I slept fine, I didn’t fall asleep so nicely. I don’t know why, I felt perfectly adequate all evening and then bam I cry myself to sleep. I don’t know how or why, and I didn’t even cry over anything in particular it was just any and everything. And I just kept crying and crying, like a baby. I had to switch pillows twice because I drenched it, but I got to sleep on my favourite pillow by the time I was almost asleep thankfully. I can be so picky with pillows, another thing mum tends to call me, even to this day - the princess and the pea. Or rather she likens me to her… I can’t entirely say I disagree tbh. I just like things a particular way, not all things, I can be relaxed about plenty, but there are some things I just to be just so. My pillows when I sleep for example, how the dishwasher top rack is stacked etc. Entirely inconsequential things really. But anyway. I didn’t fall asleep so nicely. I woke up feeling better, still a bit sad but nothing I couldn’t ignore.
It’s now 12:58pm and I’ve done next to nothing. I’ve been watching BT, I’m not writing the name of the show because I feel like that might be search heavy at the moment? So I’ve been watching that, I’m midway through the third episode now and there are four out so far. I’ve also painted some of my lil clay things with primer. And that’s about it. I really need to clean and tidy my room but the idea of it… ugh. I don’t want to :(
I’m loving BT so much. I like the stories and characters and stuff, but I mostly love the sets and costumes. They’re just so luxuriously opulent and uggghhhhhhh I want to just stare it all. Sometimes I wish they would clear out the cast and just give us a tour of the rooms and show all the details of the gowns. But like I learned in therapy, beauty is something I value highly, not in a vain way but in the way I utterly adore beautiful things whether it be a stunningly ornate wallpaper, a sparkly bead encrusted gown or even a leaf that is the perfect shade of green. I just love it all and it brings me so much joy, more than I realised now that I’m conscious of this value of mine. But the BT house itself, particularly the drawing room ommmmgggg. The blue? I think it’s called wedgewood blue from memory, with the creamy/white detailing. And all the light streaming through. It’s so dreamy. And it makes me love my blue and white bedroom more. And the gowns!!!!!!! I wish I could roll around in them, they’re so sparkly and detailed and beyond beautiful. Particularly the ones crusted in beading and with the luxurious silks and satins and velvets and taffetas and organza and all of it. And the colours! It’s all so dreamy. I don’t overly love the style of a lot of the gowns, that sort of empire line, mainly because it only looks good on women with fewer curves and a flatter chest, they can look gorrrrrrrgeous in them. But otherwise if you have any kind of cleavage it looks so weird and bleh. I love Penelope so much, she’s always been a favourite character and she honestly deserves the very best. And Colin definitely got a glow up prior to this season. His brown coat is so delicious. I’m beginning to wonder if I should read the series…? I do love a lil historical romance. Anyway I don’t even Penelope and Colin to end up together, I mean Lord Debling is so lovely and Colin is off sleeping with hookers… like? Then again I know I am wrong in how I think and feel about all of this. I know I have expectations ghat are unfair, I mean maybe not for everyone but if I’m nothing special and therefore not enough then can I criticise. This doesn’t make sense. Anyway. Actually nevermind I just watched the fourth episode and I am very much Team Colin. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEH!!!!!!!! But now I have to wait for part two in mid June :(
I’m going to the office tomorrow. I don’t want to. But oh well. I’m going to make a concerted effort to get back in twice a week - I’ve been slack with it and it doesn’t help me become better. Leaving the house more is important, so this shall be one of the ways. I’m also going to get some new sneakers and a walking jacket so I can go for walks more regularly. I’d like to go several times a week, but I’ll work up to that. I love my walks, I love them a lot but I just get filled with every negative emotion when I go for them around my house, to the point I’ll start having tears running down my cheeks or shaky trembly hands - it’s pathetic. I think environment is everything, and purpose. When I walk pups at my parents I don’t feel these things, I’ll be a little anxy but nothing I can’t manage. But here? It’s so hard. It’s so stupid I know. But I love walking, I feel better when I do it regularly, so I shall keep forcing myself to do it until I feel okay about it. I know this is what I have to do, but the way it makes me feel inside… it never feels worth it. To be 20 minutes walk from home and feel on the verge of a panic attack is NOT a good feeling and it only makes my panic worsen. So baby steps. I’ve been considering on and off moving to a different area, I think I would feel more comfortable in other areas, I don’t know why I don’t here but I don’t. But moving elsewhere is no different to running from problems so I will sort it out here.
I broke his little bowl. I didn’t mean to :( I feel kind of upset about it, it’s been two weeks in the making with time to shape, dry, prime and I was doing a final layer of primer pre paint and my stupid finger went through the base. So I guess it would never have been a good present anyway because it broke so easily. But I bought a really pretty coloured paint because I thought he might like it and I just feel upset. I showed him it, idk why, I just messaged him a picture of it now and I already wish I hadn’t. I shouldn’t have even made anything for him in the first place, he’s made it abundantly clear he doesn’t care for homemade things - cards, presents, whatever. If he did like them he would comment on them, and he never does, so maybe it’s a good thing this broke. I just like sharing things with him, like when I draw and I like a tree I’ve drawn I want to show him, except I don’t because I’m utterly rubbish at drawing and it makes me look like a five year old. I at least appreciate his honesty, or transparency rather. It means I can understand what he does and doesn’t like. I just think his likes don’t mesh with my like of making homemade cards and presents. It’s not like I only give him that though. Anyway it doesn’t matter, plus it’s probably better for me to not share things like this given I don’t have any skill or natural talent with it. Just because you enjoy something doesn’t make you good at it.
I don’t feel so great this afternoon, mood wise.
I’ve done the absolute bare minimum with my room, and the bar was set very, very low today. I tidied the floor up a bit, I made my bed, did a lazy tidy of my vanity desk thing.. that’s about it. I’ll do more across the week.
I feel.. detached today. This afternoon, rather. I know I love my family, Andy, puppy… etc. I just can’t feel it. I know it’s all in there, but I feel detached and I can’t reach it. This isn’t unusual, I just always try to describe the feeling and always fail. I think knowing I care but not being able to feel myself care sums it up as well as I’ll ever be able to.
I found a little notebook of my early days of therapy, well with this current one, maybe not that early actually but idk. It was just me writing down who I am. The first is “I am a human” because I had to start with the basics. The last line is “I try my best to be friendly” - I think I will continue with this. No one really comments much on me so I will just write it as things feel write. From memory it was also a way to force myself to speak more kindly to myself, ie I am a woman vs I am a monster. And things like I’m generous, I love animals, I am quiet, I try to be patient, I love romance, I appreciate attention to detail, I like to care for others, I am a homebody, I love reading etc. And then scattered amongst it was some honesty, like I can be a control freak, I am quite particular about some things, I am indecisive, I am sensitive etc. And then next to I am a friend I have a question mark. But I want to continue writing these things, I think it’s helpful when I feel lost in myself to be able to read through a list of things I’ve written and be reminded. That sounds so silly to not know who you are sometimes, but sometimes I just feel so unbelievably lost and unmoored from everything, even myself. So I’ll write all the good things, and the bad. I’ll write things that I like, things that I don’t. I’ll write things I want in my life, things I feel like I should want but don’t, things I shouldn’t want but do etc etc etc. It’ll be a little tiny notebook of everything me. I wonder if sometimes it’s possible for me to get any lamer? Unlikely.
I’ve been thinking about stopping journaling here more and more. I get more out of posting it here, it feels like a release, like I’m letting all the thoughts go which is especially helpful with my negative ones, I don’t know.
It’s 5:23pm. I need to wash and blowdry my hair, as it’s still damp in the morning lately. I need to have something for dinner, I guess. I’ve been struggling with eating lately, I feel so ugly and it makes me not want to eat and then that sets off a bad string of things. I’ll have something little, vegemite toast maybe. I need to pack my bag for tomorrow. And that’s it.
I feel better after a shower and chat with Andy, I still feel not good but he perked me up on the outside. He makes me laugh so much :) It’s kind of weird to think I’ll be living long term in Australia, like I’ve always intended on living there - until my mental health and covid messed things up a little for me timeline wise. But to think I’ll maybe say Australian things…? That I’ll say thongs? And I definitely will because I cave quickly, like I was only in the UK two years and I said crisps and trainers and I still do to this day, which I’m actively trying to stop. I wonder what my accent would sound like after like ten years… I really doubt I’d ever lose my accent. It’s funny how I do probably sound a bit different when talking to him versus my mum. I just talk more softly with him, I naturally do anyway to the point I have people comment semi regularly on how soft spoken I am, but idk, I don’t even mean to speak to him a certain way, I just do? And then he hears me talking to mum and I probably sound like I’m wearing Jandals and stubbies while loading up the ute as I prepare for a tramp in the bush. Christ. I do love being from here though, in theory I would rather we live here than Australia, and never say never… but it makes more sense to be there. I don’t really have anyone here other than my parents whereas he has family and friends and his payments and all of it. I don’t really have any ties here. Anyway.
I get to spend time with him tonight :) Night night

Okay backstory, so my bf(22m) and I (19f) used to do coke together at the beginning of our relationship, not everyday but weekends and occasions. He however would always do a lot more than me, and a lot more often, which wasn’t a problem for a while until I started wanting to cut down. We had a really big fight one night, basically I had said that I’d attend this event with his friends only if they weren’t doing coke, and that if that was the plan it wasn’t a big deal I just wouldn’t be there. He made a huge deal about asking all of his friends about giving it up for the night, telling me it was fine and I wasn’t intruding and told me 100% that no one we were with would be doing coke. Long story short, him and all of his friends were doing it and hiding it, and he didn’t tell me until I figured it out. We fought mostly because of the fact that he lied to me after making such a show about making me comfortable, but also because,,, why couldn’t he give it up for one night? When I specifically asked him? I considered breaking up with him, but left it at “if you lie to me again we’re done”. After that he told me he didn’t want to do it anymore and he never meant to hurt me, that he loved me too much for it to cause problems between us and would never lie to me again. That it scared him how badly he felt like he needed to do it, that he didn’t wanna be doing it forever, etc etc. It’s been about 5 months since then and he hasn’t done any.
Now here for the current issue: I thought we were on the same page about being done with it for good, I gave it up after that too, still have some but haven’t touched it since and the growing healing part of me doesn’t want to. Me and my friend were planning on going to a music festival and I invited him, told him we’d only be drinking and smoking. He essentially said that if he couldn’t do coke there he probably wouldn’t go. I pressed him about it, asked him why he wanted to so bad and if he really thought it wouldn’t be worth it without coke. His reasoning was “because I miss it and it’s fun” “I’m not gonna spend hundreds of dollars just to drink and smoke”. I understand substance issues and I have some of my own, but I’ve been in a relationship before where the substance issues bounce off the other person (terrible experience) and I truly can’t take that step back now that I’ve stopped, as much as I may want to sometimes. I tried to consider being okay with it, asked him thoroughly whether he’d keep using it after the festival or would be able to regulate, or maybe letting him compromise or something. The more I think about it though, I don’t know if i could handle the “fomo” I’d have if he was doing it and I wasn’t, in a bad way. I don’t think I could be okay with him doing it in any capacity. I don’t really see the point in starting again after you’ve already gone so long without. Obviously you want to, it’s addictive, but that’s something you have to work against, and actively steer yourself away from. I don’t know if he’s ready to do that.
I worry especially since he says he misses it that even if he’s fine with not going to the festival at all, he’ll just find another place or event to do it at. I know it may be hypocritical considering we used to do it together, but I don’t think I can be with him unless he’s fully commited to not doing it again. I feel like we’ve been together long enough to grow as people in that time, and I don’t want to do hard drugs anymore (only sometimes). I know part of all his reassurance on not doing it again was probably because he was scared of me breaking up with him, but I thought at least most of it was true. Am I wrong for thinking we were on the same page? I don’t know how to go about this and I don’t want us to break up, but I don’t want to ignore my feelings either.
note: I love my boyfriend so much, we have such a good relationship other than times like these he treats me well and we communicate well and I’ve never felt more loved by anyone, it would kill me for this to be the end of it, it’s not what I want at all. I just worry even if he accepts it, that he’ll just lie to me about it because he knows I’ll break up with him. Best case scenario, he accepts my boundary no matter how begrudgingly and won’t do it again. I’m looking for realism here though and I’m not great at that. I know I can’t magically make him not want to do coke ever again, but how do I go about this in a way that’s not attacking him? I hate to give ultimatums but it kind of is. Maybe it’ll be a simple thing maybe it won’t, I really don’t know. I’m just scared of losing him over this, even if that sounds dramatic.
tl:dr I’m worried my bf’s attitude towards coke is going to either cause problems or ruin our relationship.

Have you ever heard of a magnetic screen door? If not, you're in for a treat!
We will explore what a magnetic screen door is and how it works. We will also discuss the numerous benefits of using one, such as easy entry and exit, keeping bugs out, and saving energy.
We will delve into the different types of magnetic screen doors, how to install them, tips for maintenance, common issues to watch out for, and more.
So, sit back, relax, and let's dive into the world of magnetic screen doors!

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Key Takeaways:

• Easy to install and use, magnetic screen doors provide a convenient solution for keeping bugs out and allowing for natural ventilation.
• With various types available, including retractable, hanging, and sliding, there is a magnetic screen door for every doorway.
• Regular cleaning and proper maintenance can help prevent common issues with magnetic screen doors, such as weakening magnet strength or wear and tear.

What Is a Magnetic Screen Door?

A magnetic screen door is a convenient and versatile solution for keeping insects out while allowing a refreshing breeze to flow through your living space. Typically made of PVC coated polyester mesh, these doors feature velcro strips and magnets for easy installation and use.
These screen doors are designed to fit most standard door sizes, and some models are customizable, allowing you to choose the perfect fit for your specific doorway.
The variety of colors available ensures that you can find a magnetic screen door that complements the aesthetics of your home.
Privacy screens are an essential feature of many magnetic screen doors, providing not only protection from insects but also a shield from prying eyes in busy outdoor settings.

How Does a Magnetic Screen Door Work?

A magnetic screen door operates through the use of strategically placed magnets along the edges that ensure a secure closure after entry or exit. This mechanism effectively prevents bugs and insects from entering the living space while allowing a continuous flow of fresh air through the PVC mesh material.
These magnets act as a powerful force, promptly pulling the screen closed behind anyone passing through. The PVC mesh screen acts as a dual-action feature, filtering out dust and providing excellent ventilation without compromising on security. This combination ensures that homes remain pest-free, while still enjoying the benefits of a constant breeze flowing through the room. The seamless blend of magnetic closures and durable mesh makes these screen doors an innovative solution to keep indoor spaces bug-free and airy.

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What Are the Benefits of Using a Magnetic Screen Door?

Utilizing a magnetic screen door offers numerous advantages, including easy access for entry and exit, protection against bugs and insects, natural ventilation that brings in a refreshing breeze, and energy efficiency by reducing the need for artificial cooling systems.
These doors play a crucial role in enhancing the connection between indoor and outdoor spaces. They create a seamless transition, making it easier to move between the two areas without any barriers. This not only promotes a sense of openness but also allows for better air circulation, improving the overall air quality within the living space.
With the installation of magnetic screen doors, you can enjoy the beauty of the outdoors while maintaining a level of privacy, especially when compared to traditional outdoor curtains. These doors contribute to energy savings by allowing natural light to enter the home, reducing the reliance on artificial lighting during the day.

Allows for Easy Entry and Exit

One of the primary benefits of a magnetic screen door is its seamless installation process that enables convenient entry and exit from your living space without the need for complex mechanisms or tools.
These innovative screen doors only require basic household tools to set up, making it a hassle-free addition to your home. By following the straightforward instructions provided, you can easily attach the magnetic strips to your door frame in a matter of minutes.
Once installed, the magnetic screen door effortlessly opens and closes, allowing for a smooth transition between your indoor and outdoor spaces. Its user-friendly design is ideal for those who value simplicity and functionality in their home improvement projects.

Keeps Bugs and Insects Out

The PVC mesh material of a magnetic screen door acts as a barrier against insects and bugs, ensuring a pest-free environment within your living space. Regular cleaning with appropriate agents helps maintain its effectiveness.
By incorporating PVC mesh in the construction of the screen door, homeowners create a strong line of defense against unwanted critters while still allowing fresh air to circulate. The mesh structure effectively blocks out mosquitoes, flies, and other pests without obstructing the view or airflow.
To ensure continued protection, it is crucial to conduct routine cleanings using gentle agents that preserve the integrity of the material. This not only helps in removing any trapped debris or dust but also safeguards the door's durability against wear and tear due to dirt accumulation.

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Provides Natural Ventilation

By allowing a refreshing breeze to pass through, a magnetic screen door provides natural ventilation that enhances indoor air quality and creates a comfortable environment. Privacy screens can be integrated for added security.
One of the key advantages of incorporating magnetic screen doors is their ability to facilitate the circulation of fresh air throughout your living space. This not only helps in reducing stuffiness but also contributes to maintaining a healthier indoor atmosphere by minimizing the build-up of pollutants and odors.
The option to include privacy screens further enhances the functionality of these doors. The privacy screens provide an additional layer of security, preventing unwanted intrusions while still allowing airflow to pass through effortlessly.

Saves Energy

The use of a magnetic screen door promotes energy efficiency by reducing the reliance on artificial cooling systems, leading to potential cost savings. Combining it with outdoor curtains can further enhance insulation.
When these two elements are paired together, the magnetic screen door acts as a barrier against insects and allows fresh air to flow into the space, reducing the need for constant air conditioning usage. This results in lower electricity bills and decreased energy consumption, aligning with sustainable living practices.
Incorporating outdoor curtains alongside the magnetic screen door creates an additional layer of protection from heat gain or loss, effectively maintaining indoor temperatures during different seasons. Properly sealed windows and doorways play a crucial role in preventing energy wastage, promoting a comfortable living environment without the need for excessive heating or cooling."

