Hey and hi! I previously posted these Character Chats in order to fill the void when the comic was on involuntary hiatus, and I'm pleased to hear that it was received positively and people were asking for more. I couldn't really commit to it once the hiatus was over, since I've got a job and all. But good news, my whole team got laid off! I've got a lot more time on my hands now, so I think I'll keep this series going for a few weeks on Tuesdays and Thursdays or so. If anyone complains about me surfing reddit at work during my notice period... well, what are they gonna do, fire me?
Today my giant novely ouija board has selected Prince Aaronev Tarvek Sturmvoraus. Our first Spark, and first main character, but somehow our third Valois out of five picks.
Tarvek is a member of the large and complicated Valois family tree, descended from our pal Andronicus Valois, the Storm King. He is the son of Prince Aaronev Sturmvoraus VI of Sturmhalten and an unknown mother, and the older brother of Anevka Sturmvoraus. He and Anevka share the same grandmother with the von Bliztengaard siblings and Violetta, making them all cousins. The Selnikovs may also be close family members, as their main residence is in Sturmhalten. Tarvek also calls Zulenna a cousin at one point.
The Storm King conspiracy among the Fifty Families was said to be fizzling out in the time before the comic, but the Mongfish family (i.e. Lucrezia) got involved and whipped them all into shape. Besides making most of the Knights of Jove Lucrezia loyalists, part of this involvment was ensuring there was a suitable male heir to the Storm King using Spark sceince, which ended up producing, at minimum, Tarvek and Martellus von Blitzengaard. The degree to which Tarvek's mother was involved and consenting is unknown. While we don't know how much was done, Tarvek is a powerful Spark, physically fit, and quite intelligent, so mission accomplished I suppose (though Tarvek does wear these tiny pince-nez around, so he may have poor vision - nice going, Lucrezia).
We don't have a family tree or anything, so we need to take the story's word that Tarvek's claim for being a direct heir of Andronicus is one of the most direct, if not the strongest overall. Two of the strongest claimants, Tarvek and Martellus, share a grandmother, so presumably their legitimacy is either through her or her late husband. Grandmama is once referred to with the title "Dowager Princess of Sturmhalten", it's possible Aaronev inherited his title as Prince of Sturmhalten by being her son. On the other hand, Tarvek also says that his descent comes down through his mother, so maybe she's Grandmama's child instead? Or it's wrong to trace back things to this set of grandparents after all? The family tree is thrown for another loop when Orotine declares Martellus a third-place heir rather than the commonly assumed second-place, so now who's in second place and how's that guy related to Tarvek's family tree, and... it's at this point I throw up my hands in exasperation.
Tarvek spent some of his early childhood as a political hostage on Castle Wulfenbach, being raised with other hostages by von Pinn. Tarvek recalls this time fondly, and in particular became good friends with Gil, whose identity was still hidden. When the two of them were hunting for secrets, hoping to discover Gil's lineage, they discover a red-herring left by the Baron. While Tarvek didn't buy it and tried to dig further, he got caught. Along with some snitching from Gil, this got him expelled from the Castle. Of course, everyone was spying abord the Castle, and Tarvek was just the only one kicked out. My assumption is that the Baron wasn't worried about Gil's identity being exposed, but didn't approve of Gil getting close with Tarvek for one reason or another and arranged to destroy the friendship.
He spent his remaining childhood in Sturmhalten, where he was wrapped up in family scheming, including Aaronev's schemes with the Other. Besides Aaronev, he also spent time with Anevka and Violetta during this period, and received some Smoke Knight training. He later goes to Paris for his higher education, where he was a good student and made friendships with influential young people like Colette and Neena. He was also involuntarily dragged into Gil's college adventures, where he became, uh, "acquainted" with disreputable characters like Bangladesh Dupree and Zola. He's called back to Sturmhalten after completing his education.
As a young adult, Tarvek's goals are initially to learn all he can from the Other conspiracy in Sturmhalten, destroy them afterwards, use this knowledge to overthrow the Baron, become Storm King, get the Fifty Families under control, and bring peace and prosperity to his new empire. However, Aaronev is in charge in Sturmhalten, and has different ideas. Tarvek detests his father and the Other conspiracy he's involved with, but cooperates with them to stay in their good graces and learn all he can. Tarvek attempts to act as a moderating influence on Aaronev, but Aaronev is too far gone to pull back. Aaronev ends up capturing nearly all the young female Sparks in Europa beneath the Baron's nose, and destroys them utterly trying to implant copies of Lucrezia into their minds, while Tarvek doesn't do much more than watch.
Aaronev eventually subjects his daughter Anevka to the treatment, nearly killing her. The Circus of Adventure happens to be in town, and as an expert on the Muses, Tarvek recognizes Tinka as a van Rijn original when she performs. Tarvek has his men abduct Tinka, and uses her as the basis for building a masterpiece clank which would connect to Anevka's mind and allow her to move and speak while her body was comatose. For what it's worth, he does try to pay the Circus after the fact, but they naturally ran like hell out of town. Tinka is eventually damaged beyond his ability to repair by Aaronev.
After this, he also conspires (or pretends to conspire) with Anevka to use her clank body's voice box to imitate Lucrezia's ability to command revenants, and use that ability to overthrow Aaronev and the Baron. When the Circus comes back to town with Agatha in tow, she's found out as Lucrezia's daughter at a show, with more beans being spilled later when Agatha's drugged with a truth serum. Aaronev tries to throw her in the Lucrezia-machine, but Anevka launches her coup right then, and finalizes her voice box by studying Agatha's own voice. Tarvek, having fallen for Agatha basically immediately, attempts to smuggle Agatha out of town under Anevka's nose, but the Geisters eventually get Lucrezia in her head anyway.
Tarvek, at this point, wants to integrate Agatha into his plan to use Other technology to usurp the Baron, which means keeping her safely at his side. This means both cooperating with Lucrezia to learn from her to begin with and protect Agatha's body, and also sabotaging Agatha's efforts at surrendering herself to the Baron for the greater good. One his deals with Lucrezia is making a clank head imprinted with a Lucrezia copy, designed to fit onto Avenka's clank body. Tarvek lures in Anevka for Lucrezia, and after some back-and-forth betrayals, eventually deactivates Anevka's head and puts her in storage, essentially killing her for the time being. Juggling Agatha, Lucrezia, and now a second Lucrezia proves too much for Tarvek once the Baron's troops arrive in Sturmhalten, and he ends up slashed in the gut, shot, and abandoned in the ensuing chaos.
Tarvek ends up in the Great Hospital in Mechanicsburg, as one of many of the injured from Sturmhalten. Violetta, who had been assigned to Mechanicsburg by Tarvek to keep her out of the proverbial firing line, manages to get him out of custody in the hospital... but inside of Castle Heterodyne instead, which is something of a lateral move. After connecting up with Agatha, Taevek comes down with Hogfarb's Respelendent Immolation, either due to traipsing about Castle Heterodyne of all places while wounded, or, Tarvek speculates, as a poisoning attempt from his own extended family. Gil is recruited to help with curing him, and after extensive bickering, infections, distractions, complications, and one apotheosis, he's back in good health. Tarvek attempts to help fix the Castle, and aid Agatha however he can, including fighting with Lucrezia and Vole, and attempting to strangle Zola. His bickering with Gil during this time mostly puts him on the defensive and has Tarvek trying to justify his actions, but he eventually does has a quiet epiphany.
He eventually gets grabbed by Other in a case of mistaken identity, and his quick analytical skills wind up placing him in charge of the Wulfenbach fleet's grand strategy temporarily - it's at gunpoint, but Boris assesses that he's really doing what's in the best interest of the Empire. He has to scurry off when Klaus comes onto the scene, placing him in a perfect position to recruit the Empire's Vespiary Squad and their weasels when Klaus turns on them. Notably, he risks life and limb rescuing a squad member, who he needs of course, but also Jorgi, who mostly annoys him. He sends the Vespiary Squad to hiding places abroad. As the battle for Mechanicsburg wraps up, Tarvek ends up stabbed with a poisoned dagger by Martellus just before the time-stop.
Post time-skip, Gil dedicates extensive resources towards getting Tarvek out of the time stop. Tarvek isn't able to do much before being kidnapped by the Immortal Library, and then kidnapped by Mister Obsidian on behalf of Grandmama. He does manage to breathe a bit in Paris, before being kidnapped by Mister Obsidian again on behalf of Seffie, to be sent to England. But en route aboard a pirate vessel, he's (shockingly) interrupted by a kidnapping attempt, this time for Grandmama again. Martellus sent assassins after Tarvek to interrupt the interruption, leading to bloody battle between Seffie's pirates, Grandmama's Smoke Knights, Martellus' Knights of the Hunt, and poor Tarvek. After being rescued by Gil, Tarvek flips the script, and he and Bang kidnap Gil instead, changing course to England.
In England, he can finally, you know, not get kidnapped for a bit. He decides to join Agatha in the Royal Society, and despite nearly getting strangled by Higgs, manages to reach Agatha and help work on curing her of Lucrezia, and curing Gil of Klaus. After interminable delays like a undersea cult, briefly seeing beyond time, punching Tweedle, and a revenant attack, they eventually pull it all off.
Later, in the war against the Polar Lords, Tarvek is essentially given the role of Gil's official treacherous vizier. On paper, helping the Empire helps keep him safe to further his own ambitions, but in practice, Tarvek seems more focused on doing good by his friends than anything to do with becoming Storm King.
Whew! And that's the short synopsis!
As a Spark, Tarvek's specialty is masterwork clanks in the van Rijn mold. His Anevka clank maintains full sentience even after any organic parts it was attached to died off, and continues to be used by Lucrezia to devastating effect. He also has a knack for rapid analysis, such as being able to understand the Wulfenbach fleet's strategy with just a glance. It's possible his political aptitude, scheming skills and ability to anticipate people's actions are a byproduct of his spark, but it may also just be the natural result of his upbringing. He is unusually composed for a Spark, and is very rarely seen in the Madness Place, and never for very long.
Beyond the Spark and his cunning, Tarvek also received some Smoke Knight training, making him skilled in martial arts and sleight of hand. That said, he'd prefer not to get in fights, and his first resort use his Spark or guile to get out safely (his second resort is just shooting them, with a gun). He also has a passion for fashion design, particularly lady's fashion.
Besides his conquer-Europa ambitions, Tarvek seems primarily driven to help and protect the people he loves, but his preferred tactics for doing so are often underhanded, or screw over people that he doesn't particularly love. Tarvek is the kind of guy who has to come to the conclusion that mind-control slavery is bad in general, rather than bad for people I know. He does come to that conclusion on his own, so kudos for that, but for a lot of people it's not even something you have to think about. Tarvek is also quick to use "they'd kill me if I tried, I had no choice" as a defense, but never quite understands that there was always a choice available he didn't consider - die trying. That all said, Tarvek is in generally improving his character over time, and wants to do the right thing, both in the "greater good" sense and doing right by other people individually, and finds himself frustrated at himself that he's often failed. I don't want to discuss Tarvek's ethics too much further here, since there's a great deal to talk about and this is supposed to be a discussion thread! Why do I have to do all the work?
Major Relationships:

• Agatha: Tarvek fell for Agatha pretty damn hard, internally logging her as "future bride", and even at his scummiest times in Sturmhalten was trying to act in her best interest, and just ignoring what she actually wanted and also fucking it up anyway. By the time of the Castle arc, Tarvek has mostly thrown away all of his own ambitions in favor of working for Agatha's, even in moments when he feels pretty hopeless about his actual prospects as a suitor. One major advantage in his court is that he's able to actually articulate his feelings like an adult.
  
