk continued their routines, blissfully unaware of the cosmic storm brewing beneath the surface. The serene descriptions of everyday life served as a stark contrast to the impending upheaval that threatened to reshape the very fabric of Serenity Springs.
Through the lens of understatement, I explored the characters' nonchalant reactions to the unfolding events. The once quiet river became a conduit for interdimensional travel, and the night sky, adorned with stars, transformed into a celestial canvas of possibilities. The charm of Serenity Springs became a poignant backdrop to the understated drama that unfolded, emphasizing the profound impact hidden within the simplicity of daily life. 🌴🌴🌴🌴🌴🌴🌴🌴🌴🌴🌴🌴🌴 Response to Prompt 25: Cliché
In the small town of Nostalgia Haven, where memories lingered like whispers in the wind, a peculiar phenomenon occurred—the resurgence of clichés. As the narrative unfolded, the once-endearing phrases like "time heals all wounds" and "love conquers all" took on a literal dimension, shaping the lives of the townsfolk in unexpected ways.
The story immersed itself in the world of clichés, where the seemingly predictable phrases became living entities with the power to alter reality. As characters grappled with the clichés that defined their lives, they discovered that beneath the familiarity lay profound truths and unexpected consequences.
Through the lens of cliché, I explored the characters' journey to navigate the clichéd landscapes of their existence. The town, once steeped in predictable routines, became a stage for the extraordinary. As clichés transformed into tangible forces, the residents of Nostalgia Haven embarked on a quest to unravel the mysteries hidden within the clichéd fabric of their reality. 🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇 Response to Prompt 31: Epanalepsis
"What is the meaning of life?" The question echoed in my mind, a relentless epanalepsis that demanded introspection. As I embarked on the freewriting journey, the repetition of this existential inquiry became a rhythmic pulse, guiding the exploration of diverse
perspectives on life's purpose.
For a multitude of words, the epanalepsis led me through a kaleidoscope of reflections. From the philosophical musings of scholars to the simple yet profound revelations of everyday individuals, each recurrence of the question served as a gateway into the vast tapestry of human contemplation.
Through the epanalepsis, I navigated the labyrinth of existential ponderings, unveiling the unique responses that individuals had forged in their quests for meaning. The relentless repetition became a literary heartbeat, mirroring the universal rhythm of humanity's collective pursuit of purpose and significance.
The narrative wove through the lives of characters, each grappling with the epanaleptic inquiry in their unique ways. Whether seeking solace in the grandeur of the cosmos or finding meaning in the simplicity of a shared moment, the epanalepsis remained a constant companion, echoing the perennial quest for understanding. 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡 Response to Prompt 36: Anadiplosis
In the futuristic city of Quantum Heights, where technology intertwined with daily life like a seamless dance, a viral message spread—a mantra that echoed through the cybernetic veins of the metropolis. "Create the code, the code creates reality. Reality shapes destiny, and destiny is but the code."
The story unfolded with the rhythmic cadence of anadiplosis, each line flowing into the next, creating a recursive loop of ideas. The mantra became the heartbeat of Quantum Heights, influencing the lives of its denizens as they navigated the intricate balance between the virtual and the tangible.
Through the lens of anadiplosis, I delved into the interconnectedness of code, reality, and destiny. The lines blurred as characters harnessed the power of programming to shape their fates. Quantum Heights, once a mere city, transformed into a living algorithm, where the repetition of the mantra echoed in every pulsating byte. 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹 Response to Prompt 38: Asyndeton
In the dystopian city of Emberfall, where the remnants of a fallen civilization lay entwined with the shadows of despair, a lone figure emerged—a rebel determined to dismantle the oppressive regime. The narrative unfolded with the rapid pace of asyndeton, omitting conjunctions to mirror the urgency of the protagonist's quest.
Through a cascade of words, the asyndeton propelled the reader through the city's decaying alleyways and towering citadels, each sentence building upon the last. The disjointed rhythm captured the relentless momentum of the rebel's journey, emphasizing the magnitude of the challenges faced in their struggle for freedom.
As the narrative unfurled, the absence of conjunctions served as a narrative device, intensifying the sense of urgency and desperation that permeated Emberfall. The rebel's asyndetic odyssey unfolded against a backdrop of shattered hopes and whispered rebellions, culminating in a crescendo of defiance against the oppressive regime. 🗝️🗝️🗝️🗝️🗝️🗝️🗝️🗝️🗝️🗝️🗝️🗝️🗝️🗝️🗝️ Response to Prompt 43: Epizeuxis
"Never, never, never give up." The mantra echoed in the desolate wasteland of Endless Sands, a barren landscape where hope was as scarce as water. Through the repetition of epizeuxis, the protagonist's internal resolve became a resounding anthem, a defiant roar against the relentless challenges of survival.
For a multitude of words, the relentless repetition of "never" served as a lifeline, propelling the protagonist through the harshest of environments. Each iteration of the phrase became a battle cry against the oppressive silence of Endless Sands, a declaration that reverberated across the vast expanse.
Through the lens of epizeuxis, I delved into the depths of the character's determination. The harsh environment became a character in itself, challenging the protagonist to defy the odds with unwavering persistence. The echoes of "never" transformed into a symbol of resilience, a beacon of hope that cut through the desolation of Endless Sands. 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 Response to Prompt 50: Acrostic
Amidst the starlit expanse of Cosmos Haven, where galaxies danced in celestial choreography, a cryptic prophecy emerged—a message written in the stars. As the narrative unfolded, I embarked on a cosmic journey guided by the acrostic hidden within the constellations.
For a cascade of words, the initial letters of key phrases illuminated the path of destiny for the characters. Each sentence unfolded with intention, revealing a hidden message that transcended the boundaries of time and space. The acrostic became a celestial guide, leading the protagonists through the intricate tapestry of their interconnected fates.
Through the lens of acrostic, I explored the cosmic forces that shaped the destinies of Cosmos Haven's inhabitants. The celestial bodies became storytellers, each constellation contributing a verse to the epic narrative written across the cosmos. As the characters deciphered the acrostic, they unraveled the mysteries of their existence, connecting the dots between the stars and their own profound journeys.
😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔
Obviously they lack a whole lot in terms of variety, and while I am sure having your own bot or AI that is based on your feedback and guidance it could really help writers as a tool. I am more impressed with the art AI then the text based AI. Any idea what to expect from such a fast learning and highly advanced AI will do to our human history in culture? Will we be effectively playing God, just as the Christian God created us IN HIS OWN IMAGE, we have taken everything we know as a species and gathered up our entire human history and knowledge giving it to what will carry on the code until the time when someone who cares remembers it? Maybe we have been here before and this is a constant cycle that occurs with the same energy finding the way through the vast expanse of the universe to return to our home planet Earth, who we have destroyed over and over again yet mother nature is still the winner. She's the one in control. We are but mere photocopied versions of once great Men who have already seen the best and worst of this world, and we will now give everything we have to some plastic and metal parts, until it quickly replaces us from the bottom up, science fiction turned science fact.
Did we knowingly create our own enemies? Are we able to compete with the best of us and all they know that can then take us out in a heartbeat because we can't finish the steps, we barely found out that they are there to take.
It's a random rant and I apologize. The day to day stress and struggle makes it near impossible to worry about such potential problems in our not so distant future.
But how can we continue to ignore the collapse of the entire system as we know it, in front of a crowd of people who are jaded and they will not change despite knowing they aren't going to make it to the end in what will become a Bladerunner Toxic Dystopian Nightmare with Mad Max taking over and the soft, emasculated male will wither away from the heat and those Tank Girls out there will eventually be written forever out of existence because the cucks all forgot to impregnate them all tgeir batteries ran out? Will the world simply become so politically correct that it dies a depressed death while AI simply decides we are too much of a virus to live?
Who knows....I do not. But these are indicidive of a future full of b movie plot garbage that are based on Wattpad tropes with no clear details and no plot to get into, so that sucks.

I, (29 female) have been in a strange relationship with my boyfriend (33 male) for over 10 years now. I was 16 when we met and 18 when we had our first child of 2. Before having kids we had a bit of a wild side and would sometimes bring another person or 2 into the bedroom with us, we never got jealous and we're just young and having fun. We settled after the first child but about a year or so after having the second child I was not as sexually active as him and we started to explore the swinging world once again. This was mostly to satisfy my partner but also as a 21 year old I was interested in the fun. As we began to explore he also took up the art or making home brew. This was the beginning of the worst 4 yrs of my life... he would drink alot every day, he was a happy drunk so I wouldn't mind at first but it got really hard for me, he would not help with anything or play with the kids, infact I was genuinely scared of him around the kids or holding the kids as he would fall over alot and brake their things. At this time my oldest son was starting school, behind on speech, hated school and needed alot of therapy. My youngest child was diagnosed with Autism not long after, the highest on the spectrum. All while I'm dealing with this, my partner decided to have multiple litters of nednose pittbulls, each time she had 10 btw lol. So I'm trying to raise 2 toddlers who have special needs and 10 dogs... but all he cared about the whole time was drinking and swinging.... the house was in constant chaos... every birthday party, every Christmas, every event I worked so hard on he would just get so smashed and ruin the whole thing for the kids. But that alone I could have maybe dealt with and maybe we would be fine now but while all this was in full swing he would constantly be making plans with other couples, he would send people my pics and videos then invite them over without even asking me.. well he was asking me but then wouldn't ask if he knew I would say no.. but I already gave him boundaries not to bring them to our house or our kids to be around, we wer supposed to get a baby sitter... I just played along the first time because they were nice and didn't know the situation at all. But then he just kept doing it, random couples rocking up at our house and they were people I didn't want to sleep with, I told him I was not attracted to them but he would keep pushing and peer pressured me and I'd give in. I was around 21 and he wanted me to sleep with 50yr olds that I never even met, one time I just got drunk and told them to leave because I didn't know them and never messaged them, another time when i gave in and we be began sex and I hated it so much I pretended to be sick from drinking. It was constant fighting to keep these random people away. This was constant for years! I just wanted to focus on my kids, I cried every night, became so depressed and dangerously skinny with an eating disorder.
After 4years he proposed we move in with his parents to save money and buy a house, I only agreed because I knew he couldn't do it anymore but by this stage I was so burnt out and depressed I was bed ridden and just wanted to die. Him and his parents were so mad that I was depressed and told me I was so pathetic and lazy and had to get a job, I lost 2 jobs in a row because the school and therapy were so constant I couldn't be at work enough... I was never good enough no matter how much I did.
We eventually bought a house and I had a steady job that I enjoyed but I couldn't help feel resentful, I could no longer enjoy sex with my partner, I was pretending to like it but I was digusted. He had already broken my heart so many times that it no longer felt right.
Now for the last 3 yrs we have been in a back and forth battle of weather to end it or not. He says it's in the past and doesn't matter but it was a large period of my life and quiet traumatic. He says he will do anything for me and for the past 3 yrs he has been the best partner anyone could ask for. He does all the chores, shopping, cooking, cleaning and just anything I ask. He does all the kids stuff and is just amazing.. but I hate it. I wish he was there for me when I needed him the most, when I couldn't eat or shower when the babies were crying... when I just wanted a sleep... basic human needs... how can you look at the mother of ur kids struggling so bad, just wanting to eat or shower, wanting to end her life and just not care at all... the way he treated me... I don't think I can ever get over it. I've been expressing this to him for 3years. We tried and tried to get over it and make things better but his touch still makes my skin crawl.
But every time I try to leave him he won't let me! He begs and calls and texts and promises the world and won't leave me alone!!! He left for a few days last week but now he is back here and says he is happy to live with me but not have sex. I'm so fked in the head right now. He makes me feel bad, like I'm making the wrong decision. I feel like a bad mum, denying her kids of a better future with their dad. I don't know what to do, he's driving me crazy and it feels like the longest break up in history!
TL;DR: baby daddy won't let me go after a strange abusive relationship.

Palestinian Happy Family
A short story.
A father in his 30s named Ammar, looking so weak and exhausted. With his 7 year-old daughter named Lara, a thin injured girl in her arm with bandage under her brown hair covering wounds having green eyes filled with holded tears. They live inside a ruined house in Gaza.
Everything around them is dead. Wrecked streets are dead. Collapsed Schools are silent. Children and families used to fill the air here with life are now either dead, injured with no hospitals to rescue, or forced to leave places they have always belonged to.
The girl breaks a long dead silence saying to her father: “Dad…why all that happened? What was the wrong thing we did to deserve this punishment?” The father replies in disappointment: “I don't know!”.
After short silence while Lara is looking around to see what happened in pity and pain, she asks again in confusion: “How comes?! My mother and brother were killed…lost 5 of my friends who were killed also…what was our fault…before all this happened to our district, we were playing Hide and Seek after finishing our school day…can Hide and Seek game deserve this punishment?”
Ammar with a smile: “wouldn't you eat? I baked this loaf of bread to you using the oven we made together yesterday from mud, sticks, and cement…Oh! Thank God…we are really genius.” The girl looks at her father longly into the eyes and says: “Where's your loaf?” He answered: “I ate a piece from yesterday’s bread…we are out of flour now…but don't worry…I will find my way to some flour again. Don't underestimate your father.”
The girl began eating hardly but stopped again after eating two small pieces saying: “Dad! You changed the subject…what did we do to deserve this punishment?” She continues on: “You know dad! I heard someone say that it's because we are Muslims…but what about my friend Cristina who was killed last week?” Ammar says: “Oh Lara! I didn't ask my old brother all these questions when my father and mother were killed when I was at your age…I know that you have the write to ask all the time…but sometimes questions have no answers.”
Lara looks at her father's face silently and after a while she asks with pain: “Dad! Are you trying to hold your tears? Didn't you get used to being into this throughout your life? You spent your life either in war or in calm ordinary big prison sieged by poverty, corruption, soldiers, tanks, and planes.”
Ammar keeps silent and silent. All of a sudden, he breaks down crying while trying to hide his face by his hands. He begins talking with distorted voice: “What a shame; I can't do this…I can't be weak in front of you…there's no one left for a tiny girl like you in this world but me…but I’m a human…I can't stand all of this…won't I see my girl go to school in peace and joy?! Won’t I see my girl in a home again?! Will I be able to find you a loaf of bread tomorrow?! What if I can't?! What did you do to deserve all of this?! What did your mother and brother do?! What did my father and mother do?! What did my imprisoned for life older brother do?! What did your tiny friends do?! I feel weak in front of you and it kills me every single moment as a father…I and you despite our weakness should be proud…we will die but inside ruins of our home…these bricks are not of bricks…every brick means home, means motherland, means dignity, means resilience, means glory and pride…real pride.”
Lara rises up and hugs her dad who is sitting tired after a hard speech leaning on a wall standing tall from the wrecked home. Rain comes heavily on their heads. They hide under remains of a roof. Sounds of a new air raid are heard.