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What Are the Different Types of Magnetic Screen Doors?

There are various types of magnetic screen doors available, including retractable, hanging, and sliding options, each offering unique features and installation methods to suit different door configurations and preferences.
Retractable magnetic screen doors are popular for their sleek and space-saving design, ideal for single entry doors or French doors that need easy access.
Hanging magnetic screen doors, on the other hand, provide a cost-effective solution for temporary use or renters, with easy setup and removal.
Sliding magnetic screen doors are perfect for patio or sliding doors, offering seamless operation without obstructing the view.

Retractable Magnetic Screen Doors

Retractable magnetic screen doors feature a roll-up mechanism that allows for easy installation and operation, making them an ideal choice for doorways with limited space or aesthetic preferences.
These innovative doors offer a practical solution for keeping insects out while maintaining airflow and natural light indoors. The unique design ensures that the screen neatly rolls away when not in use, maximizing space efficiency.
Due to their versatility, they can be installed on various entryways, including French doors, sliding patio doors, and single doors. The user-friendly installation process makes it convenient for homeowners to set them up without the need for professional assistance.

Hanging Magnetic Screen Doors

Hanging magnetic screen doors are suspended from a top rail and provide effective insect protection while offering easy passage for humans and pets through the center opening.
These innovative doors are designed to keep pesky bugs like flies, mosquitoes, and gnats out of your home while allowing fresh air to flow freely. The strong magnets strategically placed along the edges ensure that the door snaps shut behind you, preventing any unwanted invaders from sneaking inside. The convenience of simply walking through the magnetic closure without using your hands makes them ideal for busy households with children and pets.

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Their sleek and unobtrusive design adds a modern touch to any doorway.

Sliding Magnetic Screen Doors

Sliding magnetic screen doors glide along tracks to open and close, ensuring a snug fit that keeps insects out while providing a smooth operation for users. Proper installation is crucial to maximize their effectiveness.
Regarding the features of sliding magnetic screen doors, their design allows them to effortlessly slide along the designated tracks, offering a user-friendly experience that blends functionality and convenience. One of the standout qualities is their ability to be customized to fit various door sizes and types, catering to different home setups and preferences. This customization factor ensures that the door snugly fits in place, leaving no gaps for pesky insects to sneak through.
Installing these doors requires attention to detail and precision. Fit accuracy is paramount to prevent any gaps that could compromise the insect protection they provide. An improperly installed screen door may not only let insects in but also hinder the smooth operation of the door itself. Ensuring a precise installation is key to enjoying the full benefits of a sliding magnetic screen door.

How to Install a Magnetic Screen Door?

Installing a magnetic screen door is a straightforward process that begins with measuring your door frame accurately, followed by preparing the components and securing the screen door in place using the provided instructions.
Once you have measured the width and height of your door frame, ensure to double-check the accuracy to avoid any fitting issues later on. Accurate measurements are crucial for a seamless installation process.
Next, clear the door frame area of any debris or obstructions that may hinder the installation. This step will create a clean surface for attaching the magnetic screen door.
Before beginning the installation, carefully unpack all the components that come with the screen door kit and familiarize yourself with the different parts. Each component plays a vital role in ensuring the door functions properly.

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Measure Your Door Frame

Before installing a magnetic screen door, ensure precise measurements of your door frame to facilitate custom sizing and a secure fit, enhancing the door's overall effectiveness.
Accurate measurements play a crucial role in ensuring that the magnetic screen door aligns perfectly with the door frame. Custom sizing allows for a tailored fit, eliminating gaps that could let bugs in and maintaining the aesthetic appeal of your doorway. An ill-fitted screen door may not only compromise its functionality but also lead to potential damage or wear and tear. By taking the time to measure your door frame correctly, you set the foundation for a smooth installation process and long-term satisfaction with the performance of your magnetic screen door.

Prepare the Magnetic Screen Door

Preparing the magnetic screen door involves familiarizing yourself with the components, ensuring all parts are included, and verifying the integrity of the PVC coated polyester mesh before proceeding with the installation process.
Inspect all the elements of the magnetic screen door kit, including the frame, magnets, and fastening strips, to guarantee nothing is missing or damaged.
Check the PVC coated polyester mesh for any tears, holes, or weak spots that could compromise its effectiveness in keeping bugs out while allowing fresh air to flow through.
Address any issues with the mesh promptly by either repairing small damages with a patch or contacting the manufacturer for a replacement if necessary.

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Install the Screen Door

The final step in installing a magnetic screen door is to follow the manufacturer's instructions to securely attach the screen door to the door frame, ensuring proper alignment of magnets for effective closure and insect protection.
Ensure that the magnetic strips on both sides of the door are aligned correctly to allow for a strong magnetic closure.

• Start by positioning the door at the top of the frame and lining up the magnets on the screen with the corresponding magnets on the frame.
• Check for any gaps or misalignments, adjusting the positioning if necessary to guarantee a snug fit.

Following the guidelines meticulously will help in achieving a seamless installation and optimal performance of your magnetic screen door.

What Are Some Tips for Maintaining a Magnetic Screen Door?

To ensure the longevity and efficiency of your magnetic screen door, it is essential to clean it regularly using gentle cleaning agents that do not damage the PVC mesh. Avoid harsh chemicals that may compromise the door's integrity.
Regular cleaning not only helps in maintaining the overall appearance of the magnetic screen door but also ensures proper functioning by preventing clogs and blockages caused by dirt and debris. Insects, such as mosquitoes and flies, are common nuisances that can get trapped in the mesh, affecting the door's performance. By using appropriate cleaning agents, you can effectively eliminate these unwanted visitors while preserving the durability of the PVC mesh. It's crucial to keep in mind that harsh chemicals can deteriorate the materials over time, leading to tears and damage that may affect the door's effectiveness.

Clean Regularly

Regular cleaning of the PVC mesh on your magnetic screen door, using mild soapy water and a soft brush, helps remove dirt, dust, and debris that may impede the door's functionality. For vinyl magnet screen doors, gentle wiping is recommended.
When cleaning PVC mesh screens, start by removing the screen from the door frame, if possible, to clean it more thoroughly. Fill a bucket with warm water and a small amount of mild detergent to create a cleaning solution. Gently scrub the mesh with a soft brush or sponge to loosen any stubborn dirt or stains. Rinse the screen with clean water and allow it to air dry completely before reinstalling.
For vinyl magnet screen doors, use a damp cloth or sponge to wipe down the surface. Avoid using harsh chemicals or abrasive cleaners that can damage the vinyl material. Regular wiping will help maintain the appearance and longevity of the magnetic screen door.

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Avoid Harsh Chemicals

When cleaning your magnetic screen door, refrain from using harsh chemicals or abrasive cleaners that can cause damage to the PVC mesh material. Opt for mild cleaning agents to preserve the door's structural integrity.
This is crucial as harsh chemicals can lead to discoloration or weakening of the PVC mesh, which could compromise the overall effectiveness of the door in keeping bugs out while allowing fresh air to flow through.
By selecting gentle cleaning solutions, you not only maintain the aesthetic appeal of your magnetic screen door but also extend its lifespan, ensuring that it continues to function seamlessly for years to come.

Store Properly During Winter Months

During the winter months, it is advisable to store your magnetic screen door properly to prevent damage from harsh weather conditions. Consider removing and storing privacy screens and outdoor curtains for added protection.
Proper storage of your magnetic screen door involves more than just taking it down and leaving it in the garage. To ensure its longevity, protecting it from the snow, ice, and winds is crucial. Opt for a clean and dry storage space, away from moisture and extreme temperatures. If possible, store it in its original packaging or cover it with a sturdy material to prevent dust accumulation.
For those who have privacy screens or outdoor curtains attached, make sure to remove and store them properly as well. Clean them before storing to avoid mold growth during the months they are not in use.

What Are Some Common Issues with Magnetic Screen Doors?

While magnetic screen doors offer numerous benefits, common issues may arise such as magnet strength variations, fit and installation challenges, and wear and tear over time that can impact their performance and durability.

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One potential problem associated with magnetic screen doors is the inconsistent magnet strength. Due to variations in manufacturing or environmental factors, the magnetic attraction may not always be uniform, leading to gaps or ineffective closure.
Another common challenge lies in fit adjustments, as the screens may require precise installation to ensure a tight seal. Improper fit can result in insects sneaking through or the door not closing securely.
Long-term durability concerns come into play as the constant opening and closing of the door, exposure to elements, and normal wear and tear can degrade the quality over time, compromising its functionality.

Magnet Strength

One of the issues that users may encounter with magnetic screen doors is inconsistent magnet strength, leading to gaps in closure and reduced insect protection. Ensuring optimal magnet alignment can help address this challenge.
Proper magnet alignment is crucial in ensuring a secure and tight seal when the screen door is closed, preventing insects from entering the house. The strength of the magnets plays a key role in maintaining the integrity of the seal. Strong magnets help keep the door closed securely, maximizing its effectiveness in keeping bugs out. To enhance magnet strength, users can consider options like upgrading to higher-grade magnets or adding supplementary magnets along the door frame to improve closure reliability.

Fit and Installation

Proper fit and installation are crucial for the optimal performance of magnetic screen doors. Issues with fit and installation can result in gaps that compromise insect protection and airflow control, necessitating adjustments for a secure seal.
Ensuring that the magnetic screen door fits correctly is essential to prevent bugs and insects from entering your home while allowing fresh air to flow through. A common challenge during installation is getting the measurements right to avoid gaps that can undermine the door's effectiveness.
When facing fit issues, consider adjusting the tension of the screen or checking the alignment of the frame. Improper installation can lead to the door not closing properly or tearing prematurely. It's crucial to follow the manufacturer's instructions meticulously to ensure a snug fit and proper functioning.

Wear and Tear

Over time, magnetic screen doors may experience wear and tear due to frequent use and exposure to elements.
Regular upkeep is essential for ensuring that these doors function smoothly and efficiently. Dust, dirt, and debris can accumulate on the magnetic strips and mesh, causing them to deteriorate over time.
It is recommended to clean the door regularly using a gentle soap and water solution. Checking for loose screws, damaged components, and tears in the screen is crucial. Addressing these issues promptly through maintenance and timely repairs can significantly prolong the life of the door.

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Conclusion

In conclusion, magnetic screen doors offer a practical and efficient solution for enhancing indoor-outdoor connectivity, protecting against insects, and promoting natural ventilation. Coupled with the option to include privacy screens or outdoor curtains, these doors contribute to a comfortable and energy-efficient living environment.
These innovative doors not only keep bugs at bay but also allow for uninterrupted airflow, creating a refreshing ambiance inside the house. With the added feature of privacy screens, magnetic screen doors offer the flexibility to control visibility and enhance security without compromising on the aesthetic appeal. The incorporation of outdoor curtains provides an extra layer of insulation, helping maintain a stable indoor temperature throughout the seasons. Whether for a cozy reading nook or a lively patio, these doors cater to various preferences and seamlessly blend functionality with style.

Frequently Asked Questions

1. What is a magnetic screen door?

A magnetic screen door is a type of screen door that is designed to easily open and close using magnets instead of traditional hinge mechanisms. It is often used as a temporary solution for keeping insects out while allowing for easy access through the door.

2. How does a magnetic screen door work?

A magnetic screen door works by using a series of magnets that are sewn into the edges of the screen. When the door is opened, the magnets automatically align and close the screen behind the person walking through. As the person exits, the magnets separate and the screen opens again.

3. What are the benefits of using a magnetic screen door?

There are several benefits to using a magnetic screen door, including allowing for easy entry and exit without the need to constantly open and close a traditional door. It also helps keep insects and pests out while still allowing for fresh air and natural light to enter the space.

4. Can a magnetic screen door be used on any type of door?

Generally, magnetic screen doors can be used on most types of doors, including single and double doors, sliding doors, and even RV doors. However, it is important to check the dimensions and compatibility of the screen door with your specific door before purchasing.

5. How do you install a magnetic screen door?

Magnetic screen doors are typically easy to install and require no tools or drilling. Most models come with a velcro strip or adhesive tape that allows the screen to be attached to the door frame. It is important to follow the manufacturer's instructions for proper installation.

6. Are there any downsides to using a magnetic screen door?

While magnetic screen doors have many benefits, there are also a few potential downsides to consider. They may not be as durable as traditional screen doors and may not hold up well in extreme weather conditions. Some models may also not provide as much protection from strong winds or heavy rain.

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When you're in a committed relationship or married and your partner doesn't want to change, but they're doing things that bother you, like hanging out with friends you don't like, not calling you, or flirting with others, what should you do? Should you just wake up and leave, find another relationship, or try to force them to change? Let’s explore this in the perspective of not simply leaving but looking at it from an angle where you’re using it to help you grow. This only applies for relationships which are somewhat unhealthy but not abusive.
The first thing to do when your partner does something you don't like is to understand how it affects you personally, not just externally. If you feel really upset or sad when your partner doesn't answer your calls, it might mean there's something you need to address within yourself. It could be your own insecurities, fears of losing them, being alone, abandoned, or cheated on.
So, it's important to focus on yourself first. When you take a step back and reflect, you might realize there are aspects within yourself that need your attention. I've seen this happen with someone close to me. She wanted her partner to change, but after talking with her, she realized that she had been neglecting herself and always putting her partner's needs before her own, constantly trying to please them and impress them. In fact, she had never even taken herself out.
When you look within, you realize that there are things you've never done for yourself because you're so ingrained in your partner and their behavior or the desire for change. And it's not your fault; it's just that sometimes, due to how we've been taught about relationships, we become very focused on the other person. We put all our attention on them, forgetting about ourselves. Before even thinking about wanting your partner to change their behavior, look at yourself. Then, after self-reflection, begin to change certain aspects within yourself. Start by shifting away from prioritizing others over yourself, establishing boundaries, and acknowledging your own needs.
Then, what you'll realize is that there are two possible outcomes. You may find that your partner feels challenged to begin their own journey of growth. Sometimes, when you start asserting your independence, setting boundaries, and being true to yourself, your partner may feel threatened. This could lead to them reacting with anger, or they might respond in a positive way.
They might also decide to change because you're no longer tolerating their behavior. You're not entertaining their subtle manipulation or playing the victim. Sometimes, partners engage in these behaviors because they've done them for a long time and you’ve also been knowingly/unknowingly enabling them, but when you assert yourself, it can prompt them to change. They might start seeking help because they realize it's not just about losing you; it's about improving themselves.
And even if your partner doesn't change right away, if they don't change, when you focus on yourself, you'll know the best course of action. You won't be acting out of fear but out of prioritizing yourself or seeing the situation clearly. So, it's a win-win situation for you. You'll reach a point where you can be okay with the relationship or with your partner changing their behaviors, but you can also be okay without the relationship.
That's the essence of working on yourself. It's about giving yourself options, rather than feeling confined to making something work no matter what. When you focus on personal growth, it might inspire your partner to change, but ultimately, the one who changes will always be you. It's important to be okay with whatever outcome, knowing that you'll have a better life whether you stay in the relationship or not. So, before repeatedly asking your partner to change their behavior, take a moment to understand how their actions affect you.
This applies to relationships with typical challenges, not abuse, but personal growth is essential regardless of the relationship. Rather than viewing the relationship as a lifelong commitment, see it as a journey for personal growth and learning. By focusing on growing the you, you might positively influence your partner, as they say, "iron sharpens iron." But if they don't, you'll be better equipped to determine the best path forward for yourself.
Note from the Author
If you’re ready and you’d like my help with healing, finding peace in life and breaking free from these toxic patterns, then you can book a FREE BREAKTHROUGH CALL with me HERE. Happy healing 💙💙. Feel free to share and comment! Use this information with caution, it comes from my own thoughts & bias, experiences and research😊.