• Gil: It's been a true roller coaster for these two, from friends to enemies to rivals to allies to secret lovers. It takes a great deal of bonding for their distrust of one another to fall away, and after the time skip Tarvek lists Agatha and Gil (and, by implication, Violetta) as the only people left he really cares about, and the two of them spend a lot more time hugging than you would have expected.
  
• Violetta: Tarvek spent a good deal of his childhood with Violetta, and earnestly tried to protect her. In natural early-Tarvek style, it was by ignoring her wishes and leaving her in the dark, but points for trying. They have a bickering siblings type of relationship, and Violetta is fine trash talking him despite the power imbalance between them. Tarvek is pretty disappointed that he's rebuffed when trying to sincerely express that he's glad she's alive, since she expects childish taunts out of him.
  
• Aaronev: Tarvek really hates Aaronev for all the horrible things he's done, especially for putting Anevka through the machine, and spends about two seconds mourning after he's killed. Tarvek had been play-acting as a loyal son for years, and it's a bit tragic that Aaronev bought his act wholesale - what little interaction we see suggests that Aaronev, scumbag that he is, did really like Tarvek.
  
• Anevka: Tarvek did not take it well when it seemed Anevka was going to die, and went to extreme measures to save her. But Tarvek doesn't assign the same level of personhood to the Anevka clank after the original Anevka dies (he's generally not the best at the whole "clanks are people too" concept), and eventually "kills" her by turning her off and throwing her head in a box, where she probably still remains if Sturmhalten hasn't been razed to the ground.
  
• Lucrezia: While most people hate the Other on a conceptual level, Tarvek has spent enough time with her to really begin to hate her on a personal level. He's aware of her foibles, such as her susceptibility to flattery, and tries to take advantage when he can. His more personal knowledge also makes him better able to detect when Lucrezia is taking over for Agatha than most.
  
• Higgs: Like many, Tarvek cottons on that Higgs has a secret in Castle Heterodyne. Tarvek does try to keep it under his hat and make excuses on his behalf, but can't resist teasing Higgs despite him being incredibly dangerous. Tarvek openly confronting Higgs about his identity later on nearly gets him strangled to death. Despite that, Tarvek and Higgs have formed a good rapport, and have solid mutual respect. He's even one of the people Tarvek pours his heart out to when he thinks Violetta is dead.
  
• Neena: Neena has a bit of a crush on Tarvek, and Tarvek for his part does some light flirting at the ball but otherwise doesn't think about her much at this point. It's an odd match for someone like Tarvek, since Neena is earnest, enthusiastic, and completely lacking in guile. Maybe that's exactly what someone like him needs - stranger things have happened!
  
• Martellus: As two men aiming for the same throne, Martellus and Tarvek are natural enemies. Tarvek obviously dislikes Martellus - and even gets a good punch in - but doesn't take any moves to stop Martellus' forward momentum, and makes no moves towards legitimizing his claim as Storm King beyond not being dead. His strategy may be to just give Martellus enough rope to hang himself with, but it may also show genuine disinterest in this whole Storm King business.
  

