Thanks to Patron Member u/Entharo_entho - Here is the wiped out Tweet retrieved
Context - Wiped out from Internet
In March, I got a chance to work with filmmaker Sanjay Leela Bhansali right after he made Gangubai Kathiawadi, and Alia Bhatt, playing the titular character in the film, retweeted me.
The headline (in my head) was going to be, ‘The Boy From Kamathipura Goes To Bhansali Mandi.’
Then reality struck in April.
One of my closest friends Sweta called me from the Shivapuri National Park near Kathmandu and put me on speaker. Two other friends Mona and Ayush were listening to the WhatsApp call.
‘How’s it going with Bhansu?’ Sweta asked.
‘We are not working together anymore,’ I said.
‘Whaaaaaaaat?’ the three people shrieked, creating a wavy disturbance in audio frequency.
‘Whyyyyy?’ they cried, collectively anguished.
‘He said he is not feeling the vibes.’
‘What?’
‘Vibes,’ I said aloud, causing a seismic tremor in the audio frequency.
‘What vibes?’ Sweta jibed, ‘Maybe he can’t feel the vibrator.’
Laughter upped the vibes.
First, a little context on how I got that far. Check this, this, this & this.
So my tweets were going viral in February-March.
In the second week of March, a woman DM’d me saying she loves the tweets. I said thank you. She said she works at Bhansali Productions.
Whoopsie Daisy!
I asked if I could be a part of the production. She checked with SLB and team. He said he wants to meet now.
NOW!
How?
I was in Calcutta.
I called an actor friend in Bombay and told him about it.
“They will book your tickets and put you up in 5-star,” he said, “Like Hollywood.”
“This is Bhansaliwood,” I said, “Yahan dhanda hamesha manda hai.”
I flew (on my own expense) and met him.
I was ‘prepared’ by his team for the meeting with His High and Mightiness.
I was told:

Arre, then what do I say?
I sashayed in a brown kurta and white linen trousers. Please see Madhuri Dixit-Nene’s brown ghagra for aesthetic reference I used from my very limited wardrobe of the only kurta I had at the time. By the way, the chorus sings ‘Jhanak Jhanak Payal Baaje,’ aesthetically referencing you know what, right?
He was lunching with his minions (strictly calling them minions from his pov) when I arrived in his pristine white dining hall in a building called Magnum Opus. Where else should he reside, no? Both his house, and his office (where I was ‘prepared’ earlier) were tastefully done in creamy white.
It was, as I said to my friend later, like walking into a cumulus cloud, or like sitting on his favourite singer Lata Mangeshkar’s lap. Calm, serene and quite surreal. I was inside his snow globe. Violins from a Bach concerto (in my head) were replaced with say Madan Mohan’s doleful rendition of ‘Mai ri main ka se kahoon peedh apne jiya ki.’ (Side effect of writing this on Mother’s Day.)
I look for books when I enter a house for signs of intelligent life. There were lots of lamps and candelabras but where were the stacks of books they were perched on? The aesthetic was high on film set disposable kitsch. I stared into a cumulative void.
The minions were intensely debating Darjeeling momos. What’s that? I spent my childhood there. Never heard of this GI tag!
SLB relished his meal and said, “I want puranpoli today.”
Puranpoli appeared not out of thin air, but a house-help flipping wishes instantly on a griddle on the fifth floor. We were on the first floor. Although the puranpoli is shaped like a flying saucer, it doesn’t fly, perhaps burdened by the weight of excess ghee and crowd-pleasing expectation. It does, however, reach SLB’s plate at the speed of light.
‘Give him some,’ he asked a minion to serve me while I waited on the sofa.
‘I’ve had lunch, thank you,’ I said, trying to behave. The plate arrived. I took a mousy bite to exhibit my failing attempt to transform into a champion minion.
When he came to chat, he noticed the unfinished food and gently reminded me how there were days he went hungry. I should have rolled my eyes for my own lean days.
‘One should not waste food,’ he said.
‘I don’t,’ I said, ‘I was going to parcel it home in a doggy bag.’
Hearing the word doggy, his well-behaved dog came over to inspect me.
He observed me. I petted her perfunctorily. Am a cat person. Stereotypical writer stuff — allergic to undesired petting and attention.
‘So, what have you done?’ he asked, sitting on a sort of empire-style bergere chair. Full marks for faux-ornate.
‘A novel, some writing for a series,’ I said nervously, dismissively.
‘Anything I might have seen?’ he asked.
‘No, not worthwhile.’
‘Are you interested in direction also?’
‘No, am not delusional.’
A moment passed. I might have displayed an errant repartee.
‘I mean, I can only write, or am trying to,’ I said. L’esprit de l’escalier.
He gave me a spiel on writing, how screenplay is an art not many understand, etc, et cetera.
I nodded to make his voice disappear.
‘What are you writing now?’
I showed him the cover of my new book, The Last Courtesan, featuring my mother, on my phone.
‘Oh, this is so fascinating,’ he said.
He spoke rapturously about Calcutta’s great food and colonial architecture when I mentioned growing up in Bowbazar kothas. If you watch any of his interviews now on YouTube you will realise he only speaks in raptures. He’s always explaining things like an impassioned conductor at a dime-store opera. It can exhaust the boorish audience immediately. He spoke about living in the Kamathipura area as a child when I said I had lived there. The mythmaker was interested in exoticising his own legend as an ‘outsider’.
‘But how will you work here if your mother is in Calcutta?’ he said, ‘I am a maa-ka-bhakt.’
Everything is about him or his mother. I have reached that stage too, though only by circumstances unavoidable.
‘Actually it was my mother who asked me to come here. I told her it would only work out if you understand that I will have to vacillate between the two cities initially. Jaise Sanjay ki Leela hai, waise meri Rekha.’
Corny dialogue, but worked. No one calls him by his first name, except perhaps his own mother. He is sir for everyone.
‘If I am speaking to you for so long means I like you,’ he said. ‘Otherwise, I would have asked you to leave long ago.’
Barely five minutes into the conversation, he asked me to return to his office and inform his team that I was going to be a part of his writer’s room.
I went back to his office and read a script. This is the part I cannot mention. His legal team sits in the adjacent room.
I flew to Calcutta and was to return after a week. I had to make arrangements for my mother’s tri-weekly dialysis sessions at a nearby hospital, figure out a tiffin-delivery service for her, find a house help (she sent four nurses scurrying in the past), all of which is a bit of a task in this retrograde city.
Remember the woman who had DM’d me about my tweets? She messaged. She had met SLB after my meeting. He said this about me: ‘What a wonderful find. That boy has so much potential and is talented. Most importantly, he is sensitive.’
I told her I’d get this engraved on my tombstone.
Like how he wants to take Alia Bhatt’s golchakkar in Dholida to his grave.
“It’s a shot that I will take to my grave. If there’s any shot that I want to be played when I breathe my last, it would be Alia doing that shot. It is the best thing I have seen an actor do in a very long, long time.”
I was only emulating the high priest of hyperbole in my tombstone comment. Perhaps I was regressing into a minion.
I had only managed a few tasks for mother when I was back in Bombay. It worried me that the old, frail woman with shaky limbs and slurred speech was trying to be brave to send me to work. I hadn’t worked since the pandemic; she was in and out of hospitals so frequently that I had surrendered the thought of getting another job ever again. Taking care of her was my full-time job.
The first day in his office was to chill in my new, aesthetically pleasing kurta I had shopped for in Gariahat. There was a security camera in every corner that was apparently accessible on his phone. My skin tingled with this information. Chilled. He was at home. Probably watching. That’s a great way to create a myth.
The next day, there were more minions on the lunch table in his first floor apartment. The magically appearing steamy and fragrant sheera was delicious. A minion deemed it the best sheera in the city. I nodded to make that statement evaporate.
A courier boy interrupted for a document signature. SLB flared at a spelling mistake in the document papers.
‘Go wash your face and come back,’ he yelled at the young man.
The minions at the table laughed nervously. I so wished I was wearing a mask to cover my surprise emoji face.
The minions on the table were writers and assistant directors.
‘Dastavez,’ SLB said, ‘would that be correct to use?’
‘Kaaghzaat,’ the minion replied.
‘Kaaghzaat is paper, dastavez is document,’ said the second minion.
‘You always mislead me,’ SLB sternly reprimanded the first minion. ‘Don’t ever do that again.’
Only that minion tried to laugh, offering an apology. He shut the minion down.
My mask, my mask emoji face.
A third minion was sulking in a corner before I arrived for the writing session. This minion had reportedly offered a script suggestion, which he disliked and barked down. I liked this minion the most. Relatable.
A faint noise of a person running or perhaps just a rumbling sound from somewhere outside interrupted the room. He looked up at the ceiling and said, ‘No one lives there. Am certain it is a ghost. I hear running sounds all the time. I have heard sounds of furniture being dragged.’
I wondered if he actually believed in half the things he uttered, or was he just saying it to create enigma about himself. Mythical thoughts certainly kept him preoccupied.
Reality bored him. SLB had nothing good to say about the ‘current plague’ of South Indian films upsetting the Bollywood cartel. He compared them to a circus. He wasn’t kind to the actors he had worked with in his last film. He cracked lame jokes about everyone and everything. The minions laughed and kept him busy. I chuckled a few times to blend in. The mythmaker revelled in his prophesies about the impending doom of charlatans with no aesthetics: just crass, commercial peddlers pimping art. It was all said to amuse and bemuse while he fussed over the yellow shade of fabric from several swatches.
When he left for his music session, the minions bitched him out, and how! All the horror stories I had heard over the years about his moods, behaviour, language and violent temper were true. How else will he create myth about himself as a maestro? The Glomar response. Let the plebs indulge in hearsay. I will neither confirm nor deny. The minions sang effigy songs in happy tunes, if I may stretch this part a bit like his penchant for high camp.
That night, when I went to my actor friend’s house, where I was temporarily staying, I said to him, ‘I don’t think I will last a week there.’
I was rattled by how he spoke to the courier boy and the minions, with no filter. Well, at least it was clear he had no tact, endearing as that might be of a ‘genius’ if one compromises with his erratic behaviour. The CEO of his company does it beautifully and advises to develop a ‘thick hide’ around him. Cows, essentially.
Verve
The words genius, great, master, maverick, were so loosely bandied by his office staff even in his absence that I was tempted to add auteur, if they could spell or pronounce it. They worked in perpetual fear of him turning up at any hour and checking on their tidiness. A minion whined she wasn’t dressed appropriately for his surprise visit. Once, he even cut pay for unscheduled leave, said another minion. A minion narrated a shot he copied from a photographer in Gangubai Kathiawadi. Another minion recounted how he made her cry on shoot by screaming at her for a silly mistake. Minions couldn’t leave the office till his evenings were scheduled. It was a well-paying job so long as they did not have to see ‘chacha’s’ face and only applaud his cinematic sorcery.
His office team would assign me desk-work and warn me not to inform him about it.
‘What am I supposed to say if he asks?’
‘Make up something,’ I was told.
‘Why should I?’
‘You will slowly understand,’ I was told.
His team of assistants would sneak around me. I didn’t know who was reporting what back to him. He would interrogate the management team. They would lash out at me for informing the assistants. The management wanted to control me a certain way because ‘sir’ does not need to know everything. It was quite a guessing game. He had created an ecosystem of complete chaos and loved the hubbub. New people were hired for him to use the ‘new energy’ to rekindle the ‘old energy’ that needed to be reminded it could be snuffed out and replaced. He thrived on confusion because it all boiled down to him to sort out the mess. He was the provider so long as the minions ingratiated and served their grand master.
One time he called me upstairs, what his CEO called the god’s chamber aka the Shahenshah’s durbar: his office on the seventh floor. Walls were lined with giant posters of his films. We minions sat on the fifth floor. I was of course by now a week old in the toady mill. On the seventh floor, production team members, set designer, director assistant, young people sat on the floor, armed with notebooks and laptops, alert and sugar-tongued. He sat on a throne and dictated each one about their duty. A masseur massaged his leg. He asked me what I thought of a script. I said it was lovely. He asked me to elaborate. I said I liked a character’s resolve. He denied it was written. I said that’s my interpretation. A minion promptly backed me.
‘What changes do you suggest?’ he asked.
‘We should sit on it collectively and decide,’ I said.
He mumbled something. My suggestion was dismissed. I was dismissed. I bowed out. A minion whispered to me, ‘We all walk on eggshells around him.’ I had to be a chicken in a coop I suppose.
Another time he dismissed my suggestion for a scene saying, ‘That’s not how art is made.’ I had referenced a scene from Bandit Queen to illustrate my point. Just like his entire oeuvre is homage to a classic. How else does he make his art?
Allow me to illustrate with a frame from his first film Khamoshi: The Musical. The second image is from Pakeezah.
Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam references Red Beard, Woh 7 Din.
Devdas references Pakeezah more than once.
Black references The Miracle Worker.
Saawariya references Pyaasa, Awaara.
Guzaarish references Whose Life Is It Anyway?
Goliyon Ki Raasleela: Ram-Leela references Franco Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet, West Side Story.
Bajirao Mastani references Mughal-E-Azam.
Padmaavat references Mirch Masala.
Gangubai Kathiawadi, let’s give him the benefit of doubt is all his own, original artistry.
The American filmmaker Jim Jarmusch once meta quoted the French filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard when he said:
“Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery — celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from — it’s where you take them to.”
SLB believes he takes art and betters it, removing the grubby coat of slime from the sublime, often not concerned with acknowledging the source. He is a master’s master, elevating it to an otherworldly experience, the creator of a mythoverse.
He asked me to rewrite a scene I didn’t agree with. He banged the script folders on the table like a petulant, little child. I watched his posture change into a frump. Tiger Shroff’s ‘Bacchi ho kya,’ dialogue comes to mind.
‘You are talking like those critics who find fault but don’t know how to write. They should write the film,’ he said.
That argument will never make sense to me but since I write movies now and not just about them, I rewrote the scene in half an hour and showed it to him. He found it rubbish.
I was not called to the writer’s room for a week.
His CEO said I should go to his house; hang around him, like the other assistants whose only purpose in life is to feed his ego. We are slaves to his vision, she said. She thought I was a better writer than the team he had assembled. ‘From whatever I read, only three lines of your work on social media, I could sense it,’ she said.
Either she was encouraging, or bluffing with a perfectly Zen face. From the hundreds of Ganesh idols stacked in her room, it was clear she wasn’t a reader. She was good at reading numbers, data, and stats. She would sense a sign if one of the metal idols sucked milk from a spoon on the day she enquired about box –office figures.
There was more than one right-wing hardliner in his office. Secular staff was invisible. A pretty minion in baby pink t-shirt, whose main grouse was that another minion called him a Barbie doll, said he was happy with the Modi government building roads in his home state Bihar. Another minion countered him by asking: What about the persecution of minorities by the same government? The pretty minion said he didn’t care for that. He was assisting ‘sir’ because he wanted to be an actor. Which lead me to wonder how many Muslim actors has this production worked with? Silly of me to think, right? Given that I myself don’t use my Muslim surname. I’ve now successfully planted a myth in your head. That’s how it works.
In the time that I was in Versova during my brief stint at Bhansali Productions, I met several people with their own SLB horror story. A producer said, ‘He is a difficult man but life changes for good after you work with him. Some people want to go through hell first. Life bann jaati hai.’ I didn’t understand why purgatory was necessary. Another former assistant said, ‘When you work with the worst (SLB) and the best (KJO), you are ready for the rest.’
A young woman gave him a thesis she wrote on his films. He asked her to write a book on her. She said she wanted to assist as a director. She never heard from him. A filmmaker said SLB was too friendly with another assistant, suggesting intimacy. A writer wasn’t given credit in a film.
Another writer was promised his script will be turned into a film but it never took off and now he feels his life has been ruined. A young filmmaker’s debut movie SLB produced was delayed, not promoted, and called ‘kachra’ to his face.
The young man said SLB is sexist, homophobe, classist, fat shamer, emotional abuser, and a body shamer. “He is a joyless pit of darkness where happiness goes to die. And those are the nicest words I can think of to describe him,” he said. Another filmmaker said a choreographer was in a relationship with SLB and wanted to marry him but he wouldn’t even touch her, a hotly discussed conversation amongst his minions.
Everything sounds hokum. A successful man is likely to upset a few. The few will talk. Their words may ring true through a gossamer veil of implausibility. Myths magnifying his persona.
There are too many myths about his personal life, aroused by his silence on the subject but all too obvious in his work. When people want to confirm with me, I am equally appalled at their lack of aesthetics. Like the great reader of curtains, Edgar Allan Poe, you only have to look at SLB’s use of billowy curtains in films to guess.