I Accepted a Job to Film on the Dark Web
Man, I am pumped to tell you chronically online content addicts my story. Wait is that too mean of an intro? Will this get taken down for harassment since I painted too accurate a picture of the people on this site? Sorry, everyone, I’m sure you all smell like an expensive bakery and have touched grass this morning. Anyway, I promise I have something interesting. It even involves the dark web you uncreative writers cream yourselves over! I mean, totally real people speaking about their strangely similar experiences. Okay, fine I’ll stop bullying you through the screen before you click off.
This all started when I was seven years old and my parents were killed in front of me in an anti-indigenous hate crime, but let's be real you don’t care. I’m just some annoying Cherokee kid with dead parents so I’ll skip to the good parts. I spent years in an orphanage, gradually becoming more interested in death and violence. As bad as it is, I went out of my way to expose myself to that content in the hopes of desensitizing myself. Which ended up working too well, since now I’m obsessed with causing and viewing pain, though I don’t find any joy in hurting myself.
I got adopted at twelve and after a few months of staying at my new family’s home on the reservation, I went with them to a state sweatier than the average Reddit user, California. Long story short, both of my caretakers, whom I referred to as Uncle and Auntie because they could never be my parents, died. Leaving me in the care of their older son, who I call cousin. I’m not stupid enough to give up any real names, so I’ll call him Brick, cause he’s as dumb as one. He was in his early 20s when he was tasked with taking care of me and is the world’s worst excuse for a babysitter.
I’m almost always alone at the apartment, with him only coming by to drop off supplies and stay for a few hours so the neighbors don’t get too worried. Unless I get in trouble at school, then he’d suddenly give a shit. It's useful because he doesn't about the gory stuff I look at, but some display of interest would be nice. Oh well, ninety percent of the population sucks so he’s just part of the majority. Now, with that said, you’ll be able to understand the perfect storm that led me here. During my time on the deep web, I found a particular website that caught my eye. They had new footage relatively consistently and they were the easiest for me to access since I didn't go too far into the dark web, especially with all the honey pots lying around.
I even bought a couple of files for myself to study and admire. One thing irritated me though, the cameraman. He was always sobbing, breathing, shaking, or some combination of those. It seriously killed the vibe of the killings. Something I commented on under many videos, often saying I would do a better job filming. A choice that in hindsight was me asking to end up in one of those recordings. I didn't think anything of it at the time. I was mostly the only one who commented but I was sure they wouldn't care. I was embarrassingly wrong.
I was staying up like usual, but it was past one AM on a school night, and back then that was a lot so I tried to sleep. Closing my eyes, tossing and turning, the works. I had just started drifting off when I heard the front door open. I remained calm but immediately found it weird since Brick never showed up this late. The thuds of the individual's feet grew louder as they got closer to my bedroom. I tried to convince myself it wasn't a stranger, especially since they got in with ease, but I knew that was wishful thinking.
They hummed as they opened my door. My dumbass had left it unlocked. I remained on my side, trying to look like I was asleep. They turned on the flashlight of their phone, shining it in my face. It was hard but I stayed still while they traced it over my features. I could tell they were smiling as they clicked their tongue.
“Heh, I knew it was a brat,” they whispered to themselves, pulling tangles out of my hair. Something I struggled not to groan from. They pulled up the hair over my ear and got so close spit got on my ear lobe.
“I know you’re awake kid,” they murmured, putting a blade to my neck. I let them grab my shoulder and move me onto my back, I knew how to fight but I wasn't about to take that big a risk with the position they had me in.
“You think you’re so cool saying you can do better than our guy.” they snickered, kneeling, their flashlight still shining in my face.
“Do you seriously believe that?” they questioned, moving the light away.
“Yeah, I do.” I stood my ground, they might have been intimidating but I wasn't gonna let that stop me from being honest.
“I wouldn't sound like I’m gonna piss myself every time it gets gory. I’m confident I could get better footage too, getting up close is something I’ve fantasized about.”
They clicked their tongue again and ran their finger over the bridge of my nose.
”Well, I know you’re a big fan of what we do, and you’re confidence makes me think you got something to back those claims up, so how’d you like a deal?”
I was surprised by how civil they were being aside from the touching and weapon against my throat.
“What kind of deal?” I asked, for all I knew this guy wanted me to lick their feet or some weird shit like that. They placed a finger underneath my eye, tracing a half moon with their nail.
“You have till this Friday to film a video of you killing an animal and put it on a flash drive that I’ll pick up here. If it impresses me and the crew we’ll hire ya with a handsome salary.” They began, moving their hand down to my cheek.
“But if you don't show, or it doesn't meet our standards, then I’m fucking up one of the parts of your face.” They warned, pinching my skin harshly.
“And if I say no to this deal?”
They put their hand over my mouth, scratching my lips.
“That’s cute, if you say no I’ll just slit your throat.” they grinned.
“Or rip it open with my teeth if you got a preference,” they smirked, before running their tongue across their sharp teeth.
“Okay, since I have no choice I’ll go with it, but I’m telling you now I can give you something way better than what you likely expect of me.” I prefaced, looking into their sunken eyes. They scratched my scalp, including the side of my head that was shaved.
“Good choice, I’ll be back to pick it up and if you're not here I’ll assume you don’t have the video. I genuinely wish you luck, because you’ll need it.” they removed the blade from my neck and walked away. I sat still for a few minutes in the dark, processing what had happened and wondering how they got into my apartment with such ease. I was confident I could blow their sniveling excuse of a cameraman out of the water, but I was worried about the people I was getting caught up with.
Sure, I had been on a lot of gore sites over the years but I was always just watching and occasionally commenting. Compared to most in the scene I wasn't much of a threat. I could defend myself and have contemplated killing for years but I hadn't murdered anyone or worse. Plus, I am part of way too many targeted groups to not be constantly at risk. Teenage, fem-leaning, two-spirit, indigenous kid with trauma? Yeah, I might as well be walking sign screaming “Hate crime me”.
So yeah, there was a lot to worry about. Regardless, I couldn't let that fear hold me back. I had a job to do and a group of sickos to appease. The next morning was rough, I got no sleep cause I’d spent all night brainstorming. I barely mustered the energy to change and drank straight mouthwash instead of brushing my teeth. Slogging onto the bus with drool on my cheek, I went to the back like usual. No one sat there cause, the seats were extra worn down, and I scared off anyone who attempted to with my active, rabies-infected bitch face. That day was different though.
I blanked on his name and where I knew him from, but I recognized his wavy hair and prominent curved nose. He glanced at each seat on the bus, before somehow settling on my area. He tried to give me space but ultimately seated himself beside me after realizing it was the only spot that didn't look like it would give him cancer. I glared at him as I did with everyone, but it didn't phase him.
“You know you could pick anywhere else right?” I murmured. He stared at the floor, then at me.
“I’m aware, but a few months ago I started a mission to sit on every part of this bus, and this is the last place.” he smiled, his lips softly curving at the sides.
“What’s the point of that?”
His mouth moved into a more neutral position, but his eyes kept smiling.
“I just thought it would be neat to see the same place from a bunch of different perspectives.” he took out his phone and snapped a photo from the point of view where he was sitting. Maybe my sleepiness made my bitch face less effective, cause he hadn't shown a hint of fear, which kind of annoyed me.
“That’s cool I guess, but I wouldn't do that if I were you. I’ve done some back here alone that would make your skin crawl.” in hindsight my attempt at unnerving him just made me sound like a pervert, which is probably why he held back laughter. Trying to hide a chuckle by clearing his throat.
“Hey, it's not my business what you do, no matter how Haram it is. It’s your life so that’s between you and whatever you believe in. Just don’t shake hands with me.” he joked, playfully putting his hands up. Strangely, I remembered his name at that moment.
“Oh shit, you’re Abdul! We have art together.” I sat up, haphazardly slamming my hand down on my leg.
“Uh yeah, I’ve seen some of your paintings, they’re pretty cool. I like the way you texture them, I’m trying to work on that.” he complimented, seeming more weirded out by my sudden energy than my accidental insinuation. I felt a little stupid for yelling his name but decided not to dwell on it.
“Thanks, you’re stuff is nice, and you’re good at shading.”
He stretched his arms while thanking me. We talked for a few more minutes, taking jabs at each other throughout. Turns out he was better at being an asshole than his artsy charismatic appearance made me think. The thing setting our insults apart being that you could tell he was a loving person underneath. It was the nicest conversation I had with anyone in a while. Though he could tell I was tired so he quieted down, letting me sleep, waking me when we got to school. We went our separate ways until the last two periods we shared. All that time, I spent my remaining energy plotting how I was going to handle the video. What I’d kill, record with, and how to dispose of the evidence. It was a lot to consider, but through three classes I devised a plan.
I’d find a stray around my apartment complex and take it out in my room. Record it on a portable camera since I broke the ones on my phone, no, I will not be answering how that happened. Then once I had my footage I’d put the body in a trash bag, throw it in the complex’s garbage, and clean the blood off my floor. It didn't seem like Brick would come by so he wasn't a factor I thought I’d have to consider. The plan was almost too easy, but I decided to believe in Occam’s razor. I got so lost in thought that by the time I reached Art, which was my second-to-last period, I didn't process that we were moving seats.
“She called your name,” Abdul reminded me. Our teacher placed us next to each other at our four-person table. The two girls sitting with us were already friends, so I didn't bother to say anything, but I was interested in talking to him more.
“So, what do you think of this assignment?” He shrugged, taking out his sketchbook.
“I’m not that good at drawing people, but the idea of combining two people’s faces into a portrait seems interesting. Any ideas on who you’ll pick?”
“Probably the members of the music duo Brain Tumor, they’re my favorite artists and they both look weird as hell.”
“Wow way to talk about your favorites, if that’s what you say about them I can‘t imagine what you have to say about me.” he joked, pulling up reference pictures.
“First, it’s not an insult, second I don’t have anything to say about you. Brain and Tumor have features and styles that make them stand out. Sure they’re ugly, but it just adds to their visual charm. Hot people are boring, there’s nothing to pick at.” I explained, unzipping my bag.
“Oh, so you’re saying you think I’m hot.”
His comment wasn’t serious but it kind of got to me.
“Shit, that’s not what I meant, I was trying to say you’re boring. All hot people are boring, but not all boring people are hot, okay?” I explained, flipping to a clean page.
“Alright, but if I’m so bland then why talk to me?”
I hesitated, contemplating how much of a dick I was gonna be.
“Because it means you probably need some spice in your life, which I can provide.”
He began sketching a head on his paper.
“I like spices, but I feel like you’re the kind of person to dump a cabinet’s worth onto me.”
I flicked my pencil over to his side of the desk, putting on a mocking grin.
“Aww, you scared I’m gonna get you into trouble?”
He picked up the pencil and started using it, putting his on my side.
“No, ‘cause I’m good at setting boundaries. I’m more concerned that you’ll get annoyed with how unafraid of you I am.”
I stared at him for a moment, I hadn't expected to hear that.
“Jeez, man you didn't have to read me like that.”
He shrugged, observing the red paint from past projects that lay on my pencil.
“It's not hard to figure out, just this morning you were trying to push me away on the bus. Lucky, or unlucky, for you I want you to have a friend and you seem like a fun person.”
“Wait are you saying I have no friends?” I squinted at him.
“Well, do you?”
I didn't answer.
“If your response is silence I suggest you take up my offer.”
I was stunned, to be honest. No one had offered to be my friend since 6th grade, and that didn't last long. Of course, I accepted it, but for the rest of the period, there was an awkwardness in my mind. As pathetic as it sounds I wasn't used to others genuinely enjoying my company like he did. Which was partly by design cause I get joy out of scaring people away, but still. I forgot how it felt to have conversations about normal things like art. He had such a nice smile too, usually when I see a grin I want to slap it off, but I liked his. His voice was also nice, it’s hard to describe what in particular but it was easy on the ears.
Okay, I’m starting to get off-topic. I’ll skip to the important part. Toward the end of class, he started talking about how he was interested in filmmaking and got a portable video camera as a gift at last year’s Eid. He didn't have it on him, but he showed me a picture.
“Heh, that’s funny, I bought the same one a month ago.” I pointed out.
“Yeah, it's a popular model, I’m still getting the hang of it though cause I’m so used to using my phone.”
“Well, maybe I could bring you over to my place or vice versa after school and I can help you out.” I suggested.
He smiled, putting his phone back in his pocket.
“I thought you said you’ve only had it for a month? You know I can always look up tutorials from trained professionals.” he reminded me with a notable smugness that I'd used with him before.
“Well those guys are stuffy and I’m a fast learner.”
He redirected his attention back to his page, picking his pencil up.
“Alright, I suggest we go somewhere public instead. You’re not exactly the kind of person I want to bring home to my parents right away. Plus they always need to meet my friends and their guardians before I hang out at their home.”
I gave an exaggerated sigh, stretching my back.
“Aw man, looks like we can’t get high in my murder pit during our first hangout.”
He didn't respond for a solid few seconds.
“Wait, you do know I'm joking right?”
He shrugged, the smile in his eyes appearing again.
“I mean, one of those things is a little less believable than the other.” he snickered, and I laughed with him.
We set up a time and a date, which is where I screwed myself. He ended up being busy with projects from his other classes and family which just left us with Friday, the same day I had to submit the video. Now, did I tell him I wouldn't be able to make it? No, of course not, because I decided to be stupid and even more overconfident. I said that I’d one hundred percent be able to hang out with him after school like I didn't have a mutilator who was going to drop by my place at an unknown time.
The rest of the day went over fine but that bad timing led me to feel like a dick later. When I got home I was able to write out my plan, even sketching a few specifics of what I’d do. It was more exciting than when I’d been brainstorming, but this is when the gravity of the situation began to set in. When I said I’d fantasized about killings I meant it. I mean my teddy with twenty-five stab wounds should say enough. Regardless this would be the first time real blood was on my hands.
It made me feel powerful, but a little afraid. I’ve heard stories of people thinking that it would be an awesome experience and then feeling like shit. I doubted I’d be one of those people but still. Plus, I didn't exactly trust the guy who gave me this job. There was a good chance that this whole situation was rigged and they’d kill me no matter how good the video was. Or worse turn me into the feds and expose my collection. Honestly, if that happened I’d probably eat a shot to avoid going to jail. Wait, can I say that on this platform? Okay to the mods, that was a joke, I want to live a long life. Ugh, I’m doing a terrible job of staying on track. The point is there was a lot up in the air despite it being a matter of life or death.
I knew I’d go through with it but it was still a lot less straightforward than it initially seemed. I wracked my brain to remember where most of the cats stayed and tried to come up with a good way to lure one without raising suspicion. This also proved harder than first thought because I didn't think to account for the cat man, an old guy who lived alone and fed all the cats in our dingy complex while also housing a few. Knowing how obsessive he was he’d probably notice if one of them disappeared. Then again not all the cats return consistently or at all. It makes more sense that he’d think one of them was run over rather than slaughtered. It was getting late again so I rested my head for a moment, a bad move cause I ended up falling asleep at my desk. Not even changing out of the clothes I’d worn before, I woke up late and barely caught the bus the next morning.
I went to my usual spot but Abdul had already taken it. He patted the area next to it, which he’d covered in a towel, a smart move knowing how nasty it was. People gave me a few dirty looks as normal, which I smiled at. I stretched, my mind slightly less out of it than the previous morning.
“Uh, you do realize that-”
“Yeah, I know I’m wearing the same clothes.”
Abdul looked me up and down, his eyes remaining soft, but with a mix of concern and judgment. He set his backpack down and took off his sweater handing it to me.
“Dude what are you-”
“Look I don't know what led to you not being able to change but I think you should at least have a fresh top.”
I was surprised he was offering me something to wear but I took it.
“Uh, thanks, I’ll change into it later.”
He nodded as I put it in my backpack.
“You know you didn't have to do that.” I reminded him.
“Well there’s a lot of stuff I don’t have to do, but I do it because I want to, and I wanted to help you out.”
He smiled, his face still warmer than an Arizona summer. I got a strange feeling in my chest at that moment, I still can’t tell if it was good or bad.
“Well, thanks, I'll give it back to you tomorrow.”
We talked a little more and he mentioned something that caught my attention.
“Have you heard about all the animals that have been turning up dead?”
My eyes widened with surprise.
“No, I haven't, when did you hear about that?”
He pulled on his long-sleeve shirt.
“My sister said her friend who works at a shelter noticed a bunch of animals were getting adopted by people around the same time, and since then gore videos with them have been showing up. She found out through her co-worker who was emailed it by some random creep.”
I covered my mouth and looked away to hide the smile growing on my face. He had just given me the perfect cover-up without knowing. Now if I killed an animal people had an entire violent ring to connect it to instead of me! I stayed quiet for a minute because I could tell he’d likely see through any phony sad sounds I made.
“Oh wow, that’s awful, do you think they’ll ever find out the people behind it?”
He sighed, running his hand through his wavy hair.
“I hope so, for now, all we can do is pray that no more animals get hurt.”
I couldn't contain my grin as he said that so sincerely like animals and people didn't die constantly and that taking down one group would somehow stop the issue.
“Is there some joke I don’t get?” he furrowed his brow.
“Uh, no, sorry I smile when nervous.”
His gaze softened again, and he didn't press further.
His bringing up the animal killings ended up being the exact push I needed to get my hands dirty. I’d spent the entire day before planning so it was time to put that plan into action. I stole some cat treats that the cat man had laid out and spread them around my apartment which was on the bottom floor. Waiting for one of them to take the bate outside my window was pretty boring but one of them came after a few minutes. A scraggly brown and black cat with a tuft of fur missing on one side of his head. It's messed up but I felt like a little less of an asshole for taking him in since he looked like he was already struggling. I scooped him up and he didn't attempt to fight back.
“Hey there buddy” I waved, feeding him some more food. His eyes had a lot of crust on them, it was kinda gross but I don’t have the right to say with how often I wash my jeans. After a minute or two he let me pet him. I knew making any kind of attachment was bad but I thought it was the right thing to do so he’d fall into a sense of security. I was just about to take him into my room when the door opened.
“Hey, I’m back with groceries!” my shithead cousin announced with two plastic bags in his hands. He looked down to see me with the cat, his eyebrows raising.
“Aw come on, you know we can’t afford a pet.”
He groaned placing the bags on a table and unloading them.
“I know, but he doesn't look like he’s got a lot of life in him I at least want to help him feel better before he kicks the bucket!”
Brick rolled his eyes, putting the cereal box on top of the fridge
“Jeez, did you even think about what diseases he might have? His eyes look puffy what if he has something that can get you sick?”
He had valid concerns which was surprising since he’s usually stupid, but I was still annoyed with him.
“I’m sure he’s fine, I’ll even try to wash him, just please let me hold onto him for a little.”
He folded his arms looking down at us.
“Have you even named him?”
I froze for a second, before using the first thing that came to mind, which ended up being pretty awful knowing my plans.
“Cash cow.” I blurted, awkwardly patting his head.
“Honestly that’s better than what I was expecting. I was sure you’d pick ‘Hellspawn Mcgee’ or something else corny.”
He meant to make fun of me but honestly, I would have named him that if I had more time.
“Ugh, anyway I got those dumb chips you like.”
He then pulled out a bag of the wrong chips.
“Dude those are the wrong ones, this is the third time you’ve mixed up the flavors.”
He threw them at me, scaring the cat slightly.
“Well, I pay for it so you shouldn't be so picky. Anyway, while I was in line I picked up something you might be into.”
He then tossed me a trashy teen magazine. One of my least favorite sorry excuses for an influencer on the cover.
“This is a joke, right?”
I couldn't believe my own adopted brother gave such little shit in my interests.
“I don't know, you decided to start being a girl for real this time so I thought the makeup tips on page ten would help you out.”
I scrunched my face at his comment.
“Dude I’ve been this way for years, just because I started wearing more makeup and dresses doesn't mean I’m more of a girl than when I didn't. I know you won’t get the two-spirit thing but come on.”
He shrugged, seeing me done with me even though he’d just shown up.
“Yeah well hey I’m trying. Anyway, just so you know a friend of mine is coming here Friday.”
My heart stopped.
“Wait why here? You live elsewhere why can’t you assholes go there or their place!”
He slammed his fist on the table.
“Will you shut the fuck up!”
He screamed with a phrase I’d grown numb to.
“I don't know, to be honest, something about wanting to move into this complex and this being a way to scout it out. I’m just letting you know now so you don’t act like a complete freak.”
“Jokes on you I’ll piss in whatever shitty beer you bring just cause you said that!”
I yelled back raising my voice higher than his. He face-palmed before putting the plastic bags in the drawer under the sink.
“Whatever, you and your ketamine-addict-looking cat have fun,” he told me while seating himself on the couch. I picked up the cat and walked into the bathroom to clean it. I closed the door and placed him in the dry tub. Using a small disposable mouthwash cup I got a little bit of water. I hadn't had a pet before so I wasn't sure how to approach the task. I dipped my fingers in the water and carefully pet it while pouring s small bit down his back. Any other cat would fight back but he just made pissed-off noises without doing anything.
I scrapped my old shampoo bottle and kneaded it into his thin fur. His skin was bumpy and dry beneath the hair so scrubbing it was uncomfortable. I made sure to avoid getting soap in its eyes but I did pull away some of the crust on its lids. His pupils were so clouded I was surprised that he could see at all, making me feel even more sure that he would be on its way out with or without me.
After drying him I set him on a beat-up shirt I wore when modifying clothes. He sunk his claws into it a few times, playing with a loose string. I ignored him for the rest of the night, hopping into the shower and changing for bed. His meows woke me up a few times but I tuned it out after a while, reminding myself that he wouldn’t be my cat for long.
The next day was Thursday and there wasn't a second that passed by where the weight of the murder I’d have to commit didn't weigh on me. I seriously shot myself in the foot by taking care of that scruffy, pubic hair pile. I was supposed to be hyped about killing it, after all, I’d dreamed and seen way worse than what I was going to do. Yet once I got home and started setting up I felt grosser with each step. I decided to record it in my bathroom instead of my bedroom so it would be harder to connect to me. I set down a few fabric scraps and a worn-out beach towel, placing it all inside a tub for easier cleanup later.
“Okay, I guess it's time,” I mumbled to myself. I brought the cat in and placed it down, setting up my camera once it was comfortable. I also wore my most generic clothes in addition to a mask, putting my hair in a bun for sanitation. When I saw the flicker of red showing that the camera was on I felt I was dreaming. I smiled, excited that I’d get to live out my violent desires. Yet, when I looked down at its pathetic frame and confused expression those urges left me.
I rationalized what I was doing, reminding myself how many animals die all the time and that I’d been forced into this, but it didn't help much in the end. I won’t get into it but under the pressure of impressing the group Cash Cow didn't go out as fast as I would have liked for a first task. Getting rid of the evidence was especially rough, the textures were pretty nasty, to put it mildly. It was surreal watching the blood go down the tub drain and gradually drip off my hands as I rinsed them. I couldn't conjure a single thought the entire time I cleaned it up.
Whether I was wringing out the clothes or putting the remains in plastic bags, it didn't matter. All I could focus on was the task at hand, with hints of disgust along the way. I ended up finishing at three AM. My hands were wrinkled and shook once I settled. I won’t deny that during the murder I didn't hate it. Slashing into something was fun and it made me feel strong. Still, it wasn't nearly as fulfilling as I expected it to be. Part of it was guilt, but it was mostly disappointment. I’d built it up for years and it wasn't earth shatteringly good or bad.
Overall, I expected to feel more, but it just left me hollow with an uncomfortable itch. There was no way I’d ever be able to see the tub the same way, hell I don’t think I’ll ever use it again. Luckily I almost always shower anyway so it's not too big of a deal. I watched a few horror game videos, trashed everything, changed and went to bed.
My scalp hurt like a bitch the morning since I kept my hair in that stupid bun. Despite getting less sleep than the past two days I held myself together a bit better in the morning. I brushed my teeth, changed, and had some fried bread before getting on the bus. Regardless I looked like complete shit and struggled to slump into my seat.
“Rough night?” Abdul asked
“Uh, yeah.” I quietly responded looking to the floor.
He frowned, looking at me with concern.
“You can talk about it if you're comfortable,” he assured me. I contemplated giving him a thinly veiled metaphor or vague explanation so he'd comfort me but stopped myself before my mouth could run a muck. He wouldn't be able to do much of anything and I don’t like opening up.
“Uhm, thanks but it's something I have to deal with alone.”
He nodded, respecting my boundaries.
“You know, I understand if you can’t hang out today it seems like you have a lot going on.”
I avoided eye contact with him as he spoke. For once I was feeling hints of guilt toward a person. I wanted to spend time with him, but I knew that I wasn't in the state to do that.
“Yeah, I think it’ll have to wait, I’m-” I cut myself off before apologizing. A fact about me that should surprise no one is that I hate apologizing. Even when I do feel kinda bad the act fills me with embarrassment.
“You what?” he asked, his eyes telling me that he knew what I was going to say.
“I’m emotionally not great.” I spat out in an admittedly poor attempt to get out of saying sorry. As always he remained calm but I could tell he saw through me.
“Okay, like I said I understand, whatever it is I hope you feel better.”
I told him thank you and we didn't speak for the rest of the day. At home I changed into more comfortable clothes and brushed my teeth. Unfortunately, I wasn't bouncing back from killing nearly as much as I expected.
“It wasn't even that bad! That thing was on its last legs anyway.” I grumbled to myself, smacking my forehead. I was feeling worse than when I did it which is weird. I ended up spontaneously decorating a ratty tie from the bottom of an accessory drawer to distract myself. It helped me get my mind off things, for a little. I had zero plan, just wanting to make something needlessly complex. Hours that felt like minutes passed and soon it was covered in patches, frills, and beads. I just tried it on when I heard the front door open.
“Man, that shit was wild!” I heard Brick laugh groggily. I didn't have to see or smell him to know he’d gotten lit. I rolled my eyes, closing my bedroom door.
“Hey, who’s there?” his friend asked, seemingly referring to me.
“Oh, that’s my little sis, don’t mind her she’s just on her emo shit!” he joked, which pissed me off for the petty reason that I didn't even listen or dress emo.
“Hey, that’s alright with me, I went through one of those phases,” they responded, their words less slurred than my cousin’s.
I fucked up and forgot to lock it when I closed it so they were able to swing it open, almost smacking my desk.
“Hey emo girl!” they waved as Brick haphazardly pulled them back.
“Okay, man, seriously I think she wants to be left alone.”
The way his friend looked at me made me uncomfortable. Like they’d snap my neck if I pissed them off. They clicked their tongue while stepping through the door frame.
“Alright, but I gotta say calling her an emo is inaccurate, they look like they watch gore and most emos just say they do.” they flashed a sharp toothy grin. At that moment I began to connect the dots.
“Easy, she’ll get pissy with you dude, now come on.” Brick warned tugging their opened button pushed him away. They looked me dead in the eyes.
“I don’t think she minds, in truth, I feel like we’ll have a lot to discuss later.” they smiled again, finally walking back into the living room. A chill ran up my spine when I saw them. The sharp teeth, New York accent, unsettling gaze, that motherfucker was the person who recruited me! They were able to get into my place so easily cause my dumbass cousin probably gave them a spare key or the opportunity to make one, and now they were a room away from me!
I dug my hands into my pillow as I contemplated what to do, no matter what happened next, I knew it was gonna be a rough visit.