My wife, Mia, and I were driving cross-country. It was our first attempt at the “Great American Roadtrip.”
Mia and I rented a small RV; more of a camper than a full blown RV. We packed up a couple suitcases with plenty of room for any souvenirs and we hit the dusty trail.
We started our journey on the “Mother Road”-- Route 66-- driving south from Chicago until we connected to i-70 and shot straight west through Missouri.
The goal was to see those parts of the country we had never seen before, stopping anywhere that seemed interesting. From the plains of Kansas up through the badlands of Wyoming and South Dakota.
In Missouri we saw the world’s largest cap gun. In Kansas we visited the Evel Knievel Museum and the World’s Largest Belt Buckle.
We love all those kitschy, tourist trap places.
Eventually, we made it to Colorado and after a few hours more of driving through amber waves of grain, we saw them... the Rocky Mountains.
We made an exit and headed north through the winding mountain highways.
The Rockies were gorgeous. Snow capped in the middle of summer, some of the peaks pierced through the white fluffy clouds.
We saw a sign that read “Traffic Tunnel - 3 Miles.”
A little further and sure enough, there it was, a large tunnel bored directly through the mountain in front of us.
A large sign read, “Pike Tunnel - Longest Traffic Tunnel in the Nation! - Please turn your headlights on now.”
“How long is it?” asked Mia.
“That’s what she said,” I quipped.
But she was right, there was no information beyond the detail that this was the longest tunnel in the nation.
“Can’t be more than a mile or two,” I said as I watched the little white car ahead of us slip into the darkness. A moment later we joined it.
The tunnel was lit by fluorescents that gave everything a greenish yellow tinge. On the left hand side was a raised walkway behind a railing for maintenance access.
Initially I was struck by the incredible amount of work that went into the construction of this man- made marvel.
“We’re under a million tons of rocky mountain right now,” I said.
“How many years before this caves in?” Mia responded.
I shot her a look--
“Let’s save the cave-in talk until we’re out on the other side.”
“I’m just saying, nature will take this back eventually,” she continued.
I scanned the empty road ahead of us.
“Where did the other car go?” I asked.
We were now alone in the tunnel, no cars ahead of us nor behind us.
“Huh... they must have sped off ahead. Maybe they’re scared of a cave-in?”
My Spotify playlist had stopped playing. Mia looked at the phone.
“No cell service.”
She turned on the radio and spun the dial only to find static.
“You’re not going to be able to pick up a station in here,” I said.
She turned the volume down.
“Just wanted to check... If only we had some CDs. This tunnel really keeps going.”
“I would have thought we’d be through it by now,” I replied.
I looked at the RV’s odometer, 45,600 miles. I picked up speed. I wanted to try and catch up to the little white car.
Up until this point, the tunnel was a straight shot, but now the tunnel started to curve to the right. It may have been my imagination but it also felt as though we were descending…
Mia felt it too and she started to get antsy.
“Where did that other car go? How long is this tunnel?”
There was an urgency in her voice.
I was getting nervous, claustrophobia was not usually a problem for me but when I looked down at the odometer and I saw that it had gone up by 3 miles, my mind began to wander to unsettling places.
We were descending in altitude. I could feel it. I could see a slope in the lights on the ceiling and the railing of the maintenance walkway. I could feel a pressure in my head, and I was getting cold.
“Could you grab me a coke from the back, Mia?”
I couldn’t have Mia getting anxious, that would only start a chain reaction and make me freak out which would then make her freak out.
She unbuckled and ducked into the back of the RV to where we had a cooler stocked with drinks and food.
Just as she stepped into the back, I saw something.
There standing on the side of the road was a MAN wearing a reflective safety vest and a hard hat. He was WAVING to me as I passed him by.
Something about him looked... strange…
I watched him in the side-view mirror as we passed and he was still watching the RV, still waving at the back of our vehicle as he faded into the distance.
Mia reappeared from the back of the RV, Coke in hand. She popped it and handed it to me.
“You look worried.”
“I’m fine,” I smiled and took a sip of the Coke.
“Eric, slow down!”
I slammed on the breaks as I saw what made Mia scream. In the road in front of us was a roadblock.
Two reflective traffic sawhorses blocked both lanes of the tunnel. Beyond the roadblock, the lights of the tunnel were dark. There was nothing but a void of blackness.
Standing in front of the roadblock was another man wearing a reflective vest and a hard hat, only this time his hard hat had a light on top which obscured his face.
We came to a jolting stop.
I turned to Mia
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” she replied. “It’s a cave-in isn’t it?”
“God, I hope not.”
I rolled down the window, leaned out and yelled to the man in the hard hat.
“Hey! What’s going on?!”
The man was about 5 yards away. He took two steps towards us and then raised a hand to his mouth and yelled.
“Just doing some maintenance!”
“How long is it going to take?!” I yelled back.
The man made a hand gesture as if he didn’t hear me.
“How long is it going to take?!” I called again.
He made the same gesture. I unbuckled my seat belt and grabbed the door release.
“What are you doing?” Mia asked.
“I gotta know what’s going on.”
“Eric, just stay here, it might not be safe.”
“I’ll be just a second,” I said.
I pushed the door open and stepped down from the RV.
“Stay in your vehicle!” the man yelled.
He took a couple steps towards me with his hand out telling me to stop.
“What’s the hold up?!” I shouted.
The man was a bit closer now but I still couldn’t see his face through the shining light on his helmet.
“Please stay in your vehicle!” he shouted.
There was something off about him.
Then I heard it–
“EEEAAAUUUUUUGHHHHHHHH!!!”
A scream, or something, rolled from deep in the tunnel. The worker turned and looked into the darkness. Then he ran past the barricades and soon all we could see of him was the light on his helmet.
The light disappeared a moment later.
“What the hell was that?! Is someone hurt?” Mia asked.
“I have no idea,” I said.
“Should we do something?” Mia asked.
I just sat there and watched the pitch black tunnel in front of me. I had no idea what to tell her. I checked the sideview mirrors. There was still nobody behind us.
“Where are the other cars?” I asked.
“They must have gotten through before the roadblock... Or maybe they caused the roadblock?” Mia replied.
“I saw another worker a little ways back. We could try to go back and talk to him.”
“We’d be going straight into any oncoming cars.”
“There’s a maintenance walkway. We didn’t pass him that long ago. We can probably catch him on foot.”
“Maybe we should just wait for the guy to come back.”
She reached over and grabbed my arm. I squeezed her hand.
She was right.
I looked out at the tunnel ahead of us. I turned on the RV’s high beams but all I could see beyond the roadblock was more tunnel and more road.
I checked my phone. Unsurprisingly, there was no service still.
We waited, but the man never came back.
“It’s been twenty minutes,” Mia said, “How come there hasn’t been another car behind us?
I was having the same thought. I rolled down my window and stuck my head out. I looked back at the road behind us. It went back about 200 yards before curving out of sight.
There was no sign of that first worker I saw on the maintenance walk way. I looked at the roadblock ahead of us and clicked on the RV’s high beams. There was nothing beyond the roadblock but more tunnel. It didn’t look like it was under construction, just very dark.
“I think we should keep going,” I said.
“What about the roadblock?”
“We’ll move those sawhorses out of the way and just drive past,” I said as I opened my door.
Mia looked at me, then she cast her eyes to the dark tunnel ahead of us. I knew she was processing the same limited options that I was.
Driving backwards would be a huge risk in the instance of another car finally coming along.
Getting out and walking would take God knows how long, we could have driven 10 miles at this point.
Forward was our best option.
“Let’s do it,” Mia said.
We jumped out and quickly pulled the two sawhorses out of the right lane. I pulled the RV up past the barriers, then we jumped out again and put the sawhorses back where they were. We didn't need another car to come barreling through.
We were finally moving again, slowly. It was pitch black save for the high beams of the RV.
We crept forward at around 15 miles per hour. As the tunnel turned and twisted, my eyes started to play tricks on me. I kept seeing shapes at the furthest point of the tunnel.
I kept seeing something standing just at the end of the next bend but as we roll forward, there was nothing there.
“Where are the workers?” Mia asked.
“I don’t know.”
I was done rationalizing. This was all wrong. Traffic tunnels are never this long.
My mind started to wander to all the road trip urban legends I’d read about; The Killer in the Backseat, The Disappearing Gas Station, The Pale Man In The Corn Field.
Did we stumble into some strange outlier location? An in-between point on the endless roads that cross this country?
Then I saw it–
“Look! A person! Thank god!” Mia shouted.
As we rounded a curve in the tunnel, a group of maintenance workers entered our view.
The three of them stood on the left side of the road behind two more sawhorses topped with flashing lights.
Two of them faced towards us, the third was facing the other two.
The one with his back to us wore a light on his hard hat. Was this the same guy we saw earlier? How did he get this far away?
I approached slowly and rolled down the window.
“Hey! You left us waiting back there!” I yelled.
There was no response.
In fact, all three men were completely silent, and it was hard to tell in the flashing light of the sawhorses, but they looked to be standing COMPLETELY STILL.
“Hello?!” I yelled again.
I pushed open my door and stepped out onto the pavement.
“Eric wait--”
I held up a finger to Mia.
“Just a second.”
I slowly stepped towards the 3 men.
“Hello?”
No response… What the fuck?
The bright lights of the sawhorses obscured their faces.
I kept moving closer.
“Hey, what’s going on--”
Then I saw it.
Their faces... They were plastic.
In front of me stood three mannequins.
I backed away toward the RV, then I turned and walked hurriedly to the vehicle.
I was seriously freaked out but I didn’t want to alarm Mia. I climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.
“They’re mannequins.” I said.
“What?”
“They’re mannequins.”
”Why?... What?...”
“I don’t know…”
I looked back over at the three figures and my blood ran cold…
The Hard Hat Mannequin had somehow TURNED AROUND to face us. All three figures appeared to be watching us now.
Then we heard it--
A loud resonant banging on the side, and then the roof of the RV.
“What the hell was that?” Mia whispered.
We listened, holding our breath. Then--
A shuffling sound--
Something was moving ON or IN the RV.
“Stay here.” I said.
I got up.
“Eric, wait!”
I moved to the back of the RV.
It was dark. I went for a drawer in the kitchenette space and pulled out a flashlight.
I moved to the rear of the RV, the bedroom. My flashlight illuminated an empty room.
“Whoever is back here, I have a gun…”
A shitty bluff. But I didn’t see anything.
I shone the light out of the windows of each side of the RV. Nothing.
Then I heard it–
A shuffling sound, from right above me.
I looked up and screamed–
“Fuck!”
On the roof of the RV, staring through the skylight was a woman with vacuous black eyes and a dead smile.
Her stringy black hair dangled down towards me casting thing black shadows across her horrible pale face.
“Mia, drive! Fast!” I screamed.
Mia JUMPED over to the driver’s seat, shifted into gear and STOMPED on the gas. The RV was clunky but it could move when it needed to.
We lurched forward and I fell back.
I trained my flashlight up onto the skylight again and the woman was gone.
I scrambled to my feet and looked out of the side windows.
Did Mia shake her off? There was no sign of the woman. I moved to the passenger seat, breathing heavily and sweating.
“What happened?” She asked, keeping the RV at a steady 50 mph.
“There was a woman on the roof,” I said flatly.
I realize now that I was in a kind of shock.
“A woman?”
“Her eyes were black.”
Mia just looked at me, then back at the tunnel ahead of us.
“There’s something wrong with this tunnel.” I whispered.
Mia pointed at the road ahead, “Look.”
I looked out at the tunnel. There were more mannequins. A LOT more mannequins. They were positioned on both sides of the road.
They were all facing us and even though I never saw them move, when I looked in the side-view mirror, they were somehow STILL facing us, turning to watch us as we drove past. Watching without eyes.
“Just keep driving.” I said.
As we drove on, the mannequins crowded the sides of the road more and more. There were thousands of them. Eventually they were so close that some of their outstretched arms hit the side of the RV.
They were closing in on us. Squeezing our path forward. One stood in the middle of the road.
“I don’t think i can get around it.”
“Run it over. Don’t stop.”
The RV smashed into the mannequin. Its head shot forward and bounced against the windshield and the vehicle shuddered as it rolled over the body.
Soon there were two in the road. Then three.
I could see where this was going. Pretty soon there would be too many for the RV to ram through, but goddammit we were going to get through as many as we could.
“Speed up, Mia.”
CRASH!
The sound was surreal, smashing into mannequin after mannequin at nearly 60 miles per hour.
Hands, legs, heads and torsos flew.
The windshield cracked, the RV shuddered and screamed and eventually slowed down, despite the screaming engine.
I’m certain the axle was jammed up with lifeless, plastic body parts. Eventually we came to a stop.
“She won’t move,” Mia said.
She pressed on the gas but it was no use, the RV just rocked a little bit.
“Try reverse.”
She shifted and pressed on the gas, we got some decent movement before running into another jam.
“Fuck.”
“Should we get out and look?” Mia asked.
“I’ll go,” I said as I grabbed the flashlight and popped the passenger door. Mia unbuckled her seatbelt.
“We’ll go together.”
We stumbled out of the RV on the passenger side. It was like stepping into Hell.
Countless, lifeless faces stared out at us from the darkness. The only light came from the headlights of the RV and my flashlight.
We clumsily made our way along the side of the RV. The ground was littered with mannequin pieces.
I thought to myself, if we could get a couple yards cleared out behind the rear tires, we might be able to back out and get enough momentum to reverse all the way back out of here.
Instead, when we got to the back of the RV, my stomach flipped and my heart sank.
I was expecting to see a trail of flattened mannequins, instead the RV was now surrounded by thousands of perfectly intact mannequins standing at attention. As if their ranks had some how been replenished after our vehicular assault.
“This is impossible.”
She started to cry. I held her close.
“We’ll keep moving.” I said.
“It will never end. The tunnel makes no sense. It only curves one direction.”
I looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“This whole time the tunnel has only been curving to the right. it would sometimes straighten out or go left for a few yards but before too long we were curving to the right again. We’ve either been driving in circles or spiraling downwards.”
“So we’ll go back the way we came and hope we’re not going in circles.” I said.
We had been driving for hours at this point. Walking back out the way we came would take days. But now that I thought about it, Mia was right, we’d only been curving to the right.
This tunnel seemed to be very gradually taking us downwards into the earth.