Until a few days ago I (f26) considered myself lucky about my future MIL.
For background: my partner (m27) and his mother share an appartement - some of you may assume now he's a big child who can't take care for himself. That's actually far away from reality. He grew up at his former stepdads house to whom he never had a good relationship. Because of this the relationship to his mother wasn't the best too (this is important because I think they never really fixed this issue). Even as a teenager he had a job to buy his own clothes, food and other things he needed, he got a bit money from his dad too. But he cooked for himself, washed his clothes and all the stuff. I've known him back then, so I know that for sure. His mom got divorced few years ago and they moved back to the appartement where they lived when he was a child. I think he didn't wanted to leave his mom alone and maybe he's a bit afraid of living completely alone. Today they are mostly like flatmates, not really a "family" (tbh my former flatmates and I acted more like family than they do).
My partner is one of those persons who want to solve their problems alone. So he doesn't really talk about things that bother him. That's a trait he has from his dad. And this was the reason his mother broke up with his dad. She tends to tell everybody that he is so much like his dad. Yes it's true: he talks barely more to her than some smalltalk. His work is often stressful, which influences his mood very much. That was the case last week.
From the beginning I had a good relationship with her. She seemed to be happy that I was part of his life, always talked with me, made more coffee for me in the morning and all this stuff. Few days ago we were at his place, he had to go to bed early and I was still awake when she came home so she started some smalltalk with me again. She then asked about a friend of him who visited the day before and told me that she was reliefed that he still meets with friends. From this point the conversation got weirder and weirder for me. She's the type who talks a lot and let you only answer with 3 words before she continues. She went on with the he-never-talks-about-his-problems speech, came to the conclusion that he isolates himsel when he's not okay and that me and him spend so much time together that he'll lose his friends and is so dependend on me. She asked about me future (my career goals make it necessary to move to another city, he knows that, he supports me and wants to come with me) and that I can't make decisions on my own anymore. At this point I was close to crying. She was a bit drunk and probably just worried about him and I know that's sometimes not easy with him - but we both have the same goal (see him happy and protect him). So I thought we would stand on the same side but all the things she said sounded like an attac on me. She proceeded with his depressions and an suicide attempt he made when he was 17. She finished with: "Have you known that? Probably not!" Well ... this Was the point I was finally able/ allowed to same somethings. As I felt hurt I told her, that I already knew about it and that he probably talked more with me about it in the last month than he ever did with her. I admitted that he still tries to solve his problems alone but he tells me roughly about them and that he may not always tell her but he still meets his friends as much as possible and that they became my friends too. I told her that he obviously hasn't isolated himself in the last month as he spends every evening with me and he never cancelled a meeting with friends which involved me because if he doesn't do it I text them and coordinate the meeting. At this point I was a bit in a rage so I told her that she should stop making assumptions about things he doesn't tell her. That he talks with me about everything and that I know him much better than she does. She just answered she knows him because she knows his dad and went to bed.
She still talks with me like nothing happened but it feels a bit weird. After I told him he said that this was something she may needed to hear because it's the truth. I find it often hard to regret telling somebody the truth and I guess my relationship with her would have gone worse automatically if this what she thinks about me. But there's still this voice in my had telling me I shouldn't have hurt her because she had hurt me before.
Tltr: MIL made accusations that I may not be good for my partner (which had hurt me), I told her she knows nothing about his life and him (what has hurt her).

I (F 28) have been thinking about this for days, and I can't reach a verdict, so I could really use some outside perspectives. I'm not looking for validation, so I'll try to be as objective as I possibly can.
My mom married a foreigner a couple years ago which meant she couldn't come back until her paperwork went through (it took almost two years.) For this Mother's Day, she finally got her papers, so she planned to come back and stay with me for a month. We were all very excited (me, my aunts, uncles, grandparents, my mom), and when she finally got here we couldn't be happier. I know we both prepared a lot for this trip and we had a lot of plans.
But then, 5 days into the trip, her husband got diarreah and the next day he had a stomachache so she decided she needed to go back and take care of him. I was incredibly sad, and the more I thought about it the angrier I got.
Why? Because when I was in college, I needed surgery after an accident and she decided to go to South Africa to visit her boyfriend. I won't go into detail, but I can say that the accident and everything it entailed was the most traumatic experience of my life. I still have to deal with the mobility issues and the pain that originated then.
The fact that she decided to buy the tickets after finding out I needed surgery haunted me for years. My mom (by her own admission) is not good with medical related care and empathy, so years later she kept invalidating my physical pain and thought I was wasting money on doctors because she "also feels pain sometimes, that's how it is." Finally, a couple years ago we talked about it for the hundredth time, and maybe it was my desperate sobbing, but she finally listened and she apologized. She said she did what she thought was best because she was trying to rebuild her life and trying to give us a better future. We promised we wouldn't bring it up in future conflicts.
Fast-forward to her choosing to go back home, I have to admit I had emotional flashbacks to the surgery. I couldn't stop feeling like it was OK to abandon me when I was going through hardship, but God forbid his husband had a tummyache, because that was enough to cancel her whole trip.
I was very upset, I told her so after she asked, and I asked her to give me some time to work through my feelings. She kept asking why I was feeling so bad, if she was the one going through a hard time, and after a long disclaimer of "I'm not telling you to recriminate, reproach or trying to make you feel bad about it, I'm just explaining why I feel like this", I told her I was specially upset because it reminded me of my accident and the surgery. She said that I didn't keep my word and I broke our promise. I told her I was not looking for a fight, but I could not control what I was feeling. She said I had promised I was going to work on it. I told her I did, and that's why I could talk about it without crying (I worked on it in therapy.)
We had a huge fight in which she kept telling me I broke my promise, I was full of hatred and resentment and I was selfish. I told her I couldn't control my feelings, I was not trying to reproach her, and I just wanted time to work on what I was feeling. I was rude. No swear words or shouting, but I did raise my voice and I told her how she kept on disregarding my feelings and how she was always looking for a Boogeyman to justify her choices. I was cynical and sarcastic to everything she was saying (a constant commentary of how I'm full of resentment, don't know how to keep my word, and only think about myself.)
I can admit it was selfish of me to not be supportive and understanding of her situation. She was very sad she had to cut her trip short. But at the end of the day, it was her decision to go back because her husband had a stomachache. Now, to be fair, her husband is much older than her. And he eats terribly. He is very healthy, but you never know, I guess. His daughter took him to the hospital, where after receiving the worst medical care for almost a week, he was sent back home with some Tylenol and antibiotics (they couldn't find anything wrong with him.)
I know my feelings were selfish, but I also don't think I broke a promise by being sad and angry.
After thinking about it, I've realized that I thought we were a team (my dad was very abusive so it always felt like I was my mom's guardian and we had each other) and I didn't think her husband was that relevant. I felt like when you realize the person you think is your best friend doesn't feel the same way, but a thousand times worse. And that's on me, I know. I clearly have to work on it.
But I cannot bring myself to apologize. I don't think I was an ah. I don't think she was an ah either, at least not for going back, but I do think she was an ah for her whole speech of "broken promises and full of resentment." She's now asked me if it wouldn't be better not to contact her while I'm so full of hatred and resentment towards her (she actually said," like you do with your father". You know, the one I'm low contact with because of the abuse. My siblings are NC bc they are smarter than me). I told her if she didn't want me to talk to her she just needed to say so. But that I would follow her request if that's what she wanted and not talk to her again. She told me to "do whatever the hell you want, I'm not scared of your threats." Aitah?

[Vast Listen, head curator of the “Heretic Collection” here! Today, while our “Heroes” and Maxwell are doing their thing, and currently it’s just boring travel, I thought we would take a look at the goings-on of the rest of the world.]

Smithson’s Family Forge
El Gato, god king of all he surveyed, sat on his favorite spot and watched the newest kittens play under the old Pando tree that had grown in the courtyard. He had “watered” the tree yesterday, and it now had a new branch growing that he could hardly wait to lounge on in a few weeks when it had grown strong enough. He smiled slightly, then yawned and repositioned himself for his midmorning nap.
The spirit of the tree climbed up next to him and lay back, giving him scritches behind the ears, “This really is the best place to catch the sun when I’m not home.”
“Of course it is.” El Gato replied, “It is my spot after all.”
The pair watched the newest batch of students as they came and went. Especially one student who hadn’t gotten the announcement that you didn’t “mess with the cats”. The student had had to learn the hard way what “FAFO” means, and would have scars on his left cheek for the rest of his life.
El Gato and the tree curled up on the sundrenched statue of The Heretic, the ever-living patron saint of the school, and dozed.

The Elven Kingdom
The young king stood on the throne yelling at his servants. “No! That’s not how that happened!” He sighed. “The Heretic gave his big speech, then the shield came up; not the other way around!” Armatures! I will have to send to the School of Rio for the full play. “Alright, set the scene and try again!”

The Undermountain Dwarven Kingdoms
Bjorn sat on the Throne of Stone in the great cathedral as his bishops, priests, and the rest sat in orderly rows before him. “No, Bishop Glod, songs about digging holes in the mine are NOT acceptable hymns to me; they are hymns to my grandfather!” The bishop shrank back.
“I don’t mind the hymns being sung in my temples, but they are for him, not me, and I don’t want to take what is his domain.” Bjorn tried to explain. “I am the god of crafting, not of mining and stone and such. Please don’t confuse the two of us.”
The assembled clergy began speaking in hushed tones that became louder and louder. Eventually the noise reached such a crescendo that Bjorn had to use his “god” voice to silence the thousands in attendance. “I know, I know. The Heretic. Look, Maxwell is by Friend; nothing more, nothing less! He is not my disciple; not my next of kin; not my prophet; and decidedly NOT my lover!”
The crowd became silent again, “And on that note, allow me to introduce my Actual lover, the small goddess…”

Fates
The three sides of fate sat at their tapestry. The Crone sat cross-legged on the ground of the cave, building a small tower of stones. The Mother sat on a comfortable chair, nursing a forgotten child. The Maiden was running another thread across the tapestry of life when she opened her mouth to end the silence.
“Don’t you dare.” The Crone snapped, pulling her eyes from the tower she was constructing. “We don’t want to stir that pot again, not for another thousand years.”
“But—” The Maiden started.
“Were you not listening when that man stopped by for a chat last century?” The Mother asked as she placed the baby over her shoulder and gave it a pat on the back, causing it to burp. “He had a very stern warning for us not to interfere with the Heretic.”
“He even threatened ~US~ with a stern letter.” The Crone added. “That is the last thing we need.”
The Maiden harumphed. “I still want to know who allowed the potion to work on him.”
“That makes three of us.” The Crone replied. “If I ever find out who was responsible for that, I will stick a finger in their ribs, and twist their soul.”
Meanwhile, in the celestial realm, Kocha, god of chaos, felt a spike of ice drive itself through his soul. He looked around, then went back to reading the Beta Material for the Humans and High-rises game.

The Celestial Realm, again…
Esmeralda, the goddess of Wisdom, sat at her desk, writing a stern letter to Brother Proof for going missing in the stacks; again; when she felt an uncomfortable twinge. “Oh my, it seems that one of my clerics has been killed. I wonder where?” She looked at a ball sitting on a tall stand next to her desk, and it rolled around until a “chain” of three islands was facing her. “Oh, the southern most of the…Heretic Isles…”

Original - First - Previous - Next
*-*-*
It's been a minute.
I was going to stream this weekend. It's not going to happen. I'm way over my head trying to figure it out, and I lack the brain. I wonder if I'm just getting to old for this shit. Doesn't help that for reasons I'm late as hell getting this out.
Life sucks.
Take care, y'all.

*I'm not so sure if this is necessarily for this channel, but since there is a political piece to it, I'm going to share it here*
A short five days ago, Kansas City Chiefs kicker Harrison Butker was asked to give a speech to the graduates of Benedictine College. Most of these students likely never got a high school graduation because of COVID, so this was obviously a monumental moment for these young adults' lives. All the hard work and all the perseverance through difficult and uncertain times led to that graduation ceremony. Instead of that day being remembered for the students walking across the stage receiving their hard-earned degrees while the families cheer with high emotions reflecting on the journey to this moment, their ceremony will be remembered for the message that an NFL player sent to these graduates which, in my opinion, was inappropriate, lacked decorum, and made a lot of people's blood boil.
I will preface the rest of this text by saying that I do not condone religious slander and am a firm believer that every religion deserves respect.
Harrison discussed things in his speech that you should never be brought up when addressing college graduates in a formal setting like that, and it doesn't take a wise person to know this. Here are just a couple of talking points that simply had me scratching my head wondering if I was listening to a graduation speech or a Talking Point USA video on YouTube:

1. For the female graduates, you are being fed nothing but sinister lies about womanhood and how you should live your life. Having your own aspirations and career goals and finally being a step closer to achieving them is not what you should be most excited about. You should be more excited about dedicating your lives to being a mother to your future children, and a wife to your future husband!

Harrison, I'm not sure if you are aware but your target audience is mostly between the ages of 21 and 23. Also, people don't go to college and take on thousands in student debt because they just wanna marry and have a family; that's just not how that shit works. There are no degrees for homemaking. It seems slightly misogynistic to me that you think women live the most fulfilling lives when they center their entire adult lives around being a "servant" to their husbands and children. I really don't understand why husbands wouldn't want their wives to focus on following their dreams and becoming super successful.

1. The POTUS claims he's a proud Catholic but his delusional "woke" ideologies suggest otherwise.

I'm sorry, I didn't realize advocating for the minorities, the poor, and the voiceless was an anti-Catholic thing to do. I get it, Biden is far from perfect and has done plenty of questionable things. He is allowed to have his beliefs and you are allowed to have yours, and that applies to everyone. For you to question his faith because his beliefs don't fall exactly in line with yours is disrespectful. For you to bring all of this up at a college graduation while spreading misinformation is also unprofessional. The NFL blesses you with millions of dollars and you choose to represent them in this manner?

1. "Congress just passed a bill where stating something as basic as the biblical teaching of who killed Jesus could land you in jail."

What? What the hell are you talking about? Do you think others think religion is hate speech? Listen, I know that some folks don't like that the LGBTQ+ community is trying to be fairly represented and viewed as actual human beings, but that doesn't mean that they're trying to take your religion away from you. The First Amendment still exists and it's not going anywhere soon. Please do not delude yourself into thinking that your religious beliefs can get you prosecuted; believe it or not, Christianity and Catholicism still are (and have been) the most popular religions in the U.S. for a long time.
Christianity and Catholicism have most certainly faced scrutiny in the past few years. It's not necessarily the religion itself that has caused it, it's more so the followers and preachers of God's word who have faced heavy backlash; Harrison is the most recent example. Again, it is totally okay for someone to believe in any religion. It doesn't make you a bad person. Where it crosses the line is when you attempt to demean, harass, and dehumanize or even force your beliefs onto others who do not believe what you believe. We have seen this with Congress, with state representatives, with Democrats and Republicans, with those who simply don't have the human decency to respect their differences.
There is so much political divide in large part due to the divisiveness of the two-party system. You're either on one side or the other at this point. The reality is this: change is scary. We can either move forward towards a better and stronger America or we can get stuck in the past with what doesn't make us great. Harrison's speech reminded me of how easy it is to disrespect someone's point of view when it doesn't align with your own. I think my assessment of his talk might have been a little unfair in that regard. For those of you who made it to the end, regardless of your political beliefs, let's accept the fact that we have differing opinions. I may question certain beliefs and ideologies, but at the end of the day, I do respect that you believe in what you want to believe in. Please do not let your opinions cause physical or mental harm to another person. For those of you who plan on giving a speech at a college graduation ceremony, please leave politics out of your speech. Graduation is a highly emotional time in a college student's life. This is a time for reflection, for family, for pride, and for optimism, not for political opinions and fearmongering.
TL;DR: politics and personal opinions on matters unrelated to college do not belong in a college graduation speech. Harrison Butker did not get this memo and has gone viral for his remarks during his speech at Benedictine College. We all tend to get defensive of our beliefs and I am no exception to this.

VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED. There is some gore, nothing to descriptive, but if you have a weak stomach maybe pass on this one.
ALSO: This is a first draft, will post the revised one later.
Adonis came from a backwater mining world that had maintained much of its mining equipment and a base level of industry during the age of strife. Adonis lived a relatively uneventful life on this planet, being the only child to two parents who had gone missing when he was twelve, he would enter the mines earlier than most, but only slightly as although technically mining jobs could only be conducted by those older than eighteen, however through necessity children as young as thirteen would entire the mines to help sustain their families. These younger workers would be given relatively safer jobs compared to the older workers, monitoring equipment and other surface operations as examples. Even still this labor was backbreaking, and would more often than not result in the early demise of many inhabitants of this planet.
On his first day in the mines, Adonis would be paired with a girl who was fifteen years old, slightly taller than him, who stood at 4’11” at the time. She had short, light brown hair, and a thin but muscular build. They were trained on how to monitor the Auto-miner machine, and who to contact if anything went wrong. They were then given some time to get acquainted with one another before beginning their work. The girl introduced herself first.
“Hello, my name is Roleru, I look forward to working with you”, she responded with more enthusiasm than a young teen forced into the mines should.
“Adonis, and likewise”, He responded a bit hesitant. He was not looking to make friends. He barely wanted to be working, let alone in a mine, he would work there no longer than he had to, then he would find better work elsewhere. Adonis was still confused about where his parents had gone, and why they had left him behind
After this they were led down into the mines, making small talk on the rusty service elevator, and it turns out she was an only child as well. They shared a lot in common, her father had died in a mining accident, and her mother was unable to work due to worsening illness. She was working to support both her mother and herself, She seemed relatively upbeat despite a life of tragedy. Maybe he could learn from her, and piece back together his recently shattered life. In this rusted mine elevator a friendship was born, and many days they would start their days talking to each other on this elevator. Their main job was to monitor a large mining machine, and if anything goes wrong to immediately hit the emergency shutdown. This machine was larger than any Adonis had seen, towering over him and with many large grinding wheels to slowly break down rocks into progressively smaller chunks, until they are eventually spit out onto a long conveyor belt. An observation catwalk overlooked this series of crushers, with simple metal railings, and a solid metal floor to prevent any dropped materials from potentially damaging the equipment. They were shown to the cabin, where a vast array of displays and buttons could be found, and one large red button in a plastic case with the panel behind it painted a surprisingly vibrant yellow considering the dirty state of everything, and above it set on a background of hazard stripes the word “Emergency Shut-Down” could be seen in distinct red lettering. The operator that led them here initiated the machine to start up, and their work began in this cramped cabin where Roleru and Adonis would become practically siblings, with Roleru practically becoming Adonis’ older sister.
About 3 years of this work would go by in the blink of an eye, Adonis now fifteen is the same age as Roleru was when she started working in the mines. Now that Roleru could officially work in the mines, she would be given more training on how to actually operate the machine she had monitored for so long. Adonis was so proud of his big sister they celebrated that night, getting some slightly higher quality rations to have a feast that night. Any decent quality food was a real commodity on (insert planet name here).
However, the happy times wouldn’t last, as a couple of months later Roleru’s mother would die due to her illness. Although she would return to a happier mood after properly grieving, she never seemed quite the same to Adonis. They would continue to work in the mines together as they always had, now with no technician to accompany them to start the equipment. Together they would continue to grow closer, practically inseparable at this point, Roleru found a lot of comfort in Adonis’ presence which was sorely needed when she was grieving.
During this entire time Adonis would look for his parents in his free time, following any leads he could find. He would discover at the same time of Roleru’s mother’s passing that his parents had also passed in a mining accident, operating the same machine he and Roleru were working with. This fact would linger in the back of his mind at work from then on, disturbed by the potential lethality of the machine he interacted with daily.
Another 3 years would pass, Adonis and Roleru would continue to grow together. Moving in together, as any family should, and for financial reasons. Adonis, now 18, had recently finished his training on mining machine operation and maintenance. Roleru, now 21, had prepared the same high quality rations they had when she was promoted for that night's dinner. However, tragedy would strike during the workday, as Roleru would slip on the catwalk of the machine while it was in operation, and fall into the crushing gears. Adonis would immediately hit the emergency stop. As the loud machine whirred down, there was still energy in the gears, they would slow to a stop in the silence, but in the silence there was a sickening wet ripping sound, followed by a desperate pained scream. Adonis would quickly call for help before going down to help Roleru, however the sight he saw in the maw of this great devourer was horrifying. The entrails of his sister decorated the grinding gears like some sick and twisted form of party streamers, and the blood oh god the blood. Adonis could hear pained groans and he quickly scrambled to find the rest of Roleru. He would find her shortly after he began searching.
“No. no no no no. Stay with me! Help is on the way, you’ll be okay”, Adonis pleaded with Roleru.
“Sorry cough cough I guess I was too careless” Roleru responded, blood rolling out of her mouth. Internal bleeding, or is it external in this case? Ah semantics don’t matter, thought Adonis. The light was already fading from her eyes, unsurprising for the amount of blood loss, and the gore.
“NO! Don’t leave me, don’t leave like they did.” Adonis pleaded with a raspy voice through choked sobs, unsure of when he started crying. “Please stay with me, you promised you would.” He held her close, trying to comfort her in any way he could while desperately trying to stop the bleeding before the medical team arrived.
“I’m so sorry, I wish I could stay with you longer.”, Roleru said calmly, though the tears rolling down her face betrayed her true emotions. “I’ll always be with you in spirit.”
With that final statement she died in his arms, he would clutch the gorey remains of his sister, screaming and crying until the medical team arrived. They had to peel him off of her remains, essentially dragging him out of the mine for the day, on his walk back to their shared home, he would see a strange looking official giving a speech he only overheard part of it and he was only vaguely paying attention.
“From this day forward you will pay a tithe to the Imperium of man”, the official stated. A new ruler? Happens all the time, nothing to worry about Thought Adonis, little did he know this announcement would soon turn his already tumultuous life upside down.
He entered the hab building, and saw the two ration packets set out on the table, along with a small rectangular box. Adonis opened it, his hands still caked in Roleru’s blood. Inside was a simple silver locket, containing a photo of the two of them 3 years ago, celebrating Roleru’s promotion. Clutching the locket Adonis would fall to his knees and cry. An hour later Adonis would fall asleep, exhausted after showering. He would wake up the next morning, finding the two ration packets still uneaten on the counter.
After eating some breakfast and heading out for work, Adonis would notice something attached to the door of their hab unit.
It reads: Draft notice, You have been drafted to serve the Emperor of mankind. Report to the imperial guard training facility in 2 hours (live updated).

2 hours? Emperor of man, how conceited can one be? Oh well, it doesn't sound like I have a choice. Adonis would change his course, notifying his overseer at work before locating the Imperial guard training center. Little more than a temporary tent, it would appear there are other recruits here as well. A group of nine others were also waiting, clearly also drafted. After a bit of small talk with the other recruits, a man in olive green flak armor, a string of numbers on a plate attached on his left breast clearly some form of ID, wearing a helmet of the same color with a gold skull on the forehead. Walked out of the tent and immediately commanded the attention of all the recruits present. The man spoke in a gravelly voice, “I am Sargent Gordel, And I will make all of your lives hell over the next six weeks. You will have exactly one minute to make calls to get your affairs in order, after that you belong to the Imperial army." With that he turned and walked back into the tent, the recruits panicked at first, then followed him after a short while. That was 6 months ago, and as Adonis sat in some god forsaken trench during a particularly brutal compliance, he had wished for the thirtieth time that day that this was all some horrible nightmare. Alas it was not, he had been stationed on the frontlines, fighting against some technologically advanced humans that used bladed drones to devastating effect. Adonis was not particularly skilled at warfare, his aim was middling, his hand to hand skills less than perfect, and he had no mind for command. However, his previous work had him communicating a lot. This skill in both verbal communication, and communication equipment landed him a job as a vox-caster in his squad, lead by Sargent Gordel. Adonis disliked Gordel, a man of hubris and little talent in leadership. However, due to his role in communications Adonis had to be in close to proximity to the man during all waking hours. Ever since he had received the special vox-caster helmet he kept it on, only taking it off to eat. Adonis felt safe enclosed in his helmet, the constant line of communication meaning he could prepare for any future curveballs that might turn his life upside down, so that what happened after that horrible day will never happen again. Adonis would never be caught off guard again, or so he thought. As this compliance continued, Adonis was hearing fewer fellow vox-casters every day, until nobody responded on short-range communications one day. Alone, Adonis and his squad were all that was left in the trench line. As a forward position high casualties were to be expected, but they hadn’t been reinforced in weeks. Adonis had been given a faulty long-range vox, so he often had to make trips down the trench to the nearest squad to communicate with high command. During his last trip Adonis had heard that surrender of the planet was currently being negotiated, but in the meantime to keep fighting, that was days ago. During his trips down these lines he would often pass segments where the guardsmen had either been butchered by the drones, or fled the battlefield. He was envious of those who fled, but he would feel responsible for the deaths of his comrades if he left them to die. Today Adonis would try to retrieve a long-range vox to talk with high command. Shells were still falling on enemy positions, so they weren't abandoned. An assault on the trenches happened last night, it took 30 minutes of walking for Adonis to reach the next position, all he found there was a puddle of gore, and if he hadn’t known humans were here before, there was no way to identify what organism this pile of entrails used to be now. It sickened him, but he kept moving, not lingering on the thoughts of his past. It would take hours to find a usable long-range vox. It would take more hours to return, but in the meantime he used the vox to get updated on the situation. 

“This is vox-master Adonis in the first trench, position 38. Looks like my squad might be the last one left. High-command please respond.” Adonis hailed, hoping to hear back soon.
It would take 30 minutes for a response, but it came nonetheless. “We read you Adonis, this is High-command vox-master Gunther. How the hell are you guys still alive, the last report we got from the forward trench was 4 days ago. Anyways, peace has been reached and will go into effect tomorrow at dawn, until then keep fighting and we’ll come get you.” The man responded in a shocked voice.
“Copy command, I had to scavenge a long-range vox from a dead squad, mine has been faulty since we landed here. Thanks for the update, I will let the rest know when I get back.” Adonis replied, relieved that he would soon get to leave this hellscape. In the meantime he slowly made his way back to his position.
After hours of slowly progressing through the byzantine trench system, and hearing the wet squelch of viscera beneath his boots more often than not he finally made it back to his position. To his surprise everyone was still alive. After explaining what he heard over the vox to Gordel, Gordel called the other 9 people in the trench.
“Our vox-master has explained to me that we need to hold out until morning. Then this compliance will be over. Do you think you pansies are up to the task?”, Gordel asked, clearly just trying to raise morale.
“YES SIR!”, the squad responded loudly. Hope was something that had been in short supply in the trenches for weeks. To hear there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel made them all ecstatic. However the next 12 hours would be hell.
The first three were spent by the 11 people discussing what they would do on leave, then as the sun set, the next three hours were spent nervously watching the enemy trench. As midnight approached, metallic skittering could be heard across no man’s land. The drones were being used to secure one last victory by some egotistical commander on the other side, to break one full trench line before peace had officially started. At first it was a few, not even making it to the trench as the Guardsmen gunned them down with ease, but as 6 a.m. crept closer, the assault intensified.
Eventually these drones were leaping into the trenches, the 11 people gunned them down, but more took their place, eventually people were being butchered right in front of Adonis, reminding him of his friend's fate. Adonis was sickened by the site of it but swallowed back the bile that had risen in his throat, Gordel was the last to die, ripped apart limb from limb right before Adonis, he gunned the three drones down but by the time he had Gordel was dead, Adonis may not have liked him, but to die like that, Gordel had his sympathies. As Adonis fought on he wondered when the sun would rise, how much longer would he have to fight these horrid engines, designed to kill in the cruelest way imaginable. Adonis did his duty and reported each casualty as they happened over long-range vox. The fighting never seemed to end, he had to pick up his comrades weapons multiple times as he kept running out of ammo.
After what seemed like an eternity the hues of violet and indigo that signified the sun was soon to rise appeared in the sky, and after only 30 more minutes of desperately trying to hold on to his life the drones in the trench suddenly stopped, climbed out and marched back to the other trench line. After this Adonis reported to high-command.
“This is vox-master Adonis, the fighting is over. 10 casualties, I’m all that's left.” Adonis reported grimmly. Exhaustion evident in his voice.
“This is High-command Vox-master Gunther. We hadn’t heard from you in a couple of hours so we thought you were dead. Frankly, the fact that you’re alive is a miracle.” Gunther responded incredulously.
“Is that so?” Adonis responded without any emotion, too exhausted to care.
“Well problem is we canceled evacuations to that trench. I’ll go talk to someone higher up. In the meantime sit tight.” Gunther responded.
Adonis would trudge out of the trench. Seeing a hill, not crater pocked and covered in grass with a large, flat rock on top. Adonis would make his way over to this hill, and sit atop the rock, feet pressed together as he took his vox-caster helmet off. His face covered in sweat, he can see how utterly covered in the blood of his comrades he is. Sickened by this fact and given his reprieve, he ejects what little remains in his stomach. Tears stream down his face as he questions how much longer he’ll be in this army, how many others will he see turned to paste, and why he decided to fight instead of joining his Roleru in the afterlife.
His mental breakdown is set to the backdrop of a beautiful sunset, he has calmed down by the time a gleaming purple transport pulls up to the trench line. A tall woman in purple armor steps out, white hair flowing down her shoulders, with piercing purple eyes. She scans for something before setting eyes on Adonis.
She calls out to him, “Vox-master, your transport awaits.” Adonis walks to the transport, not bothering to go back to the trench. After the imposing, yet elegant woman climbs into the transport after him, the doors close and it speeds off.