Above stanza, courtesy Poe, poem: The Raven.
Hope you get the drift, or draft, hawa ka jhonka! By the way, am digressing now, is the weirdly named character Sameer Rosselline in Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam the first mainstream Hindi film hero to pass wind? The ruffled curtains are first to be cautioned though.
Unlike most people willing to swallow their pride to work with SLB, few like the eponymous Gangubai character choose izzat. The house-help employed in my actor friend’s house was asked to work as a cook in his house. When she heard the whimsy, dessert-craving demands, she declined the offer. I identify with her no-nonsense style.
In November 2021, a filmmaker read a film script I wrote and said, ‘This is SLB territory. Only he can make it. It is the modern love-story he has been wanting to make for a long time.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked, somewhat flattered but also bewildered.
‘Yes, we just have to change the setting from Calcutta-Bombay to Calcutta-New York. It is what he has been trying to crack. I’ll get him to read it.’
I never spoke to SLB about my script. I did not want to look like a schemer. I had only got a chance because of my mother’s story. I had come to write courtesan songs. Hindi films are recognised by their songs. His films have show tunes that live on long after the sequins and mirrors reflect a decadent style. He employs the old-fashioned method of making Hindi films, which is to stitch scenes around a song, not the other way round. And when you glean your references from the best of classical melodies, how can you falter?
My own SLB story is that after watching Saawariya in 2007, I wrote a few songs, moved to Bombay, lived in Versova, close to Magnum Opus, and hoped to meet him, but made no effort even though I came in close contact with people who worked directly with him. I never requested for a meeting. Over the years, I too had heard a few horror stories about him. I only believe in what I see. I waited when he would call for me, my work would have to speak for itself.
A day before Good Friday, his CEO sat me down and said it’s not working out.
There’s a mythical story of how Lata Mangeshkar was on her way to record a song for SLB but the heavens poured and she had to turn her car back. A typical SLB frame of hope and hopelessness.
Never work with your idols. You’ll have a better story to imagine and create myths.
I was so relieved to leave. I hadn’t got a moment to read, or write, let alone think since I got here. Why I wanted to work with SLB was to not believe in hearsay. I will either confirm or deny.
‘Great,’ I said, ‘everyone deserves an off on Good Friday.’
The office was unsure about public holidays. SLB’s mood dictated the calendar.
Before returning to Calcutta, I met a friend entrenched in the film business.
When she heard of the fiasco, she said, ‘I’ve heard he is very anal, is he?’
The vibrator jokes never stop.

Hi everyone,
I just got back from a lactation consultant meeting and my daughter has been diagnosed with a severe lip tie (4/4). I was told about the procedure, but wanted to hear about other experiences. My baby has gained a lot of weight and is on track for weight gain, and when I nurse, my nipples don’t hurt very much. She does have gas and reflux, and a shallow latch, but I’m not sure if that’s just her being a newborn or her lip tie.
I’m just on the fence about getting the procedure done due to the pain and also lip exercises that need to be done. With her gaining a lot of weight and no pain, I’m wondering if it’s worth it. I want to get a second opinion from an ENT, or at the very least, her pediatrician, but it’s just a lot to consider.

I feel mentally checked out. Have been since my daughter was 10mo (14mo now). I watch TV or am on my phone a lot. My daughter watches quite a bit of TV and I’m not proud of it. It’s not one of those “I need a few minutes so here’s ms rachel” some days she watches Disney movies back to back. The house is pretty dirty. My only motivation to clean is my daughter but I only get so far with that.
I feel that I’m hindering her development. I’m letting her watch too much TV. We’re not working on enough things like counting, reading, colors, or anything really. I feel like I’m only able to give her one on one attention for a relatively short period of the day because I just want to lay around. I will say she happily independently plays for 95% of the day but I know I should be doing more with her. Activities, games, etc.
I keep thinking I should just put her in daycare because she’ll probably learn more there. I have no motivation to do anything. I’m exhausted all the time. I honestly don’t think want to be with my partner anymore but I don’t want to be a single parent (even though I truly already am). But I’m going to be totally honest. This may be lazy, entitled, selfish, etc. But I do not want to go back to work. I don’t. I have CPTSD, PPD, and OCD. I honestly don’t know how I used to function while working. I don’t know how I can do it again especially with a child to take care of.
I don’t trust anyone else to watch my daughter either. She has some medical issues that take a lot to manage. Everytime I have had someone watch her whether it’s my partner (her father) or family they have proven they are not capable. They’ve put her health at risk, her safety at risk, or completely disregarded her comfort and health for their desires. Everytime. I just feel stuck. I feel my daughters development/ intelligence is suffering. I’m so tired. I’m doing a really bad job of being a parent right now.

Hi. My child’s father passed away to suicide May 8th. Our baby is 9 months old and today was his funeral and I can’t go because his parents don’t want me there. I don’t understand. They think it’s my fault. I’m starting to believe it. I should’ve answered his calls. He called me twice before it happened and I didn’t answer. I was busy with the baby but I should’ve called back asap. I don’t want to be the bad guy & show up & make the family even more stressed. It’s going to hurt knowing I never went to his funeral or nothing. After he gets buried I’m going to go with the baby to visit him but I would’ve liked going to the wake and mass and everything. Hopefully when I go to his grave his parents aren’t there to kick me out. Hopefully my daughter won’t hate me and think it’s my fault her dad died. Hopefully she won’t resent me for not going to his funeral. That’s all I just wanted to rant.

Moving from out of state. Thinking of applying to an apartment near Lewis Ave / Lafayette Ave. 10 min walk south of Myrtle Av station.
Read some stuff it’s not the safest area? Mostly concerned with my wife and toddler daughter
Any experiences in this area?