Going forward would not get us any closer to escape.
“We’ll need food from the RV,” Mia said.
I nodded and we stumbled our way back to the front of the RV, the mannequins’ lifeless faces watching us the whole time.
I stepped up to the passenger door and nearly fell back when I looked through the window.
“What the fuck?” I breathed.
What I saw were two mannequins sitting in the driver’s and passenger’s seat.
How they got in there? I have no idea, but what really made my blood run cold was that they were dressed EXACTLY like MIA and I.
They wore identical sets of clothes. The one in the passenger seat had my same New Order T-shirt and black jeans. The one in the driver’s seat had Mia’s green striped sweater and denim shorts.
Their plastic faces stared out through the shattered windshield at the endless crowd of mannequins staring back at them.
Mia stepped up and saw the uncanny display.
“What the fuck?” Mia echoed.
I pulled myself up into the RV and slowly stepped around my mannequin doppelgänger. I avoided looking into its face but I swear i could feel it watching me as I stumbled around it.
Mia followed and we made our way into the back of our dark RV. Luckily we had just stocked our cooler full of deli meat and water not long after crossing the Colorado state line.
I handed Mia the flashlight and pulled open the cooler. I filled a backpack full of food and water.
I turned and saw them–
My mannequin double had somehow moved. It was standing in the aisle watching us.
Mia’s doppelgänger was still seated in the driver’s seat but had turned to peer back at us with its eyeless gaze.
Mia saw the look in my eyes and turned. She screamed when she saw them and backed into me. I put my arm around her and we stood there a moment, letting our skyrocketing heart rates return to Earth.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
I slid the backpack onto my shoulders.
Mia joined me at the door. I looked into her eyes. “Are you ready?” She nodded. I kissed her.
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you,” she said.
The look on her face killed me. She was terrified. I’m sure the look on my face was similar.
I opened the door and we stepped out…
We again stumbled to the back of the RV. Once we were clear of the RV and all the crushed mannequin body parts, it became easier to find footing, though weaving through an endless crowd of lifeless people was a slow process.
It was pitch black. Without the flashlight we wouldn’t be able to see a foot in front of us.
As I walked, the beam of light created the illusion of movement in the crowd. At least I hoped it was an illusion.
The limbs of the mannequins seemed to stretch and turn, but the only sound was that of Mia and I shuffling our way through the crowded tunnel.
Things went on like this for what felt like hours. Mia and I were sweating and aching. I was about to suggest we stop and rest, but then I saw it and I froze…
Out in the crowd, beyond rows of blank faces I saw a pale face, black hair and a dead smile.
I saw two vacuous eyes staring right at me.
“Mia, do you see her?” I whispered.
“See who?”
I slowly raised my arm and pointed.
It was the woman, or whatever it was, that stared back at me through the skylight on the roof of the RV.
“Oh my god!” Mia squeaked.
I could see now that the Pale Faced Woman was tall. A few inches taller than the mannequins.
As I pointed, she stared back at me with that terrible grin.
“What do we do?” Mia whispered.
I raised the flashlight and pointed it right at the Pale Faced Woman. I thought maybe this would scare her off.
I was wrong.
The light only made her appear more unsettling as she stared back, unflinchingly.
“What do you want?!” I yelled.
She only stared back at me. She was as still as the mannequins.
“We have to keep going.” I whispered.
Mia didn’t respond. Her body was tense as she held onto me.
“We’ve come this far, we can’t turn back again,” I continued.
I pulled Mia’s hand and we continued on our way through the mannequins, keeping the distance between us and her as wide as possible.
As we moved past, she kept watching us. Though her movements were imperceptible to us, her eyes never left us. Like one of those portraits whose eyes appear to watch you no matter where you stand.
Finally, we got far enough that she was out of sight. But the thought of her being somewhere behind us only unsettled me further and I quickened our pace.
As the hours wore on, there was no sign of the Pale Faced Woman and the crowd of mannequins began to thin out. They still populated the tunnel from one end to the other, but there was more space between them, allowing Mia and I to walk more freely.
The mannequins on the maintenance walkway on the side of the tunnel seemed to thin out as well and I decided it would give us a better vantage if we were walking up there.
I helped Mia climb up the railing that bordered the walkway, then I climbed up behind her. The walkway was elevated 3 or 4 feet above the roadway. We could easily see over the heads of the mannequins in both directions.
There was, of course, no end to the tunnel in sight.
We kept walking.
The mannequins continued to thin out, but they were different now.
There were mannequins dressed as maintenance workers again, but also mannequins dressed as families and businessmen. There was even a group of mannequin nuns standing in a single file line, heads bowed in prayer.
Needless to say, we passed none of this on the way in to the tunnel. I was feeling very hopeless that we were going to be able to find our way out.
I was far beyond speculating how this was at all possible. It’s NOT possible. And even if it were, there is no good reason for someone to do this to us.
The only explanation was the supernatural. Then I saw Her. Rather, I saw THEM.
Arranged in the middle of the tunnel was a circle of mannequins with long black hair and tattered cloth.
They looked exactly like the Pale Faced Woman, minus any facial features. I kept a close watch on them as we passed to make sure they didn’t start following us.
“A door!” Mia shouted.
Mia pointed a few paces ahead of her. There was a door leading into the wall of the tunnel.
We ran towards it. Mia grabbed the handle, turned it and pulled. It was heavy and Mia had to brace her foot on the wall to get it moving.
The metal door groaned as if it hadn’t been opened in years.
Finally, it was open enough to see past.
It was a hallway. It went out about 5 yards then turned right at a 90 degree angle.
The strangest part was the design of the hallway.
It wasn’t cement or pavement like the tunnel.
The walls were wood paneled and the floor was covered in a thick carpet, like a house from the 1970s.
“I say we see where this takes us.” Mia said.
There was no reason to disagree, but I wasn’t going to get us trapped in there.
I opened up my backpack and took out a water bottle. I opened it and handed it to Mia. She drank half, then I drank the other half.
I slowly closed the door, shoving the empty water bottle in the crack to keep it from closing all the way.
I turned to Mia-- “Okay, let’s go.”
We slowly made our way down the quiet hallway. We got down to where the hallway cornered to the right and that’s when we heard it–
KA-CHUNK!!!--
I whipped around. The door had closed behind us. I ran back to it and tried to push it open, but it was no use. There was no way it closed on its own.
Someone had to have removed the water bottle. Our path had been chosen for us.
There was no turning back.
We continued down the hallway. We turned right. The hallway continued, then turned right again. That should have led us right back to the tunnel. But it didn’t. This part of the hallway went on far longer than was possible without running into the tunnel. Then it turned right again.
It went on like this. Sometimes a section of the hallway was 20 feet long, sometimes it was 20 yards long, sometimes it was 3 feet long. But it always turned to the right.
At first it was a relief to be somewhere other than the cold, dark tunnel. But the hallway very quickly became claustrophobic and before too long, I heard someone walking behind us.
We had stopped to take a break and I heard a third pair of footsteps on the carpet coming from behind us. I backtracked to the last corner.
I was terrified as I slowly peeked around the corner, tense and waiting to see the vacuous eyes and inky black hair of the Pale Faced Woman... but there was nothing there. I wasn’t about to backtrack any further.
“There was no one there.” I whispered.
Mia slumped against the wall and slid down to the carpet.
“I think I need to rest.” She said.
I put my backpack down on the ground for Mia to use as a pillow. She laid her head down and was passed out in seconds.
I had no idea how long we had been walking at this point. I stood leaning against the wall. My body was telling me to rest but I couldn’t risk falling asleep. I had to keep watch. I knew SHE was following us.
I took in the details of the hallway for the first time. The carpet was a dull brown and the walls a cheap wood paneling. The hanging lighting fixtures were shaded by stained glass, something you might see in an old diner.
Who built this place? Did someone pick out the carpet and the lighting fixtures? Did a team of workers blast these tunnels into the Earth? Or has this place always existed? Was this Purgatory?
I began to feel dizzy. I was panicking. My heart felt like it was trying to escape my chest. I slumped to the floor and tried to slow my breathing.
I closed my eyes... –
I SHOT up in a panic. I had fallen asleep while I was meant to be keeping watch.
I snapped to my feet and looked around.
Mia was still asleep on my backpack.
Then I noticed that the hallway had changed. A few paces away there was now a plain wooden door in the wall.
I slowly approached it. I put my ear to the door and I could hear what sounded like TV static and the low murmur of voices.
I discreetly grabbed the door handle and turned it slowly. I felt the latch bolt clear and I carefully cracked the door just enough to peek inside.
It was dark, so it took a second for me to register what I was seeing. I saw a small board room. A long table in the center was surrounded by seated men in suits.
At the end of the table stood another man next to an old CRT TV that was playing static. This was the only source of light in the room and all the men around the table were turned towards the tv.
Suddenly the screen flickered from static to a solid dark background. And some warped new age style muzak began playing.
Then the words appeared on the screen that terrified me like nothing else before. In plain text the words read–
“YOU WILL LOSE HER.”
I froze as I knew these words were meant for me I watched with terror as the men seated around the table slowly turned toward me in unison.
They were mannequins.
The TV screen then clicked off and they continued staring at me as I could barely make out their forms through the near pitch darkness.
I quickly pulled the door shut. And whipped around to look at Mia, I had a horrible feeling of dread that when I turned around she would be gone, like the message on the TV promised–
“Eric? What are you doing?” Mia was leaning up and staring at me.
Thank God. There was Mia, right where I left her.
I pointed at the door and said, “This door appeared and I--”
“What door?” she interrupted.
I turned and sure enough, the door was now gone.
I explained what happened to her, but I left out the message that appeared on the screen.
-- YOU WILL LOSE HER –
Those words still burned in my brain. I tried to force them out.
We drank water, ate granola and then got moving again.
Hallways. Endless hallways.
After a couple hours of walking we started to hear music. There were small speakers in the corners of the ceiling.
I recognized it as the same new-age muzak that played on the TV in the board room. The melody drilled into our minds. Combined with the dull aesthetics of the quiet hallways and the endless right turns, the music had a hypnotizing effect.
The lengths of the halls became more uniform. That is to say, the straight section of hallway was about 7 paces, then a right turn, then 7 paces and a right turn.
“I think we’re walking in circles... or a square,” Mia said.
I looked at her and took out a bottle of water. I peeled off the plastic label and dropped it on the floor.
Then we kept walking.
7 paces, right turn. 7 paces, right turn. 7 paces, right turn. And there it was... Mia was right.
The label from my water bottle lay in the middle of the hallway. Somehow we had been led into a loop. I lost it.
“FUUUCK!”
I kicked the wall repeatedly and screamed. Mia just leaned her back against the wall.
This was our dynamic. If one of us lost it, the other became zen and thought of a solution. More often than not, I was the one to lose it.
I finally stopped freaking out
“There has to be a way out. A door,” Mia said.
“We would have seen it,” I replied.
“A hidden door,” she said.
She turned around and ran her hands along the cracks of the wood paneling.
“Most likely on the outer wall,” she said.
She beat her fist on the wall, listening for a change in the sound. I exhaled heavily, sweating and tired, and I started searching the wall as well.
We checked the whole first wall, nothing. We checked the second wall, nothing. The third, nothing.
The final wall... Nothing. I gave up and slumped on the floor. Mia immediately went over to the other side of the hall and started checking the inner wall.
“What are you doing? I thought you said it would be on the outer wall?” I asked.
Then we heard it.
Mia beat the wall and instead of the dead thud, we heard a resonate BOOM –
A door…
I shot up and started tapping the wall with Mia until we found where the door ended. It was the width of about 4 wooden panels. I lined myself up in the center, lowered my shoulder and pushed–
IT MOVED! It barely moved but it was enough to confirm this actually was a door! I re-centered and tried again, lowering my center of gravity, I pushed as hard as I could. The door pushed inward about 3 inches, then Mia joined in. We slowly moved the door, 5 inches, then 10, then 15, then 20.
Then Mia slipped inside.
I had a moment of panic as she disappeared into the darkness and those haunting words came back into my mind, “YOU WILL LOSE HER.”
I darted past the doorway, falling through the threshold and hitting the concrete floor.
I looked up and there was Mia, thank God. I promised myself I’d never let her out of my sight again.
“The exit...” Mia said.
She looked and sounded as if she were a thousand miles away. I got to my feet and followed her gaze. What I saw nearly brought me to tears.
We were back in the tunnel, but there was light. About a mile down was the mouth of the tunnel, and daylight pouring in. Beautiful daylight. I grabbed Mia tight and kissed her.
“Thank God...” she cried.
We started moving. Nothing was going to slow us down this time. We sped up into a RUN down the maintenance walkway towards that beautiful sunlight.
As we approached, something else came into view. Parked in the middle of the roadway was a large vehicle…
It couldn’t be…
It was!
Our RV sat in the road waiting for us. We ran all the way to it, pulled open the passenger side door and climbed in. There were no mannequins to be seen.
I fell into the driver’s seat and Mia handed me the keys. I turned over the engine, the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. I shifted into gear and floored it towards the sunlight.
As we got closer, I could see the green of trees and the blue of the sky. We were maybe one hundred yards away.
I turned to Mia, tears in my eyes…
And what I saw turned my blood to ice.
Just beyond Mia’s window, that horrifying pale face grinned at me.
The Pale Faced Woman was somehow floating outside of the RV.
Before I could say anything, her hand smashed through the window and gripped Mia by the throat, then in one horrible motion the thing PULLED MIA SCREAMING THROUGH THE WINDOW AND…
Disappeared…
I SLAMMED on the breaks just as the RV passed through the exit of the tunnel and sunlight flooded the cab of the RV. I threw it in park and shot out of the door screaming.
“Mia!? Mia??!!”
I screamed over and over. I rounded the front of the RV and looked back at the tunnel –
-- and what I saw shattered my mind…
The tunnel was gone.
There was only open road.
I had lost her.