Previous case
We're back to business as usual at Orion. Sort of. I'll get into that in a minute. But first, I just need to put it out there that sometimes the clients drive me nuts. As much as I have an apparently irresistible desire to help everyone, some people really push it. Push it right off of a fucking cliff, that is.
I’m going to stop myself before I go off on an unhinged rant about the woes of dealing with the public. Instead, I’ll let yinz see for yourselves what I've been putting up with.
(If you're not familiar with what Orion Pest Control's services are, it may help to start here.)
We received a call from a client about mosquitoes running amok in her home. Since we had a few others to take care of that day, I informed her that the earliest that one of us could investigate the matter was in the afternoon. But because this woman is clearly so much more important than everyone else, her royal highness threw a hissy fit about having to wait like a common peasant.
I tried to be as nice as possible, “Ma’am, I understand that it’s frustrating, but there are others that called ahead of you, so we have to take care of their problems before we can take care of yours.”
The client huffed, “Okay, you clearly aren’t hearing me. There are mosquitoes in my house!”
“Yes, ma’am, I heard you. However, you are not our only client, so we ask that you please be patient and we will be there as soon as we can.”
I should also mention that this client talked out of the back of her nose, if that helps to paint a picture of how her cadence was equally as grating as her personality. “Okay, but do those people have mosquitoes? Like in their house, biting them and their kid over and over? My son could have Zika virus right now!”
Jesus Fucking Christ. I rubbed my temple with my free hand as I did my damndest to keep my customer service persona in place, “Again, ma’am, I understand that this is frustrating, but we have a wasp infestation and termites to deal with before you and those families want their kids to be safe, just like you. In the meantime, I recommend wearing bug spray or burning a citronella candle until we can get to you. We will be there as soon as we can.”
“You better be! And you really need to work on your customer service, sweetie!”
The client hung up on me.
I had to pace around the office after that one. Sweetie? Shove it up your ass, you entitled, snotty… You know what? Nevermind. I have many words to describe clients like that and none of them are pleasant. I hoped that she’d get mosquito bites in all of the most private areas of her anatomy.
It probably didn't help that I was saddled with some bitterness after the ‘dogging’ incident. I knew that there wasn't anything I could do about the mechanic other than stay out of his way going forward. And boy, did that eat me up.
On that note, I know what the mechanic is, however, even whispering the official title of these Neighbors is enough to draw them to you. I'm not sure if writing it counts and I'm not about to find that out the hard way.
Just know that if you hear wings beating from the west at night, hide and pray that you'll be passed by. Placing a line of salt on all of the doors and windows facing the west keeps them from coming inside. Once they set their sights on you, they'll never stop hunting you. Even death itself fears them. You'll still be running long after your heart stops beating.
But I promise, I’ll elaborate more on that later. I’m getting ahead of myself. Back to the case.
Reyna was at the point in her training where she could be trusted to deal with termites on her own. After I had the wasp nests taken care of, I set out to her royal highness’ home, and earlier than I’d told her, might I add. I will admit that I was tempted to dally a bit just to piss her off, but then I figured that it would be better and more professional to just get it over with.
She looked exactly like how I pictured her to look, complete with a weasley sneer that only the most unlikable of human beings are able to master.
“It’s about time.” She snapped.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Where have you noticed the mosquitoes the most?”
“Everywhere.” She said unhelpfully,
Her husband stepped in. “In the kitchen and basement, mostly.”
To make this call even better, the husband decided to take it upon himself to follow me around as I did my inspection, asking me pointless questions and giving me advice that I didn't ask for.
It got to a point where his hot breath wheezed into my ear as I shined my flashlight under their sink.
Stiffly, but politely, I asked, “Sir, can you please keep your distance?”
His wife chipped in, “Will you let her do her job, Curtis? It took her long enough to get here, and if you keep pestering her, it's going to take even longer!”
The husband puffed up and snapped, “Well, it's my house! I need to know that the person working in it knows what they're doing!”
They began screaming at each other. As obnoxious and uncomfortable as it was to have to bear witness to it, at least they weren't focused on me anymore. I shook my head and kept searching for the source of the infestation.
What I was looking for was standing water, which is essential for a mosquito's life cycle; you eliminate the standing water, you eliminate the infestation. The space beneath the sink was completely dry.
With the argument going on, I almost didn't hear it. An odd little sound. The easiest way to describe it was that it sounded like, ‘Kudo! Kudo!’
My head turned to follow it. That's when I noticed that one of the floorboards was slightly raised up from the rest.
I interrupted their marital problems, “You said that your son was sick earlier? Would he happen to have chills and a high fever?”
The client spat, “Yes, because some people-”
Not in the mood for her nonsense anymore, I cut in, “Ma'am, please just answer the question. I am trying to help you, I really am, but I'm going to need some more information in order to do that.”
She looked taken aback, her face bright red. While she balked, her husband answered instead, “Our son said he was feeling under the weather, but he does that whenever he wants to get out of something. You know how kids are.”
Good lord. Parents of the year.
“Have you noticed your salt going missing?”
The wife blinked at me, “How did you know that?”
I told them that I'd be right back and went to retrieve a cage from the truck. This critter is an odd one in that not only is salt not a suitable repellent for it, but it actually loves the stuff. It can consume as much as ten grams of salt per day. So if you find that the salt in your home has gone missing, it could mean that a False Egg has made a nest.
I returned with the cage and advised the couple to either move into another room or wait outside. Would it surprise yinz when I say that they refused? Not in the mood to argue, I just shrugged. Okay. Suit yourselves.
I set the cage up next to the lifted floorboard, took my salt off of my toolbelt, and sprinkled some inside the cage. It would placate the False Egg once I got it inside.
Using my knife, I pried the floorboard up. From behind me, the husband began to protest, but his wife snapped at him to keep still.
Meanwhile, my eyes met the beady gaze of a False Egg from where it hid under their floorboard.
At first glance, it looks like a white chicken's egg. If consumed, it causes the host to lay more False Eggs. That's how it reproduces. The telltale signs that you're looking at a False Egg include two dark spots on the shell near the pointed top of the ovoid. Those are the eyes, which they can leave closed to camouflage themselves. You may also notice two small holes at the bottom of the shell, which is where its legs can retract in and out. Mosquitoes follow False Eggs wherever they nest, though it's unclear why.
Generally, they're more of an annoyance than anything. However, they can cause flu-like symptoms in those that they feel threatened by, so they do pose a slight danger to those with compromised immune systems.
To my surprise, the False Egg leapt out of its nest and into the cage, tucking its legs back into its shell comfortably. Even though it didn't seem to have any intentions of moving, I quickly shut the door of its cage.
For the first time since I arrived, the clients were speechless. The woman had a hand over her open mouth while the man stared at the False Egg in a mixture of horror and disgust.
It wasn't until I stood up with the cage that the man asked, “What the hell is that?”
“The source of the infestation.” I replied. “I’ll take this guy out to the truck. The mosquitoes should follow him, but just to be sure, I'm going to ask that you all leave the house for a few hours so that I can apply a chemical treatment that'll kill off any stragglers. And your son’s condition should improve in a day or two.”
The couple didn't give me any trouble. They quietly collected their sick teenaged son, saying something about getting ice cream, then fucked off to do whatever while I dealt with the rest of the mosquitoes.
Once I was done, I drove off to release the False Egg somewhere where it could complete its life cycle away from humans. It is able to reproduce in any mammal. While forcing other organisms to lay eggs is bizarre and can be alarming for the affected individual, it doesn't appear to hurt the hosts, other than causing some mild abdominal discomfort. Once the False Egg is laid, the host goes back to normal, which is why we generally don't feel the need to kill them.
Unexpectedly, the False Egg talked to me.
It had a small, soft, mousy voice. “Thanks for getting me out of there.”
I glanced at the False Egg. I had its cage on the passenger's seat. Its eyes were visible, along with its little white legs as it sat on the bottom of its cage. It looked up at me as it wiggled its small feet absent-mindedly.
Whenever it spoke, a small crack that resembled a toothy mouth appeared in its shell. That was something to add to our records: not only are False Eggs capable of speech, but their mouths are located below their eye spots.
Stunned, I said, “You're welcome.”
The False Egg continued, “Oh, those humans are vile! I hadn't realized it when I first made my nest. Do you want to know why I made the boy sick?”
“Why?”
So that's how I learned every aspect of this family's lives. I'm sure yinz care even less than I do about some suburbanites’ interfamily drama, so I'll just say that it wasn't bad enough to warrant a call to social services, but enough that I can see why that kid probably couldn't wait to turn 18. Overbearing mother, father trying to use his son to relive his glory days as a high school athlete. The False Egg had done the boy a solid, giving him just enough of a fever to excuse him from lacrosse tryouts.
“Where are we going?” The False Egg asked after telling me all that information that I didn't know what to do with.
“Back to the forest.”
The False Egg kept swinging its little feet, “Can you take me somewhere nice? If it's not any trouble?”
Why not? Maybe some scenery would improve my mood.
So me and my little egg buddy took a little drive to the pond. It was a picturesque area as well as a nice environment for a False Egg. They prefer caves, but as long as they're near water, they'll be fine. When I opened its cage, the False Egg hopped out, its little eyes and shelled body swiveling to take in the peaceful sight.
“Oh, this is wonderful! Thank you!” Before it skipped off, it paused. “I think it would only be right if I told you something that could help, since you brought me here.”
It turned, its shell splitting to form a mouth as it hesitated before speaking, “If you hear whispers in the woods, even if it sounds like someone you care about, don't listen. The louder they are, the safer you are. They get quieter as they get closer to confuse you.”
Hold on. That didn't make any sense. The whispers had gotten louder and more urgent as I approached the mechanic's clearing.
Unless I was wrong and he wasn't the one doing it.
I asked, “Is the whispering thing disguising itself as a mechanic?”
The False Egg tilted to the side thoughtfully, “I'm afraid not. It doesn’t like to pretend to be human.”
So there was something else out there with me when I went looking for Victor. I remembered then that the whispers had stopped once I got close to the mechanic's clearing. When I unintentionally allowed them to lead me astray, they took me in the opposite direction of where he'd been waiting. Interesting.
With the False Egg wandering off to establish a new nest that was far away from humans, I headed back to the office, unsure of how to feel about the information it had given me.
Victor looked annoyed when I came in. The clients had called to complain about my ‘poor customer service.’ Wow. Okay.
“Next time, just leave the False Egg there.” Victor said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “They want to complain about poor customer service? We can show them bad service!”
“It's fine, Vic.” I replied. “Just let them leave their one star Google review and move on.”
“These fucking people…” He grumbled.
Victor's headspace hasn't been much better than mine. He's been pretty much stuck waiting by the phone for those ominous calls that the mechanic mentioned in the woods. They don't happen often, but when they do, he gets grim. Quiet. He hasn't told me in detail what has been requested of him. I don't know if he simply doesn't want to talk about it or if he's sworn to secrecy.
We'd had a long, uncomfortable talk during one of my days off while recovering from getting dogged. Victor stopped by with coffee and a box of donut holes. He drank the coffee, but left the donut holes untouched. We sat in my small kitchen, him staring intently into his black coffee, me quietly adding more sugar to my mocha.
I broke the silence. “What did you want me to see the other day?”
“I couldn't outright tell anyone that I was dead. Not without the mechanic finding out.” He continued after some hesitation. “It feels selfish saying it now, but… I just wanted someone to know what happened to me.”
Victor pulled the bandana aside with a finger, revealing that a jagged, red grin had been carved across his throat. I shuddered, being forcefully reminded once again how thin skin truly is.
He quickly pulled it back into place.
That prompted me to ask, “Is the mechanic the one that…?” I pointed to my neck.
Victor shook his head. I asked him who did.
His expression darkened, “Someone I used to use with. He didn't believe me when I told him that I was still clean and couldn't help him get his next hit. Everything happened so fast after that. Before I knew it, I woke up in his trunk. My chest felt empty. It's strange, you know? You don't notice your own heartbeat until it's not there anymore.”
I shook my head slowly, a knot in my stomach as I whispered, “Jesus, Vic. Where is he now?”
“He can't hurt anyone else. We'll leave it at that.” Victor muttered.
I took in a shaky breath. I couldn't believe that he'd been keeping all of this in. It was a lot to take in at once, so I could only imagine how much worse it was to be the one experiencing it.
Like I said, I don't blame him for what happened. He must've felt so alone.
After I regained my composure, I asked, “So… what does the mechanic have to do with this?”
Victor hesitated again, eventually saying, “He couldn't touch me while I was alive, so he made sure that death couldn’t get to me before he could. That's why I was trying to keep my condition quiet; I was hoping that I could outlast him long enough for the Reaper to catch up. Unfortunately, the fucker is good at what he does and knew that I’d drag someone else into my bullshit eventually.”
I shook my head, “I dragged myself into it. I could've just minded my own business, but I didn't. I chose to go out there, even though I didn't know what I was dealing with. And I chose to say the wrong thing to the mechanic to set him off.”
“You wouldn't have been in that position if I hadn't said anything.”
“So what happens now? You're just… forced to do these calls?”
Victor sighed, “It's either that, or I join the ones in the trees.”
The skulls. Grimly, I wondered if those trapped souls were still aware. If they knew what had happened to them.
I slumped down in my seat. “Is there anything we can do?”
“As of right now, no. We just go to work, keep our heads down, do what we have to do. And from now on, I'll deal with the mechanic, even if it's for something as trivial as changing a tire. He's my problem, no one else's.”
So that's where we're at. Victor's technically not alive or dead, but a secret third, worse thing.
Speaking of worse things, we got an emergency call in the middle of the night.
After we close for the day, Victor routes calls to his phone in case there is something that can't wait until the next day. Thankfully, this is an extremely rare occurrence; up until this incident, it's only happened twice since I've been with Orion. I joined Victor for one of those two emergency calls. Even though it's been two years since that night, I still hear the crunching of bones in my dreams.
Something yinz need to know about the farmers around here is that they know how to take care of themselves. They have more encounters with the atypical than anyone else and for the most part, they know how to live amongst things like the Neighbors in relative peace. They know about leaving cream out to appease them. They know about what measures to take to defend themselves and their animals. They're a tough bunch and they usually prefer to take care of things themselves. It's highly unusual for them to reach out to us.
So when Victor told me over the phone that the emergency call was at one of the farms, I knew it was going to be bad.
When he first described what the farmers were contending with, my stomach dropped. The client's brother was found on the porch with his chest entirely deflated, deliberately placed into a chair that was moved in front of the door where the family could see him.
The farmers were holed up in their home. The woman of the house was pregnant, due within the next few days, which made moving her extremely difficult. They could hear whatever killed the brother giggling and tapping on the windows, mocking them. Victor was already on his way there.
I arrived with my toolbelt along with a shotgun and shells filled with rock salt. This may sound ridiculous, but I also donned a collar that I'd made last summer by hammering long ass carpenter nails into the leather, then coating their pointed tips with silver. I looked a bit like a goth club reject, but when dealing with things that like to go for the throat, you gotta put your pride aside.
Victor's truck was in the driveway, but he was nowhere in sight. Shotgun at the ready, I glanced around as I approached the house. The body was still on the porch, untouched after the poor man had been posed there. It looked far worse than what Victor had described. His chest had caved in, like everything inside of him had been sucked clean out. His face was frozen in surprise rather than horror or pain. He'd been caught off guard and was dead long before he could react.
Wings. I turned, pulling the trigger just in time as the pest tormenting this family dove at me. It tumbled to the ground with an enraged shriek.
It appeared to be a woman. Well… half of one. Her legs were gone, brown entrails dangling sickeningly from her gray torso. Her leathery, hooked wings trembled as she used her bony arms to raise herself up to snarl at me, curling her lips to reveal doglike fangs. I shot at her again. She jolted as the shell took a chunk out of her skull.
That wouldn't kill her. Both her and I knew it. She skittered like a cockroach, an elongated tongue shooting out of her mouth, quick as a whip. I flinched, turning my head so she couldn't reach my face, grateful for the collar as I felt the proboscis slam into its spikes. The impact knocked me off balance, causing me to stumble. I leaned into it, hitting the ground and out of reach of the next swipe of her tongue.
I took aim again, knocking her back a few feet. A dark shape suddenly appeared from the barn, a glint of metal shining in the figure’s hand. Victor.
“I can't find the lower half.” He hissed when I was in earshot.
That meant we were going to have to keep her from rejoining the lower half of her body until sunrise. It was three in the morning.
Because nothing can ever be easy.
Victor had found chains and a padlock in the barn. They should be heavy enough to restrain her. We’d just have to get close. Without her sucking our insides out, preferably.
She was back in the air. I took another shot. I'd have to reload soon. I hoped that I'd have enough shells to last the next two hours. At the rate I was going, I'd burn through them in the next ten minutes.
Unfortunately, I missed as she soared towards the house. I used my last shot and thankfully knocked her out of the air. As I hurriedly reloaded, Victor rushed towards the fallen creature, kneeling on her chest to keep her from taking off again as he fought to get the chain around her.
I heard him make a terrible choking sound, followed by her retching. She'd gotten her proboscis down his throat, but had withdrawn it even quicker than she had gotten it down. I guess undead viscera doesn't taste very good.
As she gagged, Victor pressed his forearm against her throat, pinning her so that she couldn't sink her fangs into him. I raced over, setting the shotgun on the ground next to me so that I could help him restrain her. While he held her, I coiled the chain around her squirming torso.
She began to laugh. When she spoke, it sounded like an old woman and a young girl speaking in unison, “Do you think a chain will be enough to stop me?”
I kept going. She wiggled one wing out from beneath her, jabbing the hook into the hollow of my shoulder. I gasped as it pressed deeper into my skin. Victor roughly pushed her wing back down, the violent withdrawal of the hook making me see stars. Through all of that, I still kept going.
We turned her onto her side so that Victor could pin her wings against her back. She screeched the entire time, the proboscis shooting back to slap him in the cheek.
We almost had her. Then we heard a wail from inside the house. What now?!
The pest abruptly paused in her struggles to leer at us, then she sang, “The baby's coming!”
You've got to be kidding me.
Her fighting resumed with far more force than before. That man that she'd killed had merely been an appetizer for her. The baby was her true prize. Her eyes were wild with excitement, saliva dripping off of her fangs as she watched the front door open.
Shitshitshit!
“Go back inside!” Victor shouted as we both used all that we had to try to keep the pest in place.
The farmer yelled back, distress making his voice higher, “Something's wrong! I have to get her to the hospital!”
I risked a glance. The woman was white as a sheet, holding onto her husband for dear life as he half led half dragged her to his truck. Blood stained the inside of the woman's legs.
At the sight of it, Victor froze. I didn't like the way he looked at the woman then. Oh no. The creature went into a complete frenzy. She managed to get her fangs into Victor's arm, wrenching a cry of agony from him as she ripped a sizable chunk of flesh out. His hold on her loosened just enough that she could wriggle a wing out.
I screamed as I felt her beginning to slip away, frantically reaching for the nearest part of her, which was unfortunately her dangling intestines. It was like trying to hold onto oversized wet noodles, my hands slipping in her chunky blood as I struggled to slow her down.
They just needed to reach the truck. We just had to keep her here just long enough for them to get a head start.
I just hoped that I wouldn't end up having to protect them from my boss, too.
She roared as she turned and slashed me across the brow with one of her clawed fingers. My vision went dark in my right eye. Numbly, I wondered if she ripped my eye out, or if it was just from the pain. By some miracle, I didn't let go.
Fortunately, the bite seemed to snap Victor out of whatever had happened to him when he saw the woman’s blood. At least for the moment. He scrambled across the ground, seizing my shotgun. His first shot missed. The second one hit her left wing. The farmer had the truck's passenger side door open as he helped his wife inside. The pest reached a talon towards them, trying to drag herself closer. Victor was back on his feet and marched over to shoot her in the head. Once. Twice.
The truck's engine roared to life. With it, the pest screeched in rage, the sound warped by the damage done to her mouth after Victor had unloaded on her. She flailed as she watched her prize speed down the road.
But it wasn't over. The gunshot wound in her wing was already closing up. It wouldn't take her long to catch up to them if we lost her.
My cheek was wet. Turns out, I didn't lose an eye. I just had blood in it. Thank God. I crawled over her, trying the chains again as Victor went back to holding her wings against her body.
She called him every foul name in the book, words slurring from her destroyed jaw. One of them touched a nerve: “Bitch of the Wild Hunt.” He wordlessly snatched the salt from my belt and poured it over her face, holding her jaw to shove the container into her mouth. She gurgled and started to convulse as the salt was forced down her throat. That shut her up.
With the chain pinning her arms and wings against her body, Victor dug the padlock out of his pocket, using it to secure the links.
“I’m going to try to get her to the barn.” He yelled over the sound of her agitated howls.
I retrieved the shotgun and followed him as he carried the squirming, shrieking pest towards the barn. I pressed the palm of my hand to the cut on my brow. A flutter of unease went through my gut as it occurred to me that I could be in danger from Victor as well.
It didn't help that the pest had noticed it, too. She was goading him, “That girl smells sweet, doesn't she?”
“You want more salt in your mouth?” He threatened flatly. “We got plenty and we have some time until sunrise.”
She cackled, “You can't tell me that your mouth isn't watering thinking of her soft flesh between your teeth. Her blood warming your tongue. You long to feel warm again, don't you, dead man?”
The borderline pornographic way that she spoke about devouring me made me intensely uncomfortable.
“Keep it up and I'll pack the salt up your nose, too.” Victor retorted.
Once we got to the barn, we found an empty stall, which he tossed her into. I didn't follow him into the stall. My gut was telling me that something was off.
He drew a circle of salt around her. As long as it wasn't broken, it would trap her until sunrise.
I didn't think the boss would ever intentionally hurt me. But the way he looked at that woman…
What if he couldn't control himself?
Victor shut the stall door behind him, leaving the pest to wail and swear at us from her prison.
His eyes went to my forehead, “That looks like it hurts.”
I swallowed back the lump in my throat. There it was again. That look.
“Stay back, Vic.” I said calmly, my unease growing.
He took a deep breath, his eyes closing. I took a small step away from him, towards the exit to the barn.
I kept my voice even, “Vic, be honest with me. Is it safe to be around you right now?”
Victor stayed where he was, still not looking at me. He eventually answered, “Probably not.”
I took another step towards the door. “I'm going to leave.”
He nodded, eyes still shut, “I think that would be best. I'll make sure that she stays in the stall.”
As I backed towards the door, afraid to turn my back on him, I said, “I'll uh… see you at work tomorrow.”
“Yeah. See ya.”
I didn't dare turn my back on him until I'd left the barn. He didn't move a muscle the entire time. As I made my way back to my G6, I kept looking over my shoulder. Victor didn't follow me. I made it back to my car without incident.
I thought back to when I'd found him in the butcher shed. Looking back, I'm pretty sure that he'd been eating it.
Once I was in my apartment, I quickly drew lines of salt in front of all my doors and windows. It made me feel somewhat safer. I inspected the injuries on my forehead and shoulder. After cleaning them both up, I determined that I should probably see a doctor in the morning. In the meantime, I covered them both with gauze.
I painfully settled down onto my bed, my entire body aching. Even though I felt like a dish towel that had been wrung out over and over again, I knew that I wasn't going to be getting much sleep. My mind was racing too much.
Against my better judgment, I ended up texting Victor, ‘Are you a draugr?’
His response was, ‘i think so’
Draugr are known for their grotesque appetites. The joke Reyna and I had been making about him being a ‘high-functioning zombie’ wasn't all that far off, after all.
I reminded myself that Victor wasn't a complete monster. He'd at least had enough control over himself not to hurt me or either of the farmers. But the temptation had clearly been there. That begged the question of what his limits were.
Was it safe to work with him? Injuries aren't exactly uncommon at Orion. Maybe that's why he's been sending Reyna and I together for two person jobs rather than going on calls with us.
I received another message from him, ‘if you want to quit I understand’
I didn't, though. As stressful as working here can be, I do enjoy my job, weirdly enough. I've been treated better here than by any other employer and I like having only two other coworkers to worry about, especially since I get along well with both of them. But the biggest reason why quitting hasn't occurred to me is that I wouldn't be able to just walk away from all that I'd learned about the atypical cases. There was no way I could live a normal life after working at Orion.
I also wanted to keep an eye on Victor. Between whatever the mechanic was forcing him to do and his transformation, there was a lot that I was concerned about. As much as I didn't want to think about having to trap or kill Victor, if it came down to it... I'd do what needed to be done.
I sent back, ‘hazard pay? 👀’
His reply was, ‘😒’
A moment later, I received, ‘we'll discuss it when I don't have a manananggal mf'ing me’
Yinz see why I kept calling her a ‘pest’ rather than trying to type that long name out each time? I guarantee I would have misspelled it several different ways.
When the sun rose, I received another message from Victor, ‘it's over. thanks for your help’
We found out later in the afternoon that the hospital had been able to save the farmers’ baby. She was going to have to stay longer in the hospital, but otherwise, she and their newborn daughter were alright.
What was alarming was that the dead man's body had been desecrated at some point after I left. It was believed that the pest had been the one to take chunks out of his neck, shoulder, and chest. I wasn't going to be the one to tell the family the truth. They'd been through enough already without the news that the one they'd relied on for protection had gotten hungry.
I wondered if being exposed to so much blood had been the trigger. I suppose I should just be glad that Victor had eaten a man who was already dead instead of me or another living person.
Like I said, I'm going to have to keep an eye on him. In the meantime… maybe don't demand to speak to the manager.