Hello, I am a 25 yr old male, and I am seeking advice regarding my spouse 23yr female. We’ve been together 4 years, and have twins 6 month old female. We have had ups and downs in our relationship from almost being done to back together to on the verge of, to where we are today. Fast forward… my wife had a rough pregnancy and almost lost her life due to a serious vaginal tear. Albeit she gave birth to our two beautiful baby girl twins. Our newborn phase was hell… constant waking and feeding,one colic baby and isolation due to the babies not co-sleeping in our bedroom. Obviously no intercourse or time to do bonding, we would only watch tv together content we both found interesting. I stayed home for a full month from work to help her recover from her injuries. Doing all the cooking, cleaning, I would even sacrifice my sleep to let her sleep, to recover and I would handle both babies. As the months grew by to around 3 months for our babies I started noticing weird behaviors of her, closing doors, long bathroom breaks, face down phone. Very private and picky and choosy of when she would be on her phone while being around me. Or always on the phone typing and swiping. On top of coming home from work and her staying at home I wouldn’t feel ever welcomed or well received. A kiss or a hug was asking a lot, or would give body language that it is unwelcomed. Due to this behavior my instant reactions plus a gut feeling told me there’s someone else having her time, her feelings, and although I did not prove it maybe sexual activity. The lone times we did have intercourse after 60 or more days she would say it’s not the same. Shortly after she told me she had depression and did not know if I fitted in her life anymore claimed she was confused and felt I fail to give her more help with our kids, she spiraled and started drinking almost every day and full blown lack of communication for a week or so. Due to my instincts I was so in shambles that I did my own snooping and investigating the best I could that was. I went through a full month of constant phone records through my carrier and found constant daily calls, FaceTime calls, ranging from 2 minutes to about 2.5 hrs. Plus constant Snapchat notifications, blurred out names of those notifications. Phone Numbers I had never seen before. All at times that she claimed she was up and feeding our girls yet somehow it would be around the same time I leave for work. And calls would stop with this person if I called her or a significant other would call her, then continue either right away or a few hours later, it explained the lack of updates/texts and claims of tiredness even though she would be on the phone instead of sleeping, and before I would come home from work again, calls before I walk through the door. Or on my drive home. After days of terrible feelings and dreams and suspicions, lack of interest, aplus what I found I had enough and confronted her. Let’s just say she did not take it lightly whatsoever. She called me controlling, a crazy, invasion of privacy, I hate you etc… in between the name calling and the proof I hit her with she wanted to separate once again… she changed her passwords to her phone she claimed we were done and I did not understand her and why she did what she did. She claimed it was just a vent session/sessions. Of her daily life and troubles with the babies and my need to feel loved and important. Talk about what their lives are like. She claimed it was all too much and me not accepting what she did and why she hid it or didn’t tell me of anything and accept it was just her trying to be “friends” with a male. I don’t believe in male friends and I have trust issues because of a similar situation in my previous relationship, plus I’ve seen and been through a lot to know better and not trust people. (Rough childhood). So I told her to go with the individual and we would be done. Since she wouldn’t give me reassurance or let me look for myself if the chatting stopped. She came around and apologized the day after because she didn’t accept she cheated by faith and confiding in others but didn’t want to split up. I accepted her apology for the fact I love and care for this person, and felt like she is the one for me. Plus her being the mother to our babies, a good mom at that. I always remind her and be nice to her tell her thank you for everything possible to give thanks about. Point being the calls stopped she said she blocked the person and she seemed normal after that, sex was back, love and attention plus us bonding a bit more going on a few dates. Fast forward to today, I’ve been noticing similar behaviors, cold, distant, always needing and asking for space, short answers or uninterested, she says she’s depressed again, it’s gotten to the point where I don’t feel loved and wanted and valued in the relationship. I know her life is rough and I know it’s hard but it’s hard on me too. Provide for us, career choices, my own family troubles, all the while trying to be the best husband and father to my family. I have no time to myself I sacrifice it all to be with my daughters and help her so she doesn’t say I don’t do anything when I’m home or off on the weekends. My job sometimes has the freedom to leave early I work usually 10 hrs a day. Sometimes to be nice or the fact that I long some sort of signal or hope I leave early to help or to have intimacy. I try to do any little deed or gesture for her. Our love languages are different I’m more touchy and she’s more gestures. I’ve brought this up to her and she claims she can’t do it as much as she wants to for me it feels unnatural. I don’t ask for much, a simple touch of the hand, a random hug, a thank you here and there, something. Sex would be great but I’ve gotten tired and scared to initiate because it’ll seem like a favor and unwanted. Although I ask if I satisfy her, she replies yes and I feel I do based on vibe but nonetheless. I wish it could be more, I wish she would take my love language and concerns for her behaviors and mental health seriously and not just always want space and being left alone and not talked to, wanting to go out to concerts etc… just pushed aside because I care too much for her, or want her to be better as a person and a partner too. Because she’s a good mom. Blamed for the way she feels or acts only towards me. And name call and guilt trip me. If you made it this far I appreciate all input. Good or bad. So am I the asshole? For asking for changes from her same way she asked me years back to be less needy and care less, be less jealous, and work on some anger that would arise at times. I’m finally putting my needs up there and I wanna be her partner and confidant, but she seems to indicate it won’t be like how it used to be anymore. And not just the honey moon phase part. Show me some sort of signs a taste of what I look for from my partner. Because a lot is being expected and needed of me. And still somehow it’s not enough and when I ask for something it’s an issue and an attack and uses depression and every day stresses as her reasoning. I’ve brought it to her attention I told her if she doesn’t want to change or help her partner out like I feel I do unconditionally I want to separate. Because I value myself and what I bring to anyone special in my life. And after my last relationship due to a similar lack of this and similar situations. And if it’s not reciprocating it gets tiring and hurtful. She rather split up. Please advise me

Lol, I thought this would be funny to write about as a first silly little post as it is the most interesting thing in my life. (Don’t mind any typos)
First of all, to anyone who wants to tell me to stop or get over it or give me any valid reasonable and rational advice,I will not listen so don’t bother.
As these stories go, I 15(f) in love with English teacher 26(f). I’m obsessed with her, and have been for almost msot 2 years, it would have been longer if she had come into my life sooner.
I’m not a love at first sight person, so it took a while for it to come about. And iv always had problems with getting violently obsessed with things, I believe it’s some kind of coping mechanism, you know? If I don’t have something to live for then I fall in love with something, subconsciously of course. First it was cartoon characters then celebrity’s and the for the first time a real person who I know in real life! (Except she’s my teacher and she’s 26) but also the first woman iv ever fallen for (iv always known Im pan so it wasn’t a shock really). I think another HUGE reason I love her is because I don’t have a mother, she was abusive, druggy, alcoholic yadi-yadi-yada, and so I don’t live with her and I don’t like her and she isn’t there for me, and so I meet a kind female adult who I look up to? Obviously I get attached and I see her as a mother figure. I really do, I want to be just like her, I want to make her proud, I seek her validation, i want to fuck her. You know, regular motherly things!
The first day I met her, first day of year 10. From the second she walked into the class I felt her energy and her vibes and I had that feeling where you instantly like someone and want to be friends with them and think they are super cool. Now, she is not hot, like Obviously to me me right now in this moment she’s the most beautiful and pretty person iv ever seen she’s so cute and hot and all that, but Obviously that’s because I’m obsessed with her everything about her is great, but she’s the kind of ugly that when she first walked into the class people snickered.
She has a rash on her chin, a noticeable moustache, she looks at least 30 despite being much younger, her eyes are creepy looking and small, her skin is really red and dry and way too textured, she does weird ugly facial expressions, she has a big nose, her hair is never brushed and always greasy, she has really small eyelashes blah blah blah.. (she obviously has some really nice features as well, but I’m trying to prove i don’t like her for her looks)
Now In her defence I think they were laughing because she has the hugest ass iv seen in my entire life, not cuz of her face. (She wears really tight leggings everyday) But, she is overweight and a lot of people bring her down cuz of it but that has nothing to do with any of it for me obviously, and I obviously didn’t laugh when she walked in.
The point is, I instantly liked her and her personality, she has that school mum vibe, she’s witty she’s confident she’s loud, she’s funny, she’s so weird (like she does and says the weirdest stuff, she’ll start dancing out of no where with no warning, she shortens words all the time and then says them three times like: “fab fab fab” she has just the weirdest tendencies and mannerisms it’s insane), shes always so exited and jolly, she’s like a ball of sunshine yet at the same time she’s so sassy and passive aggressive, when I’m older I wanna be just like her you know!
And that’s how I felt for a long time, I would just enjoy her lessons because of the energy and vibes she’d bring! She makes everything so much fun just by being there, she’s also a drama teacher so she’s great at getting a crowd going and stuff. But it seemed no one else liked her, they either fat shamed her, or said she was a bitch, or found her annoying.