In what feels like an eternity since we’ve broken up, I’ve done some cruel things to you, and I didn’t consider your feelings or the effects of what I was doing from my own pain, oblivious to the extra pain I was dumping onto you.
While the love I have for you was something I was unfamiliar with and saw as unusual coming from a broken home and toxic previous relationships, it was something I could never put into words if I tried. But maybe I’ll give it a shot? I never knew that love could feel like a home within a person. I never knew love was putting someone before yourself in many ways. I never knew the eagerness and happiness your body tingles and swells with when you know your person is coming home and about to walk into the door to you. Okay.. maybe I’ll stop because now the tears are flooding now…
Back to the point; I was so self absorbed in my own heartbreak, while not accepting the fact that you needed time and space to calculate either our next steps moving forward, or just your own steps, I overstepped boundaries in every way possible. All that time I thought I was being genuine by fighting for you, and that you’d see me for who I was again and take me back, when I realized that’s not how that worked (being as your the only person I ever chased or begged for) I would throw this vile temper tantrums, and do obscure things that would break any rational person to their core. Over. And over. And over I did this to you. For months. We probably could’ve been friends right now, maybe even back together, if I just would’ve sat down, and shut up.
Instead in the beginning you had your own heartbreak from betrayal to deal with, and then me adding more onto it every week not being able to heal. No being able to escape me.
I don’t deserve you. I never deserved you. Maybe the phrase “I’m sorry” should be my catch phrase. Especially with you. Because it seems like majority of our relationship the words “I love you” and “I’m sorry” were said most…

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

It if my belief that the hardest liberal ideal to uphold is not property rights or free-markets but pluralism. This is because the instinct to demonize and distance oneself from one's enemies is overwhelmingly strong, driven by pride, fear, anger, and disgust. But we should stand against these impulses, for the very core of democracy relies on people and groups of different to engage and hash out a plan for the future. With that in mind, I would like to make a case that one of the most powerful and useful things a principles neoliberal can do is bridge build.

What is Bridge Building?

Bridge-building is not rigorously defined because it's pretty new, but it comes from very old human instincts: curiosity and a desire for authentic connection.
Curiosity is not just a desire for knowledge, but a desire to expand one's view of the world and a practice of being an ever-enthusiastic learner. Curiosity does not have to be about facts but also about new experiences and ways of thinking. To be curious about a person is not necessarily wanting to know their social security number, but how they came to where they are in life and how they see the world. Curiosity is not just touching grass, but appreciating the park's beauty. If I were not curious, I would likely have noped out of this subreddit based on the name alone. But because I was, I read the sidebar.
It is my belief that people have an innate desire to be heard, to be seen and respected. And although it is diminished as of late, people also have the capacity to truly connect to others on a deeper-than-superficial level. This is hard online, but much easier in the real world. This desire and capacity for connection can help people overcome great differences and sprout the seeds of a great friendship.
Based on these two principles, Bridge-Building is a movement to ease polarization by connecting people of different backgrounds and groups together to foster greater understanding. The goal is not to reduce disagreement, but to make it more productive.

Why should Neoliberals Aim to Bridge Build?

Yeah, why should we? If we know best, why should we listen to those chumps? After all, I already have a name for everyone to right and left of me: wrong.
For one, do we really know best about everything? In the Socratic Dialogue Meno, Socrates and the politician Meno discuss the nature of virtue. During a debate on whether virtue can be taught, Meno asks Socrates this:

And how will you enquire, Socrates, into that which you do not know? What will you put forth as the subject of enquiry? And if you find what you want, how will you ever know that this is the thing which you did not know?

Here in lies Meno's Paradox: how do you know if you need to learn? If you already have that knowledge, you do not need to look any longer. And if you don't, then you have no idea what you're searching for. Socrates uses the idea of inbuilt knowledge as his answer, but I have another one which may strike more directly to the interests of liberals: simply assume that your knowledge is incomplete, and seek a more complete picture. Given all the knowledge in the world out there and all the things have yet to be discovered, it is unlikely that you or any other person has the complete picture on even a single issue.
But even if we do not know everything, if there value in learning from those of different views of us? I say that there is, and I will use another famous parable, this time from Buddhism, to illustrate my point. In this story, a kind invites a group of blind men to experience something that they have never encountered before: an elephant. When each blind man has felt a part of the creature, the king asks them to describe what they are touching. The man touching the foot says that the thing is a pillar, the man touching the trunk says it is a plow, the man touching the tip of the tail says a brush, and so on. The blind men cannot agree on what they are all touching, and so start an ancient version of a flamewar which entertains the king. In this story, the elephant is "The Truth", if such a thing exists. Although we all come in contact with the truth and with reality, we each come at it at different angles, like how the blind men are touching different parts. This means that while our individual perspectives are incomplete, they can be put together as a much more complete picture. People who remember the "wisdom" of the crowds should also recognize the powerful insights that can come from non-experts, especially as a group. Neoliberals who aspire to be "evidence-based" should not just gather evidence from different sources, but learn about different ways of thinking from others, or else they would be like one blind man squeezing the elephant's gonads really hard and thinking he's touching a balloon.
Edit: Just realized another reason Another reason for bridge building has to do with pragmatism. Pragmatism is not simply being "less extreme", but meeting people where they are. But how can you do that if you don't know where they are? Polls can help, but some personal connection may help as well, given how unreliable polls can be.
Hoewver, there are a lot of people who will reply to this very post and say, "isn't it dangerous to engage with certain people? What about those who are too stupid and hateful to learn?". Firstly, you should never bridge build if you feel unsafe. However, feeling unsafe is not the same as feeling uncomfortable, and discomfort may help you shake out of old patterns. Secondly, the foremost goal of substantive discussion is not to teach but to learn: even if the other party is too stupid to learn, if you are able to listen and learn you will have gained from the conversation. This may not always work out, but I promise you that when it does the effect is magical.

How do you Bridge Build?

This is the hard part. I haven't fully figured it out myself, but I have some pointers:

1. Be patient. People, especially people on the internet, are no the most eloquent speakers. Struggling to find the right words or having incorrect grammar and spelling should not be taken as signs of being dumb babies not worth talking to. Additionally, try not assume all of what people are based on snippets of information.
2. Be polite. Avoiding infamatory remarks ("You can't even read a supply and demand graph") and ambiguous slogans ("From the river to the sea, drugs will be free!") and try to keep the focus on the issues instead of the other person (or what you assume of the other person).

3.Stand up for your beliefs. Common ground is only real if it is earned. Be upfront about what you believe and how you came to believe those things. Anything else would be a disservice to the other party.

1. Follow your curiosity. Try to ask questions in good faith instead of as traps (although I admit I do this a lot). Who knows where the inquiry will go?

But if that's too hard or ambiguous, there's a lot of help out there. Here are some organizations and projects that specialize in bridge-building:
Braver Angels: They host workshops, debates, and other events for bridging divides. I also like their A Braver Way Podcast. They also happen to be associated with one American Purpose Magazine.
One Small Step by StoryCorps: If you sign up, they may match you with someone they think you will have a fruitful conversation with.
National Institue for Civil Discourse: Come on, one of the founding Co-Chairs was Bill Clinton, and a former board member was H.W. Bush.
There are many more, so feel free to search for yourself. So, why not try building some bridges? They're an important piece of infrastructure.