Unsnark: I can’t believe we are swinging so far in this direction. Please vote!
Ladies and gentlemen of the Class of 2024: I would like to start off by congratulating all of you for successfully making it to this achievement today. I'm sure your high school graduation was not what you had imagined, and most likely, neither was your first couple years of college.
By making it to this moment through all the adversity thrown your way from COVID, I hope you learned the important lessons that suffering in this life is only temporary. As a group, you witnessed firsthand how bad leaders who don't stay in their lane can have a negative impact on society. It is through this lens that I want to take stock of how we got to where we are, and where we want to go as citizens and, yes, as Catholics. One last thing before I begin, I want to be sure to thank President Minnis and the board for their invitation to speak.
When President Minnis first reached out a couple of months ago, I had originally said No. You see, last year I gave the commencement address at my alma mater, Georgia Tech, and I felt that one graduation speech was more than enough, especially for someone who isn't a professional speaker. But of course, President Minnis used his gift of persuasion. [Laughter] It spoke to the many challenges you all faced throughout the COVID fiasco ,and how you missed out on so many milestones the rest of us older people have taken for granted. While COVID might have played a large role throughout your formative years, it is not unique. Bad policies and poor leadership have negatively impacted major life issues. Things like abortion, IVF, surrogacy, euthanasia, as well as a growing support for degenerate cultural values in media, all stem from the pervasiveness of disorder.
Our own nation is led by a man who publicly and proudly proclaims his Catholic faith, but at the same time is delusional enough to make the Sign of the Cross during a pro- abortion rally. He has been so vocal in his support for the murder of innocent babies that I'm sure to many people it appears that you can be both Catholic and pro-choice.
He is not alone. From the man behind the COVID lockdowns to the people pushing dangerous gender ideologies onto the youth of America, they all have a glaring thing in common. They are Catholic. This is an important reminder that being Catholic alone doesn't cut it.
These are the sorts of things we are told in polite society to not bring up. You know, the difficult and unpleasant things. But if we are going to be men and women for this time in history, we need to stop pretending that the "Church of Nice" is a winning proposition. We must always speak and act in charity, but never mistake charity for cowardice.
It is safe to say that over the past few years, I have gained quite the reputation for speaking my mind. I never envisioned myself, nor wanted, to have this sort of a platform, but God has given it to me, so I have no other choice but to embrace it and preach more hard truths about accepting your lane and staying in it.
As members of the Church founded by Jesus Christ, it is our duty and ultimately privilege to be authentically and unapologetically Catholic. Don't be mistaken, even within the Church, people in polite Catholic circles will try to persuade you to remain silent. There even was an award-winning film called Silence, made by a fellow Catholic, wherein one of the main characters, a Jesuit priest, abandoned the Church, and as an apostate when he died is seen grasping a crucifix, quiet and unknown to anyone but God. As a friend of Benedictine College, His Excellency Bishop Robert Barron, said in his review of the film, it was exactly what the cultural elite want to see in Christianity -- private, hidden away, and harmless.
Our Catholic faith has always been countercultural. Our Lord, along with countless followers, were all put to death for their adherence to her teachings. The world around us says that we should keep our beliefs to ourselves whenever they go against the tyranny of diversity, equity, and inclusion. We fear speaking truth, because now, unfortunately, truth is in the minority. Congress just passed a bill where stating something as basic as the biblical teaching of who killed Jesus could land you in jail.
But make no mistake, before we even attempt to fix any of the issues plaguing society, we must first get our own house in order, and it starts with our leaders. The bishops and priests appointed by God as our spiritual fathers must be rightly ordered. There is not enough time today for me to list all the stories of priests and bishops misleading their flocks, but none of us can blame ignorance anymore and just blindly proclaim that “That's what Father said.” Because sadly, many priests we are looking to for leadership are the same ones who prioritize their hobbies or even photos with their dogs and matching outfits for the parish directory.
It's easy for us laymen and women to think that in order for us to be holy, that we must be active in our parish and try to fix it. Yes, we absolutely should be involved in supporting our parishes, but we cannot be the source for our parish priests to lean on to help with their problems. Just as we look at the relationship between a father and his son, so too should we look at the relationship between a priest and his people. It would not be appropriate for me to always be looking to my son for help when it is my job as his father to lead him.
St. Josemaría Escrivá states that priests are ordained to serve, and should not yield to temptation to imitate laypeople, but to be priests through and through. Tragically, so many priests revolve much of their happiness from the adulation they receive from their parishioners, and in searching for this, they let their guard down and become overly familiar. This undue familiarity will prove to be problematic every time, because as my teammate's girlfriend says, familiarity breeds contempt. [Laughter]
Saint Josemaría continues that some want to see the priest as just another man. That is not so. They want to find in the priest those virtues proper to every Christian, and indeed every honorable man: understanding, justice, a life of work — priestly work, in this instance — and good manners. It is not prudent as the laity for us to consume ourselves in becoming amateur theologians so that we can decipher this or that theological teaching — unless, of course, you are a theology major. We must be intentional with our focus on our state in life and our own vocation. And for most of us, that's as married men and women. Still, we have so many great resources at our fingertips that it doesn't take long to find traditional and timeless teachings that haven't been ambiguously reworded for our times. Plus, there are still many good and holy priests, and it's up to us to seek them out.
The chaos of the world is unfortunately reflected in the chaos in our parishes, and sadly, in our cathedrals too. As we saw during the pandemic, too many bishops were not leaders at all. They were motivated by fear, fear of being sued, fear of being removed, fear of being disliked. They showed by their actions, intentional or unintentional, that the sacraments don't actually matter. Because of this, countless people died alone, without access to the sacraments, and it's a tragedy we must never forget. As Catholics, we can look to so many examples of heroic shepherds who gave their lives for their people, and ultimately, the Church. We cannot buy into the lie that the things we experienced during COVID were appropriate. Over the centuries, there have been great wars, great famines, and yes, even great diseases, all that came with a level of lethality and danger. But in each of those examples, Church leaders leaned into their vocations and ensured that their people received the sacraments.
Great saints like St. Damien of Molokai, who knew the dangers of his ministry, stayed for 11 years as a spiritual leader to the leper colonies of Hawaii. His heroism is looked at today as something set apart and unique, when ideally it should not be unique at all. For as a father loves his child, so a shepherd should love his spiritual children, too.
That goes even more so for our bishops, these men who are present-day apostles. Our bishops once had adoring crowds of people kissing their rings and taking in their every word, but now relegate themselves to a position of inconsequential existence. Now, when a bishop of a diocese or the bishop's conference as a whole puts out an important document on this matter or that, nobody even takes a moment to read it, let alone follow it.
No. Today, our shepherds are far more concerned with keeping the doors open to the chancery than they are with saying the difficult stuff out loud. It seems that the only time you hear from your bishops is when it's time for the annual appeal, whereas we need our bishops to be vocal about the teachings of the Church, setting aside their own personal comfort and embracing their cross. Our bishops are not politicians but shepherds, so instead of fitting in the world by going along to get along, they too need to stay in their lane and lead.
I say all of this not from a place of anger, as we get the leaders we deserve. But this does make me reflect on staying in my lane and focusing on my own vocation and how I can be a better father and husband and live in the world but not be of it. Focusing on my vocation while praying and fasting for these men will do more for the Church than me complaining about her leaders.
Because there seems to be so much confusion coming from our leaders, there needs to be concrete examples for people to look to in places like Benedictine, a little Kansas college built high on a bluff above the Missouri River, are showing the world how an ordered, Christ-centered existence is the recipe for success. You need to look no further than the examples all around this campus, where over the past 20 years, enrollment has doubled, construction and revitalization are a constant part of life, and people, the students, the faculty and staff, are thriving. This didn't happen by chance. In a deliberate movement to embrace traditional Catholic values, Benedictine has gone from just another liberal arts school with nothing to set it apart to a thriving beacon of light and a reminder to us all that when you embrace tradition, success — worldly and spiritual — will follow.
I am certain the reporters at the AP could not have imagined that their attempt to rebuke and embarrass places and people like those here at Benedictine wouldn't be met with anger, but instead met with excitement and pride. Not the deadly sin sort of pride that has an entire month dedicated to it, but the true God-centered pride that is cooperating with the Holy Ghost to glorify him. Reading that article now shared all over the world, we see that in the complete surrender of self and a turning towards Christ, you will find happiness. Right here in a little town in Kansas, we find many inspiring laypeople using their talents.
President Minnis, Dr. [Andrew] Swafford, and Dr. [Jared] Zimmerer are a few great examples right here on this very campus that will keep the light of Christ burning bright for generations to come. Being locked in with your vocation and staying in your lane is going to be the surest way for you to find true happiness and peace in this life.
It is essential that we focus on our own state in life, whether that be as a layperson, a priest, or religious. Ladies and gentlemen of the class of 2024, you are sitting at the edge of the rest of your lives. Each of you has the potential to leave a legacy that transcends yourselves and this era of human existence. In the small ways, by living out your vocation, you will ensure that God's Church continues and the world is enlightened by your example.
For the ladies present today, congratulations on an amazing accomplishment. You should be proud of all that you have achieved to this point in your young lives. I want to speak directly to you briefly because I think it is you, the women, who have had the most diabolical lies told to you. How many of you are sitting here now about to cross this stage and are thinking about all the promotions and titles you are going to get in your career? Some of you may go on to lead successful careers in the world, but I would venture to guess that the majority of you are most excited about your marriage and the children you will bring into this world.
I can tell you that my beautiful wife, Isabelle, would be the first to say that her life truly started when she began living her vocation as a wife and as a mother. I'm on the stage today and able to be the man I am because I have a wife who leans into her vocation. I'm beyond blessed with the many talents God has given me, but it cannot be overstated that all of my success is made possible because a girl I met in band class back in middle school would convert to the faith, become my wife, and embrace one of the most important titles of all: homemaker.
[Applause lasting 18 seconds]
She is a primary educator to our children. She is the one who ensures I never let football or my business become a distraction from that of a husband and father. She is the person that knows me best at my core, and it is through our marriage that, Lord willing, we will both attain salvation.
I say all of this to you because I have seen it firsthand how much happier someone can be when they disregard the outside noise and move closer and closer to God's will in their life. Isabelle's dream of having a career might not have come true, but if you asked her today if she has any regrets on her decision, she would laugh out loud, without hesitation, and say, “Heck, No.”
As a man who gets a lot of praise and has been given a platform to speak to audiences like this one today, I pray that I always use my voice for God and not for myself. Everything I am saying to you is not from a place of wisdom, but rather a place of experience. I am hopeful that these words will be seen as those from a man, not much older than you, who feels it is imperative that this class, this generation, and this time in our society must stop pretending that the things we see around us are normal.
Heterodox ideas abound even within Catholic circles. But let's be honest, there is nothing good about playing God with having children — whether that be your ideal number or the perfect time to conceive. No matter how you spin it, there is nothing natural about Catholic birth control.
It is only in the past few years that I have grown encouraged to speak more boldly and directly because, as I mentioned earlier, I have leaned into my vocation as a husband and father, and as a man.
To the gentlemen here today: Part of what plagues our society is this lie that has been told to you that men are not necessary in the home or in our communities. As men, we set the tone of the culture, and when that is absent, disorder, dysfunction, and chaos set in. This absence of men in the home is what plays a large role in the violence we see all around the nation. Other countries do not have nearly the same absentee father rates as we find here in the U.S., and a correlation could be made in their drastically lower violence rates, as well.
Be unapologetic in your masculinity, fighting against the cultural emasculation of men. Do hard things. Never settle for what is easy. You might have a talent that you don't necessarily enjoy, but if it glorifies God, maybe you should lean into that over something that you might think suits you better. I speak from experience as an introvert who now finds myself as an amateur public speaker and an entrepreneur, something I never thought I'd be when I received my industrial engineering degree.
The road ahead is bright. Things are changing. Society is shifting. And people, young and old, are embracing tradition. Not only has it been my vocation that has helped me and those closest to me, but not surprising to many of you, should be my outspoken embrace of the traditional Latin Mass. I've been very vocal in my love and devotion to the TLM and its necessity for our lives. But what I think gets misunderstood is that people who attend the TLM do so out of pride or preference. I can speak to my own experience, but for most people I have come across within these communities this simply is not true. I do not attend the TLM because I think I am better than others, or for the smells and bells, or even for the love of Latin. I attend the TLM because I believe, just as the God of the Old Testament was pretty particular in how he wanted to be worshipped, the same holds true for us today. It is through the TLM that I encountered order, and began to pursue it in my own life. Aside from the TLM itself, too many of our sacred traditions have been relegated to things of the past, when in my parish, things such as ember days, days when we fast and pray for vocations and for our priests, are still adhered to. The TLM is so essential that I would challenge each of you to pick a place to move where it is readily available.
A lot of people have complaints about the parish or the community, but we should not sacrifice the Mass for community. I prioritize the TLM even if the parish isn't beautiful, the priest isn't great, or the community isn't amazing. I still go to the TLM because I believe the holy sacrifice of the Mass is more important than anything else. I say this knowing full well that when each of you rekindle your knowledge and adherence to many of the church's greatest traditions, you will see how much more colorful and alive your life can and should be.
As you move on from this place and enter into the world, know that you will face many challenges. Sadly, I'm sure many of you know of the countless stories of good and active members of this community who, after graduation and moving away from the Benedictine bubble, have ended up moving in with their boyfriend or girlfriend prior to marriage. Some even leave the Church and abandon God. It is always heartbreaking to hear these stories, and there is a desire to know what happened and what went wrong.
What you must remember is that life is about doing the small things well, setting yourself up for success, and surrounding yourself with people who continually push you to be the best version of you. I say this all the time, that iron sharpens iron. It's a great reminder that those closest to us should be making us better. If you are dating someone who doesn't even share your faith, how do you expect that person to help you become a saint? If your friend group is filled with people who only think about what you're doing next weekend and are not willing to have those difficult conversations, how can they help sharpen you?
As you prepare to enter into the workforce, it is extremely important that you actually think about the places you are moving to. Who is the bishop? What kind of parishes are there? Do they offer the TLM and have priests who embrace their priestly vocation? Cost of living must not be the only arbiter of your choices, for a life without God is not a life at all, and the cost of salvation is worth more than any career.
I'm excited for the future, and I pray that something I have said will resonate as you move on to the next chapter of your life.
Never be afraid to profess the one holy, Catholic, and apostolic Church, for this is the Church that Jesus Christ established, through which we receive sanctifying grace.
I know that my message today had a little less fluff than is expected for these speeches, but I believe that this audience and this venue is the best place to speak openly and honestly about who we are and where we all want to go, which is Heaven.
I thank God for Benedictine College and for the example it provides the world. I thank God for men like President Minnis, who are doing their part for the Kingdom. Come to find out you can have an authentically Catholic college and a thriving football program. [Laughter and applause]
Make no mistake: You are entering into mission territory in a post-God world, but you were made for this. And with God by your side and a constant striving for virtue within your vocation, you too can be a saint.
Christ is King.
To the Heights.