They aren’t wrong she is all of those things, but she’s only a bitch to you if you don’t respect her and then she’s passive aggressive and makes your time in her class hell, and as her favourite student who kissed her ass everyday it was fun for me to watch people get roasted by her and never have to worry about it. She is annoying to a lot of people because she hypes everyone up, and she’s loud and obnoxious and confident, she laughs at her own jokes and she’s giggly and she does stupid accents, she’s the walking talking definition of “QUIRKY” and so 15 year olds find her incredibly cringey and jarring. But as an immature individual my self I found her energy like something I have never seen anyone have so i from the first day thought she was my favourite teacher ever!
I often take the role of like comic relief when it comes to my friends so I often make the joke myself, and once I felt this admiration for my English teacher, and this giddy happy feeling in me when I saw her, I thought it would be a great idea to pretend/ hint to having a crush on her to my friends as a joke so they can make fun of me. It was small things like “oh my english teacher! … oh.. I liiiiikkkee herrrrrrrr~!” Id day when people mention her, no one caught onto the joke for a couple months until one day, after a holiday I had dyed my hair and she walked past me and she complimented it, I thanked her and INSTANTLY MY HEART WAS POUNDING AND I GOT ALL GIGGLING, my friend was next to me and found it funny obviously. And then the more I went to her lessons I couldn’t stop getting all sweaty and nervous around her, and every time she’d do something cute, like squeal when she’s frustrated and make weird noises or do a fake accent, or tell a joke I’d feel so unbelievably happy, and I couldn’t stop talking and thinking about her, but Eveytime I’d think about her or look at her id get a huge ick of like.. but ewww she’s so not hot! I can NOT be in love with THAT.
By summer I was still feeling this Same way, one day she wore a dress and like the dopey idiot she is, she lifted her leg and from where I sat I saw her panties. I WAS DISGUSTED, and looked away. And then looked back.. but then looked away.. and then looked back.. and then looked away.. (and did it a couple more times) but I felt sick in my stomach the whole time! It was not a hot thing at the time.
Then the year ends and it’s the summer holiday, (now up until this point I was quite caught up with my David walliams obsession. yes the 56 year old.. and so I didn’t really care about her all that much. On the first day back, before school started I went to a birthday party and I saw her walking outside of the school, when I saw her my heat was beating so fast, i hadn’t seen her in 6 weeks and I was not expecting to see her then, I said hi to her and i couldn’t stop thinking about that moment so intensely, and every thought I had about her being ugly didn’t matter to me, it’s not like I forgot about it, I know what she looks like, but I just think everything about her is so beautiful, it’s part of her and so its perfect.
That feeling got worse and worse as the year went by, every time i see her I shake, i sweat, I have panic attack like symptoms, but I feel so happy, like manic, I am overwhelmed, I want to punch things, I want to scream.
Then we get to the part where to silence this obsession I did regrettable and wierd things that she will never know about, some of the despicable things iv done in “the name of love” for her include:
Eating her hair Licking her spit of the table Kissing her chair when she leaves the room Following her around school Drawing her Writing poems about her Writing songs about her Making edits of her Taking photos of her Recording her voice when she talks to me Stealing her trash Licking her pens Making AI chat bots with her personality Making a bingo game about her (that one is just funny, and all my friends played it too, during her lessons lol)
And many other things I won’t mention. Obviously I’m not proud of any of this, and I didn’t really need to do it, some of it I did “as a joke” for my friends, some of them I did just because I could.. but the recording her voice one is essential! Anytime we’d have a heart felt convo I’d record it so I can listen to it if I ever loose the will to live (surprisingly frequently).
Now our relationship as student and teacher was/is very good.
We’ve had some lovely moments, she told me she cared about me outside of the classroom.
A personal favourite of mine: One time she was marking my work and it was just us in the classroom and I rested my head on her shoulder as she was going through it with me, and she looked down at me and she smiled and then we stayed like that for ages while she marked my work.
All my friends said I was delusional and that she probably hates me, but she has a huge ego and i believe she likes to keep me around to give it a boost every now and then.
I wore a matching outfit with her once (on accident) and she was very happy about it
Anytime I’d ask her what I can do to improve my grade she’s say to me “oh no! But you’re doing really well! I thought you did great!”
She’d never get mad at me or shout at me for anything, if we are doing a one between two activity she’d give me the only extra sheet in the class
I asked her to sit at the front to her because I “concentrate better at the front” (i only asked cuz i wanted to sit closer to her) she gave me a sly smirk and then the next lesson she moved me to the back of the class, and also moved her self to the back of the class.
We took a selfie together and the whole time she was giggling, I gave her a Christmas card, she lets me follow her around the school, she gave my friends dirty looks when they were being mean to me
I sent her stupid emails of pictures of capybaras (it was an inside joke between us) and she responded with a way to enthusiastic response for such a simple image lol!
I sand “you belong with me” by TS and she stood in the crown and when it got to the “you belong with me” bit I pointed at her and she pointed back! Singing the words back to me
Oh, and let us not forget the amount of eye contact. I never look people in the eye, one of my first exes I barely ever looked into their eyes all the time I knew them, I just suck at eye contact. Until I met her, since I’m so insecure about her forgetting me or loosing me or something I often stare at her when she’s teaching to make sure that she doesn’t forget me. And some how in the last couple of months she stares at me as well.
Anytime she tells a joke she looks straight at me to see how I respond (always with giggles even when it’s the lamest thing iv ever heard. It’s often not funny at all.) and the entire time shes teaching the lessons I will stare at her. IN HER EYES. Like, I’ll often smile calmly, but if she hasn’t looked at me in like 4 minutes then I’ll stare deeper, but she usually looks into my eyes and hold it for a while sometimes she’ll even smile at me and then stutter and forget what she’s saying before looking away and continuing. She’ll stare deeply into my eyes, throughout the lesson, and I also always catch her looking at me first.
Once she was helping me with my work, she got really close to me, and she stared into my eyes and then I see her getting small glances at my lips (with this one I may be a little delusional) she leaned in and she kept getting confused. Like, she yaps a lot, and a lot very loudly. So it was odd for her to be standing there her arm touching mine talking to me and being like “…. Um-.. heh-.. where was i..” and she flicks through my paper and then looks back at me and goes silent and then swallows and then looks down and then flips through it again and then says something small and short followed by more silence.
I also have a theory shes on drugs, for many reasons but one time I needed her to take a photo of my book, and she was acting so weird, tired but like really like dizzy and loopy and breathless. And she went to take a photo of my book, and got behind me and she leaned into my book, and I felt her heavy loud breath on my neck as her stray hairs were tickling the side of my face and her shoulder was touching my back, she she just stood there and stared at my book for ages until i was like “um so.. you can.. take a photo or something..” and then she slowly did it hahahaha!
Obviously it’s now exam time and so school is basically over and I have no more lessons, so I didn’t go into depth about how much she means to me as a person but to sum it up into one sentence; I would want to seriously kill my self with out her in my life.
And so the thing I had been fearing for so long, the last English lesson, the last time seeing my dear beloved. Well obviously it’s life or death so I have to tell her how I feel and get her to stay in contact with me.
The last lesson ends I go up to her after a morning of: pissing my self, shitting my self, throwing up in my mouth, constantly putting on perfume, checking my hair and chewing the mintiest of gums. And I start my speech, I won’t go into it but I told her how I felt about her (minus the being in love bit I played it off as platonic duh, im not fully stupid).
I told her that she means so much to me, and she’s (one of) my favourite people in the world (that’s a white lie she’s my only favourite) I can’t go on with out her, I need her, iv felt this way since the first lesson, your so fun, you mean so much to me! I cant loose you, I don’t know what I would do with out you!!!!
I cried in her arms as she hugged me! And i didnt even need to ask she suggested we could stay in contact, in-fact all i had said was “I’ll miss you so much :(“ and she already suggested we stay in contact, but Obviosuly I still did the whole speech cuz at some point she needed to know. Her response was basically that she already knew, but she was very pleased to hear it, and everything is going to be perfectly okay.
She said we can stay in contact (through email, cuz apparently there is a “legal thing unfortunately” stopping her from giving me her number (yes I did ask for her number, but in a total no homo way.)
She said I can talk to her anytime about anything as much as I like, and that’s good enough for me!
I also gave her a drawing I did of her and me together which was cute, her response to that was “oh very cool! she walks over. she takes it in her hands, very excited to see it. This really throws her confidence off, she’s really not expecting this. OH THIS IS AMAIZING! her voice cracks THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH! this is lovely! thank you, this is soo good! oh-muh-gud it’s SO good! oww I love it! thank you.. I’m wearing the same top as well, how fun~.. HOW FUN!!!! how fun!! … she takes it and puts it in her bag i will prop this up, on my desk! wicked wicked awesome!” (I recorded her reaction so that’s how you know it’s word for word)
In conclusion, im creepily obsessed and its a problem, but I don’t really regret anything cuz it’s all gotten me to this point where I can talk to her when ever I want and that’s all I could ever ask her. Yes I want to fuck her, but that’s not important to me I just need her in my life, she’s my world she’s my reason of living, and I’m so happy things are this way! I’m doing my exams now so I get to see her everyday when I come into school (by see her I mean wait outside the staff room so I can catch a glimpse of her knee). I’m also glad I’m not in her lessons anymore cuz I’d always get so twitchy around her, anytime she’d be near me and I’d be trying my best not to lunge at her, when I see her my mouth waters I just wanna grab her and kiss her all over! Eeek! She’s adorableeeee!
I love herrrrr ❤️❤️❤️