Dear Fathers. I don’t raise this question as a criticism, but rather to develop a better understanding and more reasonable expectations. I’m a recent convert and the interactions I had with “clergy-equivalents” in my prior tradition were different.
I’m mainly referring to priests who serve parishes as pastors. I find priest-monks at monasteries to be different in their orientation.
My intuition includes the following possibilities. I don’t include “clericalism” because it’s not clear to me that the term has a concrete meaning, and it strikes me as a bit pejorative.
(1) They are overworked and have little time to form intimate connections with their parishioners.
(2) They are frequently rotated, and have learned not to become too attached to people at any particular locale.
(3) They feel like those who have not committed to a religious life can’t relate to their life.
(4) There are just so many people who wish to connect with them more deeply that they can’t possibly achieve that with everyone, and thus have to pick and choose (I guess this is a sub-category of (1)).
(5) They are not commonly this way; my experience is just too narrow and idiosyncratic.
(6) Something is wrong with me (mostly joking here ;-).)

I’m going to try and make this long story, a short one. before I start: I have another job that pays well more than sam’s does with the least amount of stress. I’ve been with the company for 5 years, I’ve been with sam’s longer than my other job. I recently enrolled into school through the company because I found out the company pays for it. From January-March I was doing 3 days a week, 5 hour shifts along with school and doing 40 hours at my other job. I was asked to do pre-counts for inventory overnight, I dropped out of my classes to pull 40 hours on both sides. Before I went overnight, I turned in an availability for on March 21, 2024 so that I can enroll back into school when I get back from the overnight shifts(I didn’t put in availability form for overnight shifts, this was just to keep myself safe). After the overnight shifts, I was scheduled 5 days a week at sam’s, I mentioned that my schedule was wrong but because “an associate was going to be out for two weeks and they needed coverage”. I’ve been checking the schedule, the associate has been working!! I’m stuck trying to juggle my two jobs 5 days a week and school. I’m failing assignments in my class that the company pays for. The company does not pay me enough to quit my other job. I told my boss I really needed 3 days a week. He told me: if I’m not happy in the dept, he suggests I look for another one because he “couldn’t run his business around everyone’s availability always changing”. I don’t know why the 3 days are a problem now or what my happiness has to do with being in the dept. I have accumulated a few points due to absences(for school) that were excused by my TL via text. They want me more hourse, it will require me to quit my other job AND I will need a raise from sam’s. At this point, I’m keeping the sams job for school. Any suggestions on what to do besides start a document on this?

Said rules lawyer had a plan, see. Become a god and annoy people with the most intrusive mass surveillance system any world had ever known so that they could pretend the rules on targeting shit don't exist and counter their magic from another plane.
Not a great start, but I figured some amusing insanity could follow, might as well indulge for a bit. How on earth does one supposedly become a god?
Apparently the first step is to cast Leomund's tiny hut. Then you cast fabricate to turn the hut into an undead corpse. Reason for why this clearly nonsensible thing can supposedly be done?
'Cause a magic item can make objects out of force. Supposedly means that force is thus a raw material, and can be used in place of anything. And what's more, using fabricate supposedly makes it so that the force doesn't disappear when the spell maintaining it ends.
Some wild shit. But the best part is that, obviously, making something out of force is unnecessary as you can just obtain its raw materials, so I wondered why the hell you'd even bother.
Supposedly, if you use force as opposed to raw materials, it's not susceptible to DM fiat. Makes up a rule saying you can use Leomund's tiny hut as a crafting supply and he's doing it because he thinks the DM's going to say he doesn't have the right materials.
'Course, fabricate makes mention of the fact that you can't actually make an object if you don't know how to craft it out of raw materials, and that the thing you create can't be magical. So the notion that you'll be creating it out of magical force kinda explicitly doesn't work, and the notion that any character in existence can fabricate a working corpse is absurd.
But then it goes one step beyond, for the objective is to return this supposed fake corpse to a state of undeath that it was never in, and in so doing replicate the magical abilities it never actually had. Something fabricate explicitly can't do, but what are rules to a lawyer?
Only problem there is that there really isn't a way to revive an undead. You can turn humanoids into undead pretty easily, but turning what was once an undead back into a functioning one is fairly complicated. But the lawyer had a plan.
True polymorph into a Dybbuk.
Only problem there is that Dybbuk can't possess undead corpses. They also can't possess fabrications made out of pure force formed into the shape of an undead corpse. But there, he has a solution!
Cast Nystul's magic aura on the fabrication to make it appear to divination and magical senses as though it were a humanoid. Actual, literal Road Runner logic where painting the image of a tunnel onto a rock surface allows some birds to run through it.
'Course, to that, I raised a question. Supposedly, according to this misinterpretation of what Nystul's does, you would be able to cast it on an ooze.
A brainless, skullless ooze.
Does said ooze, now appearing to supernatural senses as though it were a humanoid, have the ability to fall victim to an intellect devourer's ability to eat a target's brain and inhabit its skull?
The answer to this question, supposedly, was yes.
As a result? Supposedly you're now capable of using fabricate to replicate the magical ability of any being in existence by turning into a Dybbuk to take control of corpses made out of magic under the effect of an illusion that makes sensory spells and effects misread them as humanoid in origin. And instead of using this to contest Asmodeus's control over the denizens of hell, the best way to use this power is to turn into a lich, make a surveillance state over the entire world, and use it to annoy wizards by occasionally counterspelling them.
Which is fun as a thought experiment, absolutely. But what I don't get is why someone would bother trying to convince anyone else that any of it was legal.

Solana's journey is plagued by centralization concerns, casting a shadow over its purported decentralization. The network's governance is heavily concentrated in the hands of a select few, with vital decisions dictated by a centralized authority. This top-down governance model undermines the autonomy of network participants and raises questions about the integrity of Solana's ecosystem. Moreover, Solana's validator ecosystem is dominated by a handful of large players, forming de facto cartels that wield disproportionate influence over the network. These validator cartels collude to maintain their grip on power, stifling competition and centralizing control in the hands of a privileged few.
Solana has been fraught with repeated instances of network outages, undermining its claim of being a reliable blockchain platform. Let's scrutinize these incidents with meticulous detail:
December 2021 Outage: On December 8, 2021, Solana plunged into darkness as a major network outage halted transactions for over 17 hours. This downtime not only frustrated users but also highlighted the fragility of Solana's infrastructure, raising serious questions about its reliability.
September 2022 Incident: In September 2022, Solana was rocked by yet another debilitating outage, lasting for nearly 10 hours. Transactions ground to a halt, leaving users stranded and transactions in limbo. The incident underscored Solana's vulnerability to systemic failures and eroded trust in its ability to deliver on its promises of speed and scalability.
April 2023 Downtime: On April 12, 2023, Solana experienced another crippling downtime, lasting for approximately 8 hours. This outage disrupted transactions and exposed the network's Achilles' heel, further denting its reputation as a reliable blockchain platform.
Comparatively, networks like Ethereum and Bitcoin have maintained near-perfect uptime, standing as bastions of reliability and resilience in the blockchain space.
Centralization at its Core
Solana's purported decentralization is a facade, masking the reality of centralized control lurking beneath the surface. Let's dissect the centralization of Solana in granular detail:
Governance Concentration: Unlike truly decentralized networks where governance is distributed among a diverse array of stakeholders, Solana's governance is heavily concentrated in the hands of a select few. Vital decisions concerning protocol upgrades, network operations, and ecosystem development are made by a centralized authority, disenfranchising the broader community and undermining the principles of decentralization.
Validator Cartels: Solana's validator ecosystem is dominated by a handful of large players, forming de facto cartels that wield disproportionate influence over the network. These validator cartels collude to maintain their grip on power, stifling competition and centralizing control in the hands of a privileged few.
Protocol Changes: Solana's protocol changes are dictated by a centralized authority, bypassing the consensus mechanisms that underpin truly decentralized networks. This top-down approach to governance undermines the autonomy of network participants and erodes trust in the integrity of Solana's ecosystem.
Manipulation Rife
Solana's susceptibility to market manipulation is a pressing concern, with incidents of manipulation casting a shadow over its reputation. Let's unravel the web of manipulation ensnaring Solana:
Pump-and-Dump Schemes: Solana has been plagued by orchestrated pump-and-dump schemes, where coordinated groups artificially inflate the price of SOL tokens before dumping them on unsuspecting investors. These schemes exploit market liquidity and prey on the greed of speculators, leaving retail investors nursing heavy losses.
Wash Trading: Solana's markets are rife with wash trading, a deceptive practice where traders artificially inflate trading volumes to create a false impression of liquidity and demand. This manipulation tactic distorts market metrics and undermines the integrity of Solana's price discovery mechanism, eroding trust in its market dynamics.
Insider Trading: Solana's centralized governance structure creates fertile ground for insider trading, where privileged insiders exploit non-public information to gain an unfair advantage in the market. This unethical practice undermines the principles of fairness and transparency, sowing seeds of distrust in Solana's ecosystem.
Entanglement with Centralized Exchanges:
Solana's close ties with centralized exchanges further exacerbate its centralization woes, consolidating power in the hands of a select few and compromising its purported decentralization. Let's dissect the entanglement between Solana and centralized exchanges:
Exchange Collusion: Solana's listing on centralized exchanges is often marred by collusion between exchange operators and Solana insiders. Listing fees, market-making agreements, and preferential treatment create conflicts of interest that undermine the integrity of Solana's market infrastructure.
Market Surveillance: Centralized exchanges wield significant influence over Solana's markets, conducting surveillance and enforcement actions to maintain order and compliance. This centralized control contradicts the decentralized ethos of blockchain and exposes Solana to the risks of regulatory scrutiny and market manipulation.
Custodial Risks: Solana's reliance on centralized exchanges for custody services exposes users to custodial risks, including exchange hacks, insolvency, and mismanagement. Entrusting assets to centralized custodians undermines the principles of self-custody and financial sovereignty, compromising the security and integrity of Solana's ecosystem.
The Cartel Conundrum
Solana's centralized governance structure creates fertile ground for cartel formation, where privileged insiders collude to maintain their dominance and influence. These cartels wield disproportionate power over the network, stifling competition and undermining the principles of decentralization. In contrast, Ethereum's decentralized governance model fosters inclusivity and transparency, empowering the broader community to participate in decision-making and governance processes. This decentralized approach mitigates the risk of cartel formation and ensures that Ethereum remains true to its ethos of decentralization and open participation.
Conclusion
Solana's troubled history of chronic network outages, centralized control, market manipulation, and entanglement with centralized exchanges paints a damning portrait of a platform plagued by systemic flaws and inherent vulnerabilities. In contrast, networks like Ethereum, PulseChain and Bitcoin stand as pillars of reliability and decentralization, offering a safe haven for investors seeking refuge from the stormy seas of cryptocurrency. As the saying goes, forewarned is forearmed – and in the treacherous landscape of cryptocurrency, exercising caution is paramount. Solana's tumultuous journey serves as a sobering reminder of the perils lurking beneath the surface of seemingly promising blockchain platforms. Proceed with caution, for the path ahead is fraught with danger.
Disclaimer: The information provided in this email is for educational purposes only and should not be considered financial or investment advice. Please conduct your own research and due diligence. Do not blindly follow or listen to advice, even from wealthy individuals. Always make informed decisions based on your understanding and consult with a trusted advisor if needed. The views and opinions expressed in this discussion are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any other individual, organization, or company mentioned.