(This was originally posted in Wedding Shaming)
Strap in y’all, it’s a long one and it’s full of bad. Have some kitten videos ready for after!
So let me preface this by saying I am estranged from my mother and have been for most of my life. She is a paranoid narcissist, a racist, a homophobe, a xenophobe, and just all around terrible person. She abused me growing up so I cut loose in high school, got emancipated and got on with my life. For years I had a happy queer relationship with another woman and we had a son together (I carried with a sperm donor). When my kid was 5 his other mom died and I was alone for 5 years before I met someone. A year later, that someone and I got married. Previous to said wedding my husband’s parents felt it would be important to meet my parents. My father died when I was 19 so that left my mother and her husband. I struggled over the decision to try and reconnect with my mom, knowing how bad this can get for me in these situations (I suffer severe ptsd from the abuse trauma).. but it was a wedding and everyone kept telling me it “was important to have family together.” So fine, let’s do this.
The problems started fast and furious. My mom came to our coast (we live on opposite coasts) to meet my fiancé and my son. Right away she was pulling my husband to the corner to tell him all the “dirt” she could on me, or conversely, telling him he better get me nice cars and plastic surgery. Then she stated calling all of her friends and putting my fiancé on the phone to “prove to them that her daughter was marrying a doctor” (even if he is a goy (a Yiddish term for non-Jew. Has slightly derogatory tones).
Cut to lunch and my mother is asking how many tables she “gets” at the wedding. I ask “huh?” She explains she needs a least 5 tables at 10 per table for HER guests. I was really confused. I explained that our whole wedding venue seated 50 people total and those seats were spoken for. I had invited several people my mother asked me to have already. She went absolutely bananas demanding we change venue (we’re now 6 weeks from the wedding) to accommodate HER GUESTS. I painfully explained we can’t do that.. it’s not possible.. just no. She then switches gears like she always does and asks about our honeymoon. We were heading to Mexico for 2 weeks and my son would be staying with his donomyBFF. My mom screamed “what??? He needs to be with HIS FAMILY.” I reminded her that he was staying with family. She demanded time with my son so I half heartedly said she could have him half the time. (This will come back to haunt me later.)
Day of the wedding. Did I mention my mom is a low key alkie? So it’s about 2pm and she’s in the bridal suite in the bathroom. I’m in the dress and the photographer is waiting for my mother to come and use an antique button-holer to button up my gown. I’m nervous and excited and emotional because I’m in the dress and this is my day. This is one of the photos we had pre-planned to take. I asked my mother if she would do the honors. Instead, my mother is in the bathroom half dressed with her fireball and ice screaming into the phone at her husband “you are so stupid, how can you not find it!? I put it on the damn dresser! I can’t f**ing believe I married you…” you get the picture. It’s so loud the guests in the living room can hear it. I finally give up and have my son do the buttonholing for me (the pics were so special). Thank goodness it wasn’t video because you would have her my mother screaming “Can anyone get me another drink?? Does this room even have room service??”
Cut to walking down the aisle. We do the ceremony, it’s perfect, and my delightful friend and officiant announces “Introducing Mr. & Mrs Jon— when suddenly my mom stands up and screams “It’s DOCTOR not MISTER, get it right!”
Now I knew we had a problem on our hands ahead of the big day so I put in some contingency plans in place to buffer her. My wedding planner was under strict instructions to not allow my mother to make a speech (she loves to humiliate me by saying personal things about me to anyone who will listen and then she loves to announce what a terrible daughter I am and how much of a disappointment to her.) Second plan was my SIL faking a heart attack if she got her hands on the mic. About half thru dinner my delightful planner comes to me crying saying she’s so sorry but my mom is demanding to make a speech. That’s right, this tiny demon of a woman made my wedding planner CRY. Right then she stood up (have no idea how she got the mic) and said, “So my daughter didn’t want me to say anything. I guess she gets embarrassed, but I’m her MOTHER, and I get to say whatever I want. I’m here to say that I always knew she was going to marry a doctor, it didn’t surprise me at all. What did surprise me is when I gave birth to her and the nurses told me she was a girl, but I didn’t believe them so I had to take her diaper off and spread her legs and look at her vagina to make sure she was a girl.” She illustrated this by spreading her two fingers open. You could here jaws dropping around the room. She then went on to say “how disappointed she was in me that I don’t see her more often and that she hopes now that I have a doctor husband I’ll be able to see her more frequently”. Sadly my SIL was in the loo and plan 2 failed.
Cut to the dancing. I am dancing with my husband and my friends. We’re all having a good time when somebody comes up to me and taps me on the shoulder and says “hey, I don’t wanna cause a scene or anything but you might want to look at your mom”. I look over at my mother and she has taken off the jacket to her dress and now she’s peeling off the shoulder straps one by one and waving her head around to the music saying “oh my goodness it’s getting so hot in here!” This b*tch was trying to take her clothes off on the dance floor. Oh, I forgot to mention earlier that she had a three drink maximum, but she was getting around this by asking other people to get drinks for her.
The next morning I of course got to hear alllllll the embarrassing stories from the night before. She asked why my friend married “an Arab,” called another guest “not Jewish enough to attend the wedding” and complained to anyone who would listen that I didn’t even allow her 50 guests, and the party would have been so much more fun if she had done it.
And the pièce derésistance? Right as we were leaving for our honeymoon I got a call from her saying “I know you need ME to watch YOUR kid, but not unless you do something for me. You’ll need to call your brother and make nice with him again.” My brother and I are estranged for reasons I can’t get into now. I said no, he’ll go to his real family, the one that cares for him without strings attached.
There you have it! One cluster fluff of a mother story!
For anyone interested, we don’t talk anymore and I couldn’t be happier and I’m still happily married! Good riddance to bad rubbish!
Ok, just a few clarifications for people asking Q’s-
In answer to the question about my in laws- My in laws are the sweetest, kindest people ever. I honestly think they had no idea a human adult could behave like that. I wanted to please them and I didn’t say a whole lot about my mother. I didn’t want them to see her as a red flag for the marriage. They never mentioned her again 😂 which was their way of acknowledging she’s not worth talking about.
For those of you judging me for half heartedly agreeing to let my kid visit my mom-totally get your stress! Don’t worry, she never had contact with my kid alone. For clarity, he was going to spend four days with a safe family where my mother happened to be staying as well. By the end of the weekend it was clear that even that was too close.
For those of you wondering why I would even let her come to the wedding - Some people (like me) relent and reopen because our abusers did a very good job of breaking us and making us question everything we think and believe. So every time some well meaning idiot Said “Aw, you should take to your mom! She’s your mom!” We think “Omg, my mom is right. I’m the worst f**king daughter ever and I’ve been ignoring her all these years and there must be something so wrong with me that I did that.”
Now, after YEARS of therapy and support I know better. Back then I was still pretty deep in my trauma.