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Chapter 168 – The moment to live and the moment to die
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„Jumping!“ an Ensign announced loudly as the Sun's view-windows very briefly flickered into a dark black only to go back to a full view of the ongoing battle basically instantly, having barely shifted the ship's position at incomprehensible speed. „Shot clear of allied ships.“
Vice-Admiral Kazadi tapped his finger on one of the armrests of the Commander's seat that still felt anything but comfortable for him to sit in as the tight grid of flashing lights reflected in his eyes within the twilight of the bridge.
“Fire,” he then ordered. Not even a blink later, a burst of colorful light broke into his view from the side of his very own ship, lighting up the entirety of the bridge even through the automatically tinting windows that absorbed a lot of the harmful light so the crew wouldn't flashbang themselves with each shot.
The relativity canon fire tore through the enemy ship at an almost literal instant with any travel time barely being conceivable to a mortal mind. In a large unload of energy that left almost the entire stern-side of the zodiatos ship as a molten mass of dispersing slag, the main propulsion was taken out. Simultaneously, the two accompanying cruisers had also taken their shots; with the 'Civil' taking out the engine of one more enemy vessel while the 'of the roses' had instead used its shot to disperse one of the enemy projectiles in order to buy their own hunter ships more freedom of movement. Those huge ones didn't go down easy from one of the hunters' smaller shots, so using one of the large canons to dispatch it took some of the heat off them.
Meanwhile, smaller targets on the enemy vessels, such as their own canons, were gradually taken out by said hunters, whose own fire – while able to be quite destructive if intended no doubt – could be used in a far more precise manner. With more and more of their canons failing, the protective volleys the coreworld terrorists could fire to hide themselves away also became less and less effective.
“Send the fallback-beacon,” Kazadi then ordered, since close quarter attacks became less and less necessary.
It seemed that the zodiatos had a hard time adjusting to the combat style of the human unkindnesses, however that didn't mean they should take any unnecessary risks. Even if a pilot could've been able to avoid all enemy attacks in a perfect world, he knew that his pilots were only human.
Casualties of their own had been comparatively minimal so far, however as if to prove him right about his thoughts, he could see on his surveillance screen how, just in that moment, one of their ships was taken out by an enemy craft.
He grimaced to himself and let out a mild sigh. One more family who would never see one of their own again...
It took a moment before all the ships were reached by the beacon. Due to the nature of their own combat strategies, as well as the particular nature of hyperspace, it was entirely impossible to effectively contact any of their ships directly while they were out in the battle. Therefore, the order to fall back had to be broadcast as a general signal, that each of the pilots could individually pick up as soon as they would keep still for long enough so that it could reach them.
By now, the battle was already won. None of the zodiatos' weapons were able to match the relativity canons in effective range and without the larger ships to back them up, their small hunters wouldn't be able to launch an offensive – shields or not. They could just stay back and fire until surrender now. As the signal was picked up, one of their ships after another disappeared in one last flash of hyperspace as they joined back up with the larger vessels in an enclosing formation.
“Prepare for the retrieval of some of those projectiles,” the Vice-Admiral then ordered as he hoped they would be able to track some of those spent shots their enemies had fired. They would have to figure out what kind of tech that was.
In such a small-scale conflict, it was more than manageable to face it. However, it could offer some difficulties in larger fleets – especially since they didn't know how far this kind of tech could possible be expanded and refined. It was quite possible this was just some form of prototype.
While that order was followed, one of his Lieutenants suddenly spoke up.
“Sir, we have an incoming transmission from the planet. Civilian. Not encrypted, but they seemingly had an access code,” they related quickly.
“Is the earlier interference cleared up?” he immediately asked back, to which the answer was positive. “Put it through then,” he immediately ordered as soon as he heard that.
He rubbed one of his tight braids between his fingers as he waited for contact to be established. Once the line was clear, things remained quiet for a moment.
“What are we best at?” he then asked the silent line, his chest tightening ever so slightly, even if he didn't have to wait long for a reply.
“Topping from the bottom,” a very familiar voice replied from the other end, sounding incredibly strained but most certainly alive.
The code phrase was an old in-joke about something that had been said back during humanity's first contact with the tonamstrosites due to a slightly choppy translation. However, it more than sufficed here to tell Kazadi that the person on the other side of the line was not only genuine, but also not in any immediate distress – at least none that was brought onto her by someone else.
“Good to hear your voice Ma'am,” he greeted the Admiral after taking a brief moment to allow his heart to settle.
“The pleasure is all mine, Celestin,” Admiral Krieger replied in between heavy breaths that sounded like a combination between being ready to collapse and absolutely willing to tear anyone's throat out at a moment's notice. “Excuse me for the unorthodox contact, my own means of communication have all been destroyed. Update me.”
A brief smile played on the Vice-Admiral's lips.
“No problem, Ma'am. Things are under control up here, but multiple allied coluyvoree ships were destroyed and we suffered some casualties of our own which I will take full responsibility for,” he quickly complied. “By now, the enemy crafts have been largely disabled and our fighters are falling back. What's the situation on your end?”
There was a bit of a grunt from the other side of the line that seemed unrelated to the ongoing conversation.
“I'm sure you did everything by the books,” Krieger then replied a moment later. “Down here the situation is precarious but momentarily under control. We have an unconfirmed number of casualties after an attack with an unknown weapon. All squads are either KIA or unresponsive. We took down six enemy combatants but can't confirm if there's more. I'm going to need clean up, rescue teams, as well as pickup for me and two large offworlders asap.”
Celestin nodded.
“We're in a stable position, so we'll jump teams down right away. Hold out just a minute more,” he assured her while already signing in the necessary order to the troops they had on standby. “How bad are your injuries?”
There was another groan of pain from Krieger's side.
“Crushed cranberries,” she replied after a long moment that sounded like she needed to catch her breath.
“Copy that,” Kazadi replied with a grimace. “Sending muti-team with the evac.”
“Copy that,” Krieger confirmed. “Krieger out.”
With that, the call was hung up. On his screen, Celestin could see how the preparations for dispatch of the requested teams was already well underway. Jumping towards a planet at FTL was generally discouraged by the Galactic Community. However, this was an emergency. They couldn't wait for normal re-entry.
After watching the reported progress for just a moment, his eyes returned to the ongoing battle. He watched the enemy ships as they hovered dead in space, unable to maneuver.
They seemed to have recalled their own fighters back in order to form some sort of protective wall around the 'mother ships' with their own small shields. Obviously it wouldn't be very effective, so it seemed like needless cruelty to make their own soldiers get in the way of the incoming fire. Something within Kazadi told the Vice-Admiral they weren't going to stand down.
“Sir, we're getting some strange hyperspace-readings,” his Lieutenant suddenly announced, making him look up.
“Weapon-grade?” he immediately asked, knowing they had less than a moment to react if it was. However, he also figured there would've been more urgency to their voice had it been so.
“No, Sir. Travel-grade,” the Lieutenant quickly replied. “However the readings are unusual. It seems like they are creating a stretch solely around themselves.”
Kazadi's lips shifted a bit as he took that in and he briefly ran a hand over his mouth in thought. “Prepare to collapse,” he ordered. “Maybe they will attempt some sort of running start. We can't let them get away.”
Right then, the light of what was happening had not yet caught up to the spacial distortion that their sensors were detecting, meaning the ships still looked perfectly normal – if damaged – when he looked at them. However, they were planning something. And that made them appear all the more ominous.
His mind quickly went through their own protocols. The U.H.S.D.F. employed hyperspace in nearly all its possible facets in their tactics. If it was even close to sensible, they would have something that was akin to the maneuver their foes were attempting to execute right now.
A bubble of hyperspace solely around their ships...a dodge? Hardly, there was nothing to dodge like that. An attempt to hide away? No, they knew human ships could collapse hyperspace from the outside easily.
Before him, the windows of the ship once again automatically dimmed, protecting the crew's eyes as the colorful light of the created hyperspace-bubble finally reached them.
“Hyperspace collapsed!” the Lieutenant then suddenly announced, causing Kazadi to blink in surprise as his eyes shot up to his screen. He hadn't given any order to collapse it yet. But indeed, it was gone. For a moment, he thought that the stress had caused his officer to use the wrong term in haste, however no, they had been completely right. It had not been dispersed in a controlled manner. It had collapsed.
In a mild 'thud', the Vice-Admiral's fist descended on the armrest, hand firmly clenched into a fist.
“Those cowardly ba-” he began to growl but then bit his tongue and released a low, almost grunting exhale while his fist quivered from momentarily clenching tighter. “Prepare to search for survivors,” he instead said in a much more controlled manner a moment later. “Preserve lives.”
“Yessir,” multiple of his officers echoed back as he looked out of the window, where he could still see the ghostly afterimage of the hyperspace bubble linger for a bit longer. It was always a strange feeling, seeing someone in the distance who was already dead...
–
With her view darkened and her goggles momentarily pulled off her eyes, Shida stared at the glowing bubble of impossible colors. Her sensors had already told her what was about to happen at any moment now, however her eyes still heavily constricted as they finally witnessed what unfolded themselves.
In what could be described as nothing else than a 'snap' , the light of the hyperspace-stretch instantly condensed down into its original size as the universe all at once remembered that the laws of physics were a thing that existed and brutally forced space to conform to them once again – no matter what may have been in between it and its original form.
Anything within the strange, round stretch was mercilessly ripped along with the convulsion, forcing all the injected warships and fighters into the single, small point that the stretch had been generated from. Though not even a faction of a second later, it all exploded outwards again as the megatons of mass realized that they could not all exist in the same place at once, since the energy of the event was not quite potent enough to press it all into a neutron star or singularity.
No longer recognizable blotches of undefined, white-hot matter were instantly scattered in all directions like some sort of micro-supernova that accentuated the sometimes still burning nano-stars that the earlier battle had created from the opposing fighters.
It was almost pretty...but still, Shida couldn't help but let her ears hang as she wondered how many of the enemy combatants had known about the decision to end things this way. Had any of them even been asked?
Even if it was the far more disturbing answer in a way, Shida almost hoped that this had actually been one mutual suicide-pact instead of the decision of one single commander to choose death over dishonor. Especially while sitting in a ship that was technically under the command of someone else herself, that was certainly the less immediately petrifying option – even if it would probably spell far worse things in the long run.
As she said there, the 'shockwave' of the collapsing hyperspace suddenly hit her, spreading out through space even without any medium to carry it and rocking her ship gently while also penetrating all throughout her body. Of course the earlier relativity fire had already caused similar ripples and she was therefore quite used to the feeling, however these ones sure felt a bit more severe than those of the U.H.S.D.F.'s own canons. It was like she felt her own body distort while also remaining perfectly in palace – almost like she was a stiff container full of water that someone had given a heavy smack from the side, riling up the liquid without it actually having any place to plash to.
According to everything they knew, this phenomenon felt incredibly odd but was entirely harmless to living beings – which was instinctively very hard to believe when one felt it on their own body.
However, her dwelling thoughts were, perhaps luckily, interrupted as she – or more precisely one of her scanners - picked up on a peculiar signature that one of the scattered debris pieces was sending out.
Well, it was 'peculiar' to her that there was a signal at all at first, however then she quickly realized what it actually was. This particular signal was hammered into any pilot's head six ways to Sunday, and so she reacted relatively quickly when she glanced at the grid and realized that she was the closest ship to it. Firing up her engines, she turned her ship on the spot in a slight drift before activating her generator and making a jump right behind the flying object.
Once there, she allowed her computer to take aim for a second before firing out a harpoon that quickly struck the flying debris and latched her ship onto it through a long cable, allowing her to pull the thing along with her after slowly using her backwards thrusters to disperse its speed little by little. Pressing the indicator of her communication, she then spoke up.
“Scratches to Sun,” she announced. “I just recovered a black box. Permission to return for inspection?”
The black boxes of modern ships truly were among the most ridiculous pieces of tech out there, in Shida's humble opinion. Built to withstand almost everything that would likely take a ship out through a combination of brilliant engineering and extremely flexible material that only worked in its indented manner on very small scales. Well, very small compared to the ships they were built into. The things were about half the size of Shida in the end. For many years, armies of scientists had attempted their very best to make this same sort of defense useful in ways that could maybe be used to protect actual people from catastrophic events – but to no avail so far. For now, the only thing those little marvels could allow to survive even something as ludicrous as hyperspace collapsing was information.
“Permission granted, Lieutenant-Commander,” the answer came almost immediately. “Return to hangar three.”
“Copy,” Shida replied. “Scratches out.”
With that, she moved her ship around and prepared for her jump back to the Sun. Hopefully this thing would give them some answers on what exactly this whole thing was meant to accomplish...
–
Far away in another part of the galaxy, a pair of mildly glowing red eyes was laser-focused on a large screen that was just one of many that had merged all over Nedstaniot-Station to broadcast the breaking news to anyone willing to lift their eyes at a slight angle to look at them.