Hi everyone
I’m 153cm 24F, been working out since mid March and watching what I eat since April, my starting weight was 128ish lbs and I’m down to 123 ish lbs. My goal is 50kg or around 110lbs.
I try to keep my calorie intake is between 1,350-1,500 cals a day (maybe more sometimes 🫠) and my protein ranges from 70g-95g if my cals are higher.
I try to go to the gym every day to form the habit but it ends up being 4/5 times a week, with the odd 6. My routine is as follows:
I alternate between a lower / upper body day
Lower body - RDLs - hip thrusts - glute bridges - Bulgarian split squats All 3x12 Maybe a 5 min stair master
Upper body - rowing machine for five min - grip pull down machine - chest press - seated dumbbell press - maybe a cable rope tricep extension if I can reach the latch to change it over lol - standing bicep curl - 4 way lateral raises with dumbbells
So it’s either of those two, I always end my workouts with a 30 min incline walk on speed 5. And I do some compound ab exercises just because they’re a bit fun, and also some around the worlds. I’m not great at following mat exercise videos but I might do a Pilates one if I feel like it but I find it so so hard lol.
I just saw a video saying cardio is bad if you’re trying to recomp and could be the cause of stubborn fat so now I’m just so confused as to what I should be doing.
Can anyone recommend any workout plans?
Also my step count average is 13.5k steps a day
Thanks!

Hi all! I wanted to share a funny series of events from me and my friend's DnD campaign. We're a good sized group; seven in total (including the DM). We've just finished our 8th session and we're playing through the Curse of Strahd.
None of us have played through a whole campaign before and only three of us have played some form of Dnd, being the DM, me (Elven FighteRogue) and our Tiefling Paladin (who is obsessed with BG3).
It was our third session and we'd been exploring the "Death House", though we decided to explore it in the most awkward. Way. Possible. Much to our DM's frustration.
First thing we did was go all the way upstairs.
For some character context, my character is from a noble family and the other players don't actually know his specific race, other than the Paladin and Bard, a Goblin-raised Human (who is my character's rival/love interest) as we have made some above-table plans.
Anyway, my character was the first to climb the stairs. The Bard decided to push my character out of the way so he could get there first, and my character pushed back because he's not gonna take that. This resulted in the two scuffling on the stairs until the Paladin pushed past them, with the Dragonborn Ranger and Gobin Cleric following close behind.
(This was before our sixth party member's first session.)
My character decided it's not worth it and went back downstairs.
The rest of the party got to the third floor, and found a suit of armour, when the Paladin brushed off some dust. This triggered combat that we were very unprepared for, and the Bard shrieked, which brought my character back upstairs in time to perform a sneak attack.
After we somehow survived the fight, we went back downstairs to the ground floor. We destroyed the cupboard with the health potions we were meant to find earlier (we smashed half of them) and I tried to take all three crossbows that were available even though my character could not carry one of them, largely just because OOC I didn't want the Paladin's player to get them for a platonic sibling rivalry reason, which led to the events that happened later on in the next session.
We eventually made it to the attic, somehow bypassing all the lore the DM had planned, and reached the basement without exploring the first or second floors.
We made it to the servants' quarters in the basement where we met our sixth party member (a Human Warlock), who hadn't played before and stayed quiet for most of the session. My character and hers only said their names to each other.
The Paladin, Bard and I went searching for loot in separate rooms while the Ranger and Cleric decided to check out the well. The Ranger was able to get the bucket off the pulley, and the Cleric volunteered to sit in it and be sent down. The DM kept trying to take their attention away from the well, but the Ranger's player accused her of keeping secrets and continued to send the Cleric down. The DM was sort of laugh-crying at this point.
Meanwhile, my character was searching through chests in the bedrooms. I found a coin pouch made of human skin, and the Paladin decided to grab him and started to DRAG him TO THE WELL. Obviously, I started to panic. I made a strength check to try and wriggle my way out, but the Bard decided TO HELP HER. So I failed my strength check. I tried again, but ended up failing that too, even without the Bard's interference. I tried to persuade the Paladin to let my character go, when the Cleric, who was already halfway down the well at this point, decided to yell up "I'll wave at you on your way down!"
At this point, my voice had gone up three octaves and I was actively trying to keep my guy alive and stay in character while I did it, which was hard bc I hadn't entirely figured him out yet, and also because the Paladin was trying to THROW HIM IN A WELL.
Eventually, I offered to pay her to NOT throw me in a well, to which she stopped and said "Give me the skin pouch."
For some reason. That sibling rivalry came back.
Instead of just giving it to her, I refused and she started dragging me to the well again. I freaked out again and started pleading with her, which she refused. The Bard and Ranger both told me to just give it to her. The Paladin reaches to pick my character up and I quickly changed my mind and said I'd give it to her, but asked if we could split the coin inside it.
I genuinely do not know why I did that.
She stopped and with a straight face said "Oh yeah, I don't care about the money, I just want the pouch."
My jaw dropped. Both me and my character yelled "That's all you wanted? The skin pouch!?" and she just replied "yeah, it's human skin?" like it was an obvious thing to want.
I gave it to her empty, while the Bard called me a rich boy or something, and my character kind of just collapsed from the stress.
The Cleric came back out of the well in a bucket full of "Goblin water", which he then tried to throw on my character. I dodged it, but the Bard saw that there was some left and successfully drenched my poor FighteRogue.
The Warlock then decided she wanted to try dry him.
So she hits with him Eldritch Blast.
Obviously, that's not how that works, so my poor, stressed, drenched Elf is not only mildly scared of the Paladin, but now also the Warlock, and is now hurt (I took 9 hit points).
We spent an hour at that well. The session ended about ten minutes later after fighting, killing and then havesting a Grick. (The Paladin ate the Grick meat next session and got poisoned, despite having normal rations. But not before she tried to keep said Grick as a pet.)
The sessions since have been the same level of chaos, but we're all clearly more comfortable with our characters so it's far more consistent. Hope you enjoyed this retelling as much as I have. I'm going to finish drawing up the comic of our game at some point so I'll hopefully have more wacky adventures to share.

Hi Community!
Are you a parent or partner who has experienced parental alienation? We want to hear from you!
Study Title: "Parental Alienation: Effects on Targeted Parents' Mental Health and Parent-Child Relationship Dynamics"
Our study aims to explore how exposure to parental alienation influences mental health concerns and the parent-child relationship.
Parental alienation refers to the manipulation of a child by one parent to reject the other parent, often occurring during or after divorce or separation.
Who can participate?

• Parents or partners who have experienced parental alienation.
• Age 16 years and above

How to participate:

1. Click the link below to access our survey.
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Thank you.

Hi Community!
Are you a parent or partner who has experienced parental alienation? We want to hear from you!
Study Title: "Parental Alienation: Effects on Targeted Parents' Mental Health and Parent-Child Relationship Dynamics"
Our study aims to explore how exposure to parental alienation influences mental health concerns and the parent-child relationship.
Parental alienation refers to the manipulation of a child by one parent to reject the other parent, often occurring during or after divorce or separation.
Who can participate?

• Parents or partners who have experienced parental alienation.
• Age 16 years and above

How to participate:

1. Click the link below to access our survey.
2. Share your experiences, thoughts, and insights.
3. Your anonymity and privacy will be strictly maintained throughout the study.

Survey link: https://forms.office.com/e/CE3fGFMcrh
Your contribution will play a crucial role in raising awareness and advocating for support systems for families affected by parental alienation. Together, let's make a difference!
Thank you.