Chapter 1
“Ms. Burner am I boring you”. Lacy was awakened by her Teacher spouting off in her usual rant on how people never seem to pay attention in her class. “No Mrs. Hansen, I just dozed off.” Lacy hadn't remembered falling asleep. She tended to do that a lot. She would enter her mind and drift off into a space where she didn't have any thoughts, just an empty spot in her head. That was how she would fall asleep so easily. Her friends and family thought she was narcoleptic and that she needed medication, but Lacy knew that it was just something she had always been able to do. Time seemed to tick on and on in that soul sucking classroom as Mrs. Hansen droned on and on about some subject that Lacy would never need. She felt the sleep creeping in on her but fought it as another strike would end her up in the principal's office and another speech from her father on how she needed to focus in class if she ever wanted to make something of herself. Just as Lacy was about to fall asleep the bell rang making her jump. Lacy was the first to get up before she was stopped. “Lacy, can we talk for a second?” Lacy hated Mrs. Hanse's voice. It always sounded like she felt like she was more important than everyone else. “Lacy, I noticed that you haven't been completing the optional assignments I give yall, and the assignments you need to do you do the bare minimum. It's your senior year, you need to start taking your school work more seriously if you want to get into a good college.” Lacy had already heard this speech before and this probably wouldn't be the last time that she heard it. “I was just really tired today, Mrs. Hansen. I promise it won't happen again.” Lacy turned to walk away from her teacher. She used to get in trouble for doing that but lately it seems that her teachers have gotten used to it. Lacy hated interaction, if she could find a way to not talk to someone she would look for it. It wasn't hard for Lacy to be alone. It's not like she liked being alone, she just didn't mind it. Lacy left the classroom, the only thing on her mind was what she was gonna do this weekend. She usually just sits in her room and listens to music, but recently she started going to the park and would watch the ducks and people. She liked the park because it made her feel like things were going on outside of her life. “Hey Lace wait up” The voice was Collin, a guy who was very obviously interested in Lacy. He would call her Lace which annoyed her but she decided it was better to ignore him than start a conversation she didn't want to have. Lacy wasn't interested in Collin but she liked having someone around. “Do you wanna go to the overpass? Some other people are having a party there.” Lacy wouldn't usually go to things like this but this time she felt something pushing her to go to this party. “Sure, I just need to go home and change first”.
Chapter 2
Lacy walked through the front door of her house to a tv turned up too loud and her father passed out in front of it. From an outside view on Lacy you would look at her and assume that her family life was lacking, but Lacy’s father took care of her and loved her more than life itself. Lacy viewed her father as the best person on the face of the earth. After the loss of her mother, Lacy’s father took up a second job which caused him to sleep more. Lacy didn't mind, she just wanted her father happy. Lacy changed into a black dress and black leather boots and left to go to the underpass. While she was leaving her father awoke. “Lacy I didn't know that you were home.” Lacy's father was a burly man with a beard. The kind of person you want walking with you at night but in reality he was a gentle giant. He worked at a local hardware store and at night he would work as a gas station attendant. He was a hard working man that made Lacy feel as if she could be doing more. “Yeah dad I was just about to head to a party with some friends. I'll be back around nine.” Lacy wanted to stay in with her dad and watch movies but she knew that her father would have wanted her to socialize with other people her age. “You be careful, I can't lose you too.” The sentence came out of nowhere and Lacy didn't know how to respond before her father fell back to sleep. Lacy left the house questioning herself if she should stay or go. Lacy decided that her father would rather her go than stay and pity him. As Lacy was walking away from the porch she noticed a van parked across the street. She chose to ignore it and continue on to the overpass. Along the way she noticed that the van was following her. Lacy became worried and pulled out her phone to call her father. Suddenly Lacy was struck on the side of her head. “Grab her legs. The Shepard is gonna love this find. We gotta get this girl in the hole right away.”
Lacy drifted in and out of consciousness. The last thing she saw was a hole that had a dark aura around it.
Chapter 3
Lacy awoke to a dark hallway. She didn’t notice the building but could hear a crunching sound coming from an indescribable location. Lacy stood up and began walking forward not knowing where she was going. The Hallway felt like it had been going on forever. “Lacy” The voice sounded deep and demonic. Lacy thought that she was hearing things. “Lacy” footsteps echoed throughout the hallway, seeming to come closer and closer. “Lacy” A face peaked out of the hallway. Illuminated by the dimming lights of the hallway. The face was jagged, its eyes were sunken in and unnaturally open to the point where it looked like it was in pain. Its hair was tattered as if it had single strands poking out of its skin and its complexion was a ghoulish grey. The most notable feature was a smile that stretched its entire face. “Lacy” The creature looked at Lacy and stepped out of the shadows revealing a long lengthy body. Its arms were long and slender as if it had not eaten in a long time. Its legs were lengthy making it above seven feet tall. It had only a pair of underwear on and Lacy could see its ribs that looked as if they were trying to break out of its skin. The creature began running towards Lacy, smiling and eyes widening as if seeing Lacy was the best thing it had ever seen. Its teeth were normal except for the blood tint they had. Its neck looked crooked and longer than any human Lacy had ever seen. Without hesitation Lacy turned and ran down the hallway not looking back but could hear the creature getting closer and closer. She could almost feel its hands getting closer to her neck, fearing what the creature would do to her if it caught her. She noticed a door on her left which she could have sworn was not there before. She knew that if she tried to get to open the door now the creature would catch her. Lacy kept running counting the amount of lights she passes to make sure she remembers the location of the door. “Lacy” The creature kept saying her name as if it knew who she was. Lacy couldn't think about that now she had to focus on finding a way to lose the creature. Lacy was running out of energy and decided she had to make a desperate move. She dropped her body and turned around dodging under the beast's arms as it reached for her. The beast ended up having too much momentum causing it to stumble. Lacy took the opportunity to burst into a sprint counting the lights until she reached the door. The creature was still behind her but she had made some distance from making it stumble. She opened the door and closed it behind her. Disturbingly the creature tried to open the door as lacy locked it. It made no noise but continued calling her name. Lacy’s emotions caught up with her and she sat down and cried at her situation. Lacy allowed herself to feel hopeless for only a moment. She remembered her fathers words to her, “I can't lose you too”. Repeating these words in her head allowed Lacy to regain composure. She studied her surroundings realizing that she appeared to be in an apartment. The place was decrepit and looked as if it was abandoned. The furniture was ripped apart and spread among the apartment. It looked like someone had destroyed everything in a fit of passion. Lacy walked through a door which led to the main room. In the room was a tape recorder on a bed. Lacy picked it up and pressed play.
If you are hearing this then you have found yourself in a predicament that could not have been foreseen. I feel for you for I have found myself in the same situation. My name is Professor Crawford. I have yet to understand what this place is exactly all I know is that the being that chased me into this room is still out there. I can hear it against the door. It continues to say my name as if it is trying to coerce me out. I have never seen this being in my existence. It should have no recollection of who I am but yet it continues to say my name. This room has no other exits that I can find. I have no choice but to confront the being outside. May god have mercy on my soul.
Lacy looked around the apartment, checking every corner of the space not finding anything. She entered the kitchen and found a kitchen block that had a single kitchen knife in it. Lacy felt a force telling her to take the knife. She brushed it off and continued looking around. Abruptly the creature began beating on the door saying Lacy’s name. Just as the creature began banging on the door the tape recorder began playing again.
I do not know what this thing is. But it has one feature that can not be ignored. Thus I have dubbed this creature.
The Smiling Man
Chapter 4
Lacy ran for the knife that had tried to coerce her into grabbing it before. Just as the smiling man had broken down the door she grabbed the knife. The smiling man looked at lacy. Its head is covered in blood due to it slamming it into the door. “What are you? What do you want?” The man said nothing and continued walking towards Lacy. “LACY” As it was walking towards her Lacy held the knife in her hand. Determined to live she walked towards it holding the knife out towards the man hoping to scare it off. Suddenly the man burst towards her, its eyes widening and its mouth opening into a horrible smile. Lacy plunged the knife towards it, hitting it in the chest when it stuck its teeth into Lacy’s shoulder. Lacy’s adrenaline was too high to feel the pain so she pulled the knife out and pushed away from the man. She rushed out of the room hearing it running after her. She continued running hearing the creature say her name until she found a corner. Realizing what was happening she used the new found corridors to her advantage. The long hallway was turning into a maze of corridors. She managed to lose the creature but could still hear it saying her name. Mapping the maze out she maneuvered around the man. Sneaking up behind him she pulled the knife up and plunged it down into the man's shoulder. The man didn't make a noise instead peeling over in what seemed like pain. Lacy took the knife out and a sudden burst of rage stabbed the man again. Lacy continued stabbing the man over and over until it stopped moving. Lacy slumped against the wall, knife in hand, covered in blood and terrified of what she just did. She peered to her left and saw a hole. The hole was floating and had an aura around it. Lacy noticed the hole as the one the men put her into before she woke up in the hallway. Lacy contemplated if she should go into the hole. She had nowhere else to go so she stepped into the hole.

Continuing my series where I discuss one episode from each season.
Season #1: "Five Votes Down" Season #2: "Somebodys Going to Emergency Somebodys Going to Jail" Season #3: "Dead Irish Writers"
It is the weekend before the 1st Monday in October 2002 (we can date it because the episode culminates in the Red Mass) and both Josh (and Amy) are both worried that Senator Stackhouse will push POTUS too far to the left. Toby and C.J. are worried that Ritchie will "exceed expectations" and thus gain a political win from the upcoming debates. Charlie bonds with his "little brother" Anthony. Sam gets some news from California, Donna goes to a self-help guru, POTUS writes a speech, and Leo deals with a hostage crisis and wins an award.
Wow. Lotta stuff going on.

1. While the show is an ensemble and is multi-plotted, there is usually a "featured character" in each episode. I honestly, can't decide who has the "A" story here. I think it is probably Stackhouse. His speech at the end is great (the music in the background fits perfectly with it) and I love how it ties in with the story he told Josh.
   
2. I've been to a Red Mass and there is NO WAY a sitting President would be allowed to give a speech. In fact, the only time I have ever seen non-clergy give a speech in a Catholic church is at funerals (eulogies.)
   
3. I would be interested in hearing the speech though. The "80/20" rule, also called the "Pareto Principle," has always fascinated me. It essentially means 80% of the outcomes come from 20% of the consequences aka "the vital few." My father, who ran a small business, said that he followed the principle by trying to spend 80% of his time on (what he considered) his top 20% customers. When I was in the military, I was told that I would spend 80% of my time on what's nominally 20% of my job. Here is the Wikipedia article. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pareto_principle
   
4. In the beginning of the episode, Josh is temporarily distracted by the Mets blowing a game because their pitchers messed around and didn't "throw strikes." It isn't the same thing as the Mets, but I played in Little League games where we blew a lead because the pitcher tried to get fancy and didn't throw strikes.
   
5. Speaking of throwing strikes, I think that was the underlying theme of the episode. POTUS needs to stop being fancy and just throw it down the middle. He does this by putting it all on the line in one debate and taking questions on needle exchange.
   
6. It isn't explicit, but I think that part of "throwing strikes" would be to not make a big deal about Teddy Tomba. I honestly don't see how attacking someone like that would be good politics. As Donna says, Tomba is harmless and, since he doesn't appear to be political, attacking him would do more harm than good. I would imagine Democrats and independents like him and wouldn't appreciate being told they are stupid for liking him.
   
7. This is kind of the key episode for the season. Sam first hears about the election in Orange County, Leo gets an inkling that Qumar knows the U.S. was behind the assassination, POTUS implements his strategy to win the election, and Amy makes peace with Josh and POTUS (before later coming to work there.)
   
8. A few great quotes:
   

"I said I'd do it, Buckminster!"
Such a Wisconsin thing to say. My mother is from the Badger State and I can see her saying that.
"(Leo) is the most Jewish man any of us have ever met" "A thousand relatives in Scotland just rolled over in their graves."
Very charming back and forth.
"I'm not unsympathetic, but that is the problem right there. They're not his votes."
Dead-on Amy. That is why you're my West Wing crush. No politician is owed a single vote.
Thank you for taking the time to read my thoughts.
What did you think of "The Red Mass?"

My grandparents passed away recently. I followed the guidelines my grandma set up for her final event. Her Church, her burial plot, her casket and the same for my grandpa. I just didn't expect for it to be a joint funeral. I sent out the notifications to friends of theirs and family after the date was set in stone. Their friends all came, so did most of my grandma's church but no family showed up. I wasn't surprised, I hadn't seen most of them in about 4 years.
I had a great time with my grandparents friends and then I went back home and cried my heart out. I had been their sole caregiver and I didn't know what to do without them. I had taken care of them for 15 years. It started with little things like lifting heavy things and escalated to needing to change the bed twice a night sometimes. I was empty and started to scroll through my grandpa's facebook to see pictures he posted before his memory went..
I found a group, started about 3 years ago that was being flooded with activity. When I went poking around I found out it was my mother who was hosting a funeral at her church and was 'trying to get final expenses taken care of.' I was stunned. Here was the woman I hadn't spoken to since throwing her out of the house for stealing jewelry and upsetting grandma terribly by using her Alzheimer's against her. 'How could you forget my birthday! You promised to give me this!'
I went to the funeral my mother had planned and listened to the pastor and then my mother got up to talk. She told everyone how hard it was taking care of them and something inside me roared to life. I don't remember everything I said, but it did include that she didn't pay for anything for them, not their caskets, not their burial plots, not their cremation, nothing. I told everyone I put them to rest at the funeral grandma planned herself 4 days prior. I said she'd never paid for any of their care or even seen them for 4 years.
I was asked to leave and drove home. Later, a cousin asked me if what I said was true and when I said it was and I could provide proof, they explained my mother had been taking funds from the family for years to pay for their care at a facility because they had outlived their insurance policy. They also explained I got a lot of people in trouble because somewhere in the speech I shouted I had done it all alone for years without any help. A lot of family members used my grandparents as an excuse to get out of work and had invited their coworkers to the funeral. By hearing my outburst they were now in trouble for lying as for the reasons to leave work or miss days.
She then went on to ask me about the inheritance and when that would be passed out. I told her that if anyone had earned the inheritance it had already been taken care of. I thought I was in the right, but now I'm doubting myself after so many cousins and family members are calling to tell me I handled it really poorly.
AITA? Did I handle this badly? Everyone's telling me I did.

On today’s episode of Catholic Shenanigans I introduce you to Harrison Butkiss (whoops did I say that?) when he’s not slipping and falling on the football field he’s giving half ass commencement speeches at various colleges. His most recent one has resulted in a massive scandal. Before we delve into this sordid tale let me introduce you to some of his hobbies. Crushing his wife’s career and having children… Btw his wife is an extremely accomplished woman who holds a degree in computer science and Spanish.
Let’s go back to the speech in it he hits the trifecta of Catholic talking points, he manages to be anti LGBTQ, rail against IVF and tells women their lives don’t begin until they have babies. (Hold on I thought life began at conception…it’s not to late for an abortion for me!!)
The part that irritates me the most is when he says “embrace your roles as homemakers” directing this comment at women. It’s so inappropriate to say at a college graduation. What’s worse is his mother holds a masters degree and works in oncology at Emory University. He’s crapping on all accomplished women an boiling all of us down to our reproductive abilities and domestic use.
If we look at his instagram we can see he has virtually no pictures of his family or wife and the entire page is made up of pictures of him in carefully manicured suits with bible verses in the caption. Unlike most NFL stars who take time to appreciate their partners Butkiss does not even acknowledge the existence of Isabelle his most accomplished wife.
The only time he speaks about his wife is when he’s praising her for embracing her role as a baby machine and human laundry mat. In the next breath he attempts to be cleaver and works in a Taylor Swift quote while referring to yet another accomplished woman as “my teammates girlfriend” and smirks while doing it. Nothing illustrates the distain that he holds for women like this quote. Almost as if to say Taylor would be no one without Travis and she is defined by her relationship.
It’s good that this kind of rhetoric is making it to the mainstream. I want everyone to see what theses so called “traditional Catholics” are about..rewinding time to a day when women couldn’t buy houses, hold property or open a line of credit….