An attack on a coreworld. And not just any coreworld. Gewelitten itself. Something like this hadn't happened in...well, Curi didn't even know how long.
Details seemed to still be incredibly fuzzy as the battle so close to the coluyvoree homeworld had either just happened or was still happening at the moment of the broadcast, however what few details were known were already repeated on end in an endless scroll of text that was meant to catch as many people up to speed as was at all possible through the medium of television. Obviously the same emerging details could already be looked up on the net as well to find them in a more digestible format than the endlessly moving text next to the not exactly top quality footage of the occurring conflict.
However, despite the speed with which it went by, Curi had no problem following the scroll as they stared at the screen intensely.
“Attack was unannounced. Multiple Gewelitten fleet ships destroyed. Official sources confirm: Humanity NOT the aggressor. Attacking ships presumed to be of zodiatos origin. Unknown weapon technology deployed during the attack. U.H.S.D.F. ships engaged in combat after aggression. Myiat delegation ship confirmed unharmed. Attack on government facility on planet simultaneous to spacial attack. Councilman-Candidate Aldwin confirmed unharmed. Status of U.H.S.D.F. General Krieger unknown. Status of Gewelitten Governor H. Cierrophai unknown. Status of Acting-Councilman Afuéhner unknown. Allied coreworld defense fleets activated and inbound. General alert level raised to 8. Hyperspace-travel shut down around the system.”
“Mother, oh no...” Mueen said with absolute shock in his eyes, both of his hands clasped over this mouth as his wide pupils quivered in fear from what they witnessed.
Curi could understand his worry. Though Moar had supposedly been with James, so she would probably be fine. The cyborg was certainly more than just a little relieved that James was already confirmed to be safe. Though the idea that Admiral Krieger's situation was unknown was more than just a little disconcerting.
Though despite the supposed lack of their commanding officer, it seemed like the humans had decisively won out in the battle outside of the coreworld's atmosphere; unknown technology or not.
Given the sub-par footage that some drone was likely recording from quite far away from the actual conflict, it was very hard to tell just what sort of weapon the unknown but presumed to be zodiatos attackers had unleashed there. It looked like some sort of emanating energy that destroyed what it came into contact with but also interacted with it as if it had a physical presence.
Curi had never seen anything remotely like it before – not even in their wildest theories – and their mind immediately wanted to go wild with speculations and ideas about how such a thing might work now that they knew for a fact that it was possible from seeing it with their own eyes.
However, the cyborg pulled themselves together and successfully forced the briefly almost overwhelming desire to focus on nothing else down as they shifted their gaze slightly away from the screen to look over at their other currently nearby company.
Then again, as much as they knew they couldn't let their guard down around him, Reprig's eyes were just as immovably attached to the large screen as Mueen's were as he witnessed the unfolding battle with quivering horror.
His trunk was wiggling wildly in his face and one of his hands nervously scratched over the plate of the table they were all sitting and standing at and on, right next to a piece of paper with a hastily drawn sketch of a spring-like mechanical leg that was inspired by what humans called 'running blades'. The Warrant Officer's weapon also laid on the table, pushed a but further away from his hand so he wouldn't be able to easily reach it.
Though despite his focus, Curi couldn't quite help but speak up after a moment of watching him. “A coreworld attacking another coreworld,” they said to the man, who they knew either had to know far more than they did about this – or would be far more invested in it unfolding. “This is unprecedented.”
Reprig seemed to notice that they were talking to him, however he still remained silent and stared a good few moments longer before finally pulling his gaze away from the screen.
As his eyes met theirs, he looked a bit sick. It almost reminded the cyborg of one of the first interactions they had with the man, back when they nudged him slightly to hand his spy-device back to him after he tried to hide it in James' cabin. Though this time, the cyborg was quite sure that they were not the reason why the man seemed like most of his blood was currently rushing into his stomach.
Could he actually be shocked about what was happening? Was this not part of the plan?
“Unprecedented doesn't even come close to describing it...” he mumbled and couldn't hold the cyborg's gaze for long, looking down to the table's plate instead. “And these aren't just any coreworlds. Osontjar and Gewelitten have been allied for an unimaginably long time. The thought that they would even think of attacking each other...what sort of madness could've caused something like this?”
Curi was the first to admit to themselves that they were far from the best at reading people. If someone with even a modicum of skill in acting wanted to make them believe something untrue about the person they were talking to, they would never deny that there was a good chance of that person succeeding.
Still, Reprig's reaction felt...genuine to them. As if he had actually never expected something like this to happen. Not in a million years.
Maybe it was just skillful acting. And Curi knew that they should have been suspicious like that. However, despite everything he had done, they couldn't quite bring themselves to suspect that he was lying at that moment.
“I know it is unlikely you will give me an honest answer, but-” Curi began to say, however Reprig was more than able to anticipate what they were going to ask and replied long before they were finished.
“No. No. Never,” the sipusserleng said, shaking his head heavily and standing his trunk up while making a denying gesture with his hand that was so brash that he actually knocked his crutch off the small outcrop in the table it had been laid down on. “This must be some absolutely deranged people, no two ways about it. To attack a coreword...”
Curi noticed Reprig's gaze briefly twitching down, his eyes jumping onto the personal assistant strapped to his lower arm as if he suddenly got the urge to use it for something.
Curi suspected he likely wanted to call someone; question them to make extra sure that they had, in fact, nothing to do with this. Though the sipusserleng suppressed the urge and pulled his eyes away, bringing them back up to the screen.
Just at that moment, the implosion of collapsing hyperspace suddenly lit up the footage moments before the glowing remnants of what once had been the zodiatos ships were scattered across the star-system.
Mueen mumbled something in his home's language as his eyes remained affixed to the screen. Curi couldn't even begin to guess what he was saying. However, his voice sounded pleading.
“Suicide instead of surrender?” Reprig meanwhile mouthed breathlessly as his nervous tick of excessively licking his trunk began to show.
Although he had often been otherwise employed in recent times, Curi could see it in the man's eyes that he was still, in a way, military at heart. He knew the general values and doctrines that were conveyed to the soldiers of the Communal Military, both inside and out. And the idea of someone choosing death like this...it seemed to rock him to his very core.
Slowly, he turned his gaze over to Curi. His eyes were almost pleading with the cyborg, even if they seemed to already know that his next question would be asked in vain.
“Could it maybe have been the humans and their-” he began, but this time, it was Curi's term to cut him off after anticipating what was coming.
“While humans very much employ the collapsing of hyperspace as a tactic in war, the process is not invisible – or even subtle. Had the human ships caused that collapse, it would've been noticeable,” they explained succinctly. “It could've still been a mere unexpected failure of the hyperspace generation, of course. However, with the rarity of such events, the timing seems...unlikely.”
“They weren't even trying to generate a real stretch...” Reprig concurred dejectedly and left his head hanging, his trunk also sinking down limply. “I can't even imagine- Well...I hope they will at least find peace now, away from the madness.”
Curi paused for a long moment, staring at the Warrant Officer some more. Admittedly, the cyborg was a bit confounded at something. They knew for a fact the man had put his own life on the line for his orders, with a very real chance that they would lead to his death, more than just once. And yet the idea of being ordered to die seemed to disturb him. They couldn't quite figure out the difference that led to the results in reaction being so incredibly different, however it was still very clear that there was one.
And it seemed to hit the man hard.
Self-admittedly, Curi didn't exactly pity the man. They didn't quite have the capacity to. They knew about so many horrible things he had done that simply seeing him distressed was far from enough to stir such deep empathy for him within them.
Yet still, they weren't left entirely cold by it either – and if it was only because he seemed to be affected by these events in the ways a, for a lack of a better term, 'normal person' would be. He was shocked at the sudden, seemingly senseless violence, and concerned about the people involved.
Granted, it was likely only because they were people he considered worth being concerned about, yet still, the reaction was so...'normal', in a way they didn't quite expect from someone with such a capability for unceremonious acts of cruelty and violence. Even this person who had tried to kill them, or at least had been entirely comfortable with them getting killed, was capable of such a reaction.
And Curi...wasn't sure if that made things better or worse, if they were being honest.
It felt better because there was the capability for empathy there, however...it felt worse because they felt how they had been and likely still were willingly denied said empathy.
He could have cared...he just didn't want to.
Curi shook their body heavily, causing mild sounds from the engines running their legs' movements from the sudden force as they tried to shoo away emotions that they really didn't want to be feeling at that exact moment.
The thing that mostly kept them from following up on some of their uncomfortably aggressive thoughts at that moment was the fact that Mueen was still with them, the worry for his mother written across his features like a deep engraving in a metal plaque. He did not need anything like that around him right now, that much was clear.
Slowly, they moved over to him and reached up one of their long legs to run it along his arm while he still covered parts of his large face with both hands.
“She will be alright,” Curi then assured the dark-furred rafulite, switching from their usual voice box to their more “melodic” one to put on a gentle, calming tone. “She is stronger than she seems.”
Inhaling deeply as his nostrils flared, Mueen closed his dark eyes and swallowed heavily, taking his gaze off the large screen for the first time in many minutes while slowly hanging his head down.
“Yeah,” he said, seeming to force hopefulness into his tone. “Yes, she'll be fine. She made it his far. This won't get to her.”
Curi nodded with their entire body and continued to run the tip of their leg along his arm.
“She will be,” they repeated, both to the man and themselves as their own eyes moved upwards, their gaze falling back on the battlefield riddled with burning remnants of matter. “I'm sure of it.”
–
Never in his life had James felt so drunk and so sober at the same time. His mind was entirely clear, running a light-year a minute as it desperately tried to simultaneously process all the admittedly little information that he had in his current situation AND to not absolutely freak out while doing so somehow – a task he was ludicrously failing at. And it did NOT help that his body could barely keep itself on his own two feet.
He had avoided completely fainting by a hair earlier after reminding himself that, instead of being terrified for Shida's life, it would be much more fair towards her to simply focus on trusting in her skills to carry her through. However, that was barely a little patch on an enormous crack in his facade as he couldn't help but go over and over and over the fact of how much worse the situation that she needed to jump into here had been for her simply because it was his damn birthday and they wanted to indulge over it. He should've stopped that, but noooo, he just had to go and let himself be swayed so damn easily, as if he was still that little boy following Koko around whenever she visited the compound to try and get some attention.
Of course, a quiet voice in the back of his head tried to politely remind him that Shida had, in fact, not only taken part in the festivities as well but also encouraged him to do so, however it was easily overpowered by the screaming rest of his mind.
He briefly glanced over at the only somewhat conscious Commander. When she said that they should match each other's drinks, that should've been the moment he stopped. She was like half his weight, what the hell was he thinking?
His mechanical hand shot up, heavily gripping a fist full of hair as he tried to force himself to focus. What's done is done. There's no changing it. He should focus on anything else right now.
Though as he painfully pulled on his hair like that, his eyes suddenly went wide as he noticed something. Or, more precisely, didn't notice something.
When had the alarm stopped? Just now? Or had it been out and he just hadn't noticed?
Letting go of his hair, he lifted his face and looked around. If the alarm was over, then that meant...
The uncoordinated movement of soldiers reaching for their phones and radios with different speeds went through the room, and after brief confirmation, the uniformed forces began to move, having seemingly gotten new orders other than guarding the safe-rooms. Apparently, the threat was over.
James quickly fumbled for his own phone, his barely coordinated hands struggling extremely with the simple task of trying to call one of his contacts – much to the frustration of his already cleared mind. His finger trembled as he swiped it across the screen, trying to get it to the right damn place to make a simple god-damn call.
However, he froze in the motion at a quiet sound that was immediately followed by a sudden stir behind him as multiple people seemed to move quickly. And after just a second, James was among them as well.
Nearly tripping over his feet, he damn near threw himself onto the sickbed that didn't stand too far away from him, his phone momentarily forgotten and eyes wide open as they stared over at an endlessly familiar dark face, that however had life in it for the first time in what felt like an eternity at that moment.
Slowly and twitchy, Nia's eyes fluttered open as she let out quiet groans while mildly stirring in place while her doctors and nurses hurried around her and quickly began to take her vitals.
After flinching heavily as a flashlight was quite suddenly shone into her eyes to test her photopupillary reflex, she began to move even more. Meanwhile, James and Tuya were basically pressed shoulder to shoulder close to the foot of her bed, the only thing keeping them from dashing right up to her face being just enough awareness to not get in the doctor's way.
Still, although her movements were very slow, stiff, and groggy, Nia eventually lifted up her head, looking around with still somewhat hazy and half-closed eyes. But that didn't stop her from smiling when her gaze fell onto the two who so nervously stood at her bedside there.
“Hey,” she said in a quiet, croaky, but still very much cheerful voice as her unkempt hair fell down both sides of her face.
Though James didn't see much more than that, because just about at that moment, his vision was entirely taking away by welling-up waters sweeping him along.