South Dakota has its own particular brand of anti-Indigenous racism, and this is my take on it, as a white resident of Rapid City who lived on the reservation for over 20 years. To wit:
With some exceptions, most white South Dakotans are not openly and aggressively racially hostile. The days of “No Indians allowed” in shop windows are thankfully in the past. But a more pernicious strain of prejudice still permeates much of the culture. You hear it in conversations (or, at least, I do, when white people talk openly around me, assuming I am of like mind) and you often read it in social media postings, especially on news sites.
I’m not sure what to call the attitude in question, maybe “performative sympathy” or “passive-aggressive patronizing.” Basically, it’s when somebody laments how Natives in the state can’t “get it together,” can’t “get with the program,” can’t “get their lives on track,” can’t “give up alcohol/drugs,” etc. etc. (By “the program,” they generally mean assimilated American society.) This is usually couched in faux concern, as if the person saying it is genuinely puzzled and sorrowfully bewildered at this predicament. Often, a sad shake of the head will accompany this pronouncement.
The person in question, of course, rarely gives a care about Native people’s “plight,” and these pat statements are just a way of saying, “Oh well, what are ya gonna do with those folks?” and distancing oneself from the situation, shrugging and moving on to a happier topic of conversation. Why can’t “those people” get it together indeed?
When it comes up in a convo that I’m a participant in, I do my best to bring up the history of how things got to where they are today. I’m a history teacher, after all. I’m well-versed in the subjects of manifest destiny, colonialism, broken treaties, and the like. Usually their eyes will start to glaze over or they will start fidgeting and shuffling their feet, uncomfortable at the way the conversation is going, their mind doing its best to reject input that contradicts their view of the world, no matter how diplomatic and non-preachy I’m being. It’s not the tone that intimidates them and puts them off, it’s the very subject itself.
More often than not, after I’ve had my say, they will just mumble something along the lines of, “Yup, I don’t know how those people will ever get it together. It’s too bad,” as if I had never said anything. People’s sincerely-held beliefs are incredibly difficult to dislodge, as we all know. And being brought up white in South Dakota, unless your situation is significantly different from the norm, you get the same whitewashed story over and over, at home, at school, at church. You’ve heard it your whole life, and doggone it, it didn’t include big fancy words like “colonialism” that make people feel bad when they didn’t do anything wrong. So, the mind shuts out the competing information, stays closed.
And here’s the big secret that maybe you already know: If you don’t believe that history in any way informs the present (because it was “so long ago” or whatever), then the only other option is to – consciously or unconsciously – blame the people themselves. Think about it. If history doesn’t matter and generational trauma doesn’t exist and everyone is born at the same starting line, with the same obstacles stretching ahead of them in life, then the only possible blame for people not succeeding individually or collectively HAS to fall on the people themselves. This is the most pernicious aspect of South Dakota racism. At its root lies a belief that the reason why Native people have higher incarceration rates, lower graduation rates, higher rates of substance abuse, etc. etc. etc. is that the people themselves are somehow defective, somehow lesser. Lesser than whom? Lesser than the white majority.
This is white supremacy in one of its purest forms, but most people don’t recognize it as such. This white supremacy doesn’t necessarily wear a white robe or burn a tiki torch (although look at how they vote and they’re not far off), but it is an unearned superiority complex than many whites learn from a young age. “I don’t know what’s wrong with those Indians. What a pity,” with the implicit understanding that “we” are superior. How else can you explain our demographic superiority? Of course, you and I know the answer to that.
This is one of the single greatest obstacles to race relations in the state moving forward and true understanding and reconciliation happening. How can you understand a people when you see them as faulty, unable to progress, victims of nothing but their own indolence and failure to thrive? You have to put the blame for their lot in life squarely on their own shoulders because to do otherwise would mean interrogating your own state’s history and country’s history in a way that you can’t bear (not you, of course, innocent Reddit reader).
But you don’t want to hear about broken treaties. You don’t want to hear about stolen land. You don’t want to hear about historical trauma. You don’t want to hear about boarding school abuses. You just want a nice story where progress has always progressed and the white man brought the light of civilization into a dark continent and the light of the Gospel to the heathen. “My country, right or wrong” is just another way of saying that you take no responsibility for your country’s wrongs.
And “That was a long time ago” is the great hand-washing, the refrain of a people who dare not look into the mirror, dare not teach what really happened in the not-so-distant past. And so, you have a state where nearly all of the positions of power are held by whites, in government, business, school boards and administration, as well as nearly all the wealth in the state, all the best land, and you wonder how things got to be that way. But then you stop wondering because the questions it raises are too challenging. “Why can’t they get it together,” indeed.

The night was bone-chillingly cold. The slightest whisper of a breeze nipped at my exposed ears and drafted unpleasantly within my overly large winter coat. The black, barren trees stood unmoving like sentinels bearing ominously down upon either side of the sleet-slick street, which was lit only by dim street lamps that, other than creating a dull yellow reflection on the otherwise unlit pavement, seemed to do nothing against the oppressing dark of this fateful December night.
I had passed through a wrought iron gate twenty minutes before, the gate that separated a cozy subdivision from this eerie, undeveloped stretch of road that seemed to be dropped in the middle of the forest. I could think only of my warm, lively hearth and a nice, hot cup of tea between my palms, which now, instead of being pressed against warm porcelain, were being stabbed by my untrimmed fingernails as I tightened my fist onto the leash and plunged the other still deeper into my coat.
This night was the culmination of weeks of investigation on a missing person’s case turned sour. A man named Arthur Smith had reported his four daughters missing, then hung himself three days later when we couldn’t find anything. Oddly, Arthur’s body went missing from the morgue shortly after. The only trace left was an incredible amount of flies, and we were displeased to see that every drawer was leaking a mixture of blood and embalming fluid because the refrigerant pipes burst. When we opened them up, the neck of every corpse had been slit.
Eventually, through good detective work, we were able to connect some dots, and that led us to where we were now: We were now on a manhunt for a suspect that was last seen at a gas station about a mile up the road, not two hours earlier. We checked a network of cameras to see that he had headed for the woods, grabbed the hounds, and here we were.
My colleagues and I were spread around in different parts of the forest with the police force’s seven bloodhounds. I got stuck with Old Ben, the force’s droopiest and most seasoned canine. He was partially blind and notorious for not obeying commands. He didn’t even respond to a dog whistle, which was why some of my colleagues thought his hearing was shot. I doubted this theory, though, because sure enough, when somebody whispered the word “biscuit,” Old Benny perked up and started wagging his tail.
Another ten minutes found Old Benny and I at the end of the once seemingly endless street, with the streetlamps and pavement stopping abruptly at the edge of the woods, which had not entirely swallowed up a bulldozer. Old Ben stopped and sniffed the air for a moment, then plunged down a path in the woods to our right. It was a dirt path, not two feet wide, overgrown and partially washed out, making it an unpleasant and muddy journey from here on out.
…
My flashlight was now the only source of light illuminating our way. Its beam slid over roots and rocks that jutted out of the path at odd angles and briefly swept over the nearest trees, bringing them out of the shadow for a moment. I felt claustrophobic as they bore down upon me and upon the path. The only sound was my deep breathing, my sloppy footsteps, and Benny’s blundering in the mud about ten feet in front of me.
The path turned in such a way that I could see faint moonlight up ahead, but a cloud soon covered the moon and removed the slight comfort its light had provided. I continued following the curve of the path, and pointed my flashlight up ahead. Suddenly, everything was pitch black, as my flashlight had just gone out without a flicker. I was especially annoyed because firstly, I had just replaced the batteries earlier that week, and secondly, I caught a glimpse of the dark outline of what seemed to be a small cottage up ahead, which was now invisible in the darkness.
To my surprise, Benny stopped as soon as the light went out, which made it easy for me to replace the batteries with the ones that I always carried around in my service belt. To my dismay, Benny did not continue walking when the light flickered back on, even when I started tugging on his leash. He simply sat in the mud and peered at the cottage in the distance, which I knew for a fact he couldn’t see. The cottage was incredibly run down, but I couldn’t see much more, as it was just at the edge of my flashlight beam.
I began feeling uneasy when Benny started whimpering and backing away, tail between his legs. Our dogs were trained to bark when they found something, not stand still, and certainly not whine and back away. Old Ben had never been a skittish animal; I had never seen him act like this before. I peered back at the cottage, suspecting something more sinister than I was originally prepared for.
I tied Benny loosely around a nearby tree, so he could pull away if need be, pulled out my handgun, and continued on. Not fifteen seconds later, I was hit with the smell of blood and wet dog, and heard whimpering to my left. I told Benny to stay, and turned to find him where I left him, about twenty yards behind me, looking at me like I was insane. I bent down and examined the source of the noise, only to find one of our bloodhounds laying just off the path and covered in a mixture of mud and its own blood. It was missing its hind legs and was shivering badly. I cursed and dispatched it with a quick slit with my utility knife, then unclipped its collar and stuffed it into my pocket before turning away. I did not want to alert the suspect of my position. I grew worried about the location of my colleagues, as our dogs were trained not to run off. I also wondered what kind of predator would have taken only the hind legs of an animal. I tried not to think about it as I continued on.
As the cottage grew nearer, I was able to make out a few broken windows reflecting my light back at me. Through these I was able to see that the inside of the cottage was pitch black, the darkest black I had ever seen. I walked closer still, and I couldn’t stop looking into the darkness of the cottage. The darkness was so potent it seemed to be spilling over the window sill into the crisp night air. I felt consumed. My heart began pounding within my chest, and I felt colder than ever as I stepped toward the gravel path that led around to the left of the cottage. The sudden change in surface and the sound of my feet crunching upon the gravel seemed to break my trance, and I shuddered.
I didn’t know why I had felt so trapped, and I didn’t like it. Something was definitely wrong with this situation, and my feelings of dread intensified as I followed the gravel path around to the front of the cottage.
A dripping noise interrupted my thoughts and temporarily washed the dread from my mind. I paused. I determined it was coming from the direction I was headed, but I couldn’t see the front door yet as the porch was draped with ivy. I was suddenly hit with the putrid smell I knew all too well: the smell of death. It hit my nostrils like a truck and returned my feelings of dread all at once. I shined my beam to the front steps.
There was a dark, red liquid trickling gently down the steps, pooling under the porch: blood. I looked up onto the front porch, now visible, and saw the torso of a man hanging from his neck about three feet away from the front door. His legs were nowhere to be seen, though there was a blood trail leading into the house, and his glistening entrails swayed sickeningly with the light breeze. Blood was pooling below him, trickling down the steps, and down through the cracks in the porch. It had begun coagulating, and dark swirling orbs rotated in the puddle each time a drop splashed down. I looked up again at the carcass and recognized the man as our suspect. There was frost beginning to form at the edges of his mouth and over his glassy eyes, but his exposed entrails were still steaming. Furthermore, the blood dripping from his wound was still deep red in color. The back of my neck prickled and I knew this man had not been hanging for very long. No, not very long at all.
I raised my pistol and nudged the front door open. I was again hit with the smell of death, though now much stronger, so strong I could scarcely draw breath. The inside of the cottage was unbelievably dank, and the darkness seemed to eat the quivering beam of light I pointed out in front of me, so I couldn’t see ten feet forward.
I heard a sharp crack and I bolted my gaze to my feet. I had just stepped on a human rib. Suddenly the cottage came alive with creaking and shuffling. I heard flies buzzing all around me. I heard a raspy rushing noise to my right. I shined my flashlight to where I thought the noise was coming from, but all I saw was a bloodstained floor and darkness out in front of me. I took a step toward the noise, and the beam of light revealed the glistening mangled corpse of a man, missing most of his skin, hunched in the corner of the cottage. His whole torso was heaving, and I saw the rushing noise was coming from the base of his throat, where a large gash was opening and closing with every breath, spraying flecks of fluid. Maggots wriggled out of his wound, and black purge fluid trickled from his soupy eye sockets, his missing nose, and his gaping mouth. He was missing most of his teeth, and one of his cheeks was rotted through.
I was frozen in place with fear, until, to my horror, the man’s mangled arm rose and reached out to me. At this I aimed and put a bullet through his partially exposed skull, splattering a putrid mist on the wall behind him. Instead of slumping over, as I prayed he would, the man slowly levitated into an upright position as though controlled by a puppeteer. Skin began regrowing around his legs, his torso, and eventually his skull, which sprouted two bloody horns out of his forehead. This being had the likeness of Arthur Smith, though I sensed it was no longer him. I placed two rounds into his torso, and the being staggered, but the bullet wounds simply closed with sickening squelching sounds. I backed away slowly, and he simply stood in the corner and leered at me with burning black eyes and a disconcerting grin.
I continued to back away slowly, placing one more round between his eyes. His head jerked back, but still it healed and he seemed unbothered. I bolted around and headed for the door. I jerked the handle but it wouldn't budge. I tried kicking it down, which was something I was very practiced at, but still, the rotten oak planks held fast against my will. I turned around, back against the door, firearm at the ready, and stared into the blackness. Everything was quiet once again. Despite the temperature, cold sweat beaded upon my brow and dribbled down my neck.
Suddenly I felt a rumbling that seemed to come from the very depths of the Earth. A splitting and splintering sound came from what I presumed was the center of the cottage, and I was soon showered with bits of wood and stone that nicked my exposed skin and drew droplets of blood. I noticed my back was no longer pressed against the back of the door, though I was not moving. The floor seemed to be carrying me slowly in the direction of the noise. I was frozen in place, and found that I could not change my trajectory.
My flashlight beam found the edge of a large hole in the floor. I saw dark, root-like tendrils sprout from the hole and rush across the floor with the sound of scraping and splintering. They then returned to the hole, and they had within their grasp six bare human bodies, which I horrifically realized were those of my now former colleagues. I watched in horror as their pale naked bodies were folded, torn, ripped, and broken in the churning earth. The sound of tearing flesh and cracking bone was deafening and filled the darkness of the cottage. The mass of mangled flesh formed into one chunky, glistening mound in the center of the hole. It began pulsing and rising, and horrible screams rang in my ears. I watched in horror as the mass formed a humanoid figure that rose up ten feet out of the hole and bent over against the ceiling. It was facing away from me, but its raspy voice seemed to mix seamlessly with the screams directly in my ears.
“The churning of earth, the tearing of flesh, the cracking of bone”
At this it let out a booming laugh that reverberated in my skull and shook the foundation of the building. The cottage once again came alive, but now more than ever before. Shutters were opening and closing, floorboards were rattling, flies swarmed in a huge mass around and around the room, blocking the beam of my flashlight and obscuring my view of the figure. I felt my legs quiver along with the rest of the cottage. I looked down at a red book with its pages fluttering in the still air. I dove for it and slammed it shut, and the cottage grew still. I paused for a moment, but the giant figure began turning towards me. I bolted around to see that the door was now open, but the hung corpse was clinging to the top of the door frame, now very much alive. Its entrails were still swinging freely from its short leap, and the rope lay severed and frayed upon the ground.
I paced towards the door, dumping the rest of my magazine into the corpse, which to my relief fell to the ground with a squelch. I hopped over the body and sprinted out the front door, away from the cottage, down the dirt path. I could still hear the screams of the damned faintly in the distance, and the earth began rumbling once again underneath my feet. I continued running back along the path, trying not to think about what I had witnessed. I paused for a moment to catch my breath, and shivered in the now relentless sleet.
The pounding of the earth became the distant rumble of thunder in the distance. By the time I had gotten back to the paved road, I was soaked to the bone in cold sweat and freezing rain, and I was covered up to my thighs in mud from the path. My coat was snagged and torn in places from the splinters of wood and from branches along the path.
When I finally got back to my car, I saw a leash leading underneath it, and found Old Ben, crouched below, tail between his legs. I scooped him up and plopped him in the passenger seat, entirely disregarding the former cleanliness of my car, as it was now covered in mud and dog hair. I cranked up the heat and sped off towards the station to report what I had witnessed.
…
We never did find that cottage again. Other guys went back to where I was and failed to find the path, but they did find the dismembered bodies of my colleagues hidden under the bulldozer at the end of the street. I was charged with the deaths of my colleagues and was thrown into a mental institute, but I don’t mind it much. There are people here that are far more insane than I am. The worst part is my occasional perception of a distant rumbling, and during thunderstorms I’m a whimpering mess.
I have been disciplined three times for writing symbols on the walls that I can’t get out of my head. I draw them in my blood so they stand out more and resemble what I see. I have found that once they are on the wall, they stay out of my head. Unfortunately, I haven’t finished writing them all out yet. The first time I started I got really close to finishing, but then I found myself strapped to a hospital bed.
The worst part of my new existence is the nightmares. I am plagued by images of my former colleagues: their pale dismembered bodies, the sound of cracking bone, their blood on my hands, their shrieks of pain, and the taste of flesh.