1330 Terran Front Fleet Time
On the Turinika homeworld, the first signs of unrest began to manifest like a wave, The broadcast of the most esteemed Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata, Taratanti of the roost Kazatalak, openly performing the act of Kavsa had been met with shock. The last Taratanti who had voluntarily performed Kavsa had done so in protest of the treatment of the Kulorn caste, nearly two thousand years prior. It was an ancient rite, one that signified rejection of the greatest shame. Even more shocking than the act itself was the evidence that had followed it. Visuals of species, brought into the Conclave, not as migrant workers as had been believed, but as slaves, was met with an almost immediate attempt at censorship. This attempt failed spectacularly, mostly due to those who had been tasked to censor the information not only refusing to follow the command, but openly declaring that they had been ordered to do so. A situation that was already, as the humans would say, out of hand, spiraled completely out of control. Within only twenty minutes of the ending of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s broadcast entire cities entered a state of absolute anarchy. Two planetary capitals were stormed and taken by the furious civilian population, demanding the location of those who had been enslaved. The Turinika Armada, which even then was in the middle of a training session meant to prepare the fleet to withstand the Terran Front’s assault, began to cease operations. Within the hour, the entire armada would be recalled to the turnika homeworld. Those who did not take to the streets simply stopped whatever work they were doing and went to their homes to be around their brood. Images of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata with his stripped wings spread wide in front of the human fleet commander were on every news fed of the Conclave, as was the sound of his thunderous voice, and the wails of despair from a turinika female that couldn’t be seen. Close ups of the human fleet commander’s face were shown, with analysts remarking on the shock, horror, and sympathy. Since the outbreak of the Seventh Orion War, the female human known as Simmons had been reported to have made several threats towards the turinika, she had quickly become seen as a warmonger, ready to take revenge against the turinika for refusing to go to war and violate their principles of pacifism. Now the images of her lunging forward to stop the violation of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s plumage, the agonized expression of her face, and the true reason for her threats against the turinika were rapidly reversing her image. On far flung deep core mining stations and agricultural stations, on deep space stations dedicated to material processing, and in other areas hidden from the sight of the normal turinikan population, overseers and taskmasters felt their hearts run cold at the knowledge that very soon, their part to play in the willful enslavement of another species would be known to the wider Conclave. As the data package transmitted alongside the broadcast were fully decompressed and the scale of the Conclave’s government’s involvement was revealed, the entirety of the Conclave itself was teetering on the verge of absolute pandemonium. The image of a member of the kolra species, from the look of it barely a hatchling, quickly was becoming the face of the entire incident. The picture was absolutely damning, and the sight of the image had sent any who saw it instantly into contorting and painful displays of shame. The young kolra was sprawled on it’s stomach, looking to the one taking it’s picture with eyes that had no life in them. It’s shell covered it’s back, and despite the age of the kolra it was already dulled and scuffed. The foot pressing down on the shell was unmistakably familiar to those who saw it, the clawed feet of a turinika. Within the hour, billions of winged figures stood in streets, the normally soft spoken and passive species demanding action, demanding justice, on the hundred worlds of the Turinika Conclave. The bulk of the Taratanti caste, most of whom had been left in the dark of the truth of the situation, quickly went public with their own declaration of outrage, and the eyes of the entire species turned inwards to the mountainous homeworld of their species.
Hakuri Watanabe looked down at his helmet before putting it on his bed, the stylized SEVEN seeming to stare at him. He sat down in his chair and picked up a small cloth from his buffing kit. No one knocked on his door, in fact, mostly he and the rest of his squad were left alone before a major operation. They were just given their time, time to mentally prepare. Some of his squad would go over their mission briefing, some, like him, would spend their time doing something to relax themselves. Hakuri always found that taking care of his suit calmed him considerably. Granted he could simply turn it over to the squads armorers to be tended to and they would do as good of a job as he could, but he preferred it to be done by his own hand. The symbol of a triangle was on his form fitting shirt, the symbol of his special operations command unit. He was known as a Myrmidon, but the official title of his unit was Section Three. He knew this, his superiors knew this, and as far as Hakuri knew, most of the Terran Front was aware of his unit’s existence, but past that, they knew very little about what he actually did. As far as his mother knew, Hakuri was a pencil pusher onboard the TFS Berlin, the troop mothership that all of his letters were sent from. He thought about writing her, but then again, he only liked to do that when he returned from a mission, not when he was expecting to go to one. If he tried to write her when he was waiting, he would just get anxious, and homesick. That wouldn’t do when he was dropping into a combat zone. That wouldn’t do at all. Hakuri instead started to buff his helmet, waiting for the word to come down which meant they were prepared to jump. A glance at the clock made him pause in his circular rotations. The clock said 1330. Operation Naked Sun was about to begin.
Tika was on his side, Kzia standing at the end of the medical bed that had been adjusted for his turinikan physiology. He felt cold in more ways than one. For his people, clothing was more of a decoration than a necessity, but without his protective plumage he felt the cold stabbing him through to his hollow bones. His diplomatic access was already gone, his privilege access revoked. He heard the broadcast for a preparation to jump, but he wasn’t truly listening. There was no question in his mind he had made the right decision. There was no question at all. One of the humans, a nurse, came to his side and gently laid a heavy blanket over him. The human’s hand lingered on his trembling body for a few moments before it was removed, and Tika glanced in their direction. The female was one of the ones who had responded first to the call for medical service for him, had heard what had happened and why. Tika had gotten very used to being glared at on this ship. He was hated, and he knew it. He knew he had deserved it. He was a party to the vral’s enslavement of the humans, the chua, and far too many others. When he had come to Thermopylae station, he had not even given that fact a single thought. He was born into power, being of the Taratanti. He belonged to the most powerful species and government in the entire quadrant of the galaxy. His people, while mighty, did not seek to use it. To him, they had simply been above it all. When the vral had approached him with the offer to sell captured species at first TIka had wanted to reject it out of hand, but a few had told him to go through with the sale. Such was the nature of this galaxy, or so he had believed. The weak were at the whims of the strong, and one’s place in the galaxy was determined only by the power they could wield. The turinika were not nearly the first to have taken a species and used it for slave labor, and while Tika did not approve of the deal, he had not fought it either. As he looked back to the wall, he remembered what the humans had taught him these last days. When he had arrived in Thermopylae he had assumed he would find the chua species to have been at the very least regulated to a subservient role, if not outright enslaved. Finding them sharing power was a curiosity. He had expected to be treated with all the honor and dignity that his station demanded, that the power of his government demanded. Fleet Marshal Simmons had disabused him of that, and had left him humiliated and shamed. As he had laid in the dark as Simmons had declared the Seventh Orion War, covered in his own filth, feeling as if at any moment he was going to be killed he knew true fear and horrific uncertainty for the first time in his life. He had never faced these emotions, these sensations before. He had always been in power. He had stood with the full might of the Turinika Conclave behind him. He had never known anything other than the superior position. Now, as he lay in the hospital bed, staring at the wall, he was ashamed of how arrogant, how blind, and how short sighted he had been. After he had risen from his own filth, he had desperately tried to convince his leadership of the strength of the Terran Front, how it matched or eclipsed their own. The Conclave was not the unchallenged power in the quadrant anymore. The terrans, the human and chua, had somehow defied fate. They had not fallen to the vral after ninety years of near constant conflict, and now if Tika was right they had come out of it nightmarishly stronger than before. Tika had actually begged to be heard by his superiors, and he had never come close to that once in his life. The chua homeworld however, had fully broken him. If he had not been on the Antares, had not been humbled beforehand, he knew that he would have just clapped his hands together and said that it was delightful. As the transmission from the chua homeworld had come in, and the rescue effort had begun, he could only wallow in his own shame. He had profited directly from the chua’s suffering, the human’s suffering. Again he had tried, and failed, to convince his people, and again he had failed. Being on the Antares, for him, was torture. The lights were too dim, every human and chua looked at him with nothing more than loathing and contempt, his entire worldview had been shattered from the way he viewed the galaxy to his own place in it. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the shadow of Simmons standing over him, her voice cold with a lethal rage, hearing her voice echo in his mind, seeing the glint from flashes of light shining in her eyes. ‘We Know.’ echoed in his mind in his sleep, the voice of the terrifying Fleet Marshal transforming into the sound of a vengeful god demanding compliance and promising retribution. Then he had watched the humans and chua, who he knew were preparing to go to war with his people, celebrating the return of the shesvie. Once more he had expected them to be integrated into the Terran Front, but as soon as he learned Simmons offer to them, and what it had entailed, he had been called to his room to answer the latest message from his people. Once again, his people had doubled down, the knowledge of the enslavement of the humans had been suppressed, and once more Tika found himself, and his people, standing against a Terran Front that had every justification to declare war, to right the wrongs that had been done to them. All the while, he knew something else. He knew that, after everything he had seen, that his people would lose. The turinika had not been to war for nearly two thousand years. His people were not ready for what the Terran Front could do, and after seeing what they had done to the vral so far, he knew his people were not ready for what the Terran Front would do. He was afraid of the dark. Tika was absolutely terrified of it now, because now he knew the monsters were real. Simmons had shown him that, but the humans, the chua, they were not the monsters. He was. He had refused to be one any more. He had announced his intentions to his staff, who had squalled in rejection, all but three. Kzia was the first to step to his side, Kikumot and Tziki had stepped forward as well. Never, in his most nightmarish dreams, did he ever think that he would stand in front of Simmons and voluntarily have his plumage stripped from him, performing the act of Kasva. He never thought that his staff would have ever compiled and transmitted the data package they had sent. He had never thought that he would betray his people, if only to save them. Simmons had changed that, the humans had changed that. He knew the terror of the dark, he knew fear for his people’s safety, he understood the horror of war, and for the first time in his long life he could truly look back at every interaction he had had, with every species, that had asked for help in their struggle for survival against the vral and truly understand their fear and desperation. Now he lay, his plumage stripped from him, his station revoked, his status removed, surrounded by a people who despised him. He wouldn’t have it any other way now. He knew that they would listen now, if not to him, then to the civilian masses of the Conclave that would not stand for what they had done. He prayed to the Great Mother often now, shivering in the dim light, hoping that it would be enough. He had been wrong, and in his error he had sullied his own people. He had made them complicit. Even now, he did not know how they would ever be forgiven, because right now he wasn’t quite sure he could ever forgive himself. As he heard the broadcast calling out on the ship, announcing one minute to jump, he felt a hand on his side, and looked up to the human nurse. She was smiling at him. Not a smile born of malice, or anger, but a genuine smile. She patted his side lightly, then turned to walk out of the room. For not even the twentieth time since he had come onboard Thermopylae, he was mystified by these people.
The bridge of the Dhampir was thrumming with music and the vibrations of the reactor and Conrad leaned forward in his chair mount, his eyes almost feral as he looked at the empty space that was the mandeville point. He was positively chomping at the bit. Batz was positively roaring the lyrics to the song that was blaring over the ships speakers. Rev and Dev sat side by side in their mounts, throwing their hands up in time with the pounding bass beat of the sound. Towns was the only one besides Conrad that was quiet, both of them looking towards the mandeville point with complete impatience. Conrad felt like jumping from his skin. Fidget, well, fidgetted, holding his hands over his headset and listening as if he were trying to hear secret messages in the music. They were ready, their pulses were racing. The crew of the Dhampir was positively vibrating. Conrad looked to the shipboard clock, seeing 1330 displayed, and his head snapped to Fidget, waiting for the word. They were going to run, they were going to chase, they were going to hunt.
Vicky sat back, looking towards Jess and Kukat as they slept. Jess was in her chair, Kukat in her medical bed. Vicky glanced back at the block print on the paper and read it for the fifth time. She read the individual lines, one at a time, cursing their existence. After reading through the message printed she let her hand hang again. Kukat would be released from medical tomorrow, and both her and Jess still thought they would be boarding the Thumper to join the Vellacore once more. Jess had talked non-stop about her quarters on the Vellacore the past few days, how she just wanted to be back in her room. Kukat was equally excited. Only Vicky didn’t share their excitement. They didn’t know yet. They didn’t know about their battlefield promotions, they didn’t know about their reassignments, they didn’t know the days of them working together were functionally over. Vicky looked down at her hand holding the paper again, and felt like crumpling it. She had lost her crew. She had lost them not due to negligence, or time, she had lost them to fame. Kukat was to be promoted to ensign, and was to be the sensor officer on the destroyer Hadrian, Jess was getting the same promotion, her station on the cruiser Victorious. Vicky? She was the sparkling new commanding officer of a destroyer that was arriving at Thermopylae in two days, the Quarrel. She never wanted this. She had turned down promotion after promotion that would take her from the cockpit of the Thumper, away from Kukat, away from Jess. She wanted to serve in this war in her own way, as a pilot, with the two who had made her life so enjoyable. Now though, they were to be split up, and there was nothing she could do about it. These promotions hadn’t come from simple seniority, they had come from High Command, as had the orders. Tomorrow, when Kukat was released, they would be ushered into the hanger bay of the Barrowmore. They would all three be awarded the Star of Terra, then they would be reassigned. Tonight was the last night they would all be together. Vicky wanted to wake them up, she wanted to tell them, to give them a chance to process it. As she looked to Kukat and Jess she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She held up the letter again, reading the first few lines, then she felt the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes. She looked away, her heart panging with sadness, and stared at the wall. The clock read 1330.
Corporal Brandy was sitting on the small rack, with Janet Shippen sitting between his legs using his thighs as armrests. They were both dressed for the first time in the last few hours, both of them staring at the clock. This close to the reactors they could feel them beginning to spool up for the trip through hyperspace. When the news of the operation had come down they had elected to spend as much time together as possible, which Brandy had enjoyed to no end, and he had made sure Janet had as well. Brandy had even taken some time to reach out to his sister Victoria, a rarity for them both, as since they were children they were often barely able to speak to each other simply due to schedules. He had even told her about Janet, and although he hadn’t gotten a response from his sister yet he already knew what she would say. Janet nestled back against him, but he could feel her body was stiff. Neither of them knew what the next few months were going to hold. Their time together might be constricted, in fact, this might be the last few moments they were together for quite awhile. Brandy’s Ghouls were specialists, ship boarders. Chances are he was going to be extremely busy, as was she. He didn’t quite know how he felt about Janet, but he did know that beyond a shadow of a doubt he didn’t want to be away from her. Judging from how she was acting, she felt the same as him, conflicted about her relationship with him, but not wanting to be apart. He knew what he needed to tell her, that he had to get up, that he had to leave. The Ghouls were going to be assembled at 1345, ready to board. Her unit was going to be prepared at the same time, to begin taking on salvage. Her hands were like clamps on his legs, and from how tense she was, he wasn’t going to get up until she was good and ready. The clock on the wall switched to 1330. He stared at the clock, feeling like the clock was mocking him, when suddenly Janet leaned up and turned. Her hands took hold of his shoulders and she threw her body against his, her lips finding his own. Her arms wrapped around her frame and he tightened his grasp on her.
Simmons spread her hands over the panel in front of her, looking at the table. Seven points connected the recently reclaimed chua space to what was former Shesvie territory, and beyond that, the heart of the Vral Empire. Her lip curled in a wicked smile, On the digital display of the table the hyperspace lanes, and more importantly, the avenues of attack her fleet was preparing to take. She held out her hand, all five fingers splayed over the lanes, envisioning the war as it stood now. The war to come. Seven hyperspace lanes, seven systems, branching out into sixteen, branching out again to another twenty. The Antares herself was going to link up with the Barraki, and was set to simply plough through the next five systems to do so. Slowly she tightened her hand into a fist as she looked along the hyperspace lanes, seeing task forces lined up and ready to jump. Drones had already been sent through. The vral had forces along the border, but nothing that could withstand what was to come. Her fleet was ready. She was ready. The Seventh Orion War was at the end of it’s first month, and had taken back six systems. The first moves of Operation Naked Sun would double that and exceed it, then double it again. She had already given her speech, her task force commanders were ready. High Command had taken it’s time making this decision, and while she had railed against the delay that didn’t matter now. All along the front, individual task forces were joined into larger fleets, ready to jump into the next system and eliminate any vral defenses, but unlike now, they simply would not wait. Naked Sun was to be a lightning strike to cut off as much of the Vral Empire as possible, to deny them their own space, to imprison them on their own worlds. Task Forces were designed around three types of vessels combinations, Lighthammer Task Forces were comprised of corvettes and fast destroyers, the fastest vessels in the fleet, meant to take systems quickly, to devastate unprotected infrastructure, and to eliminate light resistance. Simply put, they were going to swarm into vral space, determine pockets of resistance, and move on. They were going to rip entire sections of vral space from them, calling in other task groups if needed. Thunder task groups were the primary capital fleets, meant to be sent into those pockets of resistance, and neutralizing them, joining with the Lighthammer groups if needed. The cruisers, carriers, battleships, they all belonged to these task forces. Her own task force was called the Nova task force, and it comprised only the Antares and it’s sizable fleet escort. Simmons glanced up at the clock, the time was 1329. She breathed in slowly, then unbidden the thought came to her head and she looked to the report from the two habitable planets that had been scanned by the drone cutters, the information having been relayed to her almost twenty minutes prior. She was not worried about the ground campaign, in fact a reserve fleet from Thermopylae would be the ones to escort the landing ships from planet to planet that her fleet left behind in it’s wake, isolated and defenseless from the wider Vral Empire. Fleet escorting was no longer her job, protecting ground invasions were no longer her job. Simmons was positively growling now, as her only job was to take her fleet and use it to rip the vral out of the stars. Still, the thought nagged at her. On both of the planets that her fleet was set to overrun, there were Vral ships in orbit. On the first, there was evidence that the Vral had been bombarding a small area of the surface, extremely similar in size to the hole that now existed on Zvitia, the planet that even now was being integrated into the Terran Front. In the second system it showed Vral ships in orbit, but whatever they were doing during the time they had taken the scans, whatever they were covering up, they didn’t seem to have gotten to it yet. On the radiological scan of the planet a massive bloom of electromagnetic energy painted a broad region of the planet blistering white. She had sent the images back to Earth, back to High Command, but no one seemed to know what was happening. The one thing that every analyst agreed on so far that was that whatever the blooms represented, it meant nothing good. She took another long look at the radiological scan, seeing the intensity of the radiation, and her lip curled in a snarl. She couldn’t think about that right now, but orders had already been given to notify her the moment that they had taken a planet that still bore the radiation signal. The vral were being damned fastidious about it though. She pulled her thoughts away from it, looking back to the hyperspace lanes. The slow grin entered her features again. She glanced at the clock. 1330. Her hand took hold of the receiver next to her station and she pressed the transmission stud, knowing that Hazard had already opened a channel to the wider fleet.
“Commence.”

This will function as a one-stop guide to sound deaden the 3rd generation Mazda3. I believe it will be useful for any previous or next-gen Mazda3 owner, or anyone with a CX-30, as these platforms share many components.
Like others undertaking this project, I did a ton of research on sound deadening, the process, and the products first before jumping in. I would encourage anyone pursuing the same project to read through the links I’ve included in this write-up as they should give you all the information you need to sound-deaden your car in a comprehensive, easy manner, without having to do the weeks of research I had to do.
Pre-reading:
If you haven’t already, read through this thread for background as this is a solid, comprehensive write-up.
https://www.mazda3revolution.com/threads/sound-deadening-my-17-mazda-3-bn.242072/
Materials Needed:
1. Butyl-based mat to apply first as your base layer
I used 72 square feet to do the entire car, including hood, wheel wells, full interior, rear hatch area, and all doors. I did not do the headliner.
Total cost: $200 CAD
I used 1 box of 2mm (80 mil) Kilmat, and 1 box of 2.5mm Amazon branded butyl sheets. I found the Kilmat had better adhesion and was easier to cut and work with, because of the smaller sheet sizes, so I used this for tight spaces and the doors. The Amazon stuff was great to apply to large areas such as the floor of the vehicle, because I would just stick one entire sheet down and be done with it. It’s also slightly cheaper than the Kilmat.
Other brands: Silless, which manufactures the closed cell foam, also makes this stuff for a reasonable price.

2. Closed cell foam as the second layer
I used 100 square feet.
Total cost: $200
I did a LOT of research and shopping around to find the best balance between price, value, and performance of closed cell foam. I ultimately landed on using Siless Liner 157mil (4mm) closed cell foam which I found on Amazon. Noico is also another brand that makes this stuff for slightly more cost. These come in boxes of 51 square feet for about $100. I thus bought two boxes of the stuff. I did end up with leftover product, which I have saved as it can be used to stick on anything else that causes noise such as a furnace, washing machine, etc along with the leftover butyl mat.