I am just trying to find out my blood type. I’m unable to donate due to being underweight and cultural reasons. A “Type and Screen” was collected on my birthday and results show an ABO/ RH type blood result BUT it’s the same as my mothers. I’m not sure if this is also my blood type since a doctor yesterday conducted the EldonCard test (incorrectly as she didn’t use water or a control) and declared me as O+. Does the Type and Screen test result for the ABO/RH type show the newborn’s blood type or the mothers?

I am just trying to find out my blood type. I’m unable to donate due to being underweight and cultural reasons. A “Type and Screen” was collected on my birthday and results show an ABO/ RH type blood result BUT it’s the same as my mothers. I’m not sure if this is also my blood type since a doctor yesterday conducted the EldonCard test (incorrectly as she didn’t use water or a control) and declared me as O+. Does the Type and Screen test result for the ABO/RH type show the newborn’s blood type or the mothers?

I need outside perspective/feedback as I cannot afford therapy and feel like it’s hard to get honest feedback from friends or family at times.
We have been together six months. Him (38M) me (34F). Long distance. We connect in so many ways (physically, spiritually, sexually and emotionally). We talk all the time and he has become my best friend. We tell each other we love one another and while we’re long distance he drives to see me every other weekend which I appreciate.
Issue is - he’s going through a divorce. Before anyone gets judgy- please know I’ve seen the divorce papers and the divorce has been filed for close to two years. They are disputing assets so it has gotten messy. I realize I took that risk in getting involved with someone going through a divorce and that is the driving reason as to why I’m asking this question. I don’t want to waste any more of my time.
I’ve met his parents but have not met his children which I prefer until the divorce is finalized. I have spoken to his daughter on the phone so they know about me but we have not met in person.
He’s a great communicator and I really do trust and love him. My worry is that he is not fully healed from his marriage.
I tend to be a chronic over thinker. So I’m having a hard time determining if this is me overthinking things or if I’m noticing red flags that could be an issue later and the last thing I want to do is waste my time or end up hurt. He tells me he’s ready, that he loves me and shows me in many ways that also but there have been some situations that made me question that.
We got in our first major disagreement weeks ago. He booked other plans on our weekend together ( which he said was unintentional) and I was not happy about it. I made it clear when I started this what I needed as far as in person visits. I told him how I felt and he continued to text me over and over saying stuff like “you don’t deserve anything but the best. And after you laid it out. I’m convinced that you deserve better.“ among other things. I did not like his reaction- it was off putting. My best friend came into town the next day and I text him telling him ‘I’m not mad but that I wanted space to enjoy time with my friend and that we can talk after.’ Which he respected and we ended up talking it through after taking space. He apologized and we decided to move forward. It does bother me that it took me needing to take space for him to apologize and see my point of view though.
A week and a half later. I brought up to him that I wanted to discuss what things look like after his divorce is final. Would he be comfortable with me meeting his kids, and where he expected to live (we are long distance). I acknowledge that it wasn’t the best time and he was exhausted from a long day. These are things I feel are the natural next steps in the relationship and things we have briefly discussed before so I don’t see why it turned into an argument. He answered calmly at first but it escalated into him telling me he felt like I was pressuring him. He has mentioned me wanting to get married multiple times (I am in no rush and have never pressured him) and then took the argument to that I ‘only want to have a ring because I’m insecure that I’ve never been married before’ etc etc. This shocked and offended me because I was not discussing marriage - we are nowhere close to that and he is still married and I haven’t even met his children. I did tell I’m that if I was to relocate my son and entire life to his area in the future -I wouldn’t do so without a commitment.
We tried to talk it over for close to 3 hours last night and he ended up hanging up on me twice. This morning he called me a few times and when I finally answered- I told him how it hurt my feelings what was said and him hanging up on me was not okay. He apologized and I accepted but when we got off the phone I could tell he was still mad by how he ended the conversation. I let it be and went back to work thinking we will talk about it later at a better time. Within minutes he text saying ‘ I think we need to take time.’ Which I told him okay if that’s what he wants then so be it. He text me he felt I owed him an apology. I did apologize last night for my approach but didn’t understand the need to apologize again.
It is so difficult to know if I am overreacting and overthinking the situation or if these are indicators that he is not fully moved on from his divorce. He has also mentioned that ‘he has already done marriage’ and the ‘ring means nothing.’ To me it is a commitment to sharing life together and I don’t think it’s wrong of me to want that before up rooting my entire life to move there. It’s also concerning we are both Christian’s and our faith has an emphasis on marriage. Which he replied ‘I’m fine with doing a spiritual wedding with a pastor.’ Almost indicating he does not want a legal marriage (first I’ve heard of this).
It’s beyond confusing because from the start of asked him his thoughts on marriage and I made it clear that while I’m not in a rush- I do want to be married in the future. He ensured me that his divorce did not change his views on marriage and he looks forward to remarrying in the future too. I never put a time stamp on it but apparently he feels pressured by my questioning.
I’ve given him space since he asked. When someone asks for space , gives the purpose and timeline (like I did before) that I can understand. But telling me ‘ I think we need some time.’ Makes me feel like we are talking a break indefinitely and is unfair.
I’m giving him space and have not reached out. He sent me some Instagram videos of random irrelevant stuff and a text saying he missed me already and wants to talk. Only hours after telling me he thought we ‘needed time.’ None of it makes sense and now I feel like I need time to figure out what I want so I have not responded.
Honest opinions- does it seem like I am overthinking this, or that there are some red flags in how he responds?
TL;DR: In a six-month long-distance relationship with a man going through a divorce for two years, experiencing doubts about his readiness to move on. Met his parents but not his kids, leading to concerns about the future. Recent disagreements escalated into arguments about the future of their relationship, with communication breakdowns and differing views on commitment. Feeling confused and unsure if she's overthinking or if there are legitimate red flags.

Hi everybody! I’m here looking for advice for a possible situation nothing is confirmed yet. I’ve been struggling for a while now. I’ve always wanted to be a parent. Forever. I’ve tried just about everything but my insurance has been spotty and I’m just starting the process of medical intervention all over again. I’ve sat by and watched my older sister have 6 kids waiting for my chance. I’ve vented about my older sister multiple times in this sub. Nothing has changed about her she’s still not a good parent and even had a visit from CPS 2 weeks ago.
This is about her daughter,yeah this is going exactly where you think it is. My niece is 15. I raised her because my sister got pregnant with my niece 7 months after her first baby and didn’t even want the first one. So my sister was evicted in October 2023 and moved in with my mom. I go to my mom’s house every weekend because me and my younger siblings are extremely close. It’s been difficult but I love the family time. My niece has stopped talking to me. She won’t even sit in the same room as me. I thought I did something to her and my grandmother even asked her. She said nothing so I just chalked it up to puberty. She has been wearing a ton of makeup and dressing really provocative. My grandmother brought it up to me and I said as a teacher in the same district that my niece attends school there’s no way she going to class, the school would have suspended her by now.
My sister has her kids schools blocked so the school will call my mom instead. Apparently my niece has missed most of the school year because she’s leaving school with her friends and new boyfriend. So again you know where this is going. My grandmother said that my mom told her my niece has been throwing up……Im literally just waiting for someone to say those words. I know I won’t be able to be around her. If I’m being selfish or childish please let me know. I want your opinion because I know you guys have been in these shoes and I just need someone to point me in a direction. We do have a family vacation coming up in July but if this is true then I don’t know how much I’ll be able to be around my family after that. Thank you guys ❤️

Both my wife and I have GE. We just applied for our 2 year old daughter for GE. Since there’s not much to her history, how fast do you think she will get approval? Will it be faster since both my wife and I have GE? Thanks!

So I’m playing Far Harbour for the first time and I get to the end of the story. I decide to Divide the Children of Atom. I talk to Dima and Avery about Dimas murder of Avery. I decide to keep it a secret.
But guess what? That doesn’t solve the quests. I can’t talk to Kasume to tell her to go home “until all this is done.” From what I’ve read I missed the part where you can convince her to “go home and pretend to be their daughter” even though she’s not a synth.
So I figure I’ll kill Dima, to make things right.
Nope. Hes essential. For no reason at this point.
Okay, I’ll cheat my charisma level high enough to convince him to turn himself in. And so he does.
I go to the trial, having done every quest for the harbormen. I expect to able to convince the people to spare Acadia. But when it comes to Doc Teddy, he says I’m a monster because Small Bertha and Tony and the Dregs went to the settlement I cleared out and haven’t been heard from since. That’s weird. I built that place up fine.
But wait. When I met Malcolm I took his caps to send the Dregs to be cannibalized by him. And then I blew his head into pieces and told Bertha, correctly, that it was safe. But apparently the game takes this decision to mean Bertha and Tony and the Dregs got eaten by the headless wonder.
So now half the Harbormen including the Mariner who should be your besty by now decides to exterminate Acadia despite Dima being dead and the SS wishing otherwise. And still, I can’t side with the Acadians. I shot Allen in Far Harbour when he called for the massacre, and he was essential then, and even when the attack starts I’m automatically made enemies of all Acadians and all named Harbormen are essential.
Who the fuck came up with this? I had 45 hours into my first FO4 playthrough since 2019 and this has killed my desire to continue. I’d rather play Kingdom Come or The Outer Worlds where most characters aren’t essential than waste my time exploring an interesting world only to get locked into a couple of very specific endings.