Hi Community!
Are you a parent or partner who has experienced parental alienation? We want to hear from you!
Study Title: "Parental Alienation: Effects on Targeted Parents' Mental Health and Parent-Child Relationship Dynamics"
Our study aims to explore how exposure to parental alienation influences mental health concerns and the parent-child relationship.
Parental alienation refers to the manipulation of a child by one parent to reject the other parent, often occurring during or after divorce or separation.
Who can participate?

• Parents or partners who have experienced parental alienation.
• Age 16 years and above

How to participate:

1. Click the link below to access our survey.
2. Share your experiences, thoughts, and insights.
3. Your anonymity and privacy will be strictly maintained throughout the study.

Survey link: https://forms.office.com/e/CE3fGFMcrh
Your contribution will play a crucial role in raising awareness and advocating for support systems for families affected by parental alienation. Together, let's make a difference!
Thank you.

You notice a slight headache throughout the weeks of your stay in Kenya, you visited Kitum Cave Wednesday last week and ever since then you've been feeling.. off..
you go to a clinic Tuesday this week to see what is wrong, they say you have a raised temperature and a slight headache, might be a cold going around, they recommend headache relief and good rest,
the problem is.. you cant sleep, your mind is racing all the while it feels like its about to explode, suddenly its 7:00 AM. time to get up. you have a sharp pain in your chest and your muscles ache.
you look in the mirror.. your face.. its almost as if you are wearing a mask of skin with two beady beet-red eyes.
your stomach twists and turns in the most agonizing way, you turn to look at your watch, something isn't right, you have little bright red specks dotting from your arm to your wrist that itch and burn.
your frightened by this, and you know deep down this isn't the worst its going to get.
right now a strange organism is turning your internal organs into its own mushy playground, filling your cells with itself until the cells explode like an egg sac filled with spiders, the newly formed viruses burrow their way into more of your blood cells.
you call a doctor and schedule an emergency appointment to get you checked, your driving to the clinic twisting around a mountain.
you hear a strange sound in your gut as your insides drip out of your intestines in what feels like liquid fire.
your hit like a bullet with sudden nausea, you gag and retch trying not to vomit.. futile... black gunk pours out of your mouth like a high pressure tap.
your mind races to the point of extreme confusion.. you. cannot. breath... suddenly you go unconscious driving down from a mountain-top, your tires screech out of control, down you go.. its over for you...

Hi Community!
Are you a parent or partner who has experienced parental alienation? We want to hear from you!
Study Title: "Parental Alienation: Effects on Targeted Parents' Mental Health and Parent-Child Relationship Dynamics"
Our study aims to explore how exposure to parental alienation influences mental health concerns and the parent-child relationship.
Parental alienation refers to the manipulation of a child by one parent to reject the other parent, often occurring during or after divorce or separation.
Who can participate?

• Parents or partners who have experienced parental alienation.
• Age 16 years and above

How to participate:

1. Click the link below to access our survey.
2. Share your experiences, thoughts, and insights.
3. Your anonymity and privacy will be strictly maintained throughout the study.

Survey link: https://forms.office.com/e/CE3fGFMcrh
Your contribution will play a crucial role in raising awareness and advocating for support systems for families affected by parental alienation. Together, let's make a difference!
Thank you.

Basically I'm living in a high rise apartment. Landlord gave me an N1 form a while back that was just plain old filled out wrong. I called the office to explain and the lady turned it into a yelling match telling me it IS filled out correctly (they checked the 'this increase is at or below the guideline' checkbox and posted a value that was something like a 4 or 5% increase. I called the LTB and they said it's not my job to fill out their documents for them and to basically wait it out until it goes to tribunal)
So while I've been waiting and paying my normal unchanged rent ammount, they've increased it via a normal N1 AND they were also awarded an above guideline increase, but the forms they submitted to me were all incorrect because they're adding onto the incorrect value from the first invalid N1.
My question is this:
Once this goes to tribunal and assuming I'm ruled as being correct in this, when will the above guideline increase take place? Will the landlord need to re apply? How will that work? Is there an expiry where if they don't correctly raise my rent via the awarded % it just expires?

i’ve been on lamictal for about 6 months now. it was pretty tough titrating up but i made it to a dose that i feel great on! honesty this is probably the happiest 6 months i’ve ever had. yes there’s been ups and downs and i’m still anxious but for the first time my mood does not control me. i’ve even lost weight from starting to focus on my health and fitness! i’ve made new friends and have overall been content and stable. well over the last week i’ve noticed a rash forming on my shoulder and it now has spread across my whole chest. it’s not super red or itchy but it’s definitely raised skin and spreading. i haven’t changed any meds, or body wash or really anything so i have no idea what’s causing it. i reached out to my psychiatrist yesterday and he told me even tho it’s rare to get a rash after being on lamictal for awhile, to stop it immediately. so i didn’t take my dose last night and im waiting for him to call me back about next steps. now i’m wondering if i shouldn’t have said anything at all and maybe im overreacting. this is my 6th medication ive tried. anyone have a similar experience? or have had to go cold turkey off lamictal?

Hi Community!
Are you a parent or partner who has experienced parental alienation? We want to hear from you!
Study Title: "Parental Alienation: Effects on Targeted Parents' Mental Health and Parent-Child Relationship Dynamics"
Our study aims to explore how exposure to parental alienation influences mental health concerns and the parent-child relationship.
Parental alienation refers to the manipulation of a child by one parent to reject the other parent, often occurring during or after divorce or separation.
Who can participate?

• Parents or partners who have experienced parental alienation.
• Age 16 years and above

How to participate:

1. Click the link below to access our survey.
2. Share your experiences, thoughts, and insights.
3. Your anonymity and privacy will be strictly maintained throughout the study.

Survey link: https://forms.office.com/e/CE3fGFMcrh
Your contribution will play a crucial role in raising awareness and advocating for support systems for families affected by parental alienation. Together, let's make a difference!
Thank you.

Hi Community!
Are you a parent or partner who has experienced parental alienation? We want to hear from you!
Study Title: "Parental Alienation: Effects on Targeted Parents' Mental Health and Parent-Child Relationship Dynamics"
Our study aims to explore how exposure to parental alienation influences mental health concerns and the parent-child relationship.
Parental alienation refers to the manipulation of a child by one parent to reject the other parent, often occurring during or after divorce or separation.
Who can participate?

• Parents or partners who have experienced parental alienation.
• Age 16 years and above

How to participate:

1. Click the link below to access our survey.
2. Share your experiences, thoughts, and insights.
3. Your anonymity and privacy will be strictly maintained throughout the study.

Survey link: https://forms.office.com/e/CE3fGFMcrh
Your contribution will play a crucial role in raising awareness and advocating for support systems for families affected by parental alienation. Together, let's make a difference!
Thank you.