3. Rubber-based floor underlay as the final layer
I used a 100 square foot roll of Technoflex Underlayment Acoustic Membrane, 2mm thickness.
Total cost: $85
Product link: https://www.rona.ca/en/product/technofloor-technoflex-underlayment-acoustic-membrane-thermal-insulation-4-ft-x-25-ft-x-008-in-100-sqft-rubber-material-black-m2000-100-73015020
Alternate link: https://technoflexintl.com/en/product/technofloor-acoutstic
Other products I considered, but chose against as the Technoflex is thicker

• https://www.rona.ca/en/product/mono-serra-zito-200-ft2-15-mm-blue-high-density-foam-underlayment-for-vinyl-floors-fm-906-84666069
• https://www.rona.ca/en/product/selitbloc-griptec-subfloor-underlay-pressure-resistent-foam-48-in-w-x-25-ft-l-100-sqft-15-mm-thickness-blue-gold-a64305-05075003

In Canada, you cannot find mass loaded vinyl. My goal was to find something relatively cheap and functional. I went to underlay because it’s sold in bulk and there are many products out there to compare effectiveness. Flooring underlay also has specific requirements in order to carry a particular sound deadening rating. It’s also rubber-based, like vinyl, so I figured I would just double up on layering as I had enough product to do so. I did end up doubling up the layering in most places and had leftover product.
Please note, this product is not adhesive. You lay it down like a blanket and you need to cut it to fit in tight spaces. Thus, I did not use it in vertical areas like the doors. I only used it on the floor and trunk of the vehicle. I am not technically inclined enough to adhere or screw it on the doors, but there are other people in the links on this thread who have done so, so depending on your skill level it is certainly possible.

All Tools Required

1. Socket set with 10mm socket and a Phillips screwdriver. I purchased a full socket set because I did not have one and found one on sale.
2. E-torx socket size 12 to remove the front seats. I just purchased a set of 8 for $20
3. Trim removal tool and plastic clip replacements, approx. $20. Extremely useful!!
   • https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B01N9AL149?psc=1&ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_product_details
   • The metal trim removal tool is worth its weight in gold. Trust me, there are a LOT of plastic trim pieces to remove, and this tool makes them very easy to remove properly without breaking anything. All cars nowadays use plastic trim, so it’s a worthwhile purchase if you’re ever going to do work on any future car as well.
   • I purchased the set above because it came with a whole array of trim removal tools as well as a huge variety of replacement plastic trim pieces. I ended up using a couple pieces that broke when I did the doors. The kit has everything you may need for most vehicles, including our Mazdas.
4. Rubber roller, $12. Useful for rolling down the butyl mat and closed cell foam.
   • https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B01N9AL149?psc=1&ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_product_details
5. Do yourself a favor and get some gloves. I used my bare hands for about 50% of the time, and they were sore, and had little nicks and cuts all over them by the time I was done. Much easier with gloves.

Skill Level
I have a general interest in cars but the most technical work I’ve ever done are oil changes and tire swaps. This was the largest and most technical project I ever embarked on. I work an office job, so I don’t even work with my hands a lot. If I can do it, so can you (as long as you set aside the time and have the proper tools).

Results
I did not take before-after videos, as that has been captured by videos on Youtube as well as people who have measured the noise levels in the threads below. All I can tell you is that this does work. In my opinion, the project even for a newb like me is totally worth it. For less than $500, and a couple days of work, you can make your Mazda feel like an entirely different vehicle.

Now, sounds and vibrations are barely transmitted going over rough roads. The car feels so much more planted and stable when going over bumps. The audio system sounds better. The doors close with a rich-sounding ‘thunk’. By far the biggest improvement is getting a whole new level of isolation within the car, which makes long trips so much more tolerable and the daily commute so much more relaxing. I would 100% do this again.

The project
Okay, let’s get to the project itself! I’ve broken up each area of the car into separate sections. As the write-ups below are fairly comprehensive, there is no need for me to reinvent the wheel.

Doors
This link contains pictures and instructions, very clearly detailed, on how to do the doors. I did the rear doors first to get used to working with all the materials, then the trunk, then the interior of the car. I would suggest following these instructions.
https://imgur.com/a/2018-mazda-3-sound-deadener-install-vE1o9Hi
Before taking apart your doors, also read through this thread as it contains some more details and information that you will find useful.
https://www.mazda3revolution.com/threads/sound-deadening.126105/?post_id=1624345&nested_view=1&sortby=oldest#post-1624345
This thread is also good to read as it is very detailed. It is for the previous generation, but the door design has not changed that much compared to our generation.
https://www.mazda3revolution.com/threads/cheaply-and-effectively-sound-deadening-your-2010-2013-mazda3.111385/

Wheel arches
Use these links and instructions for the wheel arches
https://www.mazda3revolution.com/threads/sound-deadening.126105/page-2
As well as the Imgur gallery from the Doors section for some more pictures.

Trunk
This is the easiest part of the whole project. If you’ve read the threads above, you don’t need any help with this. I did not do the hatch door. I do not think that is worth it, because if your trunk area is well insulated and you have your rear seat up, there’s not a lot of noise that’s going to get through the hatch door.

Interior
This is the part of the project that I had to figure out on my own, so I want to give several tips that will make it easier if you’re doing this.

~1. Removing the interior carpet:~
First vacuum the carpet.
You don't need to remove the entire console to get access to the majority of the floor. To remove the interior carpet, first remove the rear seat, then the front seats, then the interior plastic trim, and finally there are some pieces of Styrofoam in the front wheel wells. You can pull up the carpet for the left side of the vehicle as you work on that side, then tack it all down, and repeat for the right side of the vehicle.

~2. Removing the front seats~
First, disconnect the battery using the 10mm socket. This is recommended by the manufacturer to prevent accidental discharge of the air bags.
If you have the E-torx size 12 socket, removing the seat bolts is a breeze. I zipped them right off. Undo the back bolts, then slide the seat to its rearmost position, then remove the front bolts. Roll the seat onto it’s back to access the harness, undo the harness, then remove the front seat either from the front or rear door. It doesn’t matter.
Go to this site and download the PDF that Anchorman posted. That is all you need to know to remove the front harness. It took me HOURS of searching the web to find a resource this good – there aren’t even any good videos demonstrating what the PDF shows. https://www.cx3forum.com/threads/drivers-seat-removal.17234/
This was both the easiest and hardest thing about the project. Where I got stuck was removing the wiring harness from underneath the seat. Don’t be like me and stick a screwdriver in there, because that can damage the plastic. Instead, simply lift the white tab, press the tab underneath, and the harness comes off nice and easy. The link above with the PDF by Anchorman is what I WISHED I had at the start. I hope this will make it much easier for you.
Don’t be worried about the airbag going off etc. Using the diagram in the PDF, it’s just 1 harness and it comes off super easy and clips back in super easy too. It’s idiot-proof. You won’t have any trouble.

~3. Remove the interior plastic trim~
Again, watch this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aat4kUanm9w to see how to remove the trim and in what order. It’s actually quite easy and easy to reinstall as well. Just remember that the front and rear passenger scuff plates go on last. The other interior trim, does not matter what order you reinstall it.
Another tip, when removing the furthermost front inside trim (i.e the fusebox cover) and its equivalent on the front passenger side, there is a plastic nut securing that trim in place at the very front of it. It’s hard to see in there. Simply reach your hand in there, find the nut, and lefty-loosen it all the way until it comes off. Easy peasy!

~4. Remove the carpet~
You can pull up the carpet one side at a time. I recommend starting with the left side. In one area only, I cut through my carpet in order to remove it on the rear passenger areas, where it is affixed underneath the front seatbelt holder. This is not a problem. It was just easier this way, and because that area gets covered up by plastic trim, it doesn’t matter if you cut through it to make your life easier.
Once the carpet is lifted up, vacuum underneath it to ensure you have a clean surface that your butyl will adhere to.

~5. Do the driver’s side first!~
The front left side of the vehicle floor is the hardest to do because you have to contend with the footrest, reaching underneath the steering wheel, and the gas pedal. I removed the accelerator pedal – it is just held in place by two 10mm nuts, and then an electrical harness that easily clips off. Remove it and set it aside. Then, lift the carpet and remove the Styrofoam. Use a needlenose plyer to help unclip the plastic portion holding the Styrofoam in place. I did not end up reinstalling that plastic piece, as I installed sound deadener where it would have plugged into the floor. No harm.
I suggest doing the driver’s side first because once you’re done that front left area, the rest of the car is super easy. So do this while you’re fresh. Try to cover as much as you can in the front wheel wells, because that is a significant area of incoming road noise. Be systematic about cutting the butyl and closed cell foam in the correct sizes here, as you will have to reinstall the gas pedal, the Styrofoam, and the carpet properly. The good news is that it’s all easy to reinstall. I didn’t have any trouble.
Once you’re done with the driver’s compartment, systemically work your way with large butyl sheets and closed cell foam through the rest of the car floor. There is no need to apply this stuff up where the plastic trim will be reinstalled, on the inside lateral frame of the car – if you do so, it might be more difficult to reinstall the carpet and the plastic trim. Just do the flat bottom floor only, and you can hold the carpet up to access up along the centre console as well. (Keep in mind this is written for someone with my skill level – i.e newb. If you are more advanced and know what you’re doing, then go ahead and put some butyl or CCM in the inside lateral area, the area otherwise covered up with plastic trim).
I did not go for 100% coverage. To do that would take a lot longer. I went for about 90% coverage with the butyl and closed cell foam, and the rubber Technoflex layers covered up pretty well 95% of the area.
When you are laying the material down, ensure not to cover the holes for the seat bolts. If you do by accident, no worries – just use a screwdriver to poke through them, and you can easily still thread the bolt through when you go to reinstall your front seats.
Repeat the same steps on the right side of the vehicle.

~6. Reinstall the plastic trim.~
First reinstall the carpet and ensure all the holes line up. Reinsert the plastic clips into the holes to hold the carpet in place. Then, reinstall the frontmost trim piece, ensuring it clicks into place, and finally screw the plastic nut on. You may need to lift the rubber insert around the door to replace the plastic trim properly – the rubber insert comes off and goes on very easily, it is very forgiving to work with.
Then, install the B pillar trim piece. Then, the inside rear trim piece. Finally, the scuff plates, front and rear.

~7. Reinstall the front seats.~
~8. Reinstall the rear cushion.~
~9. Plug in the battery again.~
You’re done! Go for a rest drive and let the results speak for themselves!

Final thoughts
I did not take pictures because I was too busy installing the stuff and there are plenty of pictures available on the various threads.
I did reach out to many people on the forum and on Reddit who have done this project and from everything that I’ve learned, I believe this should be all you need to know to do this project successfully.
It will take several days so set some time aside. Here are some rough estimates:

• Trunk: 2 hours
• Each door: 2-3 hours (first door will take longer, then each door after gets shorter and shorter)
• Wheel wells: 2 hours
• Inside Hood: 1 hour
• Interior: 9 hours. Set aside a full day for this. You will want to take breaks in between steps. It took me from 10am to 8pm.

I have a positive story to share. I avoid this sub for the most part unless I’m in a bad place mentally, but I’ve been wanting to share. I will try to keep a very long story short.
I’ve had emetophobia since I was as young as 4. It only cropped up if someone got sick near me or if someone in my house was sick, but for the most part it didn’t bother me on a daily basis.
Shortly after having my daughter, my husband got a series of sb* right in a row. I was already dealing with PPD/PPA, and this sent me over the edge. It got BAD. I barely remember the first two years of my daughter’s life. At my worst, I spent an entire trip in New York in the hotel room because I was convinced I was sick (I wasn’t). My husband actually got sick on another trip, and I left him in another state, booked him a separate flight home, to avoid sitting next to him. Just painting a picture of how bad it was. For a period of time, I was suicidal, I was taking Xanax around the clock just to get through the day, and I got on Zoloft to help manage. I was in a case study to do EMDR for emet, which also helped a lot.
I took up a pretty strict lifestyle where I went to therapy weekly (still do), took an MBSR (mindfulness based stress reduction) course, and took up yoga. Over the course of a year and a half doing that, I was able to get off medication completely and deal with my symptoms as they crop up.
Since my daughter started school, it’s been tough, but I make it through. My husband handles when she does get sick (not often) and I usually go to my mom’s house.
UNTIL. We were recently on a camping trip in our camper. My daughter got sick on the FIRST night we were there, the only night we didn’t have a campsite with hookups. No running water, we discovered we didn’t have bleach, and I had a panic attack and decided I couldn’t do it. I got a hotel room across the street, literally bought a separate hotel room for her to shower in, and I was 100% prepared to get an Uber to the airport and fly home the next morning. There was no way I would be able to stay for a whole week in a confined space like that. What if my husband or I got it next?
The next morning I checked on her and had my finger on the button to call an Uber. She told me she felt bad for ruining the trip. I realized in that moment that if I left, I would be proving her right. My husband was extremely supportive and told me he would not be upset if I left but that he would love if I would stay. So I made the decision to stay. I went to Walmart, bought bleach and Lysol and new sheets, cleaned the camper from top to bottom, and tried to enjoy the day outside.
We actually had the BEST trip. No one else got sick. We made SO MANY MEMORIES that I would’ve missed out on by leaving. I’m so so glad I stayed. It was an emotional week for me, and I was so glad everyone in my life realized what a huge step it was for me.
I’m sharing this because I know there are people here like me who believe they can’t do it and that it will never get better. But it CAN. Since I got back, I haven’t been constantly washing my hands or using Zylast like usual. It hasn’t been on my mind 24/7 like usual. I still get anxious when I hear about it, but it’s not occupying my brain all day long anymore.
Tonight, my husband is out of town. The worst time she could possibly get sick. We’re watching a movie and she tells me she thinks she’s going to get sick. I freaked out for a moment, took a Xanax (I rarely take them now) to calm myself, but was able to calm down and figure out a plan. I got everything ready in case it happened. I called my mom and she came over for a while. I still don’t know if she’s going to be okay, but I’m sitting here NOT wanting to die over it. Knowing that whatever happens, we will be okay. Knowing that I can do it.