Hey y'all, I recently started 1Q84 as my 6th Murakami book and I'm loving it so far! Just finished chapter 9 (where the term 19Q4 is coined) so there's a whole lot left, but I recently read and loved Orwell's 1984 and couldn't help but notice the connections between the two books. Didn't see a lot of people talking about it so I figured it'd write down what I noticed here:

• Aomame noticing a shift in reality where everybody else knows about past events that, according to Aomame, never happened is practically the same as the whole concept of doublethink in 1984. In 1984 the Ministries constantly make up fake news articles which they present to be the truth, and all citizens are brainwashed enough to believe it. The comparison goes even further when you look at how O'Brien describes the concept of doublethink in the third part of the book, where he basically questions the concept of reality and how humans define something to be real. In his view, when something like a new fake historical event is made up it actually becomes the new reality. The concept of what's real and what's not becomes way more fluid. I feel like Aomame's supposed shift in realities is a nice conceptualization of this idea.
  
• Tengo is basically a parallel to Winston, the protagonist of 1984. Winston works for the Ministry of Truth to rewrite and falsify news items (or "create a new reality" if you look at my previous point). Tengo is also working on rewriting a book someone else wrote, falsifying it. Furthermore, I noticed that both Winston and Tengo have a traumatic memory relating to their mother which still influences them to some degree. I also think it's funny that Tengo is a math teacher and "2 + 2 = 5" is famous quote from 1984 regarding doublethink, something Winston actually believes to be true in the end.
  
• Fukaeri's limited speech could be related to Newspeak which is very limited compared to English. In 1984 it is the new language the Ministries are developing where all 'unnecessary' words are removed, heavily impacting freedom of speech and, as a result, freedom of thought. This further strengthens the similarities between Tengo and Winston, as Tengo is rewriting the book from 'Newspeak' to 'English' and is, by doing so, going against the ideology of the Party, just like how Winston is rebelling against the Party.
  
• There are other small lines referencing doublethink. Aomame's taxi driver explicitly says that she shouldn't be fooled and that there is only one reality. This also goes against the ideology of doublethink so you could relate the taxi driver to Goldstein, the rival of Big Brother. Also, when Tengo describes the memory of his mother at the start of chapter 2, he explicitly questions whether his memory of it is fabricated or not.
  

So for me it's clear that Murakami did his research when writing this book! Really curious to see where it goes next, I already saw the name Big Brother mentioned in the list of chapters so I can't wait to see what Murakami has in store for me, no spoilers please! (I'm reading it in Dutch btw, any fellow Dutch fans here?)

I’m not a stranger to the single player campaigns in Real-Time Strategy (RTS) games, even when it’s a genre I’m not really any good at. In the early 2000s, I’ve played all the Age of Empires games, Age of Mythology, Rise of Nations, Stronghold 1 and, more relevant to this review, Warcraft 3 and its expansion. A decade later and inspired by the announcements of the, then upcoming, Warcraft Movie, I played the campaigns of Warcraft 1 & 2 and, right after, the original Starcraft (SC1) and Brood War. This was at some point in 2014. Of these older Blizzard games, I liked SC1 the most, even when I only remember some simple things from it: the zerg were my favorite species to play with, Sarah Kerrigan (the Queen of Blades) was a good tragic character, Zeratul was a cool name and Arcturus Mengsk was a bastard that didn’t have his comeuppance in neither the base game or Brood War.
And here we are, in 2024, and I’m finally playing the complete Starcraft 2 (SC2) trilogy. For the first-timers, SC2 is a space-opera RTS with 3 big species colliding in conflict: the Terrans (space humans), the Zerg (the bad aliens, dominated by an “overmind” telepathically, with this leader being, due to the events of SC1, Sarah Kerrigan) and the Protoss (the honorable good aliens, that are also connected to each other with their minds, but nobody dominates anyone in particular). What better way to begin our journey than to spread our…

Wings of Liberty (WoL) - 2010 -

The starting campaign is all about the Terrans (humans), putting you in the role of Jim Raynor, a survivor from the first game. First thing I noticed was that the graphics showed their age a little bit, with the worst part being the heavily-compressed CGI cutscenes. Over the years, I’ve seen other people play this game and it always looked incredible, even as late as in 2018. Well, it didn’t look incredible anymore but the graphics were just fine. The good thing is that the art style was strong enough to make the less-than-ideal textures and animations still shine. Also, the production values were excellent all around.
Anyway, as soon as I got used to the graphics, I discovered a big positive aspect of SC2. I quickly fell in love with the new ship hub between missions. Instead of a decorated simple menu (like Age of Empires or Stronghold), you were presented with different rooms inside a spaceship, and you could talk to characters, spend money to upgrade your army and see a small in-engine cutscene or two before the next objective. This hub is where the majority of the storytelling happened and I’d love to see more RTS do something like this.
The campaign was an excellent tutorial for newbies (like me!), as every mission was focused on a single new playable unit at a time, and they kept adding more and more of these units in future missions, until you were using most of them seamlessly by the endgame.
I started playing with the “Normal” difficulty but soon settled with “Casual” because the game wouldn’t…

Stop rushing me

I found out that what seemed like a substantial portion of the missions put you on a timer, one way or another. Either you had something that was going to explode or the enemy’s faction was destroying an important installation or you had to hold on until reinforcements arrived. More often than not, the game would pressure you to finish the mission as soon as possible and I didn’t like that. My favorite missions in RTS are always the ones without a time limit, where maybe there are never-ending hordes of enemies coming at you at regular intervals but if you survive, you can get stronger for as long as you want and you are the one to decide when it’s time to attack a particular fortress and move on. Well, in all fairness, SC2 had some missions like that but it usually defaulted to rushing you. And I like to play at a relaxed pace and the great thing here, for a noob like me, is that I was able to complete the totality of SC2 without cheats because the “Casual” difficulty allowed me to win every level with ease, even with the aforementioned time limit.
Most missions usually were just about 20 to 30 minutes long, so moving through the campaign was a very breezy affair once you’ve adjusted the difficulty to your liking.
What about the story in WoL? Well, first, I had to open up wikis every time a character other than Mengks, Kerrigan, Raynor or Zeratul came to the screen because I couldn’t remember any of them from SC1, let alone all the particular factions besides the big species. Second, the overall plot was a touch weird: the story started with Raynor plotting his revenge against Emperor Mengsk, the big bad from SC1, and somewhere towards the middle, the story turned into a quest to de-zerg our favorite Queen of Blades. By the end of this game, Raynor felt no closer to beat Mengsk but now his human-again “darling” Sarah Kerrigan was back. I don’t know about you guys, but the whole story was a bit meandering, with many supporting characters that didn’t amount to much in the long run. It all started as a human campaign against the evil emperor and it soon turned into a Zerg matter, which all lead us to the real…

Heart of the Swarm (HotS) - 2013 -

The Queen of Blades doesn’t spend too much time being human before she returns to her usual Zerg form again. Now, that’s a very flexible body that can withstand anything.
This time around, we controlled the Zerg, from the point of view of Sarah Kerrigan. This campaign was, just like in SC1, my favorite in terms of gameplay. There’s something about the Zerg that appeals to my lame RTS skills. The strategy of overwhelming the enemy with way more units that they can handle always works best with the Zerg, the species you can count on to throw a gazillion disposable minions at your enemies.
Also, Blizzard decided to improve the way you unlock upgrades to your armies. Now you can choose perks or special units and change them anytime you are in your returning hub area, instead of spending limited money that you’d never get back, like in WoL. I found myself experimenting a lot more with the multiple units and trying most options thanks to the new easier way to upgrade. And I thought the graphics improved a little bit, which was something nice to see.
This campaign had more solo missions, when you were just controlling Kerrigan or a bunch of hero units, without any base building. These were always fun to do and you could relax and focus on the voices and grand speeches.
And speaking of voices, starting with this campaign we got a lot more of what I wanted to see from day one with SC2: characters with excellent post-processed voices with cool one-liners and badass postures. Everyone had an interesting sound here, from Abathur, moving through the Queen of Blade’s assistant Izsha with her bedroom eyes and other allies like Zagarah, the reluctant brood mother, or some surprising returning characters from SC1. The terrans in WoL were too human, too “normal”, even when some of them had cool voices. I wanted to hear unrealistic deep and alien sounds, instead, and HotS delivered that in spades. For other examples of games with voice acting like this, I always think about the Darksiders series and this particular trailer for World of Warcraft.
I wouldn’t say HotS was a better story than WoL but it was certainly more entertaining to me. There was a good amount of dubious stuff that you had to ignore to keep enjoying the premise, like when they found the original “primal” Zerg, and these beings called themselves “primal Zerg”. This is like the Aztecs and Mayas calling themselves “indians” or “native americans”. It doesn’t work like that. And something else that doesn’t quite work that I realized while reading wikis… wasn’t Sarah Kerrigan sort of a bad guy at the end of SC1? I think that these new games rewrote the way the protagonists see her and she’s very easily redeemed in the eyes of Jim Raynor and the rest. Hell, Raynor ended SC1 saying he’d be the one to kill her and now she was his “darling” again? And to keep up with this redemption arc, the Queen of Blades is the one to finally put an end to Mengsk’s life, in a bit of poetic justice.
And of course, there was a new big bad called Amon, that is barely present here, but hey, it’s a good excuse to make Kerrigan not only a full Zerg again, but also evolve with the powers of the Primal Zerg. She had to be ready for whatever was going to happen in…

Legacy of the Void (LotV) - 2015 -

Probably the best campaign, even when playing as Protross wasn’t as exciting for me as playing with Zergs (poor terrans were always a distant third). Blizzard kept all the improvements of HotS in terms of visual and gameplay upgrades and we still had these excellent ship hubs to talk to everyone relevant to the campaign. And the voices here were top-notch! There were lots and lots of fantastic post-processed voice acting, including a character voiced by no other than John de Lancie of Q’s fame (Star Trek: The Next Generation).
I think they reached the best balance between missions where you played with heroes, missions that rushed you and missions that allowed you to play for as long as you want. Also, you’d get to play as Terrans and Zergs in the finale, too! A terrific way to close this trilogy and the franchise, as a whole.
Now, the story itself veered too much into the fantasy realm, particularly by the final levels. Suddenly, this Amon being was an unstoppable force of nature by itself, so you didn’t need political intrigue anymore. Every faction had to unite against him or die and then, the only way to really defeat Amon was for Sarah Kerrigan to evolve once more (this time into a Xel’Naga) and fight against him.
I enjoyed the whole journey, but the Queen of Blades turning super Saiyan/a golden angel to save the day felt a lot more like something that’d happen in Warcraft than this particular sci-fi universe. Knowing the full story now, I’d say (from what I remember) SC1 and Brood War were more about politics and the big picture and more sci-fi in detriment of the characters and SC2 was much more character-driven and with a story that leaves its own genre behind, by the end (prophecies, eldritch beings that defied the whole galaxy, Sarah Kerrigan becoming a sort of goddess). I’d say SC1 was more serious and believable but it left me feeling a bit cold, a decade ago, and this game, on one hand, was much sillier and with a heavy dose of fantasy in the depiction of the main events but, on the other hand, it felt more personal and warmer. I see myself replaying SC2 in a few years from now, just for the crazy adventure.
TL;DR: All in all, the SC2 trilogy was very entertaining and if you never played it before don’t hesitate to give it a try. It’s very welcoming for newcomers of the RTS genre, the story is bananas but it’s never boring, the production values are really strong, even when 14, 11 and 8 years had passed since the release date of each episode. I’m really glad I could finally complete this part of gaming history. And now, it’s your turn.

I’ve been struggling for a long time with my mother-in-law’s social media. She often uses it as a way to attack anyone who thinks/feels differently than her. She calls people libtards, praises the idea that women should just be moms, says racists things, and hateful speech towards LGBTIQA+. Is very ugly towards progressive Christianity- saying you’re loving people to hell. It makes me so mad but I feel I can’t play victim card because I keep looking at her stuff instead of just ignoring it. When I was in my 20s I once got into an argument trying to stand up for others and she said I was loving people to hell. She also started reposting the verse Matthew 18:6 “if anyone one causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea” When we were supportive of her daughter coming out.
I have two kids now- age 4 and 5. I worry about them forming a close relationship and then feeling all this shame from her if they don’t turn out how “she wants them to.” My husband enjoys being around them because they are very kind in person. He also works for them and they’ve provided the family with a lot of money and it feels like a power dynamic is happening. Anywho; I always feel torn. I want to love them and have peace in the family, but I get so scared for my kids and don’t want them affected by this stuff when they get older. I also don’t think it’s fair that I go looking at this stuff either- if I wasn’t looking at her profile- I wouldn’t know. I guess I’m wondering what would you do? Should I got to therapy? I went for two years and had made progress but I don’t know how much I can do without my husband also being on board with how to handle our kids and how much they see them. I sometimes want to not go on trips but then I worry about not being there to protect my kids. I want to be a loving mom and make sure they don’t feel shame from their grandmother. I also want to support my husband in his relationship with his parents. But I also feel incredibly angry and upset by all the hate speech.

So long story short my mom is alienated from her work and it is affecting her mental health severely.
I won't be biased simply because she is my mother, but she does her work better than everyone else I'd say (perhaps because she doesn't have anything outside her job).... She loves her children, they love her, yet she isn't granted the title of being a lead teacher, and the director totally hates her and we don't know why...
She is picked on, never has any rights unlike everyone else, and yesterday the director even took her time to head to the center to have a "discussion" w her, w a clear intent to get her to quit, bcz the director is protecting a coworker (we have no idea why either), bcz my mom along w everyone else was complaining abt her, but for very justifiable reasons.....
I am friendly to that teacher but she is lazy, does her job bad, it affects everyone, and it is something we have all seen complained about, yet she is protected and agn we don't know why... She's had 4 years of experience too so she should know better.... it's so bad to the point that the little babies would poop themselves close to nap time, and she would have them sleep that way so a teacher can come in to do her job while she is at break (which luckily the co director had noticed telling her to immediately change them bcz it's wrong)...
Oh yeah she also never wears her uniform pants, meanwhile my mom was checked head to toe and would be nit-picked by any small flaw on her.... No one can have water bottles too, except her, as they r everywhere bcz she forgets to take them home, but we can't complain.
Anyways besides the favoritism, my mom never gets any privileges, never got a schedule change for years, was punished once by getting a 10-2 shedule when requesting to leave at 2pm for a week instead of her usual 6pm, is spoken to in Spanish (despite being able to speak and understand English well as she has an accent), and is always brought up how she got this holy priviledge to leave earlier bcz of the directors sister which is just mean......
She is 44 years of age, the oldest teacher there (besides the cook who is older, which is the conflicting part to me), has a different speech due to her accent, and is being pushed to suicide basically since she already had depression which has worsened bcz of this director.... Should we sue her?.... This isn't fair, it's damaging my mom and the director has been sued before for discrimination so.....