Chapter 120 The spectators continued cheering and whistling even minutes after the fight had come to an end. Zaon had caught the crowd by surprise. He was going to be the talk of Farcrest for the rest of the week. The perfect underdog, classless, orphaned, a bit awkward even, coming up victorious against the tyranny of levels. But that was only part of the picture. Zaon had demonstrated the vast difference in skills between him and a combatant nine levels ahead of him.
The victory put us seven points ahead, but what mattered the most going forward was the three points Zaon had lost. Team Nara’s Soldier might not be half as a competent fencer as Zaon but his proficiency with Quick-Step had given him three undisputed points. The Soldier knew when to use the skill to reap the most benefit, and I assumed all our opponents would be the same going forward.
The more skills our opponents had, the harder it would be for the kids.
“Contenders, please enter the arena,” the Master of Ceremonies’ voice echoed over the crowd’s roar. “Ilya the Hunter versus Arel Nara the Warrior!”
Despite Zaon’s victory, I couldn’t help but feel nervous. The Warrior class had a better skill pool than the Soldier class. Ilya grabbed my hand, cutting my musings short.
“Something wrong?”
I examined her face, but she just gave me a nonchalant wink and pulled me to my feet.
“Play along,” Ilya muttered as we walked to the weapons rack holding hands. “Act as if you are choosing a weapon for me. Give me the same sword as Zaon.”
Ilya was trying to fool her opponent even before the match started.
I played along and walked Ilya to the weapons rack like a father dragging his daughter to the dentist. She took the bit about ‘all war is based on deception’ too seriously, but I couldn’t blame her. Ilya had to gather every slight advantage she could if she wanted a chance in a world of average-height people.
Her act worked because Arel Nara seemed to smell her weakness as soon as we reached the weapons rack.
“Have you lost your bravado, little Gnome?” Arel Nara said as he casually grabbed an arming sword with a broad blade from the rack. The boy had the same vulpine expression as Lord Nara, but unlike his lord, his yellow and black fencing uniform revealed his strong arms and legs.
Ilya cowered behind me without letting my hand go. The System should’ve given her the Actress or Spy Class.
“Just what I thought,” Arel Nara laughed. He had grabbed a round shield and an arming sword. “It seems I won’t need this,” he added, leaving the shield back on the weapons rack and strolling into the arena with a carefree demeanor.
Lord Nara, who until that moment was furious due to the first combat, seemed to relax after seeing Ilya cowering behind me.
“Your sword is longer than his, Ilya. Aim for his hands and feet, and don’t let him close the distance. Don’t let him disarm you,” I whispered as I put the slim longsword in Ilya’s hand. “And don’t let him get under your skin.”
Ilya grunted.
“I already know, Mister Clarke! I’m used to having the reach disadvantage and to that sort of comment. I know how to fight against stronger opponents, and he isn’t half of a trash talker as Holst was,” Ilya said with an evil smile. “I got this.”
“Teach him a lesson,” I replied with a smile.
Ilya nodded and gave me her best ‘I’m-on-the-verge-of-tears’ face before turning around and walking to the center of the arena. Despite her tailor-made uniform and the longsword on her shoulder, Ilya looked completely out of place, like a small bird caught in a storm. With a shaky smile, she stood before Arel Nara, raised her chin, and squared her shoulders. I made a mental note telling her to keep her acting shenanigans to combat.
I returned to the bench, avoiding Elincia’s glance. The Fortifier applied the barriers around Ilya’s body. As before, the work wasn’t bad; it was just sloppy on the edges. The difference would be too subtle to catch for anyone without a good grasp of mana detection. Even if I complained now, the Fortifier could brush me off, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t brewing a plan.
“She’s using that technique, uh?” Firana said.
“What technique?” I asked, sitting on the bench and patting Zaon’s shoulder. The boy leaned back with a towel on his face, still trying to control his accelerated heartbeat.
“Shu has been helping Ilya with her acting skills.”
I massaged my temples, worried. The news wasn’t at all surprising. I was already familiar with the little harpy shenanigans. Shu might already be a genius of manipulation at the young age of seven, but I didn’t foresee the little harpy teaching her dark arts to others.
Arel Nara greeted the crowd, his perfect smile reeking of overconfidence. Then, he walked to the Prince’s box with sluggish movements and bowed deeply. Arel Nara might be a braggart, but not a complete fool. He deliberately stalled combat as much as possible while Ilya trembled like a leaf with her longsword tight against her chest.
The Master of Ceremonies let the performance continue for a few seconds, unaware of the fact the battle had already started.
“Combatants, to the center!” He finally announced.
Arel Nara strolled back to the center of the arena, mindlessly swinging his sword and stretching his shoulders. Ilya remained still.
“The fight will end when one of the participants runs out of barriers. There will be no pause between barrier breaks. If you want to give up, raise your hand,” the Master of Ceremonies repeated the rules, looking at Ilya. “On guard!”
Ilya imitated Zaon’s guard, the pflug, not giving her opponent a single hint of the skills she had on her sleeve.
“Fight!”
Ilya stepped forward and swung at Arel Nara’s shin. The boy raised his leg out of the way and countered with a jumping attack that landed on Ilya’s chest. The girl fell on her back, but instead of going for the following attack, Arel Nara turned his back to Ilya and riled up the crowd.
Ilya used her sword to stand up. When she raised her guard, Arel Nara spun around, pushing her sword to the side. Ilya answered with a choreographed thrust, but Arel Nara dodged with enough time to get to Ilya’s side and deal a powerful blow with the pommel of his sword.
Ilya slammed the ground again, her uniform and face covered in dust. The crowd was ruthless, cheering for the strongest warrior. The underdog concept didn’t seem to exist in this world, which wasn’t surprising considering that underdogs, lesser Classes, had marginal opportunities to win against a more powerful opponent.
Ilya was two barriers down.
“You chose the wrong Class, Gnome. Your kind belongs to a workshop, not the battlefield.” Arel Nara taunted Ilya. “I don’t know what lies your Caretaker whispered in your ears, so let me be clear. You are falling short of the mark.”
Ilya separated her feet and adopted the vom tag guard, angering her opponent.
“You asked for it,” Arel Nara grunted as a wave washed over the Warrior’s body, and with a mighty cry, he cast a fortifying spell.
Ilya assessed the situation instantly and channeled her power but didn’t use any skill. She remained vigilant. Arel Nara performed a jumping thrust followed by a quick slash. Ilya parried the first attack and ducked in time to dodge the follow-up.
The crowd yelled for blood, but Ilya used her longer blade to keep Arel Nara at bay, aiming at his hand instead of his body. It was a clever tactic. She not only had the reach advantage, but a longsword packed the power of both arms, unlike the arming sword used with a single hand. Arel Nara burned his mana trying to break Ilya’s defense, but the girl was used to fighting against Wolf and Firana.
Being the ‘worst’ student had its benefits. During sparring, Ilya always fought larger, stronger, or more skillful opponents, and she had developed a system to make up for the difference in body span. Ilya’s defensive style was perfect for zoning out aggressive opponents. Moreover, Ilya was a smart fighter.
Arel Nara burned his mana to get a hit, but Ilya defended like a porcupine. The more Arel Nara approached, the more chances he had of getting stung, and he wasn’t willing to lose a single barrier against Ilya. Not taking a shield was costing him dearly. Longswords had a bad matchup against an arming sword paired with a shield.
Arel Nara attacked once more, unleashing a flurry of strikes. Ilya retreated, dodging and blocking, but the fortifying spell wasn’t in vain. Arel Nara pushed Ilya’s sword aside and seized the opening on the girl’s defense. With a quick step forward, he secured a clean slash across Ilya’s chest. The girl tried to riposte, but he retreated before she could hit.
Ilya was three barriers down and hadn’t broken a single one yet.
Arel Nara’s assault was relentless, and Ilya was starting to breathe heavily; dust and sweat covered her, and even her stance was getting sloppy at times. Ilya was a more skilled fighter, but Arel Nara’s stamina was superior; a prolonged fight would only benefit him.
“Not that good without a bow, are you?” Arel Nara taunted. “What are you going to do? Cast Piercing Shot with a sword?”
“I’m not the one running out of mana,” Ilya spoke for the first time in the combat.
Her words were a slap against Arel Nara’s face, who instantly interrupted the fortifying skill.
“You need four times your mana for that skill to have any effect in this fight,” Ilya taunted him. “You should try something else. Quick-step? Puncture, maybe? No? Even a Level 5 Soldier should have two or three skills at their disposal. Don’t tell me you decided to participate in the tournament with a single skill, please.”
Ilya’s taunt worked. Despite being three barriers down, she had made Arel Nara work hard for them.
“You asked for it,” Arel Nara said, channeling mana around his sword.
Ilya raised his guard, with the hilt of her sword at eye level and the point of the sword aiming forward. Ochs. She braced for the attack, but Arel Nara remained still. Then, he let the sword go, but it didn’t fall. Instead, the sword floated by his side, pointing menacingly at Ilya.
“I’m not a Soldier. I’m a Warrior,” Arel Nara grunted.
The sword flew in a straight line like a bullet, but Ilya blocked it. What she didn’t expect was Arel Nara running forward. The boy channeled mana and cast Iron Skin around his leg as he threw a high kick. Ilya leaned back, dodging by millimeters, but before she could counter against her unarmed opponent, Arel Nara’s sword flew back at her, stabbing her shoulder blade and breaking the fourth barrier.
Arel Nara smirked.
“Your choice, getting kicked or stabbed,” he said. “Forget that. For a Gnome, getting kicked might be more appropriate.”
Ilya smirked back. “That’s it? If you have any hidden skill, I warn you, this might be the moment to use it.”
The arming sword came back to life, spinning and circling Ilya, threatening to attack at any moment. Ilya remained impassive. She had prepared a plan. Mana surged from her chest, and just as the blade launched forward, a thick vine shot from the ground. The sword pierced the vine from side to side, but before Arel Nara could yank it back, the vine coiled around the blade like a boa constrictor.
Arel Nara strengthened his body and made a run for the sword, but Ilya stood in his way.
“Did you lose something, idiot?” She grinned as she thrusted.
Arel Nara cast Iron Skin and blocked Ilya’s blade with his forearm. The skill shrouded his barriers, preventing them from breaking, but the girl didn’t stop. She weaved a series of attacks and feints in a single fluid movement. Arel Nara retreated, casting Iron Skin around his arms and legs to block Ilya’s blows. Each time Ilya swung the sword, a chunk of Arel’s mana was blasted into the air until the signs of Mana Exhaustion started to show. Ilya ran him down, and the boy’s movements became erratic.
In a desperate last attempt to recover his sword, Arel Nara channeled all his remaining mana into the blade and tried to overpower Ilya’s vine; however, the girl effortlessly countered with her much bigger reserves. Sword and vine fought, but in the end, the vine imprisoned the blade against the ground.
“Your choice, surrender or get stabbed by a Gnome,” Ilya mockingly said.
[Awareness] brought Ilya’s words to my ears. A quick lesson in sportsmanship might be needed, but I decided to leave it for later. Ilya was making a statement. Not only was she a competent fencer, but she was also an intelligent fighter. The best part: she only used a fraction of her power.
Arel Nara gestured to raise his hand, but Ilya smacked it down with her sword before he could completely raise it: one barrier down, nine to go. Arel Nara opened her eyes in surprise. Ilya pressed the attack, breaking barrier after barrier until Arel Nara was left with only one. The spectators changed sides the moment the tides turned, roaring every time Ilya penetrated a barrier.
Arel Nara was trapped against the arena wall.
“I care very little about what you say about me, but I will not tolerate any ill comments against Mister Clarke. Idiot.” Ilya said, lowering her sword. “You have two options now. You can surrender or make a further fool of yourself trying to retrieve your sword.”
It had been a while since one of my students made me blush.
Arel Nara unenthusiastically raised his hand and returned to the pavilion with his head down before the Master of Ceremonies could announce his defeat. Ilya retrieved Arel Nara’s sword, or rather made the vine do it for her, and walked to the Prince’s box. She performed a gracious bow and saluted the spectators with an innocent smile. I couldn’t decide if the crowd was happy for Ilya or gloating at Arel Nara’s defeat.
Among the seats of the high nobility, Ginz leaned over the handrail with half of his body outside the box. A member of the royal army frantically grabbed him by the belt to prevent him from falling into the arena. Ginz would’ve made a great English hooligan if he had been born in London or its surroundings. I couldn’t help but share the feeling, but my position required me to maintain a certain level of composure.
Ilya skipped toward Ginz and high-fived him before returning to the pavilion.
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I keep reading that Jenn is developmentally delayed, mentally ill, on medications, in an “abusive” relationship, nd not intelligent or aware enough to be accountable for protecting Maddie or accountable for her own lies and actions.
I don’t buy it. She may not be Mensa, and she may indeed have a mood or personality disorder - but she is not legally insane and she’s not disabled enough to not know what is going on. She may be on medications, but that does not excuse her. Taking those medications is her choice, and folks who are so mentally ill that they can’t care for themselves or their children don’t live alone, don’t work, and don’t get to keep their kids.
Millions of women out there are single parents, are in abusive relationships, have a history of sexual abuse or trauma, have mental illness, and are on medications. The vast majority of those women do not actively choose to maintain a relationship with a pedophile, much less hand their daughter to one.
In fact, Jenn has an advantage over most of the women in her position- as she has a few home (paid for by her dad), a newer running vehicle, nearby family, and access to medical care and medication.
I’m one of those women. I KNOW that experiencing abuse made me want to make sure NO ONE else ever experiences the same. I know because I was not protected I am determined to protect my children (and other children). I have mental illness and take medication, but I don’t drug myself into oblivion (and if I did, I’d certainly be accountable for the outcome of that choice).
Look, she’s smart enough to work, indeed she is smart enough to work AND receive disability (while receiving family help), smart enough t to have a medical marijuana card (while still taking various controlled medications) - and perhaps most importantly, she’s smart enough to lie to cover for her pedophile boyfriend (and cover for herself).
She may have low self esteem. She may have a bond with the monster. She may not have a high IQ. But none of that excuses what we KNOW she has done, and certainly not what she may have done!
Stop handing her excuses on a silver platter.

I am just trying to find out my blood type. I’m unable to donate due to being underweight and cultural reasons. A “Type and Screen” was collected on my birthday and results show an ABO/ RH type blood result BUT it’s the same as my mothers. I’m not sure if this is also my blood type since a doctor yesterday conducted the EldonCard test (incorrectly as she didn’t use water or a control) and declared me as O+. Does the Type and Screen test result for the ABO/RH type show the newborn’s blood type or the mothers?

Hello! I’m expecting my first and I’m not sure what to do about baby’s middle name(s). My mom’s family had a tradition of no middle names for girls, so that when they got married they would move their maiden name to their middle name and take their husband’s last name. I’m not a fan of the tradition because I believe it places undue burden on the daughter to 1. Get married and 2. Take her spouse’s last name. I always wished I had a middle name when I was younger.
So I’m wondering if it would be way too much to give my daughter two middle names:
Chosen first, chosen middle, my maiden name, and my husband’s and my last name
My biggest worry is the length- my maiden name is 10 letters and my new last name is 7 letters, so that’s already 17 letters before the two chosen names, which realistically could be 15 letters together. That’s a grand total of 32 letters!
Do you have two middle names? Has it posed difficulty for you? Is it reasonable to give all our children my maiden name as a second middle name?
Thanks in advance for your thoughts 💖

I have always had problems with my mom since I was 9 years old. I always wanted to leave my house because my parents just always think everything they do is right even when it’s not. I don’t have the best memories of my childhood as my parents were very strict and quick to hit us due to any little mistake. If I spill something instantly I’m so dumb and need to pay attention and I would just get yelled at so bad. If my mom spilled something it was an accident and she just was too distracted so who cares.
Fast forward sadly I got left my by bd. Chose the wrong man do to the way I was raised. So now I’m stuck at home with a baby. I didn’t want to raise my son around my parents or family honestly. My parents have raised my family so wrong that all everyone does is argue. They’ll full on have a yelling screaming fight in front of my 8 month old. I’m so sad I have to raise my son around that.
Today my mom got mad at me because all I do is take care of my son and only clean up after me and my son and not the rest of the family. She thinks because I’m at home most of the time taking care of a baby by myself that I need to get 4 other peoples chores done as well. She makes me feel like I don’t do enough I hate it I’m trying my best. Even after my bd left she treated me so bad they even hit me during my pregnancy and when I bring it up they tell me to get over it. I’ve been gaslit so hard to believe I’m the problem and I shouldn’t defend myself because they hate it when I do and just want me to shut up and take it because I’m their daughter and because of that I should respect everything they say and do. I’m just tired of feeling like I’m evil, maybe these things happen to me because I deserve it. I don’t know anymore I’m just tired of life and the only thing keeping me going is my son.