I first started noticing that something was wrong around 3 months ago. At the time, I was working from home and would usually light a scented candle while I worked, which usually helped me relax and stay focused on my work. I would usually burn through a candle a week, but over time, the candles started to take less time to fully burn up. At first, I thought that this was because of a change in ingredients the company that made the candles used, but the problem persisted after I switched candle brands, which I once again blamed on the candle manufacturers.
I kept this belief for another week until the first incident. While getting up from my computer desk, which faces away from the candle, to take a quick bathroom break, I caught a glimpse of the lit candle. A two-inch layer of molten wax rested on another three-inch layer of solid wax, the wicks rising out at first and being somewhat visible through the molten layer, finally breaking the surface and being slowly burned away. The flames flickered as I swung the door open and walked out of the room. When I returned 10 minutes later, the molten layer was gone, and the wicks had been shortened so that the flames rested right above the solid layer of the wax. At first, I thought that the glass jar that contained the candle was leaking, but after a short inspection, I was only able to find two small drops of candle wax that had solidified right next to the candle on the bedside table. I still had 2 hours of work left to do, but I was too lost in thought and was unable to do any work for the rest of the day.
Every night before I go to sleep, I like to read for at least 30 minutes, and while reading, I usually light a candle. Around 4 days later, I had mostly forgotten about the incident and went back to using candles. Due to my naivety, it returned.
I fell asleep while reading with a candle lit on my bedside table. I woke up to loud slurping noises. As I opened my eyes, the brightness of the light I had not turned off almost blinded me. As my eyes tried to readjust to the light and focus on what was in front of me, I saw a somewhat humanoid dark gray to light blue blur that contrasted with the white paint on the walls behind it. Another gray line stretched from the shape's head to the candle on my bedside table. I could feel my heart skip five consecutive beats. I opened my mouth and tried to force out a scream for help, but the pressure I applied to my throat was way beyond what it was able to handle, leading me to only produce a light wheezing sound. I tried to sit up or to at least prop myself up, but my muscles failed me. Trying to push myself up with my arms felt impossible. As I stared at the figure that had suddenly appeared in my room, my eyes finally managed to focus, making it possible for me to see the intruder who was now staring at me. The figure was a man at least 7 feet tall, fully naked; he looked bloated; his eyes were bloodshot and looked like they would pop out of their sockets; at any point, his skin was a grayish light blue.
HIS LIPS
His lips extended from his mouth like an elephant's trunk, which had been split in half. The lips extended from the man's face to the candle; the flames had been put out. He was using his lips as a makeshift straw, slowly sucking up all the molten wax from the candle, which had fully liquified while I was asleep. I laid in bed, unable to move, unable to scream for help, staring until he emptied the jar. His lips retracted back to his face, the molten wax solidifying on their tips and cracking, flakes of wax falling off the man's lips and falling to the floor. The man grinned, staring at me. The ridges and gaps between the teeth were filled in with wax, making it impossible to make out where one tooth ended and the next one began. The man opened the door he was standing next to, but instead of walking out of the room, he stepped behind it. His face peered at me from above the door, and then once again, like he had done to drink the wax, the man puckered his lips, which stretched from his mouth and floated to me. I shook and tried to roll over away from him. I wanted to get up and run, but my fear had taken over my body. Tears flowed from my eyes. He kissed me on the cheek, leaving flakes of wax and light moisture. He retracted his lips and lowered his head behind the door.
I don't remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, I saw the empty glass jar, which at one point contained the candle. Even though I had hoped that what had happened was a dream, it wasn't. I still had flakes of wax on my cheek, and on my bedroom floor, the wax in the jar had disappeared. I called the police, but they were unable to find anyone in my apartment; they also could not find any evidence of a break-in.
After the break-in, I started looking for a new apartment to move to, thinking that the man was tied to the building I was in, but even though I had thrown out all of my candles, I could not stomach spending another hour in my apartment, constantly looking over my shoulder or walking around with my back pressed up against the wall to not allow it to creep up on me. Thankfully, my friend Emma was able to let me stay over at her apartment while I looked for a new one for myself.
Me and Emma have been friends since we were 8, and we've been there to support each other when times get rough. This isn’t the first time I've had to stay over at her house for an extended amount of time; in fact, I have had to stay over at Emma’s as many times as she has had to stay over at my apartment, whether it was because of evictions after losing a job, breakups, or a candle wax drinking squatter. I didn't even know if it was human. I mean, sure, it looked like one, but human lips are not supposed to do what his did, and somehow it didn't have a reaction to molten wax being poured down its esophagus. I didn't tell Emma about what happened—the details at least—I just told her that a man had broken into my house and was watching me sleep. The only people I told the truth to were my therapist and the cops, and all of them disregarded what I told them as my mind making things up after a traumatic event.
For a while, I believed what they said—I mean, why wouldn’t I?—but then I started seeing him again. For a few days, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me again like it had done during the night of the incident. For split seconds out of the corner of my eye, I would see the outline of a tall, bloated figure. At first, they were hours apart, but after a while, it became constant. He was standing in each room I passed, in every single dark corner I glanced past, and then he spoke.
“FeeD MeEeee”
It stood in the kitchen, peering over from a small gap between the fridge and the sink, where the trash can that had been knocked over onto its side usually stood. His voice was raspy, and every word that came out of his mouth was distorted as if he were gargling water, but still, I could somehow clearly make out each word he said from over 15 feet away.
“Please just leave me alone I… why are you following me?”
I shouted at the figure, the same fear that had taken over my body during the night I saw him for the first time paralyzing me, making it impossible for me to move anything other than my eyes, eyelids, and mouth.
“i’M sTarviNg, I nEEd You To FeEd ME”
It replied again. Now, stepping out from behind the fridge, he stepped directly onto a rotten banana. Its mushy brown content’s seeping out of the peel under the pressure of his decomposing foot, which was covered in scabs, and took up the same grayish light blue color as the rest of his body. He mostly looked the same; his bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, but now his tongue was swollen. It peeked out from between his bloated, cracked gray lips; it stared at me, waiting for an answer.
“Ok, I’ll.. I’ll feed you, but please just... leave me alone.”
I replied, the tone of my voice shifting into high-pitched squeals with every quick breath I took. He looked satisfied by my response. He somehow squeezed his bloated body back into the gap that was at least four times smaller than him. After peering over at me from above the fridge, he bent over backwards, his spine releasing a series of sickening cracks until he was fully obscured by the fridge, and then he vanished.
Still barely in control of my body, I limped over to the couch tucked away in the back corner of the living room, it took me at least 10 minutes to steady my breathing and 20 more to fully regain control of my body again but as soon as I did I ran out the house and to the nearest store, during the 15-minute walk he stared at me through dark windows and the backs of cars, peered out at me from gaps between leaves in the trees and bushes, he even followed me into the store staring at me from the middle of deserted isles before disappearing right before my eyes were able to fully catch him, once I finally got the candles I randomly picked four off of the shelves and rushed to the self checkout.
When I arrived home, I had 2 hours before Emma got off work. I didn't want to feed it while she was home, and I didn't want her to see it. I pulled out two of the candles from the black plastic bag and placed them on the kitchen table, the first a light blue candle named “Garden Rain” and the second a red candle named “Juicy Watermelon." I pulled out a lighter from one of the drawers Emma used after her stove stopped lighting on its own and lit each of the 6 wicks on the candles. As soon as I started seeing the wax melt under the heat of the burning wicks, I dropped the lighter onto the table next to the candles and ran out of the room. I could not stomach seeing that thing again; even just thinking about it made me shudder and hyperventilate. The paralyzing fear that seeing him caused me made me want to vomit.
At least 30 minutes later I started to hear it drink even though the living room and kitchen were separated by a wall, even though I had closed the door I could still hear what at first started as slurping sounds which were followed up by loud gulps, then it stopped, and once again 30 minutes later it started drinking, as the slurping started once again I heard the door to the apartment crack open, it was Emma, as she stepped through the door I saw her carrying two large brown paper bags of groceries in her hands, she was headed to the kitchen.
“Hey let me grab those for you”
I said running over to her, my voice shaking.
“Oh, thanks. Are you… okay, you look scared?”
My eyes shot wide open in a mixture of fear and surprise. I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Yeah just umm… I didn't expect you to come home so early and I got a bit spooked”
“shit sorry, I know I should have called you, work let me off early today,”
I started to turn away from her walking to the kitchen.
Trying to keep her away from the kitchen I told her to wait for me in the living room because I wanted to talk to her about something. I didn't know what I would talk to her about but that was a problem for future me to resolve, somehow it worked.
“What's that sound?”
She called out to me while walking towards the living room couch. It took me a few seconds to come up with an excuse.
“I think it’s the sink, or the pipes at least”
I opened the door to the kitchen with my eyes closed at first hesitant to look knowing what would be greeting me. slowly prying my eyes open I started to see its outline, my muscles started to lose strength as the details of the man came into my view, I felt the grocery bags start to slip from my arms, my knees buckled, face first I fell onto the kitchen floor scattering the groceries all over the floor, I mixture of a light scream and a yelp escaped from my mouth as my body made contact with the floor, Emma concerned for my safety ran into the kitchen, she didn't scream, using all of the strength and mobility I had left in my muscles I rolled over expecting to see her face drenched in terror, her body frozen still unable to move just like my body had done the first time that I saw him, but Emma looked concerned, the man was gone, she crouched down beside me.
“Oh my god are you ok? What happened?”
I looked around observing my surroundings.
“I um… I… I tripped on the little thing at the bottom of the doorframe”
I finally managed to blurt out another excuse, not being able to remember what the name of a door sill was. I started to sit up using a part of the energy that had returned to my body, pain pulsed through my chest and arms, Emma looked at me with a concerned face.
“You've been acting really weird since I got home, are you sure you're ok?”
“Yeah… I think I’m just having one of those days you know”
The confusion on Emma’s face said that she didn’t know and to be honest I didn't either, I guess my luck of pulling random excuses out of my ass ran out, Emma thought that she triggered some sort of PTSD response after barging into the house unannounced at first apologizing then trying to change the subject to stop my trembling which I was still unsuccessfully trying to hide from her.
“Did you buy candles?”
Emma asked picking the groceries apart from the garbage that spilled out the can that the man had knocked over, placing them on the table next to the now half-empty glass jars, the flames flickered above the inch or so of molten wax the man was unable to finish drinking.
“Yeah I’ve been struggling with work lately, they usually help me focus”
“Huh Interesting combination you’ve got going on here”
She looked at me and smiled slightly, I smiled back and chuckled to seem normal.
“Yeah even I don't know what I was trying to accomplish here, to be honest”
I tried to help Emma clean up the spilled groceries but she did not let me, she told me that I needed to recover like I had been in a car crash instead of having taken a little tumble. After a few seconds of silence, Emma spoke again.
“Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about earlier?”
A quick jolt of stress shot through my body, in a jumbled mess of lies and fear I had forgotten what I had told Emma, I sat there in silence for a few seconds unable to come up with an excuse
“I…umm… I don’t remember, it wasn't anything serious though”
“Damn did you hit your head too?”
She said once again proudly smiling at her joke.
At this point Emma picked up the last bag of potato chips from the floor and placed it on the table, then she opened the fridge and started loading the groceries into it.
“Anyway I gotta go get back to work’’
I blurted out after a few more seconds of awkward silence.
“Alright well good luck”
I walked over into the living room and sat down in front of my workstation, which now consisted of a laptop sitting on a small foldable TV tray that had just barely enough room left on it to fit a small USB mouse.
The last thing I remember, before I fell asleep, was me mindlessly scrolling through apartment listings while Emma watched a random 90’s horror movie I’m positive only had a budget of $500.
I woke up with a light stinging pain shooting through my dry throat, and a dim hissing sound caused by thousands of water drops striking the ground outside filled the room. I pressed the spacebar on my laptop, the brightness of the screen blinding me temporarily, after taking a few seconds to let my eyes readjust I managed to make out the time, 3:45 AM. A strong smell I was unable to make out the origin of assaulted my nostrils. Lavender.
The smell hitting my nose had the same effect on me that I would expect smelling salts would have on a weightlifter right before they set a world record. Before I knew it my legs were moving on their own at an almost uncontrollable pace, fighting back against my mind which was telling them to slow down after years of being used to navigating both mine and Emma’s apartment as steadily as possible to not bother the neighbors.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity I stood before Emma’s bedroom door, a faint, yellow, pulsating light radiated from a lamp and snuck out of a small gap between the door and the doorframe, reluctantly I pushed my left hand up against the door, my right hand grasping onto the door frame for a sense of stability, once the door was fully agape I scanned the inside of the room my heart skipping a beat for every humanoid shadow cast up onto the wall by the lights from the wicks which were set ablaze and were being slowly burnt away.
I walked into Emma’s room and made my way over to her bedside table to put out the candle, as I stepped closer towards her, her face became more defined, I could finally make out her features, she was awake, but no she could not have been, even though her eyes were wide open they never blinked, she didn't even move slightly, as I moved closer I finally managed to fully make out the expression of pure terror on her face, her mouth wide agape as if she was about to release a deafening screach, but she could not have, a single drop of solidified wax dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and clung to her cheek, my eyes traced the cream colored path back towards her mouth, first up her cheek then between the corner of her mouth and finally behind her teeth, there instead of her tongue or the roof of her mouth I saw a wall of wax which had filled in the entirety of her mouth.
I fell to my knees and hunched forward supporting my body weight with my arms, I was too late, I resisted the urge to vomit and got back up onto my feet, a mixture of tears and snot slid down my face and onto my lips, shaking now I slowly started limping over towards my phone which I had left on the couch next to where I had awoken just minutes before, just minutes before my life was destroyed because of my lies if I had just told Emma what I had gone through, if I had just told her what had happened on the night of the incident which now seemed trivial, even if she thought that I was crazy, I know that she would have complied just to make me feel comfortable.
It took me at least 30 seconds of repeated attempts to stabilize my hands enough to properly dial 911. “Someone broke into my apartment and hurt my friend” was the only reasonable explanation I could come up with that would not get the operator to hang up on me thinking that this was a prank call.
I sat there in the living room for an agonizing 10 minutes, crying, my sadness slowly transformed into anger towards myself, and my mind raced thinking of all the lies I’d told, I kept thinking that if I had just told her the truth she would not have been laying there in her bed, her body bloated, “every single orifice has signs of forced penetration and has been filled with what seems to be candle wax” is what was written on her autopsy report.
For a few days I was the main suspect in Emma’s murder, but due to the almost unstoppable crying and the unresponsive state that I was in when the police arrived, mixed with the lack of evidence of me having a way to produce 30 pounds of candle wax led to me being released out of police custody, but because I was the main suspect I was not told any details about what had fully happened to Emma, for days all I had to work off of was the image of her face frozen in terror, and a short glance I caught of her bloated body as she was being carted out on a stretcher.
I recounted every single word of our last conversations over and over again until they became permanently etched into my brain.
Emma’s parents originally wanted to cremate her, as that is what she had somewhat jokingly asked for whenever the topic of funerals came up, well she had joked about wanting to have had unpopped popcorn shoved down her throat before she was sent off to “scare the shit out of the guy cremating me” but due to all the wax which would have been impossible to get out of her body they were forced to bury her.
A few days before Emma’s funeral her body disappeared.
After Emma’s death, her parents took me into their home, after reading the autopsy reports and seeing her corpse they had thrown out every single candle they owned which made their home the safest choice I had, still, this did not stop me from buying a machete and keeping it under my bed, just in case.
I was laying on the bed in their guest bedroom The day that the police informed Emma’s parents about her disappearance, the bedroom is right above the front porch of the house, at first I heard them ring the doorbell which was followed up by 3 powerful knocks on the door, for about a minute I laid there on the bed listening to muffled voices exchanging distorted words I was barely able to make out which slowly transformed into distorted weeps, curious I lifted myself up from the bed, made my way over to the window and carefully lifted the bottom panel making Shure to not make too much noise, the distorted muffled sounds started forming into coherent words “We checked the security footage but the only strange thing we could see was a 5 second time jump” one of the officers spoke in a serious and almost monotone voice “which meant that the security guard who was the only person in the building had to climb down 2 flights of stairs walk through a 40 foot long hallway and then drag her body back up stairs and out of the building in 5 seconds” Emma’s mom let out yelp “ but don’t worry ma'am that’s actually good news because we know that her corpse is still somewhere within the building and was probably brought to the wrong floor by an intern, we’ve already warned all of the staff at the hospital to keep an eye out, and we also sent 5 officers to search the hospital”
I could not believe what I was hearing, my breathing quickened, but this time instead of fear I felt anger, that fucker stole her corpse and was probably in the weird separate plane of existence he always went back to after terrorizing me, cutting off chunks of her body, melting her, and drinking her.
I closed the window Emma’s mom's cries once again turned into a muffled rumble which was only possible to make out if you knew what to look for, I took a few steps back away from the window planning to lay back down, not wanting to bother Emma’s parents. I bumped into something, not something, someone, its fleshy towering form as solid as a wall sent me tumbling forward, I knew it was him, he had returned to take me too, to stretch his swollen cracked lips, push them down my esophagus, fill my lungs and stomach with wax. But despite all of that this time I was not scared, I was angry, and I was not going to stand there in terror like I had the last time I saw him.
I fell forward onto my knees my face missing the window sill just by mere inches, I put my hands onto the floor, lifted one of my knees, and rotated 180 degrees now facing the monster, to the right of him pushed up against the wall was the bed, light from the sun reflected off of the metallic button which kept my machete in it’s sheathe, the man started to stretch his lips, they were moving towards me, waving a wiggling through the air like a snake slithering towards me.
I dove towards the bed one of my feet pushing off of the floor and the other pushing against the wall which creaked under the pressure applied to it, I flew for a few moments before slamming down onto the carpet and sliding forward, the heat generated by my skin brushing against the carpet released a sharp stinging pain throughout my body, my outstretched arm landed just a few inches short of the machete, I quickly bent my arms, pushing my body up and crawled towards the machete. my fingers wrapped around the handle I spun around, my back pushed up against the bedside table, once again facing the man, he was still facing the window but his lips faced me and were just a few feet away from me, for what felt like minutes but was most likely no longer than a second, I struggled to hook my finger under the strap securing the machete into its sheath, as the lips inched towards me the man started producing gurgling noises, he was regurgitation wax.
I finally pulled the machete out of its sheath, I swung the blade at the man's lips, the blade was not met with any resistance as it sliced through the man’s lips which landed on the carpeted floor with an audible thud, the man did not have a physical reaction to my counter-attack, his lips kept creeping towards me, once again I slashed at the lips, still no reaction, I repeated this at least 3 more times.
I wanted to kill him, I wanted to take revenge for what he had done to Emma, but fighting back was pointless. I realized that no matter how much I tried to hurt it, I could not kill him, I could not get rid of him.
My rage dissipated and a mixture of fear and sadness crept in, and soon took over my body, I screamed for help, I screamed in fear, in agony, tears streamed down my face as the man's lips finally reached my face, he wasn’t met with any resistance as his lips snuck between mine, pried my jaw open and finally started to slide down my esophagus.
I heard the cops run up the stairs, they started banging on the door asking if I was okay only to have been met with muffled screams, hot wax started to pour down inside of me, the stinging pain of the heat made me want to plunge the machete which I had dropped onto the ground next to me into my stomach to create a gaping wound that the wax would hopefully funnel out of, the texture of the man's slippery, oily lips matched with the poison like flavor of the wax caused me to start gagging, I felt my insides bulging like at any moment my intestines would have been filled to the point where they would pop, I wanted to vomit, the drain myself of the filth I was filled with, but his lips had plugged my throat not allowing anything to get out.
Hearing my muffled screams the cops started kicking the door down, the man retracted his lips, the suction aided my attempts at cleansing my insides, I got onto my hands and knees streams of molten wax pouring out of me, solidifying on the the carpet, with another loud thud the door swung open slamming into the wall, the man was gone.
That’s the last thing I remember before I passed out, but according to one of the doctors who was in the ambulance that brought me to the hospital, I was still semi-responsive during the first 10 minutes of the ride to the hospital.
Approximately 13.4 pounds of wax were removed from my body, the doctors said that I was in a critical condition and some of them did not expect me to make it.
One of the officers who was there the day the man attacked me took a report of what had happened to me, due to the unmistakable evidence of what had happened to both me and Emma, and the fact that this was the 3rd instance of me reporting something like this the police finally started investigating who this man might have been.
Around a month later I was discharged from the hospital and once again have been staying in the living room of Emma’s parent's house.
I’ve been seeing the man again, candles were not allowed in the hospital I stayed at, which means that he’s probably very hungry, he’s close to attacking me again, I know it, he wants to finish what he started and I don't know if I have the power to fight back, I’m not sure if defeating him is even possible, I’m tired.
I’ve been seeing Emma too, her bloated, reanimated corpse often appears to be standing next to the man. If I let him take me will I get to join them? I’ve tried asking but they don’t answer, they just stare, I can’t keep living in constant fear, always looking over my shoulder, I miss Emma.

This is my first script. Please be kind. If it sucks, it sucks, but I had fun writing it nonetheless.
Please link me if you use/fill it. I would love to hear your take on it. Free to monetize, Youtube, Patreon, whatever, I just want to hear it. :)
Please give me credit: RE: My Darling / Remy Darling

Scene setter: Italics
SpeakeVA: Bold text with "quotes" outside of the sentence/phrases
Internal monologue: Bold/italics
Action of character or SFX: ((Double Parenthesis))
Response from a character: ((pause))

Speaker: You are Killian James a.k.a. Hook. Your eyes are the color of the sea, your hair is dark as night, and you are dashing, troubled, and flirtatious. The lilt of an accent gives you a melodic tone, and your personality is dark, playful, and direct. You are comfortable in three-piece suits, and are a dangerous man with many secrets.
Listener: Your name is Wendy. Your friends have convinced you to go to a bar downtown in the more dangerous part of the city due to rumors, only they end up bailing without you. You are going to go home after you finish your drink. The bar is called Never Land, Where, according to your friends rumors, the owner is a mysterious man that they all seem fascinated with. Apparently, he is tall, dark, and handsome – a devil of a man that goes by a strange name. They call him… Hook.

((SFX – The club is above this basement 'torture chamber' area-you can hear the music of the club playing muffled. The basement area is clean and not dungeon-y but is more of a modern torture chamber with drains for easy ah… clean up))
SCENE: There is a man chained/tied up. Hook enters the room, looking almost bored that he needs to be there. He takes off his jacket, handing it to one of his henchmen, leaving the vest on, before he unbuttons his cuffs and starts rolling the sleeves up.
“I’m not pleased that our shipment is late, Mr. Jukes. It was supposed to arrive on a super yacht named the ‘Jolly Roger’ today with a bunch of rich snobs who were none the wiser. Your men guaranteed me that it would arrive with the staff and be loaded off on the dock shortly after, however, that is yet to come to fruition, and I am not a patient man.”
((SFX: VA puts on leather gloves, stretches fingers and gets comfortable in them))
“I am aware that they have taken a detour due to a storm, Jukes – but your mismanagement of my time, and my money, are not to be forgotten. Bad form, Jukes! Bad form!”
((SFX: dragging knife sound – //our character uses a tactical Hook knife. It’s typically for gutting deer – not really necessary to know, it’s just to flesh out the character for you//, Hook approaches slowly))
“I know it won't happen again. Don’t worry, Jukes, since this is your first time having erred with me, I shall simply leave you with a small reminder. I expect the shipment to be directed to our port swiftly, otherwise, I won’t be nearly as lenient again.”
((SFX chains straining, screaming that becomes muffled screaming, as Hook takes his knife and leaves the man with a Cheshire Grin/Glasglow Smile up one side of his face, heavy breathing for a moment, as he returns and throws his knife down on the table))
“Get me my other three-piece suit from my office and a clean shirt. I’ve got this bastard’s blood all over me. He's not to be given his freedom until I hear that the shipment has come in from the Jolly Roger. If it does not go to plan – we will have to take further, more drastic actions and I don’t want to have to find this cad, Mr. Jukes, again. Do I make myself clear?”
((henchmen answer))
“Good.”
((SFX – him pulling off the leather gloves and getting changed))
“One of you stay here and watch him. Tonight I’ll be on the club floor. I’m not to be interrupted until The Crocodile has made contact. Is that understood?”
((pause))
“Good. That is all.”
((he leaves))

((SFX – transition to this however you like))
\*modern day, bar scene/sounds (*no* jazz or classical music - it's a nightclub), people mingling in the background. In enters our VA/Hook.*

“Tinkerbell, pour me my usual, will you, dear?”
((Tink is quick, and slides him his drink. Sip, sigh, and pause as he looks around)) (( This internal thought is not necessary but if you want to, go for it ))
\*internal thought*\** Who’s this? Oh my, sweet lamb, you are definitely in the wrong place.
“Tink, one last thing, could you possibly tell me anything about that young woman there? The one in light blue.”
((listening intently for a moment))
“Hm. Lovely. Thank you, dear.”
((SFX – he puts down his drink, footsteps/fine Italian leather shoes approaching the young lady who is at the bar))
“Well, well, well… Isn’t that a beautiful dress on an even more beautiful woman. That color of blue really suits you. You… are a piece of art. A fascinating and intriguing piece of art. However, you don’t quite seem like you belong here.”
((pause))
“Someone as divine as you, as *innocent* as you, dressed as you are, doesn’t really seem to fit in. Not in this kind of place. You look more like you would fit in one of the high-class jazz lounges uptown. Martinis, a piano player, velvet couches and the like. Do you think that you fit in amongst these gentlemen of fortune and these women dressed in their slinky club clothes? Look around, do you see the patrons here?”
((short pause as she looks around))
“Don’t you see? You are simply dressed too elegantly for a place like this. No, you, my dear, are definitely not the type that belongs amongst these fiends. You belong uptown. Not here, amongst the dregs of society like us. Your mannerisms are too graceful, you walk with pride and your chin up – this is not the body language of one of my people.”
((pause))
“Well, I happen to own this establishment, Never Land, so I am rather familiar with the likes of the people who tend to come through its doors, and I have never seen you before. You seem quite unforgettable. Could I have the pleasure of having your name?”
((pause))
“Wendy… What a lovely name for such a lovely woman. Well, Wendy, darling – my name is Killian. My friends call me Hook.”
((pause))
“So many questions! What an inquisitive slip of a thing you are. Perhaps, we could talk over a drink?”
((*VA snaps fingers* Bartender Tinkerbell approaches immediately and waits)) ((ListeneWendy begins to decline))
“Don’t fret, darling. It’s just a drink. Should you find yourself not interested in our conversation or in me, you are more than welcome to leave and go back uptown to the *safe* areas of the city, where the likes of people like me and my ilk will be of no bother to you ever again. But should I pique your interest, perhaps allow me the grace of your presence again in the future.”
((pause))
“Just one drink. And nothing more.”
((ListeneWendy accepts))
“Delightful! Tink, if you could get us another round. One of whatever the lady was drinking, and my usual.”
((short pause as he takes her in before sighing and leaning in closer to speak to her))
“Darling, do tell me, why have you wandered into the seedy underbelly of our city? What is it exactly that you are searching for? Mystery? Intrigue?"
((whispers // into her ear))
"...*Danger*?”
((VA leans back and there is a sly curling of his lips into a crooked smile))
“Mm, that blush really does make me think that you truly are as innocent as I originally thought, Darling. Albeit, I am sure you knew what kind of danger you could get into coming to a place like this. You may be looking for danger, but it seems danger has found you instead.”
((pause))
“Oh, yes, danger. There is plenty of danger here. However, it seems like that’s something you seem to be searching for. Should I inquire as to –“
((VA leans in once more))
“What *kind* of danger you are looking for? See, Darling, that’s the thing about danger… You may only want a little but you never truly know how much you’re going to get.”
((pause))
((VA - practically whispered across her lips or ear, you imagine how close you want to get))
“Ah, yes, Wendy, darling. I happen to be very… Very… Dangerous.”
((Listener steps back))
((he gives a low chuckle))
“Do I … make you … Nervous?”
((short pause and VA steps forward as Listener shakes her head defiantly))
“Or perhaps, I am not the kind of danger you are looking for?”
((closer))
“Do you even *know* what you are looking for, my little lamb?”
((dangerously close to her))
((pause))
((drinks come at this time delivered by Tink – VA returns to less invasive persona))
"Ah, thank you, Tink. You’ve impeccable timing. Shall we? I’d love to take this to a VIP booth I prefer to sit in. It will give us a little more privacy and won’t be as loud. Come now, pet."
((footsteps/music/whatever SFX have them move to a slightly quieter place, sit in a booth))
"Do you mind, Darling? I’d much rather be sitting next to you than across the table. That way I can hear you better. Yes, that’s it, just move in a little further."
((this gives no escape for Listener as James/Hook is between the easy exit and her – SFX of her moving over if you want to get technical and him sitting next to her))
((pause))
“Ah, *that*. The name Hook… It is simply from a childhood long ago. Raised in an orphanage with many other lost boys like myself. It’s a truly heartbreaking story, I’m sure, but I’d like you to remember our first meeting in a different light. Not melancholy and deep, dark secrets. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps, if you decide to embark on a journey with me in the future, or are willing to grace me with your presence again, we can discuss it then.”
((Listener nods, nervously))
((he leans in))
“But you, Wendy, darling –“
((whispered // reaches out to draw a finger down her jawline as he looks from her eyes to her mouth))
“You still haven’t answered me.”
((pause))
“About what *kind* of danger you are looking for…”
((pause // leaning in))
“Are you looking for something – just a wee bit threatening? Perhaps something that will get the heart pumping momentarily?”
((pause // leaning in))
“Or perhaps, a singular thrilling night before the sun rises and the fun is over?”
((pause // leaning in))
“Or… are you looking for something darker? Something much more dangerous. Something soul shattering that will devour you whole? Something that makes you question your morals… Your boundaries… Something that will burn you to ash and will leave you begging me for more even once I break you?”
((kisses Wendy))
“Do you know what kind of danger you want yet, darling? That last one… It is not a wise idea for a sweet little lamb like you, but I promise... You’ll love it.”

I have a positive story to share. I avoid this sub for the most part unless I’m in a bad place mentally, but I’ve been wanting to share. I will try to keep a very long story short.
I’ve had emetophobia since I was as young as 4. It only cropped up if someone got sick near me or if someone in my house was sick, but for the most part it didn’t bother me on a daily basis.
Shortly after having my daughter, my husband got a series of sb* right in a row. I was already dealing with PPD/PPA, and this sent me over the edge. It got BAD. I barely remember the first two years of my daughter’s life. At my worst, I spent an entire trip in New York in the hotel room because I was convinced I was sick (I wasn’t). My husband actually got sick on another trip, and I left him in another state, booked him a separate flight home, to avoid sitting next to him. Just painting a picture of how bad it was. For a period of time, I was suicidal, I was taking Xanax around the clock just to get through the day, and I got on Zoloft to help manage. I was in a case study to do EMDR for emet, which also helped a lot.
I took up a pretty strict lifestyle where I went to therapy weekly (still do), took an MBSR (mindfulness based stress reduction) course, and took up yoga. Over the course of a year and a half doing that, I was able to get off medication completely and deal with my symptoms as they crop up.
Since my daughter started school, it’s been tough, but I make it through. My husband handles when she does get sick (not often) and I usually go to my mom’s house.
UNTIL. We were recently on a camping trip in our camper. My daughter got sick on the FIRST night we were there, the only night we didn’t have a campsite with hookups. No running water, we discovered we didn’t have bleach, and I had a panic attack and decided I couldn’t do it. I got a hotel room across the street, literally bought a separate hotel room for her to shower in, and I was 100% prepared to get an Uber to the airport and fly home the next morning. There was no way I would be able to stay for a whole week in a confined space like that. What if my husband or I got it next?
The next morning I checked on her and had my finger on the button to call an Uber. She told me she felt bad for ruining the trip. I realized in that moment that if I left, I would be proving her right. My husband was extremely supportive and told me he would not be upset if I left but that he would love if I would stay. So I made the decision to stay. I went to Walmart, bought bleach and Lysol and new sheets, cleaned the camper from top to bottom, and tried to enjoy the day outside.
We actually had the BEST trip. No one else got sick. We made SO MANY MEMORIES that I would’ve missed out on by leaving. I’m so so glad I stayed. It was an emotional week for me, and I was so glad everyone in my life realized what a huge step it was for me.
I’m sharing this because I know there are people here like me who believe they can’t do it and that it will never get better. But it CAN. Since I got back, I haven’t been constantly washing my hands or using Zylast like usual. It hasn’t been on my mind 24/7 like usual. I still get anxious when I hear about it, but it’s not occupying my brain all day long anymore.
Tonight, my husband is out of town. The worst time she could possibly get sick. We’re watching a movie and she tells me she thinks she’s going to get sick. I freaked out for a moment, took a Xanax (I rarely take them now) to calm myself, but was able to calm down and figure out a plan. I got everything ready in case it happened. I called my mom and she came over for a while. I still don’t know if she’s going to be okay, but I’m sitting here NOT wanting to die over it. Knowing that whatever happens, we will be okay. Knowing that I can do it.

Warning: this is tough love and is gonna come across as harsh. Really harsh. But I say it from a place of love and not wanting to see you all be unemployed for many years holding out for something that will never come.
I see so many posts on Reddit anymore about people who are unemployed over a year, after 1000+ applications, and just can’t get a job. The common denominator is many of these people have non-negotiables like remote work or a certain salary level.
Tough love time: if you are unemployed, you don’t get to have non-negotiables or be choosy about where you work. Non-negotiables are for people with leverage. Seems many people on here have forgotten an incredibly important business rule: beggars can’t be choosers. Unfortunately, hiring decisions are made mostly based on optics & perception, and fair or not, the perception of an unemployed candidate is that of “damaged goods.” It is assumed there is a reason you are not employed. Nobody said this is fair, just, or right, but it’s just the way it is. Very few employers are going to take that risk by hiring you, when every single job has 1000+ applicants, many of which are already employed.
So how do you break the cycle and rebuild your credibility and reputation as a professional? How do you regain the trust of the working world? Simple: you need to be willing to take the jobs nobody else wants.
This almost 100% means going to an office 5 days a week. Perhaps more. You will probably even have to take a pay cut, maybe as high as 20-50%. You might even have to take a step back in title, or pivot to a different field entirely. Construction is one that is known to give people second chances, but you’ll have to work harder than you’ve ever worked in your life.
It seems like the only places hiring new employees are weird/toxic startups and small businesses, so stop focusing on household “name brand” employers. Learn to love working for toxic small businesses with omnipresent owners. Learn to be okay with micromanagers. Cushy corporate jobs are gone forever if you don’t already have one.
Your career progression doesn’t mean much of anything at this point. You need to make money right now even if it means hindering your future career prospects. Think of it like incurring “career debt.”
Before you downvote, I took my own advice. I was flying high in a cushy F500 job. When that all came crashing down, I committed to myself that I would take the very first offer, no matter how bad it was. And I did. And I’ve been miserable ever since. But after losing my job, I learned my place QUICKLY. You learn very fast how much American society values the unemployed (hint: not very much). I took a long look in the mirror and realized I was worth a lot less than I was a month prior, and I settled. But because I did this, I was employed again within the month. Companies similar to the one I previously worked for won’t take me seriously anymore, and I can’t leave anyways (lest I be branded a job hopper), but I was realistic and started earning a paycheck again.
Don’t listen to those telling you “don’t settle.” That will likely be the very thing you need to do. Lose the entitlement. I realize this may come across as harsh, but stop holding out for a unicorn and really be realistic with yourself here. This will be the key to rejoining the workforce.

影動者 (Kage Dōsha) Technique Skill Overview: The Kage Dōsha Technique is designed to render a person effectively invisible by exploiting natural blind spots and using another individual’s presence to mask their own. This involves moving silently, synchronizing with the target’s movements, and maintaining optimal positioning to remain unnoticed.
Core Principles Blind Spot Exploitation: Positioning oneself behind the target, slightly to the side to stay in their natural blind spot. Shadowing Movements: Matching the target’s pace and movements to blend in seamlessly. Environmental Awareness: Utilizing the surroundings to enhance concealment.
Step-by-Step Guide:

1. Preparation and Mindset: Mental Focus: Stay calm and focused. Anxiety and rushed movements can draw attention. Clothing: Wear neutral, non-reflective clothing that blends into the environment.
2. Positioning: Behind the Ear, Not Past the Shoulder: Always position yourself slightly behind the target’s shoulder line, around ear level. This keeps you in their blind spot. Distance Maintenance: Stay close enough to use their body as cover but not so close that you invade their personal space and risk detection. Aim for about 1-2 feet behind.
3. Movement Synchronization: Match Footsteps: Synchronize your steps with the target’s to blend the sound of your footsteps with theirs. This involves observing their walking rhythm and mimicking it. Mirror Movements: When the target turns or changes direction, smoothly mirror their movements without hesitation. Practice fluid transitions to avoid jerky motions.
4. Environmental Interaction: Use Cover: Utilize walls, furniture, and other objects as additional cover. Move from one cover point to another, staying behind the target. Light and Shadow: Stay in shadows and avoid well-lit areas. Use the target’s shadow to further obscure your presence.
5. Silence and Stealth: Soft Footwear: Wear shoes that minimize noise. Step toe-to-heel to reduce the sound of your footsteps. Sound Awareness: Be mindful of environmental sounds. Move during louder ambient noises to mask any accidental sounds you make.

Practice:
Synchronization Drill: Practice walking behind someone without them noticing, starting with a friend who is aware of the exercise. Gradually reduce the distance. Environmental Blending: Conduct exercises in different environments, such as crowded streets, quiet libraries, and varied lighting conditions. Reaction Timing: Work on your reaction times to the target’s sudden movements and stops. This can be practiced with a partner who deliberately changes pace and direction.
Once you've mastered such basics, move onto these more advanced options.

1. Multiple Targets: Dynamic Positioning: When following a group, adjust your position to stay behind the individual with the best cover. Group Synchronization: Learn to synchronize with the dominant movement patterns of the group.
2. Evasion and Escape: Quick Concealment: Practice quickly blending into surroundings or hiding behind objects if the target suddenly turns around. Distraction Use: Create minor distractions (like a dropped object) to divert attention temporarily if you need to adjust your position.

Now, here on out it gets real.
影幻術 (Kage Genjutsu) Technique:This technique not only makes you hard to see but also actively confuses and misdirects those around you.

1. Core Principles: Physical Stealth: Mastery of movement and positioning to stay out of sight. Psychological Manipulation: Techniques to create doubt and misperception in the minds of observers. Environmental Illusion: Using the environment creatively to create visual and auditory distractions.Mental Discipline: Cultivate a calm and focused mind. Practice mindfulness to reduce anxiety and enhance situational awareness
2. Physical Stealth: Dynamic Positioning: Constantly adjust your position relative to moving objects or people to stay in their blind spots. Use the "Behind the Ear, Not Past the Shoulder" principle as a starting point. Silent Movement: Develop a soft, toe-to-heel walking technique. Practice on various surfaces to minimize noise.
3. Psychological Manipulation: Visual Misdirection: Use small, subtle movements in your peripheral environment to draw attention away from your true position. For example, throw a small object to one side while moving in the opposite direction. Auditory Deception: Create misleading sounds to divert attention. Carry small noise-making devices (like clickers) that can be activated remotely to create distractions.4. Environmental Illusion Shadow Integration: Learn to move within the natural patterns of light and shadow. Practice in different lighting conditions to understand how shadows can conceal or reveal your presence.

Mastering the Kage Dōsha Technique will make you become one with the breeze and the shadow behind ones back. Enjoy this short guide I made